Dr. Creepen's Dungeon

S4 Ep178: Episode 178: Highway Horror Stories

‘Highways often evoke a sense of creepiness because they are vast, desolate stretches of road that cut through isolated landscapes, creating a feeling of vulnerability and exposure. The monotony of endless asphalt, coupled with the absence of human presence at certain hours, can make travelers feel like they are venturing into the unknown. The eerie glow of distant headlights, the shadows cast by passing vehicles, and the unsettling quiet between the rushes of traffic amplify a sense of unease. This isolation, combined with stories of highway accidents, crimes, and urban legends, enhances the highways' reputation as eerie and unsettling places…’

Duration:: 2h 9m
Broadcast on:: 31 Jul 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

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The eerie glow of distant headlights, the shadows cast by passing vehicles, and the unsettling choir between the rushes of traffic, amplify a sense of unease. This isolation, combined with stories of highway accidents, crimes, and urban legends, enhances the highway's reputation as an eerie and unsettling place. As we shall see in tonight's collection of stories. Now as ever before, we begin a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. The empty road seemed to stretch for eternity. It was a monotonous path, a typical highway, but unsettlingly empty this particular night. Of course, a man who had nothing left in his life didn't matter. Steve tried to keep himself from thinking about his life. He had been tired, a frustrated man with a respectable but boring charm. He hated everything about his workplace. Commercial stuff was never meant for him. This was a man meant to achieve more than calling people on a regular basis and trying to interest them in the stock market. Only to have himself abruptly hung up on much worse, having his time wasted. After around 12 mind-numbing hours, he came home to an empty apartment, occupied by fancy-looking cheap decor. His wife was always thinking about saving up, always so tight when it came to spending money. "Jesus, Jane, you and I aren't enough. Come on, we can afford this," Steve said to his wife. "It was an old memory now, a couple of years back." Steve had taken her liking to this particular sofa. It had the most comfortable seats and a delightful little bounce once she sat in it. It was a glorious shade of yellow, which also happened to be Janey's favorite color. At least her first favorite color. "Yellow, red, green and then purple," Steve chuckled as he remembered. "Come on, hun. There are tons of sofas out there like this. I bet we could save at least a few hundred bucks if we go somewhere else." The memory was so clear in his mind, he almost felt the words dance around him. Her thoughts made him smile. "Oh, she was a sweet woman." She had her quirks, but she was sweet. That's why he loved her and then eventually married her when that was before. That was the Janey he loved. Now Janey was long gone, and instead, there was someone else he shared his bed with now. It wasn't always like that, but things change. People change and sometimes for the worse. At first, Steve had reasoned her irritability was due to her frequent night shifts at the hospital. She come home tired and sleep all day. We hardly talk then. It was a little hard at first, but Steve got used to it. As time progressed, Janey had started to act dull every day. She was always tired and frequently had bursts of anger, always directed towards him. Even for the smallest things that went wrong, she began to curse at him and curse their marriage. This was especially upsetting for Steve, and so over time, he started to avoid any interactions with him. He was not out of anger or of his own will. He just, well, he just felt scared. He was afraid of making her angry, yet it seemed to be inevitable. Eventually, Steve had started to lash out too. And for your offensive comments she made out of her anger, well, it angered Steve even worse. He began to yell at her, raising his voice like he hadn't in years, and that he'd never expected that he would ever have to again. The road seemed to stretch on forever. He didn't care much. His thoughts kept him company. Those in the briefcase he carried with him. The music from the radio was low. Just there to conceal the emptiness. He hated that feeling. It reminded him of the time Janey had started to completely avoid him. She seemed to be repulsed by his very being, not even looking over in his direction at times. A vocabulary of colorful insults started to water down, and eventually it just consisted of an "oh, okay." He didn't know what had gone wrong. He had not been spending enough time with her. He had not been gifting her enough. Yes, maybe that was it. He should take her out to a nice dinner and buy her gifts. Or probably do something. It always seemed to work in the movies, and that's how their love had been. Movie love, at least before Janey changed. As Steve's red camera made its way through the highway, he passed through a gas station. He kept on going. He didn't need gas for a while, and when he would, he'd find another. So right now he had to just keep on going. Part next to the gas station was a police car. Inside which set Officer Berg and his partner and his junior, Officer Floyd. They each had a cup of warm coffee, sipping on it between exchanging words. Berg had taken quite a liking to Floyd. The young man reminded him of himself in his own rookie days. Lazy but a good learner. Maybe the reason she felt like that was because of the punch he took on her face. He should have seen it. It was crazy. All the guys just jumped at the chance to beat the hell out of that guy. If I wasn't there, he probably would have been freaking killed. Floyd said sipping his coffee. Jesus Christ, kid. Who the hell are you lying to? I've been in this line of work long before Europe. Eh, okay. Spare me that old man. Someone did definitely punch him hard. Sure kid. Quite not, isn't it? Do you ever wonder how meaningful life can be? You truly appreciate it in slow moments like these. Maybe at your age I will. Right now, I don't give much of a shit about anything to be honest. So, you know, so just spamming all that enlightenment artsy crime. There was an awkward silence made Floyd feel a little guilty. Oh, man. Sorry if I came out his rude. Yeah, it's all right, kid. Oh, fuck you. The officers shared a hearty chuckle as the night went on, and they continued sipping their drinks. Steve slammed his fists on the steering wheel as he kept going. All those memories hurt to remember. The dinner, he recalled, didn't happen at all. Janie claimed to have a headache and lay in bed all night, just scrolling through her phone. After dumping the bouquet of yellow and red flowers, God knows what kind they were. He'd merely mentioned yellow and red to the lady at the shop. He walked to the pub and called Janie to let her know he'd be out all night. He decided to drink himself to sleep that night. Didn't know where he would end up, but at this point he would gladly go to bed on a train track with a billion little spiders crawling underneath him and go home and sleep. There was also that. Janie didn't even sleep in the same bed anymore. She would much rather prefer the couch or go work an extra shift than lay next to him. She also started to lock the doors when she changed or had a shower, which was just a minor inconvenience as compared to everything else at this point. That night he stumbled to his friend's place, drunk and stumble. Glenn was single, and he was the last person who had comforted him. He was the only friend he had who had led him staying. Divorce her. That's all the advice he ever got, but how could he? He still loved her. Oh, fuck this. For all this. Steve let out a loud yell. Oh, fuck you. Fuck all of you. He then desperately reached for the radio, which he turned up a little louder. And now we will present you with some of the most raw men. He switched the channel. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. The mixed feelings he had for already plagued him as it is. He didn't want to listen to the news either, so he kept changing the channel until he heard the sound of a man laughing through the radio. The laugh was wild, and it echoed and sounded as if it was two laughs coming out at once. It was a deeper voice with an audible rasp, and it felt strangely terrifying as well as soothing at the same time. The mixture of emotions he felt now annoyed him, and he spoke out softly. "Go ahead, laugh at me. Go on, keep at it," he said to the voice on the radio. The laugh went on for another second, then abruptly paused. This was a weird coincidence. Nothing more. "Oh, Steve. But it is hilarious, isn't it? How everything turned out to be?" The voice on the radio said. Steve was so shocked, he stopped his car abruptly, and his tires skidded a little, causing the car behind him to drift sideways and almost off the road. Steve heard nothing for a moment, but then, while the man from the other car stopped and struggled to move out of his seat belt, the voice spoke again. "Dra! Dra!" The voice began to ring over and over, like a corrupted radio. As the man reached Steve's window, Steve sped off in a hurry. There wasn't even a glance in the man's direction, which offended him a little. In his rage, he got his phone out, and while he thanked God for being unharmed, they shake your fingers, he dialed the police. "23152, that possible drunk driving in progress. Any units in that area, please copy." This is Officer Burke, eye copy. The transmission had left Burke excited. It always did. Seemed like another chance to teach his junior something, like a father and son at work in the garage. "Okay, kid, you ready for some action?" "Hell yeah, man," Floyd replied, a hint of sarcasm looming in his tone, but Burke didn't mind. Their car moved out of the gas station, and Burke turned on the sirens as Floyd started to drive. "Hey, hey, say something." The voice on the radio had gone silent for a moment, leaving Steve all alone in that dreaded silence. Steve was about to turn the radio off when the man spoke out again. "Oh, Steve, such an impatient man, aren't you? Do you think that's why Janey cheated on you?" "Fuck you. You hear me? Fuck you. You're not even real. I'm going crazy. I'm losing my mind, and that's it." Even though he begged for a response, he was regretting it now. These words were digging deep into his sanity and clawing at it. "I'm not real. Oh, you're smarter than that. You know I'm real. Oh, I'm more real than that, kiss your wife, share with him." "What's his name again?" "Oh, yes. Benjamin, was it?" "So much pleasure in his voice. He was sickening. Steve had more anger in him than fear at this point." "What are you gonna do, Steve?" "I love you, Steve. You are the only man who understands me." The voice of mimic Janey so well. For a moment there, Steve thought she'd spoken to them herself. "Please, stop." Steve had got only muster a whimper. "May, may, may, maybe you still care. Am I wrong?" "I do. I do love her. I love her so, so much. And what is it you want most right now?" "The sounds of police sirens interrupted the little moment of silence in the car. And Steve stepped on the gas." "You know you'll always suffer, Steve. Paying will follow you like a shadow." "Oh, fuck me, Benjamin. Oh, yeah. Do it right, dawg." It mimicked her voice again. It was so perfect and so lifelike. It made Steve's gut. "This made Steve snap. He abruptly turned his car around and drove off the road and into the dirt beside him. His car almost tipped over the side. And lucky for him, it didn't. There was damage from the sudden jump and Steve knew he'd heard his back. However, his rage masked the pain and he didn't care." "Oh, fuck you. That was so long ago. She never had an affair with him. While we were married, stop messing around with my head. Whatever you are." "Steve was fuming with rage now. He wanted to smash the radio to pieces. But he restrained himself. He wanted to hear." "Oh, how she left him in favor of a young man with a more promising career. Broke her hard the same way as yours is right now." "Steve felt anger, replaced with fear. He was now with slow realization. He didn't fully accept the truth, choosing instead to remain in denial." "What