At the world’s top college of magic and technology, every day brings a new discovery -and a new disaster. The advanced experiments of the college students tend to be both ambitious and apocalyptic, with the end of the world only prevented by a mysterious time loop, and a small handful of students who retain their memories.
For the past two years, Vell Harlan has been caught in the loop alongside his best friends, Lee and Harley, and with their help he’s been able to survive every disaster the universe has thrown at him. But as Vell enters his third year, Lee and Harley are entering their fourth (and final) year at the Einstein-Odinson College. With a ticking clock counting down, the trio must cut through the chaos of killer crickets, haunted phones, and naked sorcerers to try and solve some of the mysteries plaguing their lives -including why all these butterflies keep following Vell around...
[Chapter 1 (Book Three)][Previous Chapter][Patreon][Cover Art]
“Out of the way, excuse us, sorry, coming through, make way,” Harley said, as she elbowed students out of the way, trying to carve a path through the crowded halls. “Don’t want to be rude be we also don’t want to incinerate you, literal hot potato coming through!”
The crowd parted for Harley, and Vell made his way through the cut, holding a long pair of tongs which were tightly clamped to a sizable metal container. The potato contained within burned so hot bystanders could feel the heat radiating from it, even through the shielded containment unit. In an attempt to create the hottest possible hot potato, the physics department had accidentally heated a surprisingly resilient tuber to within a few degrees of the Planck temperature, and now the loopers had to deal with it, fast. A task that might’ve been easier were the hallways not so damned crowded.
“Hey, excuse me, please scooch,” Harley said. “Hot stuff coming through, and I’m not talking about myself this time!”
Harley’s forceful personality pushed their way through one more hallway, and then they had a straight shot to the looper lair. Harley slammed the door open and Vell ran through, making a beeline for a complicated magical mechanism Lee and the others had been building. Vell dropped the containment unit within, and Lee activated the machine, bathing the potato in mountains of coolants and streams of frost magic. The clash of superheated potato and supercooled magic created a burst of steam that forced the loopers out of the room.
“At least it’s working,” Kim said. The burst of steam had fogged up the glass screen that made up her face, and she had to wipe her eyes clear. “Note to self: install windshield wipers.”
“I’ll get you hooked up,” Harley said. As the resident robotics expert, Harley was the point man for a lot of Kim’s upgrades. “But first, I have some bitching to do.”
The crowds swarming from classroom to classroom were still in full force, and Harley angrily gestured to several hordes of students crowding the quad.
“What the fuck is with all these students all of a sudden?”
“The school expanded over the summer,” Kim said. “Didn’t you notice?”
“I noticed,” Harley said. “I’m just wondering fucking why.”
“School got a big donation over the summer,” Kim said. She had stayed on campus over the summer and kept the Dean company, so she was privy to some of the finer details of the school’s renovation. “Couple million to build new dorms and sponsor more students than usual. It was Dean Lichman’s idea to devote some of that money to building non-human friendly dorms.”
“Huh. Guess someone wants to invest in the future of science,” Vell said.
“And I’m glad the dean chose to invest in making the school more accessible,” Lee said. “There’s a delightful gorgon in one of my hydrokinesis classes.”
“A gorgon?”
“Yes. I don’t like making eye contact anyway, so we get along swimmingly.”
“Neat!”
“Are we not assuming something fishy is going on here?” Hawke asked.
“What about diversity is fishy to you?”
“Not that- I don’t- okay, you guys know I’m all about the rich tapestry of life and its diverse people,” Hawke said. “I mean some random anonymous donation of millions of dollars. Dudes who donate that kind of money usually want the buildings named after them, or something.”
Most of the buildings on campus were named after whatever rich asshole had donated enough money to get his name put on a plaque, though few students acknowledged those names, preferring colloquial terms like The Cube or Brick Shithouse. The loopers took a quick look at the crowds scrambling around campus, running between aforementioned Cube and Brick Shithouse. While nothing about the new students themselves was suspicious, the sudden influx of them did raise some questions.
“God damn it, you might be right,” Harley sighed.
“I fail to see a sinister angle to all of this,” Lee said. “What does more students do to- oh, hold on, Vell has his thinking face on.”
The infamous forehead wrinkles of Vell’s “thinking face” were starting to deepen. He was up to three now, which usually meant some very serious thinking.
“Samson, you’re not in the new dorm, are you?”
“Nope. I’m in one of the older buildings,” he said. “I think my brother’s in one of the new ones, though.”
Much to Ibrahim’s chagrin, the twins had been assigned separate dorms and roommates. While Ibrahim was fighting a battle to get reassigned, Samson had quietly accepted the separation. Not living with Ibrahim made it a lot easier to lie to him about what Samson was doing all day. On a practical level, at least. Emotionally speaking, lying to his twin was as hard as ever.
