Cookie. part 3

“Are you saying that someone or something was in my house and killed a random cat with heavy furniture? at what point does that even start to make sense?” Asked baffled Cookie.

“I prefer that option than imagining you doing it” replied David with concern still on his face. “I could call it in and try to make it an official case, check for finger prints or some other evidence, even call for observation or even set up a trap” continued the officer.

Hearing that, Cookie realized that he is more handsome than smart as it didn’t sound very professional of him. She needed a break from all the weird shit, knowing that David isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, Cookie decided to play the situation to her benefit.

“How about we solve this ourselves? Tonight be my detective, you will have your observation station in my bedroom, maybe you can even use those handcuffs.” said Cookie with an alluring voice.

At this point Cookie wasn’t sure if she should be surprised that this line worked and if his intelligence was a turn on, or a turn off. But when she noticed the fabric of his uniform trousers being stretched rapidly just after saying that, she didn’t concern herself with these thoughts anymore.

Unsure what she is doing Cookie grabbed David by the belt to pull him in close for a kiss, lips connected and soon the tongues danced around each other. Since her hands were already on the belt she started undoing it, brushing her hand against his erection while removing the belt made Cookie go wild inside. She handed him the belt and playfully said “You’ll need that ” and she turned around and made her way to the bedroom leaving the officer in disbelief.

Soon enough all fabrics were on the floor and rivers of ecstasy flowed through the bed. First phone calls from Richie didn’t bother them at all, yet after the fifth, it began ruining the mood. To put an effective stop to it they decided to answer making sure to turn on the video chat. To Cookies surprise seeing herself on the screen with David behind her and Richie in shock made her climax, he quickly disconnected.

After the rivers of ecstasy stopped flowing they laid there in bed still tangled into each other, almost dosing off to the rhythmic tapping on the window. Before Cookies eyelids got too heavy for her she decided to take a long shower after this crazy day. Since she didn’t have anything on Cookie just grabbed a towel and made her way to the bathroom, looking back she noticed the officer smiling at the view.

Cookie pulled the curtain and hot water began relaxing her muscles, she enjoyed the sensation while pondering what is better, hot showers or sex? It’s even in her opinion. Taking her away from the thoughts was the sound of the doors opening. “Didn’t have enough, stud?” she asked but met no reply.

She could see his shadow through the curtain, but for some reason, he seemed taller, thinner, and his arms too long reaching his knees. Heartbeat started rising but rational thinking was saying it’s just the trick of the light. As he moved closer to the right, that explanation began withering away. Then a new thought came to her, he is trying to scare her, but if she jumps out first she will scare him instead. Cookie moved to the left side of the curtain so she doesn’t jump straight into him. As it turned out they made the same move at the same time, with the only difference that she noticed a shining grey tail slipping behind the curtain.

Cookie. part 2

This day was an emotional rollercoaster for Cookie. All-day she was thinking about that scary situation in the morning, the dead cat, the hot officer. The latter was the only pleasant thought as she tried to imagine what he is like and what they could be like. Yet these thoughts also forced her to re-think her relationship with Richard who unfortunately disappointed Cookie more times than her good but naive heart could endure lately.

Sitting in the work cubicle she pondered whether to dump him today or wait for improvement on his side, if she could only get a sign to help her choose it would be easier. As soon as she finished that thought she heard a rhythmic tapping behind her. Internal panic ensued causing her to tremble and heir on her neck stand up, seconds felt like an eternity awaiting her painful end. Her mind tried to imagine the being that is behind her bringing suggestions at lightning speed. She could envision the thing reaching out to grab her, and it did, internal chaos multiplied when she felt something on her shoulder.

“Cookie! come back to earth damn it. I’m knocking, talking to you and you don’t even react. Are you even awake?” asked the now annoyed supervisor.

Trying to hide the tears she nodded. “Um, yes I am, sorry I had a rough morning.” replied Cookie.

When the supervisor noticed the liquid emotions leaving Cookie she leaned in and whispered. “Darling, I don’t know what you’re going through, but if you want to talk then please come to my office. Also, you can go home anytime you want.” Wanting to comfort Cookie she place her hand on the shoulder again but she noticed her move away as if in pain.

Cookie didn’t need much time to think, she decided to grab her purse and leave work right there. Going through the door she said to herself, ‘I’ll take this one, but I’m not asking for another fucking sign like that.’ Now she had to inform Richard about her decision, but she didn’t want him to see her so shaken up. It will be done over the phone, maybe that’s a bitch move, but then again that’s all he deserves.
Listening from the sides it sounded like this.