do you mean?" he sat stuttering, like the same way he did when he was a scared little school boy. "Oh, you see my dear friend. Memory is the worst torture device. You drive a person man. All they need is someone to give it to them." "The voice began to chuckle a little. Then burst out into a full laugh. Laugh louder and louder. Oh, son of a bitch." "Steve walked out of the car and opened its trunk. He picked up the shovel he'd stored in there and a gun he'd also brought along. He began his war back but was interrupted." "Sir, put your weapons down. State police," Floyd said loudly in an attempt to impress his superior and turn back to Burke and wait. "Sir, are you okay?" Steve ignored it and walked away from the car and dug his shovel in the ground and started to dig. "I'm sorry, Janie. I'm so, so sorry. I'm coming. I'm coming to be with you. Well, after in the radio continued, Steve didn't care anymore. He just kept digging." "What the fuck is wrong with this guy, huh?" Floyd asked Burke. "Let me talk to him. Stay back." "I got this," Floyd said in his cockness, walking down towards Steve who kept digging and then walking back towards the car. His eyes focused on the ground. His lips moving while he murmured to himself. Floyd pointed his gun at Steve, get on the fucking ground. Steve then reached into his jacket pockets and they sent Floyd into a panic. He shot Steve right over the elbow, sending him down to the dirt. Burke cussed and radioed for back. Meanwhile, Floyd went to check on the bleeding Steve who was bleeding from the shoulder all the while muttering the same thing over and over. "I'm sorry, Janie. I'm coming. I'm coming. I'm sorry, Janie." What? Floyd asked. And then for a moment, Steve looked Floyd right into his eyes and then shot him right through the pocket of his jacket, right in the head, sending him down to the ground. The life moving out of him, like the smoke from his open skull. Steve struggled to stand up and kept murmuring while Burke tried to charge at him from the road, just falling down in the dirt in stone. Steve just fired up Burke casually, luckily missing him completely and not killing him, like he'd intended to, but he didn't care. Steve reached for the trunk and pulled out the lifeless corpse of Janie, completely naked, wrapped in a white towel. She looked so peaceful, like an angel. You remember the first time they'd made love. It was awkward, but magically, right on the hood of his card at the blanket of the stars. And funnily enough, it was a night just like that. He placed during the hall he'd dog for her. He removed his jackets, putting it around her lifeless body and then reaching in for a kiss. That lips touched. Steve didn't care. He was going to be with her again. Burke pointed his gun at Steve, warning him again, but Steve instead looked at Burke, a strange tranquil smile on his face as he raised the gun to his head and shot himself through the skull once. He fell down at Burke's feet instead of his back and into the hole with Janie's lifeless core. Burke could see the man still smiling while blood dripped down the side of his hand from his temples. He was at peace as the bullet hit him and that last look was the only thing remaining on him now. To Burke, this just showed the man's insanity. He heard the police silence and withdrew his gun. It would be an offence to shoot the man again, no matter how enraged he was. He was sent off in an ambulance to spend the rest of the night and possibly a few days in the hospital, while the other officers on the scene inspected the madness that had unfolded him. Three bodies, one confirmed murder, one possible murder, and one confirmed suicide. Their suspect carried nothing but a 22 pistol and a shovel from what was gathered. The car was empty, besides a few strands of hair from what was presumed to be the body of the female victim. The radio was turned to loud, and for some reason it had rested on nothing, but static. Today's episode is sponsored by AEG-1, the comprehensive and convenient blend of over 70 high-quality ingredients. You know what? I'm busy. Sometimes I am a little short on time. I'm too busy to plan healthy meals or prepare meals from scratch, and it makes it a little bit difficult to look after myself. One thing that I've been doing recently is taking AEG-1, a comprehensive and convenient blend of over 70 vitamins, minerals, and other ingredients, including gut-friendly bacteria, anti-oxidants, high-quality mushrooms, and much more. 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One vision will burn into his psyche, silencing the growing cacophony of his own thoughts. A seemingly innocuous item, which will fester in the back of his mind until he ends his own life many years later, a bright, yellow, bumper sticker. Earlier that evening, Connor was enjoying a late, quiet autumn drive, with his wife Megan, down a lonely residential road. He was, admittedly, dizzy from the night's festivities, out with their mutual friends, but he insisted he was sober enough to take the wheel. Despite his assurances, he pressed the accelerator a bit harder than usual, hoping to make it home before any cops had a chance to complicate his evening. The couple sat in silence, entwining their hands between them, falling under the spell of the rhythmic strobe of passing streetlights. Megan kept her eyes trained out her window at the changing leaves, squeezing her spouse's hand intermittently. Connor ogled her with a lazy, drunk smile on his face. Turning back to the road, he snapped out of his hypnotic state and slammed on the brakes in response to the quickly approaching tail heights, which threatened a meeting with the front of their own car. "Jesus!" Connor spat, as he and his wife lurched forward. "Where the hell did this joker come from?" he cried aloud. He hadn't noticed any car ahead of them when he looked at the road only seconds before. A feeling of anger rose within him, as his pleasant evening drive was interrupted by over-cautiousness. "Honey, you need to relax. You are going too fast," Megan said, matter of factly. "Yeah, well, this idiot is going slower than 30. There's nobody around, speed up," Connor shouted, as if the newcomers could hear him. The driver ahead showed no signs of hearing his demand, and continued to cruise at a glacial pace. Connor took note of the baby on board sticker on the bumper, a bumper which had caved in, most likely from another car slamming into its slow backside. He rolled his eyes, knowing his car had the same sticker on its bumper. Earlier he protested putting it on the car he shared with his wife Megan, but she had been adamant about it. "Why would you want to advertise having a kid, especially with potential kidnappers everywhere?" Connor reasoned, but Megan insisted other motorists would drive more carefully around, knowing they had a child in the car. Connor felt the collapsed bumper of the other car as evidence to the contrary. He kept this thought to himself. Connor leaned on the horn and flashed his high beams. As he did so, he noticed there was a passenger in the car. The two figures faced a head, neither turning in their seat to acknowledge the noisy car behind. They didn't pull over to the side. Instead, they continued at their leisurely speed. "Seriously? They're going to pretend we're not here. Come on!" Connor honked a few more times, but there was still no reaction from the other car. He took their indifference as insolence, which ignited his anger into rage. "You're getting angry for no reason," Megan said, coolly. "We need to let the babysitter go. I'm not paying him for an extra hour." White knuckling the steering wheel, Connor swerved to the oncoming lane, and before he could floor the accelerator, the car ahead merged into the other lane swiftly along with them. The car remained in front of Connor and his wife, blocking their advance. Seething, Connor yelled. "What the fuck is this guy's problem?" It's obviously some stupid kids messing with us. Let's just stay calm and not give them the satisfaction of riling us up. Forget the babysitter, we'll be home sure. Megan soothed. Connor wasn't having it. Now he was hell-bent on either passing the pair in front of them, or cornering them and beating their assets. The liquor fueling his bravado. He maneuvered back to the right lane, but the car matched his path exactly. The ease of their maneuver was confirmed Connor's suspicions that the occupants of the car had harassed other drivers before, wanting to get away from the nuisance. Connor tried to think of another way to bypass the other car. Unfortunately, the road on which they traveled didn't branch off anywhere to get around the offending vehicle. Their only chance was at the end of the road, where there was a red light for a tea intersection. However, that light was still a few miles away, and Connor's patience was wearing thin as the other car continued its deceleration. Determined to circumvent the sluggish car, Connor tried one more ploy. This time he swung to the left, cut short and swung back to the right, hoping the other car would be caught off guard. They weren't. Instead, the other car seamlessly matched Connor's position, shifting left then a abruptly changing course back to the right lane. The way the other car matched their position struck Connor as odd. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was no hesitation from the other car. No split second pause to consider Connor's next play. Their movements weren't that of a copycat. Rather, it was like they knew what he was going to do. Connor's brief feelings of confusion were overcome by his feelings of anger, and he responded to the other car's tricks in the most childish way he knew, and quickly flipped them the middle finger. He watched the shadowy figure drive in the other car do the same. Again, there was no hesitation as the other driver's hands shot up along with Connor's. Wanting to test a theory, Connor allowed his hand to linger in the air longer than necessary, waiting for the unknown driver to put his hand down, but instead it stayed hovering in the air. Connor's anger subsided a bit, when it's placed a sense of unease crept in. He unfolded his fingers, twisted his hand to present an open palm to the other car, and gave a small wave. Connor eyes widened, gawked as a silhouetted hand of the other driver, slowly formed an open palm, turned to face the windshield, and waved out to the empty road ahead of them. Every motion was in harmony with Connor's actions. This mild gesture sent a ripple of fear down Connor's spine. He yanked his hand back to the steering wheel and observed the other driver do the same. Did you see that? Connor flinched at the edge of panic in his voice. You've been waving at the guy you've been bitching about for the last 10 minutes. Yeah, I was there for that. Sarcasm tinted her voice. No, there's something weird going on. He couldn't take his eyes off the mysterious figure. Oh, he's just messing with you. No, I'm not sure what's going on, but it's as if he knows what I'm going to do. I don't think we should be anywhere near this guy anymore. Connor's eyes darted around the empty road hoping for some signs of life to provide help. Or at least comfort. But it was only him, his wife, and the couple in the dented vehicle ahead of them. Megan noticed nothing, so Connor tried to push his warrior side, but he couldn't shake the feeling. They continued driving in silence. Connor's hands tightened their grip on the wheel, straining the skin along his knuckles. The tension increased with every passing minute. Until the quiet was cut by the sound of Megan's phone ringing, which caused Connor to jump in his seat. Without turning, he felt her eyes on him, the same eyes she'd penetrate him with whenever he was over-reacting. She reached into a bag and produced the phone. The phone pressed her ear, and Connor gaped at the passenger of the other car, who was also putting something to their ear. He was certain now that he wasn't hallucinating everything. The anonymous pair were, somehow, mirroring Connor and his wife. Megan hung up and mentioned something about the babysitter, but Connor was too engrossed with the occupants in the other car to hear what she was saying. Fear began to sink in, thinking about whoever or whatever was in the other car. Both cars drove slowly for the remaining few miles of the