“Maybe you can ask him if anything weird’s going on?” Hawke suggested.
“He hasn’t mentioned anything strange,” Samson said. “As far as he’s concerned, I’m the weird one.”
“It’s only been a few days,” Vell said. “Speaking from experience, any real weirdness tends to be concentrated around the end of the school year, like-”
Vell froze, and the wrinkles in his forehead faded, as the sound of approaching hoofbeats blasted any coherent thought out of his mind.
“Oh no,” Vell said. “No no no no no, please god no.”
“Vell Harlan!”
The nasally voice of a certain centaur filled the room. Vell would’ve rather had a knife in his ears than the sound of that voice.
“Orn,” he grumbled.
The chestnut-furred centaur trotted into view, with a look of disdain on his hairy face as he stared down at Vell. Another year apart had done nothing to dull Orn’s inexplicable hatred for Vell, apparently.
“Believe me, Harlan, I am no more eager to see you than you are to see me,” Orn said.
“Then why are you even here?” Vell demanded. “Can we not just avoid each other forever?”
“Unfortunately your mere existence obligates me to course-correct for the damage you do to all reality,” Orn said. “However, I am, in this moment, not here to fulfill that obligation.”
“Well then I’ll say it again,” Vell said. “Why are you here?”
“Because I am in the unfortunate position of owing you a debt,” Orn said. His hooves dragged along the ground for a moment anxiously. “The signatures you collected last year were apparently a motivating factor in this school becoming more accessible.”
“Oh right. That.”
Last year, Orn had sought signatures for a petition addressing the Einstein-Odinson campus’s lack of accommodation for non-humans. The petition had been meant entirely in Orn’s own self interest, and his entirely unpleasant, repellent, utterly disgusting and intolerably unlikable personality had prevented him from getting any signatures, but Vell had decided to take up the coincidentally good cause and collect signatures on Orn’s behalf. Vell had thought very little of it at the time, and even forgotten he’d done it until just now. He actively tried to repress most memories involving Orn.
“Since I regrettably owe my long-overdue presence here to you, I wish to do you a favor in turn and clean the slate between us so that I can go back to holding absolute moral, intellectual, physical, spiritual, and aesthetic superiority over you.”
“Off to a great start there, buddy,” Harley noted.
“Please hold your tongue, small whore,” Orn said. Lee briefly looked up to glare daggers at Orn. “I should inform you, Vell Harlan, that an anonymous source, apparently the benefactor of our new dorms construction, has been contacting residents of the newly built dorms.”
Vell raised an eyebrow and looked at his fellow loopers. That was very convenient timing.
“What about?”
“About you, for some reason,” Orn said. He couldn’t imagine a reason anyone would be interested in Vell Harlan for any reason beyond removing his stain from reality, but apparently someone out there was curious. “You, your group of ‘friends’ here, and any sensation of deja vu.”
The last few words traveled through the group of loopers like an electric shock. Vell looked to Lee and Harley and mouthed one word.
Kraid.
“Thanks Orn, we’re even, and great job, you really are smarter and stronger and better than me, I bow to your superiority,” Vell said. “Also please leave now and never talk to me again.”
“It will take more than that to-”
“Out!” Harley shouted, pointing towards the door.
“This is a public hallway, you can’t kick me out!”
“I can actually kick you,” Harley said. “And I will!”
Harley got her kicking foot ready, but Lee put a hand on her shoulder to hold her back.
“Harley. Equine legs are quite fragile.”
Harley begrudgingly lowered her kicking foot, but Lee shook her head.
“What I mean to say is, aim for the torso,” Lee said. There was an edge of sadism to her voice that even Orn could not ignore, and he cautiously backed away and out of sight.
“I can’t fucking believe that guy actually goes to school here,” Vell groaned. “Thanks for chasing him off.”
“Think nothing of it,” Lee said. “Now, there is something else we should discuss.”
“Right. Hope you’re up for more insanity, Samson, because things are about to get weirder.”
“Oh no.”
***
The mist created by the rapidly-cooling superhot potato had yet to clear, but the looper lair was the only secure place the loopers knew of to discuss such serious matters. The fog in the room should’ve given the tense discussion an air of mystery, but really it just made everything slightly damp.
“So. Kraid’s got an eye on new loopers.”
The dramatic events at the end of last year had revealed that Kraid was aware of the time loops, at least partially. While he didn’t retain any memories of the first loop, he was aware that Vell and the others did. While Vell recapped that, Samson clenched his fists.
“I thought you said anyone who learned about that goes insane?”
‘They do,” Vell insisted. “Kraid was already deranged.”
“The dude goes around buying babies from endangered species and eating them,” Harley said. Kraid was apparently a big fan of panda meat. It tasted terrible, but he just liked the idea of eating something adorable and endangered. “There’s something wrong somewhere in his head.”