“Hello Richie, sorry for doing it over the phone but I’m done with you, I can’t take it anymore so we are over. No. No, you can’t. Try not to call me. Yes, it is your fault. Goodbye Richie. Oh and one more thing, fuck you!”

And now she was free, feeling light and confident about herself, also a bit scared, but mostly free. That also meant she could contact ‘Mr. Hot’ without feeling bad about it.

Arriving home she felt the sense of unease also arrive with her. She didn’t want to take off her jacket as she realised nobody closed the window since morning. She amended that mistake and turned on the heating, after a cup of tea she knew she has to clean the room with the bookshelf. Entering that room she noticed the mess. Cookie started with stacking all the books by the wall, next with disgust she cleaned the small pool of blood beside the shelf. She stopped and wondered if it’s a good time to ask for a helping hand in lifting the bookshelf, and she even had the perfect guy for it.

The day was already crazy enough for Cookie so she decided to just go for it and dialled the number. “Hello officer, it’s Cookie, from this morning, you said to call if I need something and I wondered if you could help me out lifting that treacherous shelf and keep me company for a bit?” “Fabulous, I’ll put the kettle on then.” Hanging up she could not believe what she had done and that it worked. Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang and a man in uniform stood outside. Opening the door Cookie blushed involuntarily and exchanged greetings, it also turned out the Mr Hot’s name was actually David. The small talk and shy glances moved through the hallway into the kitchen where they orbited and eventually into the room where the books are.

“I’m surprised you actually waited with it, thought it was just a ploy” said the officer.

David walked up to the laying bookshelf and crouched down to grab it, as he tried to lift it he stopped and looked at Cookie with concern on his face.

“Are you aware how heavy it is?” he asked.

“No, It was standing here since I moved in.” replied Cookie.

“Give me a hand lifting.” instructed the officer.

To Cookies big surprise the bookshelf was actually very heavy, probably oak. Once it was up, David was looking at cookie with a great deal of confusion.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Cookie.

“You realise there was no way the cat could tip it over.” he said as he proved it by grabbing the top of the bookshelf and performing a pull up on it without moving it. At the sight of it, Cookie was washed over with fear for the third time today.

End of part 2.

Cookie. part1

Cookie was coming home from a party that she, for the last few day envisoned will be a sweet date with her boyfriend. As usual in her experience men struggle with the conept of romance. Her jaw was clenced in anger as she briskly moved through the streets, her mind going in all directions. The asshole didn’t even bother to walk her home after na evening of talking about horror with his friends. She was a fan of horrors, but not for the thrills but as an excuse to snuggle herself into the arms of her man. Now that she was alone on the empty street she felt uneasy, shiver shot down her spine when the street lamp went dark ahead of her. She fixed her scarf and began looking for the keys in the pocket of her coat. Momnets later with a relief she arrived at the door of her house, yet the darkens behind her urged the woman to enter faster then usual. Cookie entered and locked the door in a record pace. “Motherfucker” she mumbled beneth her nose.

Cookie began undressing and decided Camellia tea might help her get one story out of her head. One of the guys said it, it was very short, and more disturbing than she tought it will be. She kept reciting it in her head and it went like this.

“You can look for monsters under you bed, you can look in your closet or behind the doors and you will not find anything there. But whatever you do, don’t look up, she hates when you look up.”

Cookie realised it’s just a stupid story. Nontheless the thought of looking up that night gave her goosepumps as she imagined shomething is above her, just out of her sight and will jump down to maul her face when she looks at it.

The tea helped her calm down, the rain strated tapping on her window rythmically, and she focused on that tapping to help her doze off. In the morning she woke up feeling cold due to the bedroom window being open. Cookie walked to it trying to remember if she got up to open it, grabing the handle she froze seeing it’s dry outside. Her mind started conjuring all kinds of unreal scenarios which made her struggle to move her muscles.

She wanted to call her boyfriend, but he is probably still drunk and will tell her she is just scared from yesterday. Maybe that is the truth. Cookie decided to dress for work, once done she hesitantly moved to her bedroom door since fear was still lingering. Something hit the floor in another room which cased Cookie to sprint out the front door, outside with shaky hands she tried to call her man which as predicted didn’t pick up. 911 was next.