road. A million things ran through Connor's mind. He worried that the pair in the other car was sociopaths, part of a cult, possibly gang members, and that's him and his wife were involved in some unnerving gang initiation. He wanted to turn around, but that would mean driving miles back the way they came, and he was afraid the shady couple would turn to follow them, and that was worse than having them lead. Mercifully, they came around a bend which brought them to the red light at the tea intersection. Both cars stopped to wait for the light to change. When the lights slipped to green, nothing happened. Connor and Megan waited for the other car's turn signal, but it never came. The two shadow stared ahead at the empty intersection, idling at the light as if to dare Connor to give way first. He gnawed on his cheek, hoping the other couple would just speed off, and that whatever was going on was just some horrible, practical joke, but they didn't budge. Why aren't they moving? The light screamed. Megan asked her husband, confused. A few more seconds of the standoff, and Connor steeled himself to but a stop to whatever it was the dark couple was trying to do. Connor cautiously stretched a hand into the back seat, fearing he might spook the shadow couple if he moved too quickly, and snatched the ice scraper from the floor. It was a poor excuse for a weapon, but he needed a defence in case the other couple was dangerous, and with every second that passed, Connor became more convinced that they were. Max, I need you to stay in the car. Make sure you have 911 dialed on your phone and get into the driver's seat. In case something goes wrong, I want you to be out of here and calling them. Connor implored. Connor, you're overreacting. She tried to calm him down, but she was visibly nervous. Maybe so, but still, get into the driver's seat and put the car in reverse, so you're ready to take off. She recognised the seriousness in his face and nodded. Connor took a deep breath to prepare for whatever he was going to face, and opened the car door. He was surprised that nothing stirred within the other car. He stepped out into the cool night air, and his wife slid into his seat. She closed the door behind him and locked it. Warily, Connor shuffled toward the driver's side of the sinister car and raised the ice scraper, clutching it tightly in both hands. His heart knocked against his ribcage. He caught an incomplete view of the front of their car, but noted that it was similarly devastated as the back of the vehicle. He licked his lips, attempting to get strengthened into his voice and barked to the occupants in the dented car. I'm not sure what your problem is, but get the hell away from it. Suddenly, the car accelerated and shot across the intersection. Instead of turning, it plowed through the guardrail along the intersection. The sound of screeching metal on metal punctured through the night, and Connor watched the savage bumper and comical sticker of the other car disappear and plummet one hundred feet into the vegetation below. Dumbfounded, Connor froze in mid-step. A few seconds of his wife shrieking, finally coaxed him back from his shop. Max called a police right now, telling someone to drive off the road and may need help. He whipped his head to see her nod in compliance, but she was shaking terribly. The ice scraper lowered, and Connor ambled across the intersection. He loitered near the part of the barrier still intact. He hesitated before inspecting the scene, not wanting to see body parts or any mess that was down. He breathed deep and appeared over the cliff. There was nothing. Connor's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He squinted harder to scrutinize the dark underbrush, but he could discern nothing. There was no glow from the taillights, no glint of moonlight on the car's surface, and no sound of a constant blaring hall. The barrier was torn through, evidence that an object had crashed through it, but that object had somehow disappeared. Without glancing back, Connor called every shoulder. Max, the car is gone. What? She shouted back. There's no car. Connor spun around in time to witness an enormous, semi-truck slamming to the back of their car. Like a rocket there little sedan with his wife inside, bolted across the road. A gust of wind created by the car's speed was enough to blow him back and steal the air from his lungs. His eyes met his wife's terrified gaze for a heartbeat. Her glossy green eyes wide and fearful. Then she disappeared over the edge. A moment of disbelief passed, then Connor roared Megan's name. He stalled, reluctant to look over the edge again. He had a small glimmer of hope that once again nothing would be at the bottom of the cliff. He agonizingly dragged his gaze back to the depths, and this time a car lay there in ruin. A crushed metallic heap, the bottom of the dark hit. Before he fell into shock, unable to think of hearing me. Before the police arrived too late to save his wife, Connor noticed one thing, the unmistakable baby on board sticker, which clung to the remnants of the collapsed bumper on the back of their car. It was unsettling to him how familiar that bumper see. Judy was boring. Then Judy discovered jumbo casino dot com. It's my little escape. Now Judy's the life of the party. Oh baby, mama's bringing home the bacon. Whoa, take it easy Judy. The jumbo life is for everybody, so go to chumpacacino dot com and play over 100 casino style games. Join today and play for free for your chance to redeem some serious prices. Chumpacacino dot com. No purchase necessary. We were prohibited by law 18 plus terms and commission the policy website for details. My family experienced a deadly car crime. 8.40 on a Saturday evening. They say that there are some moments in our life that will remember for an eternity. Events that we find are branded into our minds, whether we like it or not. You say that we recall these moments down to the minutest detail, and I can attest to that theory quite well. The clear water droplets plummeted from above, splashing into the windshield. Cars traveled alongside the vehicle, their headlights illuminating the rain, and the light sky contained thousands of dazzling stars above. Inhale. My chest rose, my lungs, taking in crisp air from the slightly opened window beside me. I turn my head, my eyes meeting with hers, and then falling about her gorgeous teeth and I'll roll the lips. Exhale. My gaze fixated on my rearview mirror, observing my young boy strapped firmly in the back seat fast asleep. Inhale. My eyes grew wide as the high beams flooded my vision. In an instant I launched my foot toward the brake, clenching my teeth hard and jaw locked firmly shut. The sound of metal colliding terrorized my ears and my car's momentum carried us forward. Glass shattered as the vehicle came to a violent halt, causing my body to jerk forward and my face to plant directly into the steering wheel. Two shrieks, one from beside me and one from behind erupted into the night. They died down as soon as they began, and suddenly there was no sound at all. My body was rendered immobile and my eyesight faded away, yet my lips still functioned. They gently parted, but all I could squeak out was a measly "No!" before darkness overwhelmed me. From that point on I vaguely recall the noisy sound of bustling people and being in a white corridor, beaming light shone overhead beckoning for me. I tried reaching out towards it, yet I couldn't move my arms. My eyes fluttered and I once more drifted away into sleep. I'd stay in the hospital for several weeks, recovering from various fractures and undergoing multiple surgeries. On my body ached, my physical pain could not compare to my worries about my family. Although I fell to relief like no other wash over me when the staff informed me that my son had survived, a familiar sense of dread later overtook me as I learned my wife was in critical condition. Most nights took an eternity to pass. I consistently glanced towards the clock on the wall, observing the hands tick by minute by minute. Tears would claw their way from my eyes at strange hours of the day, drenching my face in moisture until my cheeks burned red. The sweat forming in my palms dampened and the bedsheets I clenched. Each time one of the staff or doctors came into my room my vision darted towards them. I knew they could reap my mind. They would give me this pitiful look when they looked into my pleading eyes. Every time I asked they'd give me the same non-answer. "Why I show you Mr. Johnson. We're doing our best to treat your wife." Every day I met with some variation of this response. Yet I persisted, determined in here that my wife will be okay. Until one day one of the staff entered my room, shakily standing up to greet him my grin and extended my arm towards his. That's when I noticed a sudden look plastered on his face and my heart descended below my chest. Spoke calmly methodically each word exiting his lips in slow motion. My knees quiffered lightly at first and then more rapidly as he continued. As they eventually buckled I collapsed to the floor, my chest furiously heaving, each breath I took growing more exasperated than the last. Several people restrained me and placed me back onto my bed. I think they were trying to give me words of encouragement and sympathy in the process, but whoever they said blended into an incoherent mess. The men and women beside me blurred into unrecognizable forms and I stared straight ahead. The apparently foul stench of perspiration dripping from every orifice of my body dug into my nose and pricked my eyes. My mind, blank as a paper, grew weary and I finally gave in to the staff attempting to keep me still. The nurses helped clean me up shortly following that outburst. After receiving fresh clothing and being given time and space to come to terms with the news, my nurses escorted me to the lobby and there he stood, waiting for me. I rushed towards him as quickly as possible. Stipping down I embraced him, resting my chin on his scalp and gently patting his back. He buried his head into my chest. My shirt moistened and I held him even closer. He knew. Before he left the hospital I received a few recommendations from psychiatrists and therapists in my area. After thanking the staff for all their help, my son and I took the bus back to our neighborhood later that night. He had bait chicken with rice at night, but he just sat there, poking his food with his fork. Sying I finished my plate, hoping it would inspire him to do the same. Instead he pushed his food away from him, in front of where an empty chair stood before the table. One year he wouldn't budge but I was aware that the hospital had been keeping him healthy and nourished. I told him he should go to bed and get some rest and he obliged, hopping up from his seat and making his way to his room. After he crawled in bed I tucked him in and asked if he'd like me to sleep in his room for the night. He shook his hand, rejecting my offer. I bent down and kissed his forehead, wishing him a good night. I opened my laptop and researched the therapy centre cited in the pamphlet I received earlier. I grimaced when I rode the costs for each one. My wife made money along with me for our family. That, combined with the opportunity costs forfeited by my hospital stay, took immediate therapy out of the question. Sying I closed the computer and trod over to my bedroom. Placing my palm against the wooden door I traced my fingers along its perimeter till they met the cold brass knob. Counting down from five I forced myself to open the door upon reaching zero. I sat foot into the room, flicking the light switch upward. As the bulb cast its light onto dull grey walls surrounding me, I mustered the courage to set foot, one in front of the other. Making my way over to the oak frame of my queen-sized bed, looked down upon the blankets before me. The bed felt so different. It felt so empty. It's like the bed sat a dresser with a picture frame placed atop it. There stood a man in his soulmate that faces beaming with a blade. Feeling the tears trickling down my cheeks I glanced back toward the bed, realizing I was dampening the sheets while I went. Breathing in deeply I turned and exited the room with haste. Retreat into the living room I laid down on the couch and after a few hours of tossing and turning my