“And now he’s fishing for loopers,” Vell said. “He paid to sponsor all these new students so a new looper would be in debt to him.”
“Good thing for us that he missed, then,” Kim noted. Samson was their only new looper this year, and he had no connections to Kraid.
“Yeah, I’m not really on board with the guy who eats baby orangutans,” Samson said. “No worries there.”
“The question remains, however, of what he hoped to accomplish,” Lee said. “Upon acquiring a looper in his employ, what did he hope to use them for? Whatever goal he had, I sincerely doubt he will stop pursuing it now.”
“With any luck, it’ll be impossible without a looper,” Vell said. “But he’s, uh, never really let things being impossible stop him before.”
“Unfortunately,” Lee sighed. Kraid was as brilliant as he was evil, and could find a way around even the most challenging obstacles. In time, perhaps, even the mystery of the campus time loops might crumble before him.
“Well he’s taken one massive loss already, so we got that going for us,” Harley said. Whatever else Kraid might have planned, not having a looper on his side was going to make it that much harder. “I think we can adjourn the meeting for now. Both because there’s not much else we can do right now and because all this humidity is giving me swamp ass.”
“Ha. Pathetic fleshy asses,” Kim said. “Stainless steel cheeks never have this problem.”
“Oh don’t pretend like your face isn’t fogging up, you robot bitch,” Harley said with a chuckle. “Come on, let’s get you a windshield wiper.”
“Please and thank you,” Kim said, before following Harley out of the room. Every other looper was glad to leave the overwhelmingly humid room as well. The thick cloud of steam and fog lingered long after they were gone, though it briefly parted as a mismatched woman moved through the mist.
“So that’s how it’s going to be,” Quenay said to herself. She was always delighted to see what new twists and turns the world could throw at Vell. Nothing too overwhelming this year, at least, which she liked.
It gave her plenty of room to throw some twists and turns of her own.

Bloodhunt Launches with 3 Hunters, 6 Hunted, 4 maps and more.
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HUNTED:
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The Scarecrow
Difficulty: Moderate
Movement Speed: 4.6 Meters Per Second
Heartbeat: 24 Meters
Height: Moderate
Power: Lantern of Fear
Perks: Fear of Reality, Kill Streak and Skewered
Starter Add-ons: The Face of Fear Mask and Broken Light Bulb
Prestige 1: Kill 5 Hunted with a +25% Fear Bar
Prestige 2: Kill 10 Hunted with a +50% Fear Bar
Prestige 3: Kill 15 Hunted with a +75% Fear Bar
Full Prestige: Win 10 Matches where every Hunted is killed with a Full Fear Bar
Add-on Count: 14
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Lantern of Fear
The Lantern of Fear can be used on any survivor. While using the Lantern of Fear you are slowed down to 4.3 Meters Per Second. The Hunted can be put into 4 tiers of Fear. Upon reaching a new Tier The Hunted are immune to gaining more fear for 10 seconds.
Hunted Tier 1: The World becomes Orange, making everything much hard to see
Hunted Tier 2: Hallucinations randomly appear walking. From this point onwards the Hunted slowly gain more fear whenever they aren't near any other survivor
Hunted Tier 3: A distant Heartbeat is heard
Hunted Tier 4: Every Time The Hunted see each other they will scream. A Constant Heartbeat is heard.
Interacting with a Hunted survivor who is in a lower tier of fear than you makes you slowly lose fear. The Current Fear state of any of the Hunted is not revealed to the Hunter
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Perks
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Fear of Reality:
The Hunter's deep connection to the ethereal realm grants him unparalleled efficiency in wielding his powers.
Increases the efficiency of all powers by 5/10/20%.
"Fear not the darkness, for it is your own sanity that shall crumble before him." - Jonathan Blackwood, before succumbing to the madness of the fog
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Killstreak:
As the Hunter weaves their way through the fog, their malevolent presence disturbs the very essence of his surroundings.
This perk activates after injuring a Hunted Survivor while in chase. All of the Hunted within 4/8/16/32 meters of The Hunted Survivor in chase is revealed. This perk has a 60/30/15 second cooldown
"As the tally of his victims rises, so too does his insatiable hunger, an eternal hunger that feeds on your very essence." -Cirrus
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Skewered:
The Hunter's arsenal of terror expands with each fateful encounter.
Gain a stack every time you injure a Hunted Survivor, up to a maximum of 5 stacks. Each stack increases your lunge by 0.25/0.5/1 meters.
"In the clutches of the Scarecrow's grasp, time unravels, and reality warps into a twisted nightmare." -Cirrus
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Add-ons:
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The Face of Fear Mask:
Starter Add-on for the Scarecrow
The Face of Fear Mask, a haunting artifact in the possession of the Scarecrow, serves as a conduit for the embodiment of pure terror.