Within 15 extremally long minutes an officer arrived. Cookie felt safer now, safer then she usually feels with Richard, her soon to be ex-boyfriend. Seeing no wedding ring on the officers finger she momentarily forgot about the whole situation until the officer spoke. “Please wait here Ma’m, I’ll go inside to check if anyone is there.” The officer updated the dispatch and disappeared behind the front door.

Few minutes later he emerged with a towel on his hands. “I am trully sorry, but your cat has passed away, it looks like it tried to jump on a bookshelf which fell on top of him and crush..” he didn’t finish the sentence.

“I don’t have a cat” whispered Cookie

Lifitng the towel she didn’t recognise it as being the neighbours cat.

“Must be a stray then, I noticed the window was open. In that case I will take it with me, the house is clear and here is my number if anything else happens you can call directly” The officer said as he hander her a card.

“Is it just for an emergency, or can I call after work hours too? I’m Cookie by the way” she said while blushing.

The officer gave her a prologned smile and walking away he said “That sounds delicious.”

Surpised with his answer she put his number in the phone book under a name ‘Hot Officer’

Cookie spet her workday jumping between the toughts about Mr. Hot and the dead cat. She wondered why and how the cat got in since she had no memory of opening the window, also what was tapping on the window that night since it didn’t rain that night. She almost fell of the chair at the tought that the cat looked up, looked up at the thing that hates to be seen. Nonsense she tought, its just as the officer said, a stray got in and jumped on a shelf athat wasn’t attached to the wall.

End of part 1.


Swaying in emotions as if in drunken step, swirling through the rooms loosing ground. Soles loosing support on the way to finding the soul, falling down through the floor I feel the rush of a free fall. I’m falling, but see no end, no destination. Silencing the panic I slow down the fall and now I am able to see the glimmering lights in the distance. We rush towards each other awaiting the unknown. Shining spheres float around me or rather I float around them, inside I see images,some stagnant some moving. Strangely familiar yet unknown, I stare at them curiously examining this new finding, and then something clicks when I see my own face in them. Memories of long ago, of my youth and everything that passed. Memories of everything I have forgotten, everything that my mind has thrown away. Snapshots of my birth, first steps, old hobbies and more. They seemed to come alive in my presence, echoing in my head, I can feel my head tingling from memories resurrecting inside. Why are they lost, are these useless, or have I lacked the storage capacity for them? They are my personal treasures lost in the void, yet ecstasy of recovering them soon fades as one question after another dawns on me. Why have I been cast into this void? Am I to be a resident of this graveyard? A memory forgotten by everyone who knew me?

These questions also faded when I noticed the face of my grandmother in one of the spheres. I reached out to grab it, and as soon as I made contact, I’ve woken with a gasp. Her words still sounded clear in my head. “Live your life in such way that you will never run out of things to write about”

That morning I promised to myself and as well as my grandmother that I will not be forgotten.


*Static radio noise with cut ins of random distorted words, static, then silence*

*Mellow string instruments quietly play in the background. *

Hello listeners, I am glad you could find this frequency that was hiding between all the mainstream and corporate radio stations. My name is.. it’s irrelevant, but those who will stay to listen can call me Cicada. Those who cracked my online cipher and found the station, congratulations and welcome, also listen carefully for more clues. To those who stumbled onto this transmission by accident, you need to be warned, this is not for everyone, you might learn something you didn’t want to know. The truth others want to hide. But! Knowledge is power, and I have mystery to be solved. A real mystery, and there aren’t many of them left around. I’m not talking about what your neighbor is doing at night, or political conspiracy theories. I’m talking about things that are out there we can’t yet explain. About the things that lurk around in our peripheral vision but can never be seen. Places and events that change people. Have you ever heard the word Zanu?

I have first heard of it in an obscure science research forum, it didn’t seem to fit in such a place but, the scientist writing about it seemed sure it can exist. Most assumed he was just mad, and I was about to do the same. What got my attention was that the post got deleted while I was reading it. Normally they are flagged, moved to a separate section where the post has a week to be viewed before removal. Yet this one was deleted immediately, what’s more interesting, it was deleted at root level. And dear listeners, you know that takes incredible skill to do such a thing, even I would struggle with that. For those who are here by accident, deletion at root level means to remove something from the internet, completely, as in it doesn’t exist anymore. Like I said it takes incredible skill to do it. Also, everything you posted online, ever, even when you thought you deleted it, it is still out there, floating or at least traces of it. I don’t intend to scare you but almost nothing disappears from the web. Anyways, my system managed to copy the text before it was removed and saved it on my external database. Now I am one of very few if not the only one in possession of it. Because of the removal I got into a rabbit hole. I’ve set up my system with a search algorithm to scan the net for “ZANU”. Of course, I got flooded with everything about Zimbabwe African National Union. Hey! Don’t smirk, even pros can make a mistake. I’ve upgraded the algorithm now and got a hit on few insignificant things, but one led me to a manuscript that was names Zanu and it made sure I stay in the rabbit hole.  I will read an extract from it now.