body finally shut down and let me rest. I didn't recognize where I was. All I knew was that pure life surrounded me, overloading my senses. My mouth opened yet I still didn't make a sound. I extended my arm, groping ahead of me for whatever service I could find. And my fingers were met with a wheel. The sound of an engine roar from somewhere within the light, tire swerved and voices shrieked. Metal tearing into metal, incoherent shrill cries produced from the back of the car. Was this truly happening again? My head jerked forward with the momentum of the vehicle. The commotion ceased as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving me in a state of disarray. The cold night air seeped in through the shattered window, erecting the hairs on my arms and everything was still. It was a dream. I knew it was a dream. So I could so swiftly sense the beads of sweat trickling down my arms and pooling around my knuckles. How is it that a figment of my subconscious mind was able to perfectly replicate the texture of the leather coated steering wheel which I so desperately clung to? And certainly I knew what would greet me if I were to shift my gaze to my right? And then I felt it. Around objects slumped against my shoulder, the messy strands of hair against my arm were warm, or liquid droplets falling and splashing against my hand. I couldn't even form a coherent thought, but for my attention shifted, the sudden weight pressed against my left shoulder. Five standard fingers helped me in their grip. My head spun around in the opposite direction to observe who was touching me. Upon doing so, my gaze was met with an arm reaching through the shattered window. I tilted my head up, and before me stood a man. He stood tall, adorned with black jeans and a gray dress suit. His frame was much too small for his clothes. He appeared fragile. The skin of his arms seemed to loosely stretch over the bone underneath. It was as if he disintegrated if even the slightest force replied to him. Despite the situation around me, my body eased into the seat. I felt a sensation of relief wash over me. He carried an unexplainable aura of familiarity about him. But even despite his malnourished frame, even despite his lanky stature, even despite his face appearing to have been blurred out of existence entirely. I didn't fear him. It almost depressed me that my encounter with him was brief, as I awoke before my eyes scanned what should have been his face. It all happened so fast. I placed my hand on my left shoulder, running my fingertips along its surface. The imprint that would have been left by the man was not there. And of course it wasn't. It was just a nightmare after all. I can't say for certain I understand what I dreamt of that night. It all felt so real. I didn't recognise the man I encountered either. So how could I possibly have felt such an intrinsic connection between him and I? Although I'm not sure what to make of it, I can't help but get the sneaking suspicion that there's more to this than I'm currently comprehending. After all, a dream is said to be a gateway into the subconscious. Whatever the case might be, I'll be sure to keep you guys updated. Well thank you for listening to what I've had to say up to this point. Part 2. I felt a soft tugging on my beige shirt. The small hand of my boy gripped the polyester tightly. I placed my hand on his head, gently massaging his scalp and pulling him closer to me. If you in our service had occurred just hours prior, our family wasn't particularly social. Now we had a few friends and family stop by and offer their condolences to me. It was nice but, if I'm honest, it didn't make me feel better in the slightest. Excuse me for feeling this way but it wasn't exactly receptive to socialising at my wife's funeral. I only went out of necessity as well as in pursuit of some form of closure. Or that closure never did arrive. After it was all said and done, the other attendees left and it was just me and my son standing there before I had casket all alone. I stepped forward placing my hand on the wooden box. Casket sat on a platform. Roses and candles were placed near it on a table. It was a lovely setup yet. Didn't feel complete. I knew her body wasn't inside. Her mangled corpse could not be presented for an open casket funeral so we had planned on having a cremated and having the remains buried. I turned, preparing to leave. But before I could, something peculiar caught my attention. I spun around, I in the casket. I'd been hearing things. No, the only ones in the room were my son and I. I turned back to exit the room only to find my boy had disappeared. Where had he gone? He couldn't have left the room. I hadn't heard any footsteps. Before I could call his name, I heard it again. I, most definitely, had not been imagining things. He shone, "Where are your buddy?" I caught out, now aware of the anxiety bubbling within me. I heard no answer. Rather, the only thing I heard was a faint laugh coming from behind me near the casket. I recognized that laugh. My breath got caught in my throat. I spun around facing the source of the noise. There she stood. Her angelic presence, seemingly illuminating the room. "What the fuck?" I uttered, staring ahead in disbelief. It was impossible. "I have to be hallucinating," I muttered. But I got mad. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn't immediately noticed myself moving towards her. I extended my arms, resting them on her shoulders. Her red freckles adorned her face, having just enough opacity to be noticeable. She smiled, revealing her pearly white palette, where upon her dimples appeared. It was her. She was standing before me in the flesh. I wanted so desperately to speak, but I could only choke on my own words. She delicately placed her hand on me, the cold, smooth service of her ring, grazing my cheek. Blowing my arms to her waist, I held her against me. When gazing into her eyes, the rest of the world simply ceased to be. All that existed was her and I at that place at that time. Gently we swayed back and forth, like the leaves of a tree on a gusty autumn day. Fucking forward and backward, we held each other in our arms. The skin was warm, and I became entrapped in her aura. My muscles relaxed, and soon enough, I was no longer conscious of our movements. My body went on an autopilot, as we danced to the beat of our hearts, conjoined as one. I was in heaven, for my love was alive again. I closed my eyes, smiling and contentedness. I heard a wet splash, and at the same time liquid pulled into my hand. It's warm for juxtapose, the suddenly cold surface I felt pressed against me. My eyes sprung open, the once lively eyes of Elizabeth were now sunken and dull. Her appearance was now ghoulish, and her skin appeared to stick closely to her bones. Looking down at my hands, I saw that they'd been covered with blood. A large laceration covered the surface of her stomach, and the stench of charred flesh infiltrated my nostrils. I shoved her away from me, clapped to the floor. I only had a split second to process what had happened before thick chunks of vomit erupted from my throat. I wish I hadn't met her gaze again. A sweet smile had transformed into a sickening grin. She dragged herself towards me, leaving a streak of blood and pus in her path. They attempted to get up and stumble away from her, but to know where they are. I felt nauseous and struggled to do anything besides clumsily shuffling away. I grimaced in pain as I felt her latch onto my arm, digging her yellowish rotten nails into my skin. She used her momentum to lunge at me, shoving me to the ground and landing on top of me. I screamed and I fought and I clawed at her, desperate to get her off me. Somehow, even though her body appeared rotten and broken, she overpowered me, scraping and clawing at my flesh. And then I felt a tug on my bay shunner. A tiny hand gripped the polyester fabric. I put myself out from the floor and looked down at my sound. I looked back up at me, a look of concern and fear on his face. A puddle of vomit and tears occupied the floor beside where I collapsed. Did I imagine everything? No, I quickly realised that wasn't the most important question at that time. I mean, that my boy witnessed what had just happened. How could I have allowed myself to appear so weak in front of him? A boy is meant to see his father as a superhero, a strong man who can persevere through anything. Not only that person collapsed in the hospital, but it collapsed here as well. God, what would he think of me? Regret and dismay ran through my veins at that moment. But those feelings were interrupted as Sean embraced me with as much strength as his little arms could muster. I froze and then gently reciprocated his embrace. He had seen me collapse, seen me cry, seen me at my most vulnerable. Yet when I looked upon my son, comforting me when I needed it the most, I didn't see a child who felt disappointed in his father. All I saw was an act of compassion. I'm not wanting to weep more than I already had. I let go of Sean and stood upright. He was only a child and had already suffered the loss of his mother. At such a young age I doubted that he had much understanding of the concept of death at all. But I knew for certain he missed Elizabeth, and so I knew I had to be there for him. I promised then and there that I would be strong for Sean. We arrived home that evening. I treated Sean to the best pot roast I could make, and was ecstatic to see, to finally regain his appetite. I tucked in him to bed soon after, and brought a chair by his bed, pulling his sheets and covers over him. The lamp by his bedside shone brightly. "Do an okay little guy," I inquired. He didn't respond, of course. He hadn't uttered as much as a word since the incident. I didn't understand why, but I didn't want to press him on it either. I'd get some help as soon as I could. I grabbed his stuffed teddy bear from a nearby shelf and waved it in front of him. "Yeah, you remember how we got this?" "No, how we went to the fair last year, and you played the baseball game on one teddy." I'd hoped bringing up this memory would elicit a response from Sean, but he simply smiled and continued to look at me, sighing I returned his smile and patted his hand. "Mommy and I got married. We knew we wanted a baby, and every night we would pray to the angels that the baby boy would come. From one day you came to us. It was the happiest day of our life, Sean, and from that point forward you made us the happiest parents around. But mom won't be around for a long time, but I promised that she is watching you with the angels, and she smiled and Sean. She's so, so proud of her beautiful baby boy. So am I. We'll always love you." Again, Sean's lips never parted once. Yet I knew he understood. He had to have understood. He just had to. I just wanted to hear his voice again. "Good night, Sean," I said, getting up to leave his room. Before I could, he reached out and grabbed my arm. "All right, sorry, buddy," I said, leaning over and kissing his forehead. He nodded his head in satisfaction and laid down. I turned off his lamp and closed the bedroom door. Making my way to the bathroom, I went inside and stared into the mirror. I kept my promise to myself to stay strong, for sure, at least for tonight. I grew at the sink tightly, leaning over and peering into my reflection. "What the hell had happened earlier? Could it have been related to the dream I had the other night? Why was I experiencing these disturbing visions?" I never really had to deal with mental trauma in the past, so I was unfamiliar with how the process would work, how to process this information. If people knew about the experiences I was having, well, they think I was crazy. For the first time in my life, I felt small, out of control. I boiled my hand into a fist, pounding it into the wall. All that night was a sleepless one. What I could do was look up at the ceiling. Empty thoughts occupied my mind. I couldn't make sense of what I'd experienced, so I merely dismissed them as night nights. I'll keep you guys updated on any future developments. I think I need an outlet to get my thoughts out. I don't want to vent to my son, so I'll list my thoughts here. Thank you for your attention. I really appreciate it. Looking for excitement? Chumba Casino is here. Play any time, play anywhere. Play on the train, play