Upon a Hunted Survivor reaching tier 4 they become exposed for 20 seconds
Exposure makes any Hunted take 2 health states when hit
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Broken Light Bulb:
Starter Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Broken Light Bulb serves as a chilling reminder that no sanctuary can be found within the fog's enigmatic embrace.
Upon a Hunted Survivor reaching tier 4 they cannot use their item until they leave Tier 4
"The flickering light fades, shrouding you in darkness."
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Crow Reaper:
Common Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Reaper, a foreboding implement affixed to the Scarecrow's lantern, beckons the dark forces of the avian realm.
Increases range of Lantern of Fear by 15 meters (25 meters)
"In the wake of my haunting presence, the crows gather, harbingers of your imminent demise" -The Scarecrow
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Crow Caller:
Common Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Caller, a macabre attachment affixed to the Scarecrow's person, summons an unsettling entourage of spectral crows.
Whenever a Hunted Survivor enters tier 4 they gain a crow that screeches whenever they are within the Scarecrow's Heartbeat
"Beware the call of the crows, for they herald my approach" -The Scarecrow
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Lit Candle:
Common Add-on for The Scarecrow
Increases movement speed when using the Lantern of Fear by 0.3 meters per second. Decreases movement speed when not using The Lantern of Fear by 0.3 meters per second. Increases all Fog Stones at the end of the round by 100%
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Crow Invader:
Uncommon Add-on for The Scarecrow
A macabre charm fashioned from the feathers of dark, otherworldly crows, the Crow Invader radiates an eerie energy that resonates with The Scarecrow's presence.
Upon a survivor leaving any fear state they become exposed for 20 seconds
"Expose the trembling prey as they flee, and watch their hope wither in the mists." -The Fog, telling The Scarecrow his purpose
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Crow Killer:
Uncommon Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Killer, a wicked contrivance of The Scarecrow's malevolence, embodies his desire to ensnare the Hunted Survivors within a web of terror
Reveals the aura of any Hunted Survivor in Tier 1 or higher whenever they complete a skillcheck for 3 seconds
"Every act of defiance shall be met with revelation. The crows bear witness to your torment, and their caws shall herald your impending doom." -The Fog
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Crow Feather:
Uncommon Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Feather, a sinister artifact tied to the dark powers of The Scarecrow, shrouds him in a veil of stealth and deception.
Whenever a Hunted survivor enters tier 4 you become undetectable for 25 seconds
Undetectable removes the Hunter's heartbeat
"Silent as the wind's whisper, I tread upon your trembling dreams." -The Scarecrow
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Crow Meat:
Rare Add-on for The Scarecrow
Whenever a survivor enters a new fear state they gain the Blindness effect for 30 seconds
Blindness makes any aura not appear
"Feast upon the crow's cursed flesh and feel the world fade to darkness. In fear's embrace, your eyes shall betray you, lost amidst the shadows of your own despair."
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Crow Beak:
Rare add-on for The Scarecrow
Reveals the aura of all survivors within the range of Lantern of Fear
"Beneath the Scarecrow's gaze, no secret shall hide."
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Moldy Crow:
Very Rare Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Moldy Crow, a decaying relic steeped in The Scarecrow's dark powers, inflicts a sinister influence upon the Hunted Survivors.
Any Hunted Survivor within tier 4 becomes oblivious
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Crow Bone:
Very Rare Add-on for The Scarecrow
Once emerging from the Fog all Hunted Survivors start to gain fear up to tier 1.
"From the first step, your souls shall be tainted with fear, forever haunted by the specter of your impending demise." -The Scarecrow
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Iridescent Crow:
Iridescent Add-on for The Scarecrow
A cruel "present" from the Fog itself, serves as a mocking reminder to The Scarecrow of his past life and his eternal entrapment within its grasp.
Reveals the aura of any Hunted survivor whenever they enter a new fear state for 5 seconds
"Behold this Crow, a twisted jest from the Fog's cruel heart. It is formed from the very roots of the Fog, and shows that you are still a man compared to the Fog" -Cirrus
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Crow Wing:
Golden Add-on for The Scarecrow
Injuring a survivor who is in tier 3 or higher makes them broken until they are in tier 2
Broken means that survivor cannot heal
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Lore:
In the late 19th century, during the unsettling era of the Industrial Revolution, a small farming community nestled deep within the heartland of a forgotten country thrived under the care of a diligent and compassionate farmer named Jonathan Blackwood. As the crops flourished, so did the hopes and dreams of the townsfolk who relied on the bountiful harvest to sustain their humble lives.
Jonathan possessed an uncanny talent for tending to the land, seemingly blessed by nature itself. With his expertise, the fields yielded more than ever before, and the villagers marveled at the abundance of food that spilled forth from the earth. The sight of the flourishing crops enchanted the townsfolk, and their admiration for Jonathan soon transformed into something akin to worship.