“You wake up, alone, and walk out into the dark forest. You’re up before the others, as always. The way is hard. The way is dark. You wait. You listen, but there are still signs of life in the woods. You know, when you’re close, these sounds will fade and finally stop. The seekers rise soon after, in this place they are nameless, only known as a Zealot, Writer and Navigator. They way is hard, the destination keeps moving, or you are moving. It’s ever-changing or you are changing. Hearing a hum and throb in your head, tie a red ribbon to a branch and run forth. Follow the sound until you lose yourself just to find the red rock. The seekers will go on, if they’re lucky, your seekers dreams can become reality. If they’re not, the Seeker enters a nightmare world, an unimaginable hell of their own creation. He will take them while you run back to face the consequences of reality.”

It sounds trippy alright, there was a bit more but it seems irrelevant for now. So, this scientist wrote that there is place out there in the world that can change people, move, break and kill people. The place is also moving every few hundred years. It can also be only accessed if four adequate people go together. That claim seems to match with the manuscript.

At this point you’re thinking I’m full of shit and this is a joke, I pondered that idea, but is worth to create a joke that will be almost impossible to notice, and even if it will be noticed it would go over everyone’s head. Only select few understand the effort of placement and process of deletion. Let me reiterate, you don’t delete insignificant shit at root level.

Those who cracked my cipher, the number attached to the answer is now live for 5 minutes only. Send in your opinions and insight, no calls, and remember FIVE minutes.

While I prepared this broadcast, I asked around in the circles of “information specialists” if they can dig up any info.  The only person who answered was the person who removed my identity from the world, the one and only GiM. That’s God in Machine for those who don’t know. I’ve asked if he knows anything about this mysterious Zanu topic. The only reply I got was “Stay away from it”.

Now, there you have it folks, if the number one hacker in the world tells you to stay away from looking into something, it certainly means it is some kind of serious shit.

Hold on, we got a first message, and another, lets see here. I am not the only one in possession of that post, congratulations to you then, maybe you can help us discover more.  This one is interesting, one of you claims that the post was written by a German Dr. Mengel. Following more of his musings before his content was removed he suspected unusual activity in Ireland, coordinates provided but no further explanation as to what he was talking about. Can we assume that he was talking about the same thing? Yes, of course, we can assume anything. The difference here is that the hum and throb from the description, I have experienced that, and not just me. Now you know why I’m not letting go of the topic. And I am an idiot for giving up my location. Well if this will turn out in any part true, I wont be able to explore it on my own I will need to meet some of you to accomplish that.

Another message, let’s see, ‘hum and throb in the head as well as feeling of dread while walking in the forest, I fell that often, could it be linked? I’m MJ contact me at…’

Don’t worry MJ I won’t share your info, but will be contacting you soon.

*static breaking noise* followed by muffled raspy voice “I told you to not look into it, you will regret it, you all will.” *static into return of transmission*

…hell was that?! Who interrupts my broadcast? I get the warning GiM but it’s too late, I’m already into it. Those afraid please turn the dial and continue with your uneventful lives.

So, we have a mystery, strange location, stranger assumptions and a clear indication we are snooping into something they clearly don’t want us to know. Hey GiM, is that how you became the best? You went into the calm and came out skilled? You know something that I’m sure of. Spill the beans G…

*voice cut out to play a snippet of ‘2Unlimited – No Limit’ from 1993 saying “NO, No, No, No”*

Well you got class, I appreciate the old school.

*another interruption playing a part from ‘Sam Brown – Stop’ “You better stop!”*

We won’t get far going like this are we?

Listeners, we will continue in 72 hours on the dot. Find me in the frequencies, five minute intro in Morse code will tell you are at the right length wave and more. Let’s shine some light in the face of darkness.

Oh, and this one is for you GiM, much love.