at the store, play at home, play when you're bored. Play today for your chance to win, and get daily bonuses when you log in. So, what are you waiting for? Don't delay. Chumba Casino is free to play. Experience social gameplay like never before. Go to Chumba Casino right now to play hundreds of games, including online slots, Bingo, Slingo, and more. Live the Chumba Life at Chumba Casino.com. B.T.W. Group, no purchase necessary. Board work prohibited by law. See terms and conditions, 18 plus. Part three. I've had it hard to eat recently. Besides, the pork roast I had was sure and I haven't had much of an appetite for anything. Lost quite a bit of weight, evident by my rapidly thinning frame. Haven't been sleeping well either. Despite this, I've been giving my best efforts to stay strong. I truly believe Shawn and I will get through this. When Shawn fell asleep during the evening, I decided for the first time in a while to try driving again. I've been walking or using public transport to get from place to place, but I knew that I couldn't just avoid driving forever. We've taken Lizzie's car that night, so I was able to use mine. Went out to the driveway and entered my vehicle. I put the keys into the ignition, slowly turning it until I could hear the hum of the engine. Taking a deep breath, I shifted the gear into reverse and backed out of the driveway. Deciding, I'd get off to a slow start, I drove through my neighborhood streets at a low speed. The car methodically made its way down the road, and I eased up a little. I was getting comfortable driving again. I must bring up a little more courage I turned onto a public road, so I could practice driving among other vehicles again. My hands started to tremble, so I gripped the wheel tightly. I turned on my hazard lights and needed to pace myself and keep my cool. I applied a little more pressure on the accelerator. My body stiffened as the car picked up speed, and I responded by slowing my breathing. Doing so allowed me to loosen my body, and I pressed down on the accelerator even harder. I lowered the windows and felt the wind blow against my face. Horns beeped all around me. The noise of chattering pedestrians and restaurant music was omnipresent. I remembered the feeling of driving down the road at night in my car, the way the breeze flowed through my hair, and the way the paved roads felt underneath my tire. As I looked into my rearview mirror, I almost thought my eyes were betraying me. It was smiling, not just a smirk but a full-on grin. I released my grip on the wheel and simply drove. For miles I traveled, not having a care in the world. Oh, I missed cruising along towards the horizon. That liberating feeling coated me in pure bliss. As darkness enveloped the environment, I flicked on my headlights. Burying into the night sky, I saw millions of stars sparkling above, momentarily pausing to appreciate the serene view. My attention was drawn to an alternative source of light ahead of me. The headlights of another vehicle rapidly approached. Well, I defaulted back to clutching the wheel. Those lights, they flooded my vision just as memories flooded in my mind. Remembering to be calm, I once more inhaled a surplus of oxygen. The link had started my stomach before a prolonged exhale exited my nose. For a moment, the light covered my entire vehicle. Then, in a split second, it was over. I observed my rearview mirror once more, watching the car travel down the road behind me. Pulling onto the shoulder, I put the car into park and leaned back into the seat. I let out an audible sigh of relief, followed by a single sentence. I did it. Returning home later that night, I quietly entered my house and went to check on Sean. His door opened with a slight creak and made my way over to his bedside. I turned on his lamp, only to find the covers of an empty bed pulled to the side. Confused, I exited his room and called out his name. There was no response. The door had been locked when I arrived, so I knew he had to be in the house. I checked the kitchen and the dining room before making my way to the hallway. The walls were coated in the darkness as black as tar, except for the very end of the hall. There stood the door to my bedroom, the glow of light outlining its perimeter. I approached it, placing my hand on the doorknob, and entering my room. There sat my son on my bed. In his arms had a picture frame that held the image of Elizabeth, standing by Sean. He stared at the image, his face as still as stunted. Went over to him, sitting by his side and placing my arm over his shoulder. I noticed dark splotches from the picture frame. Placing my hand under Sean's chin, I lifted his head to face me. Red circles surrounded his watery eyes. Using my thumb to wipe the remaining tears from his cheek, I tried to offer him the best smile I could, but his frown remained. There I sat, with a loss of words. My gaze lowered and focused on the picture in the frame. Placing my hand on his, we sat in silence and viewed the photo together. Eventually I broke the silence, realizing just how late it was. Oh, hey buddy, let's head to bed, okay. Sean gave me a head nod and a rose, traversing the corridors of the house to his room. I tucked him in, as per usual, before retreating to my bed. I then picked up the picture frame and held it in my hand. Oh, Elizabeth was as beautiful as ever, and for the first time in ages, viewing her did not cause me distress or pain, rather I felt a sense of acceptance. I record what I'd told Sean about her watching over him with the rest of the angels. Oh, I'd said it to be his mind. I too had begun to tell myself the same thing. But somewhere out there in the universe, my liz was watching, hoping for the best for me. A glance at the image of Sean, standing by his mother. He had the purest grin on his face, one that could melt my heart one thousand times over. I knew he did because I remembered taking that photo. Yeah, that wasn't how he appeared now. No, in his place stood a different Sean, a Sean without the grin, without the energetic and hopeful eyes, rather one with deep gashes and bruises embedded into his flesh, one whose limbs appeared contorted into unnatural positions. In the blink of an eye, his happy demeanor changed into one of shock and terror. Taking a back, I dropped the photo and rushed back to Sean's room. My burst through the door, only to find him peacefully asleep in his bed. He was there, alive, in one piece. I saw him with my own two eyes. Making my way back into my bedroom, I scooped up the picture frame and gazed upon it once more. Well, there he stood, looking perfectly happy. Rubbing my eyes in hopes to clear my vision, I viewed the image again, helping to confirm that what I saw was real. The photo remained unchanged, still showing Sean as the gleeful little boy I knew him to be. I put the photo away and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over my body, sinking my head into my pillow, I closed my eyes. Although it took a few hours, I eventually drifted into a deep slumber. The following day, I woke up early, entering the kitchen for a glass of water, the sound of footsteps caught my attention. They were heading down the hallway, which leads to Sean's room. Oh, figuring Sean had woken up, I followed them down the hallway. I saw his bedroom door, ajar. Inside, I found my boy sitting beside the being from my dream all those nights ago. There he was in his slick, grey suit. He appeared as malnourished as ever, his thin frame giving him a feeble look. His face remained blurred, so much so that I couldn't discern any of his features. I watched as he extended his bony fingers towards my son, laying them atop his head. He brushed Sean's hair with his hand. Neither one of them faced me, and despite the circumstances, I didn't feel fear for my safety or Sean's. I walked toward the creature, attempting to touch it. It was sent to me just before the tips of my fingers grazed its figure. My body lunged forward, my forehead drenched in sweat. I observed my surroundings, realizing I'd not yet left my bed. I decided to put the picture frame away in my closet for the time being. The thing freaks me out, and after that dream, what I would assume was my hallucination yesterday. I just can't bear to view it. Well, once again, well, once again, I was sure to keep you all updated. But I can't express my gratitude enough to you all. Truly. Thank you. Part four. Um, Sean, I needed to speak to me. I must have uttered several variations of that phrase for at least half an hour. Please, buddy, you can talk to me, okay? I promise you can talk to Papa. No matter how many times I repeated those words to him, he simply wouldn't answer. I desperately needed to know that he could speak. I needed to know that he was real. The truth is the constant barrage of delusions had taken a toll on my psyche. Distinguishing between what was real and what was merely a figment of my imagination had become difficult. I had to know Sean was real. I wanted to believe he was. I wouldn't know if he was real if he could just speak. Could he not see the anguish in my eyes? Why wouldn't he utter just a single word? I gripped his shoulders tightly, begging him to even part his lips once. He never obliged my only wish. No amount of bribery or pleading could elicit a response from him. All he did was grab my arm, turn towards his room, and then march towards him. As I followed him, another bearing sense of dread began to brew within me. I found my heart intensely pounding in my throat as we entered the room together. There, the entity sat. My head hung low as Sean released me from his grasp and trekked towards the being ahead. I too approached it, once again attempting to touch this thing. Preparing to suddenly awake from what I'd assumed was another nightmare, I placed my hand on the figure. Only I didn't wake in my bedroom once again. Instead, it two placed its hand on me. And we felt each other's papery frames. Slowly but surely, the details of the being's face were revealed to me. As I looked upon it, I recognized its features, but they were my features too. I stumbled backward, watching as a thing with my appearance leaned towards my son, gently kissing his forehead. I ogled the creature, swallowing the oceans of saliva that built up in my mouth in a single, swift gulp. The creature locked eyes with me, and I locked eyes with it. As this occurred, a sense of familiarity washed over me. My mind darted back and forth, unsure of what to make of the situation. That is, until my thoughts inexplicably settled on the memory of the accident on that fateful night. I recalled the blinding lights, the shrill cries of fear and suffering. But no, there was more. The overhead traffic light, from which a soft red hue shone in the night sky. My vehicle had passed underneath the lights, and then the impact happened. The doctors had they truly told me my son had survived. Yeah, they say that there are some moments in your life that you remember for an eternity. There was a quote that I wrote back towards the beginning of this. So then, why couldn't I recall the words of the doctor who told me that Sean was still alive? Could I truly have forgotten? That's now back to reality, keeping eye contact with the being before me. Only now, Sean was nowhere to be found. The sense of familiarity I felt soon dissipated and was replaced with boiling hatred. I'm glad at the monster, my palms boiling up. I rushed towards it, tacking it to the ground. And before it could react, I began pummeling it with my fists. The other reason Elizabeth is gone. The other reason Sean is gone. Now I'm going to kill you. I exclaimed, gritting my teeth and continuing my assault on the being. It showed no resistance. It simply allowed me to keep striking it again and again and again and again and again and again. I had no plans on stopping. Blood flowed from the thing's face and onto my fists. With every strike, I could feel my body breaking. With every blow, I could sense the light within me begin to extinguish. You know, I carried on, ignoring the growing pain within me. I was going to kill this man for taking what I'd held dearest to. At that point, I couldn't even see the thing. Tears clouded my eyes, blurring my sight. I simply pounded my fists downward, hoping to murder the figure in my fit of rage. I felt a sob tugging on my beige