However, as the seasons passed, the prosperity that once enveloped the farming community began to wane. The crops withered, livestock perished, and a sense of despair hung heavily in the air. Blighted by a mysterious blight that defied explanation, the town faced an imminent threat of famine.
Desperate to save his beloved community, Jonathan turned to the forbidden arts of the occult. Rumors whispered of his nocturnal excursions to ancient burial grounds, where he sought guidance from the spirits of the departed. Driven by his love for the people who depended on him, Jonathan was willing to do whatever it took to restore the land's fertility and safeguard their futures.
It was during one fateful moonlit night that Jonathan stumbled upon a hidden chamber within an ancient burial mound. Within its depths lay an ornate lantern, its ethereal glow pulsating with a sinister energy. Overwhelmed by a mixture of awe and trepidation, Jonathan cautiously reached out and touched the lantern, and as his fingers brushed against its surface, an unholy pact was forged.
The spirit that inhabited the lantern, a malevolent entity known as Mirage, sought vengeance for its own tragic demise centuries earlier. Empowered by the farmer's desperation, it offered Jonathan a twisted bargain. In exchange for the spirit's guidance and the restoration of the land, Jonathan would become the vessel through which the spirit would unleash its wrath upon the world.
Blinded by his desire to save his community, Jonathan accepted the wicked pact. In that moment, Mirage's essence seeped into his very being, transforming him into a grotesque amalgamation of man and spirit. The once kind-hearted farmer was reborn as The Scarecrow, a twisted figure shrouded in tattered garments and adorned with straw-stuffed limbs, his hollow eyes burning with otherworldly fury.
With the newfound powers granted by Mirage, The Scarecrow returned to his dying community. As he roamed the moonlit fields, the eerie glow of the lantern he now wielded cast long, haunting shadows across the barren landscape. The presence of The Scarecrow alone brought terror to the hearts of the townsfolk, as they realized that their beloved farmer had been irrevocably changed by dark forces.
No longer bound by the limitations of mortal flesh, The Scarecrow's malevolence manifested through the powers of the lantern. As he stalked his prey, the lantern's glow intensified, and an oppressive mist engulfed the surroundings. Within this ethereal fog, the Hunted found their senses dulled, their movements slowed, and their chances of survival diminished.
The Scarecrow reveled in the torment of his victims, deriving sadistic pleasure from their despair. The once benevolent farmer had become an embodiment of fear, a being who lurked within the mist, harvesting the souls of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. The townsfolk's worship had been replaced by fear.
​
The Banshee
Difficulty: Hard
Movement Speed: 4 Meters per Second
Heartbeat: 32 meters
Height: Small
Power: Banshee Lunge
Perks: Banshee Scream, Lust for Blood and Death Immunity
Starter Add-ons: Crystal Ball and Timid Death Poster
Prestige 1: Kill 1 survivor with Banshee Lunge
Prestige 2: Kill 2 survivors with Banshee Lunge
Prestige 3: Kill 3 survivors with Banshee Lunge
Full Prestige: Win 15 Matches where the final kill was using the Banshee lunge
Add-on Count: 12
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Banshee Lunge
Banshee Lunge can be charged.
Base Range: 15 meters
Charged Range: 30 meters
Hitting a survivor with Banshee Lunge will injure them for 1 health state. Banshee Lunge counts as a Special Attack. Hitting a deep wounded survivor with Banshee Lunge instantly kills them.
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Perks:
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Banshee Scream:
The Hunter's presence strikes fear into the hearts of the prey, invoking a visceral response with their deadly strikes. Upon ending the life of a survivor, the echoes of their dying breath send ripples of terror through their injured comrades.
Upon killing a survivor all injured survivors scream and reveal their auras for 3/6/12 seconds
"In the wake of death, the Banshee's cry echoes, striking terror into the wounded souls. Their screams reveal their fate, a chilling reminder of the inevitable."
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Lust for Blood:
The Hunter's unyielding thirst for retribution sharpens their senses, granting a keen awareness of the wounded.
Reveals the aura of any survivor being healed for 2/4/8 seconds. This perk's icon lights up while it is active
"The Banshee's hunger grows with every drop of blood spilled. Her eyes keenly watch the wounded, exposing their feeble attempts to mend their broken bodies."
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Death Immunity:
The Hunter's relentless pursuit of vengeance grants a formidable resilience in the face of adversity.
Upon injuring that survivor that survivor also suffers from bleed. After being stunned by any means you gain a 50% breaking speed for 10/20/40 seconds. This perk has a cooldown of 80/40/20 seconds
"The Banshee cannot be deterred by mere resistance." -Cirrus
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Add-ons:
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Crystal Ball:
Starter Add-on for The Banshee
The Crystal Ball, a mystic artifact in the Banshee's possession, grants her a glimpse into the fate of those she strikes with her Lunge
Reveals the aura of any survivor who vaults over a window for 3 seconds after injuring a survivor with Banshee Lunge
"The Crystal Ball gazes into the depths of their torment, revealing the futility of their attempts to flee"
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Timid Death Poster:
Starter Add-on for The Banshee
Reveals the aura of all survivors for 4 seconds whenever you kill someone with Banshee Lunge
"In their fear, they are exposed, mere prey in the Banshee's unending hunt."