*Transmission ends with a song, ‘Queen – Don’t stop me now’ *

The Follower

Oliver burst open the door to his apartment with excessive force, the swiftness with which he shut and locked the door would never betray the fear he felt inside but the four-letter profanities spilling from his lips as if a broken record did. He threw his backpack onto the table knocking off two ceramic cups standing there. With one hand still on the door handle, he swiftly reached for a container on a shelf mounted beside him and began fixing the line of salt that the swing of the door had broken.

This salt line slithered like a snake along all the walls of the apartment and just like the snake Uroboros, it consumed its own tail to form a never-ending loop. The ritual of maintaining the unbroken line of salt along the perimeter of the walls was sacred to Oliver as he believed it is a barrier that keeps away ghosts, demons and other evil. Not all of them unfortunately but still that’s what he believed as his mother did and her mother before her.

Raising his hand to the forehead he wiped the sweat that was trying to escape his body as much as he was trying to escape the situation he found himself in. Next Oliver rushed to the bathroom to wash his face, he stopped in front of a mirror looking at his reflection, self-hatred made him wince. He proceeded to wash his face and quench his thirst at the same time, few scarlet drops mixed with the water fell on the ceramic decorating it with ruby specs. Oliver looked at the blood and then himself in the mirror as if trying to ask if it was his own or not. The face in the mirror looking back at him was unwelcoming and was looking worse every day. Eyes bloodshot with grey circles surrounding them, the beard was growing wildly and his hair was longer than he is comfortable with. His appearance reminded people of a poorly maintained alcoholic, truth is Oliver never was one and stayed away from alcohol, but today he could use a deep glass of good whiskey to calm his shaking hands. Oliver took one last look at himself, shivered and looked away, he hated mirrors due to past experiences and paranoia that his reflection won’t mimic his movements or that he will see someone else in the room with him.

Days like this happened often, too often, reminding him of groundhog day, Oliver kept running back to his apartment with fear, fear of something catching him off guard or fear of being seen what he was doing. In his profession leading a solitary life was better off for everyone for various safety reasons, unfortunately, extended loneliness deteriorates one’s mental health and it was hard to tell if Olivers was still there. To keep partially sane Oliver called his friend on the weekends to chat, report on the week, ask for advice, comfort and most often used har as a private shrink. Today was a good day to call and after 4 ringtones, the phone was answered with a crackling static and then a voice that was warm and soft like velvet, equally alluring as comforting with a slight accent that can’t be pinned to any country.

“Hello Oliver, are you alright?” the voice asked.

“Lucy, it’s nice to finally hear you” answered Oliver.

“You are the one who decided to call only once a week, every day I’m worried if you will come back alive.” Said Lucy with evident worry in her voice.

“I get by, few more bruises and scratches but alive, hunted 2 this week so I have enough for rent, might even be enough for electricity.” replied Oliver.

“Oli, why do you keep doing this? How long do you think you can hunt monster demons or whatever it is you do before it gets out of hand and you end up the one that’s killed.” pleaded Lucy

“Oli.. it sounds… Nicer from your lips. There are too many of them walking the street and I have to follow my family tradition, you know that. And about what you said, something is getting out of hand, don’t know what but something follows me around. I can feel its presence when going out, its eyes on me, home I’m safe but it haunts me in the dreams.”

“You always end up in bad situations don’t you, I think it’s your special power” she laughed, “Tell me more what’s going on and about the dreams”.

“Hope you got time and somewhere comfortable to sit that nice butt.” Oliver said grinning to the phone

“Do you remember that place where we signed up for the experiments with the mirrors, the one you’ve read about led by Dr Kaputo and you insisted on trying it. The one where we stared at the mirrors in dim lighting and our reflections started deforming. Oli asked

“Yeah, I remember that it was like an acid trip without any acid, my face started to melt in front of me, then it was changing shapes growing in disturbing ways, it was creepy as shit. Yet for some reason we never really talked about it.” confirmed Lucy.

Oliver decided to tell his view of the events that happened back then and what might have caused what is happening now and Lucy like a good friend decided to listen without interruptions.