shirt. It was gentle, yet enough to pause my assault. The tiny hand gripped the polyester fabric. My arms fell to my side. I turned my head and very well. My boy stood by my side. I froze. My eyes widening like sauce as I witnessed his lips parting for the very first time. I forgive you, Papa. He smiled at me and embraced me once more. I embraced him too, feeling the stream so tears begin to erupt from my eyes. Not wishing to get my tears on his shoulder. I closed my eyes. I soon found that a second pair of arms had wrapped around me. The smooth surface of a ring pressed against my skin. I didn't let go for what felt like atoms, but I knew I couldn't hold on forever. As I opened my eyes, I found myself alone with the figuring what was once Sean's room. I stood up and approached him once more. In one swift motion, I hugged the thing, pulling it close against me. When I let go, the thing vanished from my view. It was over. I fetched the picture frame from the closet and placed it back on my bedside. They're stood Sean and Liz, standing beside each other with their grins on their faces. In a reflection of the frame, I could see my face besides theirs. I smiled with them for one final time. I know Sean and Elizabeth and the angels are looking from somewhere out there, wishing the best for me. I know they would want me to forgive myself. But doing so isn't going to be easy. I do think I managed to do it. They may not be with me on this earth, but I know that they're with me in my heart and mind. Well, thank you all for listening. I think I'm going to be okay from this point forward. Don't expect any more updates from me. I have the feeling that I shouldn't move on. Wow. It was a pleasure. It's time for today's Lucky Land Horoscope with Victoria Cash. Life's gotten mundane, so shake up the daily routine and be adventurous with a trip to Lucky Land. You know what they say. Your chance to win starts with a spin, so go to luckylandslots.com to play over 100 social casino style games for free for your chance to redeem some serious prizes. Get lucky today at luckylandslots.com. No purchase necessary. BGW Group void were prohibited by law. 18 plus terms of condition supply. I sighed as the first U-rain drop splattered against my windshield. Of course it was raining, as if my driving conditions hadn't been bad enough already. Even without the rain, I was by myself in the middle of absolutely nowhere at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night. It was because of my grandmother I was here really. Not that dying had been her fault, but we'd never really been close. So it was just strange that she put me in her will. We lived in different states, so visits were rare. She didn't always seem distant. I'd never been to a funeral before. My parents were already in Montana waiting for me to arrive. I wonder what they were up to right now. I knew I should have stopped at that last little town. As dubious as that motel had looked, it was better than falling asleep at the wheel. Maybe I could just park at the edge of the road and spend the night in my car. I was certainly tired enough to consider it. My eyelids had been drooping for miles, and now the calming patter of the rain and the methodical motion of the windshield wipers nearly had me asleep. It almost closed my eyes when I spotted something caught in my headlights, startling me out of my stupor. There was something small and furry lying on the road, probably a squirrel. My stomach lurched uncomfortably as the car bumped over the thing. Glancing in my rear view, I saw that I was not the first to run over this poor creature. It was blood spat at all around it. I'm only just now starting to be washed away by the rain. It occurred to me what a pitiful way that would be to go. Just lying in the road, slowly decomposing. Your carcass are mild annoyance to drivers passing through. I shivered, despite the stuffiness of the air around me. The quiet seemed almost uncomfortable now, and I turned on the radio in an attempt to dispel it. There weren't many stations I could get out here, and the ones I did have were full of static. I was willing to bed I was out of cell range too. I left the dial on a fuzzy sounding jazz station and resigned myself to a boring dry. Soon, the surprise of seeing the road kill had worn off, and I was nodding again. Hoping against hope, I reached into the bag lying on the seat next to me, groping around for a five hour energy drink I had yet to chug. Unsurprisingly, I found nothing. I'm not quite ready to give up. I dragged the bag onto my lap and started pouring through it, looking down and taking a hand off the wheel to do so. I knew I shouldn't really have, but I could have sworn there was one more somewhere in the-- I was interrupted, as something hit the hood of the car. My hands flew back to the wheel, and the car swerved as I overcorrected its course. My knuckles were sheet white. I put on the brakes, and the car skidded to a stop, sliding around on the slick pavement. Shaken, I got out of the car, hoping it wasn't too badly damaged. When I saw the front of the vehicle, however, I nearly shrieked. Not because of the shallow dent on the hood, but because of what had put it there. The severed head of a large raccoon, slowly rolled off of my car, trailing blood behind it, fell to the ground with an audible squelch, looking back down the road to where I'd hit the thing. I saw the rest of its body, just as mutilated as the squirrel had been. I stared at it for a few seconds, trying not to be sick. Suddenly, a movement caught my eye. There was something else out there, in the forest on one side of the road. I hurriedly got back in my car, now swapping wet. I turned the car back in the direction I'd been going in and hit the gas pedal, eager to get away from the unpleasant mess of roaking. There were coyotes in Montana, I remembered, and, more rarely, there's. I nervously eyed the rainy darkness around me, wondering what creatures could be lurking out there. It would have to be a pack of coyotes to get the head off a raccoon, the thought that did nothing to comfort me. They couldn't get me if it was in my car, right? I was safe in here, so long as I didn't have to get out of the car again. The next town had to be close, I told myself. I didn't care how sleazy the motel looked, or how sketchy the other occupants. I just wanted off of this road, and away from marauding packs of coyotes, real horror imagine. The next twenty or so miles were spent in high alerts, but I didn't spot any animals. I did think I saw something moving in the forest a few times, but it was hard to be sure through the rain. I knew it couldn't have been an animal though, because to keep up with my car on the highway, you would have to have been running at 70 miles an hour. Since this was absolutely ridiculous, I allowed myself to relax a bit. Well, clearly, I hadn't relaxed very much, because when my cell phone went off, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Farmling through my bag, I accepted the call and put it to my ear. Hello. Hi, sweetie. Have you stopped at a hotel yet? It was my mom calling to check in on me. The reception was awful, but it was nice to know I could get connection at all. No, I'm still driving. Are you guys staying with Grandpa? Still driving? Taylor, it's two in the morning. You know you shouldn't be out of this hour. She dropped her tone to a concerned whisper, which was more of a hiss through the static. That's when crazy people are on the road. I know, mom. I know. I'm driving safely, and I haven't seen anyone for miles. Promise me you'll stop by the next chance you get. Yeah, I promise. I wondered for a moment whether I should tell her about the roaker. It was silly, honey, but it was kind of creeping me out. Mama. This might sound a little paranoid, but I've been seeing what sorry, cutting out. Her voice was garbled, and it was more interference than words I saw it. I'll call you back when I get into town, okay? The lion went dead, cutting me off halfway through my goodbye. I looked down at my phone. The measly one bar had dropped to a taunting, oh, service message. I glided it, as if my frustration would change anything. Hearing my mama's voice had made me feel as if I wasn't alone, just for a little bit. But now the quiet darkness felt more oppressive than ever. Reluctantly, I stuck the phone back into my pocket. My eyes settled back onto the road. I was already slipping back into the monotony that consumed my earlier hours. But that was when I saw the deer. It was a huge snag with magnificent antlers and powerful bill. I would have said that it was a gorgeous animal if it hadn't been split out in the middle of the highway, inside spilling out of its body, blood seeping out onto the pavement. I barely had time to get my door open before violently throwing up. The way the enormous animal had been dismembered wouldn't let me chalk this one up to roadkill. It had definitely been killed by something very powerful, very frightening and, judging by the steam coming off the stag's corpse, very close. I dragged my sleeve across my mouth to wipe away the bile and shut my door firmly. I was trembling like a leaf in a windstorm. There were a mountain lions here, I knew. They had killed people before, when they were desperate enough, and dear too. But didn't they drag their kills away? The stag had just been left here, dismembered but uneaten, in the middle of the road. Whatever had done this, I was not about to stick around long enough to find out. I stomped on the gas pedal and the car shot away like a firework. I was going about 90 miles an hour, heedless of the pouring rain and the pitch dark night. All traces of sleepiness were gone there, replaced by a terra-fueled adrenaline that kept my foot glued to the floor. I was almost to the next town, I told myself, almost there, almost there. I was going to make it. Well, so long as there were no other cars on the road, at this bead a crash would be disastrous and fatal. I didn't slow it down though. That was far more frightened by whatever was behind me than what might potentially be ahead. A glance wildly to either side of me. Terrifying culprits of the roadkill danced through my mind, each more unlikely than the last. A pack of walls, a bear, an asylum escapee, a serial killer, some unknown, unholy monster waiting in the darkness, the type you'd expect to find hiding under your bed or lurking in your closet. But none of my brain's panic possibilities could have prepared me for what happened next. Somewhere in the road ahead of me, there was a screech of breaking tires, then a sickening crunch of metal folding in on itself. I had a woman's voice scream. Her shriek rose in pinch and volume until it was cut off abruptly. I slowed the car down. A wreck flashed in my headlights. The driver had swerved off the road, judging by the skid marks, and crashed into a ditch. Against my better judgment, I stopped the car. Something large and pale, darted in front of my headlights, heading off the road. Creature that side, shouldn't have been able to move that quick. My heart caught in my throat. Is there anyone out there? The core came from right outside my vehicle. I couldn't see you'd said it. I assumed it was a woman who screamed, but getting out of my car was risky. God only knew what might be waiting for me. Please, help me. She sounded like she was in a lot of pain. No, that did it for me. I stepped out of the car. She was laying on the pavement just outside her open door. Well, open. It's a strong word. It looked like it had been wrenched off with deep gouge marks in the metal. Looking down at the woman, I saw similar gashes across her stomach and torso. My stomach turned. But I knew I had to help her. I steeled myself and forced a smile. I'm here to help you. We're going to get you to a hospital. You're going to be all right. From the state of her, I very much doubted she was going to be all right. But telling her that wouldn't help. What did this to you? Her eyes grew wide, showing the whites. Monster. She choked out, followed by a bloody spindle. She coughed. Leave me before it comes back. Go. I swallowed hard. So she knew she was dying. But I couldn't just abandon her. Could I? More coughs wrapped her body, followed by several mouthfuls of blood. Her internal bleeding must have been bad. She didn't have long. I'll