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Screwdriver Head:
Common Add-on for The Banshee
A twisted modification to the Banshee's deadly instrument, imbues her with an eerie and unsettling power.
After deep wounding a survivor with Banshee Lunge you become Undetectable for 25 seconds
"The Banshee slips through the realm undetected, her wrath hidden until it is too late."
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Training Sword:
Common Add-on for The Banshee
Reduces range of Banshee Lunge by 8 meters. Increases maximum Lunges by 1 (2 lunges). Increases turn rate by 25%
"Precision over distance, agility over reach." -Altan Khulan
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Crossbow Bolt:
Uncommon Add-on for The Banshee
Increases range of Banshee Lunge by 12 meters. Decreases turn rate by 25%
"Yet with each strike, her steps become deliberate, her pursuit relentless, but measured." -Cirrus
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Crossbow Stand:
Uncommon Add-on for The Banshee
Increases speed of Banshee Lunge by 50%. Decreases range by 10 meters
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Father's Katana:
Rare Add-on for The Banshee
Father's Katana, a cherished relic passed down through generations
Increases lunge speed of by 25%. Increases range by 10 meters. Increases recharge time by 5 seconds
"With ancestral steel in hand, the Banshee dances upon the wind. Swifter, deadlier, her reach extends to embrace the wailing souls. Yet, with each swing, the past lingers, lingering in every step."
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Father's Tools:
Rare Add-on for The Banshee
Decreases recharge time by 3 seconds. Decreases lunge speed by 20%
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Old Crossbow:
Very Rare Add-on for The Banshee
A weathered relic from a forgotten era, holds a peculiar power that instills terror within the hearts of the Survivors.
All survivors within 16 meters of your lunge will scream
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Charred Skin:
Very Rare Add-on for The Banshee
Gain the ability to break pallets and doors with Banshee Lunge. After breaking a pallet or door with Banshee Lunge you get 50% faster break speeds for 30 seconds
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Iridescent Tuft of Hair:
Iridescent Add-on for The Banshee
This Tuft Hair is a peculiar adornment that appears to mock the Banshee's spectral nature. This whimsical accessory, shimmering with an iridescent glow, serves as a playful reminder that even in the realm of the Fog, levity can find its way amidst the darkness. It offers no tangible benefits, but its presence is a whimsical tribute to the ethereal entity that strikes fear into the hearts of Survivors.
After killing a survivor with Banshee Lunge all other survivors are revealed for 8 seconds
"With a mischievous glimmer, this Tuft Hair dances upon the Banshee's spectral visage. A playful nod to the absurdity of their existence, it brings levity to the shadows that consume the realm."
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Bloody Kunai:
Golden Add-on for The Banshee
Increases range by 10 meters while in chase. Decreases range by 10 meters when not in chase
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Lore:
In the tumultuous era of the Mongolian War, amidst the chaos and bloodshed, there existed a woman named Altan Khulan. She was a humble civilian, a mere bystander caught in the crossfire of warring factions. The clash of swords and thunderous hooves reverberated through the land, leaving destruction in their wake. Altan's life was forever changed when she became an unwitting pawn, kidnapped by a ruthless faction as leverage in their political machinations.
Altan Khulan was torn from her family, her fate sealed as she became a captive in the midst of the war. The ruthless faction saw her as a means to exert control, a bargaining chip to manipulate their enemies. Her spirit shattered by the cruelty of her captors, Altan yearned for freedom and the reunion with her loved ones, but the fog of war veiled her hopes in darkness.
Days turned into nights, and nights into weeks, as Altan's captivity persisted. In the depths of her despair, she discovered a sliver of solace in the haunting whispers of the wind. In the darkest moments, a mysterious force resonated within her, resonating with her anguish and offering an opportunity for vengeance and release.
With each passing day, Altan's resolve hardened, transforming her from a vulnerable captive into a woman fueled by an unquenchable fury. In the depths of her despair, a dormant power awakened within her, granting her the mantle of the Banshee, a harbinger of woe and retribution.
Empowered by the spirit of vengeance, Altan embraced her newfound abilities and cast aside her former name. She became the Banshee, a spectral embodiment of her rage and sorrow. No longer bound by the mortal coil, she could traverse the ethereal plane and wield her spirit as a weapon, piercing the hearts of those who dared to stand in her way.
In a fateful turn of events, the Banshee found herself consumed by the fog. The Entity, an enigmatic force that presides over the realm of Bloodhunt, claimed her as one of its own. The fog embraced her, merging her essence with its own, forever entwining her destiny with the eternal hunt.