“It was just like you said for me too, it was so disturbing I snapped out of it a few times and had to start over again, that’s why I had to stay longer to complete the experiment. With each attempt, the hallucination got progressively worse, more disturbing, at one point I even saw horns growing out of my skull. Again I lost focus and had to restart and this time it was completely different, I didn’t see myself anymore, I saw my parents looking back at me, my deceased parents. Of course, that snapped me out of it right away, I was shocked. As you can imagine I wanted to see them again, it’s been years since I last saw them, who knows maybe I could talk to them, maybe it’s not just my imagination playing tricks. And like an idiot I fell for this trick, whatever it was, I tried, again and again, I saw them in that damn mirror, no longer smiling at me, no longer smiling at all. Their faces contorted in agony that I have never seen and no child wants to ever see on their parents. Flames licked their faces until they blistered, then charcoaled until black and pink chunks of cheeks began to fall off. I tried to snap out of it, I screamed, kicked and howled but nothing helped. Then I heard laughter, more like cackling from those burned bodies which began to turn into an unfamiliar face, next the experiment attendees and staff also started laughing. I lost it and ran out kicking down all the doors on the way and tried to forget it all.” Oliver exhaled with distinct pain in his voice.

“Oli… I.. I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry you experienced that” she tried to comfort him. “But what has that to do with what’s going on now”?

“First of all I have a slight phobia of mirrors, and that unfamiliar face I saw at the end, I’ve seen it again, 3 weeks ago in the crowd, 2 weeks ago in the bus just staring at me, today on my street. I thought i’m imagining it, or I confused that face with a random stranger because I forgot about it. Then he started laughing, that spine-shivering cackle brought back all the memories in detail. Whatever it is, it started to follow me and now knows where I live. Now I have nightmares, bad ones that turn into false awakenings and lately I’m experiencing sleep paralysis every night.” Oli explained with a slight tremble in his voice and Lucy couldn’t guess if he is scared or unsure how to continue so she took the opportunity to speak.

“Listen Oli, it all sounds dreadful and I’m sorry it’s happening to you, I want to help you but I don’t know how, you never let me in that close. I know you see a lot of weird shit in your outings, but at least don’t let sleep paralysis get to you. I know it is horrible, I experienced it too, you wake up paralysed in the middle of the night unable to make a sound and you see a dark figure walking towards you. It sits down on your body and you feel the weight of it as it stares right into your eyes and all you can do is wait and look. What I’m saying is that it’s just your imagination, your brain hallucinates as your body wakes up before your brain exits the dream state.”

“That stranger was also a hallucination and now he is following me Lucy” Oliver interrupted.

“Oli stop, that path of thinking scares me, that would mean somebody actually was in my room” she said

“I don’t want to but you should know, I recorded myself sleeping. Each night, each night it’s the same thing. The bedroom door opens slowly, on its own..” Oliver hesitates. “When it opens fully the screen goes static for an hour only to come back in focus when the door begins to close.” Fear is evident in his voice now. “I am watching a video from last night now…”

If he could see Lucy at that moment he would see tears flowing down her cheeks, she was about to make a comment about his revelation but her words were halted in her throat by a sound she heard in the phone’s speaker. It was low quality and volume, indicating it was the recording Oliver was watching. The sound she heard was laughter, it was odd, not happy but sinister. She realized it must have been the thing Oliver was talking about, she was about to say something but the phone line went dead all of a sudden.

Oliver was frozen when he listened to the recording, so much so that in the first moment he didn’t notice the power outage in his building. Maybe because he was so petrified or maybe because even when the lights went out, the computer turned black and the landline silent, the laughing continued to be audible. Oliver’s grasp of what is happening came with equal amounts of terror, trying to hold it together he realized that the sound is too quiet to be in the room, with unease he approached the window and from the third storey he saw the source of that haunting laughter. This thing was standing there with a hood over its head and a grin wider than humanly possible, in one hand it was playing with a lighter while the other was mockingly waving at Oliver. The eyes were difficult to see from afar but he knew it was looking straight at him and it sent shivers down his spine. The creature took a step forward then another and Oliver instantly tripped over his feet as he was trying to get away from the window faster than he could. Scrambling in the dark he grabbed a torch from the drawers in the desk that supported his old computer. Next he rushed to the bedroom and from his nightstand he pulled out a pistol, Oliver had no idea what he was dealing with but it was worth a shot.