give you a ride to the hospital, okay? And where were you coming from? Is it close? She just gave me a sad, bloody smile. Hold on. I've got you. I opened my car door and half lifted, half dragged the woman into my back seat. Thanks. Her voice was barely a whisper. Won't die alone. I got back into the driver's seat, looking nervously after the creature. I stomped on the gas. What the hell was I doing? This was insane. A monster. What did I see in the lope away from her wreck? Was she delirious? How much time did she have? Could we possibly make it to wherever she'd been driving from? Questions swirled through my head. I ignored them and just drove. We raced along the highway at maximum speed. Her laboured breathing told me she was still hanging in there. I heard something pink, softly. My gaslight was on. It was almost empty. I swore explosively. We're almost out of gas. Did you pass any towns on your way there to nearby? I heard her. Take a strain and breath. Close. She managed before coughing weekly. Okay. We could do close. We could make it. I pressed the pedal harder into the floor, racing against not only time and some monster, but the gas tank too. Things just kept getting better and better, didn't they? We drove in silence, except for the drumming rain and her heavy breaths, becoming more difficult and sporadic by the minute. A ways ahead. Perhaps a mile or so. I glimpsed the likes of civilization through the rain. Hey, I see a town. Just hang in there, okay? Only a few minutes and you'll be in the hospital with doctors to take care of you and everything. You'd be all right. We're gonna make it. We are. Just as I finished my convoluted message of hope, the car made an ominous sputtering sound and then started to coast. Oh, no. No, no, no. I'd run out of gas. We were screwed. The car closed to a stop. This is when I saw something move in the forest to my right. Okay. Look, we're less than a half a mile from the town. I, I know we'll be able to make it there. You can just lean on me. I'll carry you if that's what it's going to take. And I can shower for help when we get closer. It'll only take 10 minutes, okay? She didn't appear to have the strength to respond. I opened my car door and went around to her. Her breathing was less laboured now, but extremely shallow. Blood dribbled from her mouth. "Staphony?" she said softly, surprising me. "Is that your name?" She gave me the slightest nod of her head. "Well, I'm glad I met you, Stephanie. I'm tailored. We're going to make it all right." But her eyes started to glaze home. Stephanie took one last, shuddering breath. She went utterly limp and the light faded from her eyes. I was left holding a corpse in the ring. I wanted to cry. To collapse into the wet pavement and to mourn for one night, none for barely a few minutes. One who I had almost convinced myself was going to live. And I think I would have just sat down and given up if it hadn't been for a disturbing noise behind me. I turned around to see, well, I wasn't sure what it was, but my god, it was horrifying. It was pale and immensely tall. Even though it was hunched over like a cripple, it had milky white eyes and a gaping, slavering maw, lined with bloody teeth. Its arms were unnaturally long. They dangled listlessly by its side like an ape's. The thing was on the other side of the road from me, with nothing but faltering raindrops between me and it. It looked like it was grinning at me. I ran. I didn't care where I was going. The forest was probably a bad idea, but I went in anyway. The town. The town was close. I steered towards the artificial light. It was close. We were close. We were going to make it. No, just me now. Stephanie was back there with that thing. She'd been right. It was a monster. So I was going to make it there. Something crashed into the bushes behind me. It was it. I ran faster. My breath was coming in short gasps from the adrenaline and the exercise. Was I going the right way? Where were the lights from the town? I had to find the lights. The thing was getting closer. I heard it and I felt it. I found myself praying, muttering gibberish under my breath. I wasn't religious. No, God would ever let him on curiosity like the one behind me exist. I knew this, but I prayed anyway. Now I could hear its breath. It sounded wet like the forest around me. Oh God, please don't let me die here. I'm going to make it. Keep your head away from me, please. I pleaded with a nothingness. No use though. The thing was practically on top of me. Something sank into my back. It was wet and sharp. I stumbled and fell face first onto the damp ground. The lights. They must be coming from the town. I saw them. I was close. I would make it. I could imagine getting into the town, finding a hotel, telling someone about this crazy everything. Confessing really. Oh, the soft, dry bed. Heat. I could almost feel it. The silky pillowcase against my cheek. The soft sheet's wrapping me up. It's a fusing me with warmth. I smiled softly. I could see the light. This is the story of a monster. My name's Harold Brown. I'm six foot one, built like a Viking. Short and thick tree trunk legs. Huge torso. Big paunch. Thick blonde hair. Blue eyes. Hair everywhere. And gigantic arms capped by ham-sized fists. Suffice to say, when I go to Renaissance fairs, it's always as William Wallace. I go to a university in California, one of the last good ones. A hidden gem, really. And five months ago, I met my girlfriend, Cassandra. How we met is the stuff of at once, dreams and nightmares. I was behind her in a drive-through late at night and saw some guy climb into her car. I followed after her, frantically honking and flashing my brakes to get her attention. She evaded me, not knowing of the monster hiding behind her. Because I grew up on the farms and ranches surrounding this town, I quickly located the back roads they'd gone down and called in the police. Cassandra was still alive. I met with her again after she was released from the hospital. Yeah. I knew I had to ask her out after the cops tried to take the bag of fast food that was in her car for evidence and she ferociously snatched it back and mauled the burger in half a minute. In spite of being stalkers, I had read as a tomato from head to toe thanks to the bleach she'd been dunked in by that psycho. Coffee. Movies. A great hole in the war restaurants I know around town. None of which were drive-through since she'd officially sworn off of them. And whatever else a pair of students on a shoestring budget could manage. A cascade of wine-red hair, which reminded me of my field of study. A mother of pearl skin and her vibrant blue eyes, or marked a young woman who knew her way around an animal cell. I'd regale her with a talk of wine and wine-making. Geekery. The time I was shot while working as a security guard at the Santa Barbara County Fair in Expo. And books I grew up with. Star Wars is Expanded Universe. Wrapped a red and snow crash if you must know. And she would bless my ears with descriptions of cellular mitosis. Star Trek, which got her into science because Mr. Sparks, her hero, and Mystery Science Theater 3000. I was already a fan, but she helped me truly appreciate the skits in between the movie segments. She'd call me her big Viking wolf. I'd call her my little Spitfire Fox. To be honest, I probably wouldn't have met or talked to her or any other girl there at that university. It's not that I'm shy of the Myers-Briggs personality types. I'm an INFJ, introverted, intuitive, feeling, judging, the rarest of them all. Great privacy, but great empathy, a healer, a crowd-pleaser, but someone preferring their alone time and their own headspace. But more than just that, I struggle with feelings of intense self-hatred. None of which manifest on the surface because my nurturing nature doesn't want to spread that around. How do I find validation? Through helping others. Counseling helped and probably saved my life. But that self-hatred still pops up. All of it prompted by a traumatic three years when I was nine at the hands of an ex-sister-in-law. But for now, these days, I'd managed to find a wonderful young woman who saw past my imperfections to the person under the carefully constructed marks. Dating bliss at last. You had to be careful though, in our town there's a significant homeless population and some gangs too. Most of the latter didn't bother with students, unless someone was behind on a drug tab, and most students' vices were in beer and video games, and the former, they were usually pretty chill. There's even a mural of one, dubbed The Pirates, thanks to his eyepatch and hag of demeanour. Every time a student would see him, they'd pump a fist and shout, "Arr, matey!" and the pirate would shout, "Arr, matey back!" Nice guy. Lo's dozick with spear, and if you buy him a drink or sandwich, he'll regale you with stories and his time working on a freight ship that is so outlandish and so ridiculous. They absolutely must be true. Unicorn Man. So named for the single dreadlocks sticking up from his head at all times. He was a professor at the university until something he was researching just broke his mind. The cop, named because of the tattered please shirt and cop hatty war, was an abandoned down syndrome, baby, that the man could be trusted to walk women safely home on dark and frightening nights. A real class act, the cop. Then there's some of the unsafe ones. The Martian, who thinks aliens are going to invade. Pig Penn, who's only held together by all the parasites he carries holding hands, and tapeworm. It was a dried up, crap spattered tail sticking out of his hands, that's composed of the half dead tapeworms dangling out of him. He keeps yelling about how his son was taken by polar bears. He was just a student that crap from pressure never went home. He'd become violent towards anyone with a small dog or cat, demanding they give him his son back, and spend a night in jail. Once upon a time, we had institutions that helped these people, but because relative few psychos turned them into their own personal doctor-mangler playgrounds, they mostly got closed out. Things everywhere would have been different if these folks got the help they needed. But, well, I digress. One evening, when we'd finished our studies over a plate of tequitos and guacamole, that had grown cold and limp and green, respectively, Cassandra looked out for my book and shot it with a heavy thud. "Let's go see a movie," she exclaimed, grinning that adorable way that she did. "Oh, as long as it's not the Star Wars prequel, I ground." She scoffed. "As if you even had to say it." "You know, after what Jar Jar Abrams did to Star Trek, I'm not wasting time on that, who we?" "See, dream woman." "Okay, so, how about App-Man?" I asked. "Oof, I haven't seen much in way of the Marvel movies," she shrugged. "Got one you want to see then?" I asked as I stood up, slipping my huge work boots on. The boots Cassandra joked could be used as a lifeboat in the event of a catastrophic flood. "I don't know. What do you want to see?" She asked, twirling a strand of that red hair around her finger. "Very helpful, Foxy." "Um, well, Mad Max Fury Road sounds like fun," I supplied. She tilted her head in thought. I'd shown her all three movies after I discovered our mutual love of Fallout, and she liked Thunderdome the most. I'm more of a road warrior fan myself. "Okay, Fury Road it is," she jerked. It was wonderful to see her cheering and smiling like this. She was shaking in power over the first month after her ordeal, but while time, dates, and distracting schoolwork and recreation has got a way of helping you forget the horrors that have been visited upon you. I checked the listings on my phone, and the only showing that would conclude at a civilized time was at a drive-in theatre. It had been in town for as long as anyone could remember. They're a trailer park. Every Sunday, there'd be a swap meet there, and on occasion, we'd pay a visit to see what second-hand goodies we could find. I mentioned this, and Cassandra hesitated, biting her lip anxiously. "Hey, it's all right. We can wait for another showing. We'll find another movie," I said, with a smile, scratching my fingers up and down her back the way she liked. "No. No, it's okay. Let's go. I shouldn't let some scary crap define me for the rest of my life." She shot to her feet, a