Now, the Banshee roams the fog-laden landscapes, a vengeful specter driven by her insatiable thirst for retribution. She emerges from the shadows, her chilling cry echoing through the realm, striking terror into the hearts of the Hunted Survivors. With each Banshee Lunge, she leaves a trail of devastation in her wake, a reminder of the horrors she endured and the price she paid to become one with the fog.
As the Banshee, Altan Khulan transcends her mortal origins and embodies the wrath and sorrow that have consumed her. She serves as a reminder that even the most vulnerable can rise to become an unstoppable force in the face of unspeakable atrocities. The Mongolian War may have stolen her name, but it also forged her into a fearsome entity, forever known as the Banshee, forever destined to haunt the Fog.
​
The Prowler
Difficulty: Hard
Movement Speed: 4.5 Meters per Second
Heartbeat: 24 meters
Height: Tall
Power: Hunting Season
Perks: The Prowl, Stay out and Proper Hunting
Starter Add-ons: Worn Machete and Worn Axe Head
Prestige 1: Kill 1 survivor who gets Trapped at least once
Prestige 2: Kill 1 survivor by an Arrow
Prestige 3: Kill 1 survivor by the saw
Full Prestige: Win 15 rounds where every survivor is trapped at least once
​
Hunting Season:
Upon Emerging through the fog boxes appear throughout the map. Inside the map The Prowler can choose between 3 different powers

• He can choose The Bow and Arrow, which takes 6 shots to kill a survivor. The 6th shot will always instantly kill the survivor. While charging an arrow his movement speed is slowed to 4.2 Meters per Second
• He can choose The Traps, which can be placed, up to 4 can be placed at a time. They can be placed and moved at any given time. Stepping into a trap will make the survivor bleed.
• He can choose The Saw, which can be charged and will injure the survivor for 2 health states and make the survivor bleed. Hitting a deep wounded survivor instantly kills them. While charging the saw his movement speed is slowed to 4 meters per second. Upon activating it you gain a short burst of speed for 3 seconds, and then the saw overheats for 10 seconds

​
Perks:
​
The Prowl:
Any time you would normally down a survivor you now instantly kill them. This perk has a cooldown of 80/40/20 seconds
"With a silent and deadly presence, the Prowler's malevolence materializes in an instant. The Fog trembles as his prey falls lifeless, their existence snuffed out in a single decisive strike."
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Stay Out:
Whenever you injure a survivor they also bleed. Whenever that survivor is healing their bleed they are revealed. Upon finishing the heal they are revealed for 2/4/8 seconds
"The Prowler's sadistic artistry leaves a mark that cannot be concealed."
​
Proper Hunting:
Any Hunters power now inflicts bleeding if the power can injure them. This bleed has a 60/30/15 second longer time to bleed out.
"The Prowler's art of hunting transcends the physical realm."
​
Add-ons:
​
Worn Machete:
Starter Add-on for The Prowler
Reveals the aura of any survivor who steps into a trap, gets hit with an arrow and gets hit with the saw for 6 seconds
"Its edge, worn but sharp, brings forth the revelations of survival's fleeting moments."
​
Worn Axe Head:
Starter Add-on for The Prowler
Reveals the aura of any survivor who disarms a trap, dodges an arrow, or dodges the saw for 6 seconds
"The Worn Axe Head, a testament to the Prowler's relentless pursuit"
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Charred Machete:
Common Add-on for The Prowler
Increases charge speed of The Bow and Arrow by 25%. Decreases charge speed of The Saw by 25%
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Charred Axe Head:
Common Add-on for The Prowler
Increases charge speed of The Saw by 25%. Decreases charge speed of The Bow and Arrow by 25%
"The Charred Axe Head, a symbol of relentless torment, delivers the scorching kiss of everlasting agony. Its fiery embrace consumes hope, leaving only the ashes of despair." -Cirrus
​
Original Machete:
Uncommon Add-on for The Prowler
Start the Round with The Beartraps equipped. Increases setting speed by 25%
"Its blade carries the echoes of a thousand hunts, resolute in its duty to deliver the final blow."
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Original Axe Head:
Uncommon Add-on for The Prowler
Start the round with The Saw equipped. Increases saw charge speed by 5%
"Through the ages, it remains an emblem of the Prowler's unquenchable resolve."
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Original Bow and Arrow:
Uncommon Add-on for The Prowler
Start the round with The Bow and Arrow equipped. Increases Bow Charge speed by 20%
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Golden Axe Head:
Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Increases charge speed of The Saw and The Bow and Arrow by 25%.
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Prized Bow and Arrow:
Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Decreases maximum arrows required to kill by 1.
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Sharpened Arrow:
Very Rare Add-on for The Prowler
The Sharpened Arrow, a haunting reminder of past encounters, is the very same arrow that pierced the flesh of Ethan during a fateful encounter.