He could hear all the neighbours in the apartment block coming out into the hallway asking in confusion if anyone has power, without much thinking he went outside as well telling everyone to get back inside. He would have been ignored if not the outline of a gun in his hand, the hallway was empty again with just Oliver and a growing sound of laughs and giggles. Oliver crouched beside his door, aimed the gun at the stairway and waited as the sound of twisted joy grew with the footsteps. The stairway was slowly illuminated by a dancing flame that made the light and shadows sway in their danse macabre. Oliver heard a few screams and quick shutting of the doors on the second floor, this meant he wasn’t the only one who could see him. The footsteps turned rapid up the last set of stairs causing the flame to cast unnatural shadows on the wall. Once Oliver saw the flame at his level, running towards him he gripped the gun tightly and fired. The gunshot in a quiet hallway defend him for a moment, but it also did something else, the flash from the gun illuminated his target. To his shock, it wasn’t the creepy face that was haunting him but the equally shocked face of a little girl he sometimes saw in the building. She stopped, dropped a candle she was holding and collapsed beside it, the blood oozing from the wound quickly extinguished the candle. Then that laughing got ever louder and more maniacal as the second flame entered the corridor.

Oliver was so frozen in disbelief he didn’t look away from the girl in front of him, not even when a raspy voice greeted him.

“Isn’t that a beautiful sight Oli? You did a good job, she only suffered for a minute or two, she is gone now. And I will feast on her delicious soul” the thing said.

“Oh, I should say thank you even, you see Oli I sustain myself by devouring souls, and the young ones taste the best, exquisite actually. The thing is, I’m not able to kill, so I orchestrate events such as this in my favour. I won’t bore you with the details now, it might be too complicated for you but I will tell you this. You will be arrested for a murder of a child, the police after searching your apartment and seeing all the occult crap you have they will decide you are mentally unstable, rightly so I might add, and will lock you in a mental institute where I will have you all to myself where, how shall I put it, I will season you before a good meal. See you soon Oliver.” the thing hissed into his ear before vanishing into the dark.


Today was a good day, I received a visit from a long time friend. We were talking nonsense sipping whiskey from the glass. While drinking and chatting I was carefully watching my son from the first-floor window. He is 5 and is playing outside with his ball bouncing it against the wall beside my car. It’s getting dark and keeps raining but he seems happy so I let him stay.

An eerie feeling came over me when the bouncing of the ball slightly changed the rhythm. It no longer sounded like the ball is bouncing right back to him, now there was a short pause between and it didn’t hit the wall. I looked out again and saw he was at the cornet of the house throwing the ball beside the house now where I could not see. There had to be another person with him, With fear, I ran downstairs to check. My friend seemed to not notice the whole situation

Through the ground floor window, I could see a large dark figure that was interacting with my son. From the distance, its size and posture in the darkness gave it an unnatural, deformed look. In shock, I ran up to the window beside the figure for a better look, but at that point, it was already gone, like vapour in the air. Trying to see if my son is still there, the feeling of dread filled my bones when a sudden realization came over me. I never had a child, nor did I have any friends left in this town. Paralyzed I was standing in front of that window, the wind was blowing in my face through the broken glass bringing clarity of mind. I was hit by the smell of rotten floorboards and mildew that was on the walls.

Forgotten was the house and everything in it including myself. Shards of glass at the window sill seeped with the temptation of bad decisions, the darkness in front of me was like the void I hold inside of me. Without alarming sounds on my back I could only feel the eyes of malice itself.


I wrote the post ‘Tabula Rasa’ when I won the battle with depression and I was happy. War resides in me but I remain unyielding. On a loosing battlefield one of the few remaining, tripping over the cadavers mixed with the mud I feel the same. Yet for some reason I keep getting up, neglecting the pain, exhaustion, struggle, I take a step after step just to fall, crawl and get up again.

Hope is the mother of the fools, maybe, but hope dies last and hope is inside me. Hope for better days hopes for the inner calm. And I might be the child of biggest foolishness but I will take on whatever is thrown at me, take every blow and wound with just a flinch as there is not much they can do to me. I have died before, had my heart stabbed and ripped, my mind crushed and poisoned, my guts torn and spilled, faith shattered, my flame snuffed out, then I was snuffed out. For reasons I don’t understand still get up come back to life without a clear purpose, mended by strangers and those around, my scars are plentiful some you can see and for some, you have to close your eyes to see.

Tabula Rasa, a beautiful symbol, to start from new do things right and the way you wanted, but a new start does not always come when you wanted and not on your terms. Nobody talks about the darker side of the new starts of hod hard and painful it can be. When after a decade of stability a storm comes and everything you knew shatters and everything you had is torn away from you and when you desperately try to hold on to your last piece of happiness you need to give it up because the world doesn’t allow it what do you do then? How do you not die inside again? how do you remain stable?