fist, melodramatically thrust in the air. "God, what a dork. What a beautiful, wonderful dork." Taking my truck, we stopped at a gas station on the way to grab snacks. Since movie theatre's snack crisis, usually somewhere between kidney and first-born child. But, at Cassandra's insistence, we got fresh popcorn from the concession stand. I've got to support the local business after all. Fortunately, we like our popcorn the same way. Drenched in that fluid they somehow get away with calling butter, and generously salted to the point at the mere side of the torso-sized tub of pop kernels, caused our arteries to shrivel out like twigs. Armed with our gas station candy, sodas, and popcorn, we drove to a spot, chewing the radio to the drive-in frequency, and relaxed. And ahead of us, another couple in a little blue Prius were watching, frequently tearing themselves away to steal kisses while the cocker spaniel dog in the back stole mouthfuls of popcorn. Well, I relaxed. Cassandra kept reaching into her purse to feel the comforting grip of her taser. The same one that had ended the life of her would-be murderer. She eventually settled down, sampled some popcorn, nibbled on her Snickers bar and sipped at her soda pot. The film was extremely exciting, and it drew Cassandra in. I kept looking over at her, making sure she felt comfortable and was enjoying herself. That was more important to me than the film. Around the time, Max blew up the guy decked out in ammo. Oh, I want that hat now, by the way. The intermission came. 15 minutes to get out of the car, relax, get a snack or use the facilities. Cassandra needed the latter most. Before asking me to go with her, I offered to escort her myself. Making sure I locked my truck, smiling reassuringly at her. I took her along with the restroom. One of these brick affairs set up near the same building they kept the projectors in and sold concessions from. I waited outside and surveyed the dark landscape of cars, watching snacks and drinks dancing fightingly on the screen. Yeah, real subtle. I leaned against the bricks near the women's restroom entrance, gazing up at the stars. You can make out most of them, given the small size of the towns around here. I heard jingling and clicking approaching from the drive through and glanced down, seeing the dog, at popcorn stealing cock a spaniel, trotting along, leash trailing behind it. Oh, looks like we got a jailbreaker, I exclaimed with a laugh, bringing my giant boot down on the leash before leaning down to seize it. Let's get you back to your folks, silly walk. I walked the dog back towards our spot, and noticed the car ahead of my truck had its driver door wide open and was completely empty. I glanced towards the concession stand, spotting a few people, but none of them looked like the couple from the car. I started to walk towards it. When the dog became immediately agitated, barking, growling and making a real fuss. Easy now, buddy. It's all right. I consoled the unhappy canine. I'm sure they're okay. That sounded like a hollow light even to myself. I slowly rounded the back of the couple's car and peered into the cabin. It was completely dark, so I fished out my phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it into the part Prius. Dark, red, soaking the upholstery and the console. Oh my god. I saw a bloody hand sticking out from under the car, and the dog let out a mournful whimper. I skipped him up under one arm and scrambled like the devil himself when nipping at my heels, darting back to the concession stand. I banged a fist on the door to the women's restroom. Occupied? Cassandra snobbed me inside. Give me a minute. Cassie, baby. Lock the door in there. Don't unlock it. I bellowed and staggered to the concession stand, scaring the crap out of the pool. Acne riddled freshman with dark circles under his eyes, manning the place. Holy shit, dude. Yout. Bloodshot eyes wideening in surprise. Listen. Call the police. Someone's been hurt. I yell. He stared at me for a few moments, jaw slam. Oh, what? A skeptical mumble struggled his way from his mouth. Murder. Call. Cops. Fucking now. I bellowed, banging my fist on the counter for emphasis, then ran all the way back to the truck, panting her. I tossed the dog into the back and snatched Cassandra's taser from her purse. I spun around just in time to see a dirty, haggard face framed by stringy and greasy hair and a pair of venomously angry dark brown eyes boring into mine. I got a half second to let out a startled shout before I felt a cold impact in my abdomen, accompanied by a rigid stiffness. It was tapeworm, and he just buried an old kitchen knife in my belly. I could tell it had penetrated abdominal muscles, but where the knife wound up, it was mostly adipose that was pierced. And the thick shall inherit the earth. I'm a gentle saw by nature and can count on one hand the number of fights I've been in. One time when I was in 4-H, one more thing I have in common with Cassie. I held off a gang of kids from beating up my little brother. A boy scout camp got into a fight with a big lummox who picked on me excessively. Thirdly, I was shot in a torso by an idiot punk with his idiot girlfriend because they wanted to get into the fair after closing out. I did the same thing when stabbed that I did when shot. I became enraged. I have a deep-seated rage issue stemming from a ruined childhood at the hands of the ex-sistering role, the one I mentioned earlier. You tortured me whenever no one was around. From between when I was 9 years old to when I was 12, when my brother divorced her for unrelated reasons, well, I never told anyone what happened, say, for the counselors, and frankly that's a lengthy story for another time. And I always found outlets for that rage, so it never controlled me. Games. A little time at the sharpshooting range. A little kickboxing. Invented perfectly. But when this poor, broken and delusional man stabbed me, it was something he immediately regretted. My vision reddened and I leaped forward. The same way I had after that chisel job punk put a bird in me. I brought my fists down on him. Muscle turned from long hours on the farm and ranch I grew up on, burning as I struck him across the face as he screamed. "Son, get out of the trap. Run away boy, get out." He cried to the cockerspanial whose owners he'd butchered in a delusional stupor as I rained one blow after another down on him. You know that little bit of restraint you have? That restraint that keeps you from putting your full potential strength into a blow. That well-trained part of your stupid ego that's told you it's not good to hit people. Well in that moment, as in the three fights of my life before, that restraint fell away as I broke his jaw. Cracked his cheekbone, felt his ribs crack under my unrelenting and brutal assault as all the built up rage, frustration and grief inside me poured out into this man. Somewhere in all this frame, the knife had come out of me and I was bleeding all over. By the time the police arrived, I was standing over him and was bringing a size 13 triple-e work boot down on his femur snapping it like a toothpick. All the while, the movie continued. It seems the kid in the booth was too shaken to think to turn it off. And while in modern Joe was driving his souped-up hot rod on the big screen, the rest of the drive-ins patrons watched on oblivious to the mayhem happening less than 100 feet away. The cops shone their light on. They heard them bellow at me to stop, and when I looked up at them, the rage burned still. And according to the dash cam footage I later saw, thanks to a friend of the family in the police department. They had just caused to believe I was about to attack them. This distraction, though, was enough for my gentle signs, what I hoped is my real self, to grab the reins again. The adrenaline rush ebbed, and after taking one step, my strength left me, like the blood of mine poured around my feet. I collapsed. I have faint memories of Cassandra walking alongside the gurney that the paramedics had managed to get my giant self onto, holding my hand. She called me her warrior, her protector, her knight in shining armour. Please, no, maybe, don't call me those things. She rode with me to the hospital, and I woke up to her, and my family gathered around. Cassie's dorm mates were even there. Nicole, the activist girl, genie, the nice but bubble-headed beauty queen, who had yet to pick a major, and the perpetually cheerful and extra-thick god, warrior. My brothers joked about how I needed to get a slash on my torso, and my battle damage would be complete, after having been shot and stabbed now. My mom and dad were their usual, supportive sounds. Cassie and I kept calling me brave, heroic, and mighty. No, no, none of those things. The detective who came to interview me – Jack Cunningham – explained that the couple that tape worm had attacked had not survived their injuries. Wow, he really tore up that guy, telling him so. I felt sick to my stomach. And not because of the dull pain where I'd been stabbed, which was throbbing with infection that a cocktail of painkillers and antibiotics was battling. I looked away from him, trying to hide my shame. Then he grimned. Can't see he didn't deserve it, calling him sad. No, god no, don't say that. Am I going to jail? I mumbled. This completely falls under self-defense, but you beat the guy to within an inch of his life, and he's probably going to end up in the funny farm. The detective said. This is what it took. This is what it takes before people who need it gets sent someplace where they can't hurt others or themselves. I'll come back with more questions and paperwork. But you go on and heal up, hero. This is pretty cut and dry. He said, giving me a thumbs up on his way out. Prands and family drifted in and out over the next week, and even the pirate sent a card saying, tape wasn't right in the head, sharing this happened. Get well soon, brother. It included a gift certificate for a big bottle of honeyjacks. After I got out, I would frequently glance at the other homeless folk. No, not because I was afraid of being attacked, but looking for a scowl, a frown, a dirty look, something, anything to validate how loathsome I felt. Nothing of the soul. Why couldn't people see me what I know exists? I finally went back to my dorm, hand in hand with Cassandra in one, and the leash of the newly adopted cock of Spaniel in the other. And after sitting down, I hammered this whole story out. The monster I mentioned when I began, no. It wasn't tape work. Beating a handicap man with no control over his actions got labeled a heroic act. It sure as hell doesn't feel heroic. The monster I referred to lives inside me, the hide to my jackal. I know on the surface that I'd never hurt the ones I love, even when angry, but a primal fear always hides deep down. Now brains are divided into many different parts. Know why you get a headache looking at optical illusions. Not your brain arguing over what it's seen. Whatever part of my brain that monster lives in, I pray to all that's good and holy, that it's never unleashed again. That's why I've gone back to counseling. Cassandra says she's proud of me for it. She's the only one I've ever told any of this to. Well, until now. And I'll tell you all what she told me. You're worth healing. You're worth helping. You're worth being happy. I employ you friends. Battle those demons in your soul. Don't do it alone. Once we graduate, I'm going to ask Cassandra to marry me. My tabletop game friends, Raul and Mandy gave me an engagement ring to give to her when the time's right. Well, I'm thinking Pismo Beach at the end of the pier. Right when the moon is hovering over the ocean, just not as a driving movie any time soon. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, please write a few nice words and leave a five star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dream and some pie bar. I'm Victoria Cash and I want to invite you to a place called Lucky Land where you can play over a hundred social casino style games for free for your chance to redeem some serious prizes. So what are you waiting for? The best way to discover your luck is to spin. So go to luckylandslots.com. That's luckylandslots.com and get lucky today at Lucky Land. No purchase necessary. VGW Group. Boy, we're prohibited by law. 18 plus terms and conditions