Right now I’m laying between the brothers in arms looking at the red sky, most of them are gone, maybe in direction of my gaze or where my mind is. My fist clenched, I know I will be getting up again, I don’t want to but by now it’s autonomous, my feet will carry me forth but what else will follow them?

I have hate, anger and blame for many people, I am among them too. I no longer care who I upset or hurt, I need to embrace my darkness and focus on me because you can’t make everyone happy and I was always trying to do that only hurting myself in the process. But don’t worry I have enough decency to not wash my laundry in public and will not say who did what. You need keys to open me up which I rarely give out and you know it, so throw yours away because I changed the locks.

I Would like to thank one person for stopping the dry spell and motivating me to write, which might be repetitive by now but she is inspiring and I wish I could be as good as her. She might be small in size but if mind and personality had a physical form she wouldn’t fit in any room so she goes around the world and opens up peoples minds whether in person or online. And I admit I was certain your post won’t do anything but here we are as it contents pulled from sleep to the keyboard. So thank you Apple for the support in the past and your recent musings.

Suicide Girl

Today I was sitting on a bench in the park watching time pass me by when a girl sat beside me without even saying hi. Looking like she is about to cry without any introductions she started talking to me like we knew each other all along.

She said, “I must confess it turns me on when I cut my flesh, it feels like there is nothing left, I’m hollow, I’ll follow death if it’s a change from mundane Mondays.”

It caught me by surprise but I listened as she continued

“You know my pain, I’m empty inside, my veins pump only hate. Sometimes I feel like life isn’t real and my brain is too busy and my mind doesn’t ever heal. I could never shut it off so I rather shut it down, do it right the first time, I’m not trying to mess around. I considered my garage foot revving on the gas, maybe a slash and a gasp or quick violent blast.”

Looking into each other’s eyes we smiled at one another but the smile was a mask of the memories past, with a calmness I replied “I don’t believe in hell unless that’s what we are in, sometimes I want to free me soul straight jump out of my skin. It would be a short-lived win, I don’t believe in God but there is no need for this mortal sin, have you thought about your kin?”

She sighed and said, “People do it all the time my family should be fine, I constantly feel like I’m running out of time.”

With timed interruption “If I only had a dime for every time you people think that lives you leave behind will be fine. It’s a cowards crime, you can scorn me for the words I delivered but don’t think it’s something I’ve never considered. The mere thought makes me feel withered, killing yourself doesn’t stop the pain either. You might not feel it when after you’re gone but you just pass it on to the to all those who care, and do not dare say there is nobody as not everybody knows how to say it. So by thinking you will be at ease you can spread an agonizing disease. But remember that even the worst storm has to pass, that every uphill climb has to eventually end in a smooth walk. And I understand that not all wounds can be mended by time but give yourself a bit extra and wait for the sun to shine. Life might now make sense but don’t leave the cinema before the seanse ends.

Like that she grabbed my hand smiling then she stood up shyly saying “I’ll see you around” and left.

Life gets hard but suicide is not a good solution to any problem, maybe you will remember it if dark times come.

Silent Storm

Like a unicorn dancing in the night concealed in the shadows of the stars. Deceiving as lakes surface, you can drown in the depth of the eyes. A shadow that puts on its best performance in the glow of something that burns hot like my soul. Enticing like young Medusa will make anyone bend the knee, strong as Athena, will defend its own. Like Prometheus will take a risk to help others, just to find the cursed eagle in the bottom of the glass. Another evening has come to pass dreaming of running together barefoot through the grass. Similar to little Mary quite contrary, allows the one who is down to enter her secret garden to heal with the power of her will. Being tired I’m searching through my memories for rest, for new reminiscent projections of presuppositions I had about you when I left.

Searching the skylines for words that could set me free, self-doubt keeps the clenched teeth in place and I have seem to lost my voice and you seemed to remain patient, waiting. I’ve spent my life trying to control the future I can’t define. You were my iconoclast telling me to open the sails on the mast and go with the wind. So let’s not talk about our actions in past but future tense and nor like they happened on accident.

After every storm comes the silence, take it how you will, miss me in that silence after being swept away or wait for the quiet after your treasures are destroyed. I’ll be here waiting dressed in the positive as I’m tired of the worlds ugliness that I hide inside me. I will abide in your abode then abscond, flout morality, reminisce and wait for storm or lonely silence. Only to see, the smile that fuels a thousand of moments.