Decreases maximum arrows required to kill by 1. Increases charge time by 1
​
Bloody Hockey Mask:
Very Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Its macabre visage, marked with the scars of their encounter, instills fear and despair in those who catch a glimpse of its chilling countenance.
Survivors no longer bleed when hit with the saw. Increases saw charge speed by 30%
​
Broken Book Bag:
Very Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Survivors who escape from the bear trap suffer from a broken bone.
Broken Bones make the survivor 1% slower, and make all healing progress lost after 20 seconds without healing
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Iridescent Axe Head:
Iridescent Add-on for The Prowler
Glinting with a malicious radiance, this axe head seeks to taunt the hunter, dredging up memories of a life filled with hardship and isolation.
Progress between The Saw and Bow and Arrow carries over.

• 4 or more arrows inside a survivor can now allow the saw to kill the survivor
• 1 saw hit can now allow 1 arrow to kill the survivor
• Beartraps who trap deep wounded survivors now instantly kill that survivor

​
Chipped Machete:
Golden Add-on for The Prowler
The Following effects are applied to any survivor who steps into a trap:

• The survivor gains the blindness effect for 30 seconds
• The survivor gains a broken bone
• The survivor becomes exposed for 30 seconds

And the Prowler becomes undetectable for 30 seconds
Broken Bones make the survivor 1% slower, and make all healing progress lost after 20 seconds without healing, Undetectable removes the Hunter's heartbeat, Exposure makes any Hunted take 2 health states when hit, Blindness makes any aura not appear
​
Lore:
The Prowler, a relentless and sinister hunter in the fog, once roamed the mountain resort with malicious intent. This man, whose identity remains shrouded in darkness, made the resort his hunting ground, preying upon unsuspecting victims with his deadly arsenal of a bow and arrow, traps, and a saw. His twisted desires drove him to kidnap and torment those unfortunate enough to cross his path.
One fateful day, a group of young adults arrived at the mountain resort, seeking a memorable getaway. Little did they know, their presence would become a horrifying chapter in the Prowler's dark tale. Among them were Kris, Kayley, Olivia, Kyler, Jamison, Ethan, Emma, Kara, and Anthony, each unaware of the imminent danger that awaited them.
Tragedy struck swiftly and mercilessly. Kris, a young woman full of life, tragically lost her footing and met a grim fate as her neck snapped upon impact. Kayley, another unsuspecting victim, bled out, her life force draining away. Jamison, overcome by a series of treacherous traps, met a gruesome end as his head was ensnared within their clutches. Ethan, wounded by an arrow piercing his shoulder, faced a brutal demise with his neck swiftly snapped. Emma, consumed by the unforgiving snow, was buried and suffocated beneath its icy grasp. Kara, too, fell victim to the Prowler's relentless pursuit, succumbing to a blood-soaked demise.
Yet, amidst the horrors that unfolded, three survivors emerged—Olivia, Anthony, and Kyler. In their desperate bid for survival, they managed to wound the Prowler, albeit only slightly. But in a cruel twist of fate, Anthony suffered a grievous loss, his three fingers severed in the struggle against the sadistic hunter. As they reported their harrowing ordeal to the authorities, the police were led to the mountain resort, only to discover an eerie absence. The Prowler, consumed by the ominous fog that enshrouded the realm, had vanished without a trace.
Now forever lost within the fog, the Prowler roams the twisted realm of Bloodhunt, his insatiable hunger for victims driving him to relentlessly pursue those who dare to enter his domain. The echoes of his past atrocities continue to reverberate through the mountains, serving as a haunting reminder of the terror he once inflicted upon unsuspecting souls. Olivia, Anthony, and Kyler, forever marked by their encounters with the Prowler, find themselves forever changed by their near-death experience, haunted by the nightmares that unfolded on that fateful day.
As the survivors venture into the fog-ridden realm, they must face the eternal darkness that now encompasses the Prowler. The hunt has begun anew, and their only hope for escape lies in outsmarting and evading the remorseless predator that lurks within.
​
The Hunted:
​
John Carlson
Difficulty: Moderate
Item: Flashlight
Perks: Backstab, Quick and Easy and Tenacious Detective
Prestige 1: Backstab the Hunter once using the perk Backstab
Prestige 2: Successfully get out of Chase using the perk Quick and Easy
Prestige 3: Successfully evade chase using the perk Tenacious Detective
Full Prestige: Survive 10 rounds as John Carlson
​
Flashlight
The Flashlight allows you to see easily in dark areas where the generators aren't finished. (No the flashlight can't blind someone)
​
Perks:
​
Backstab:
A Cunning detective knows that striking when least expected can be the key to survival
After recovering 100/50/25% while downed you get a hard skillcheck when the hunter picks you up. Successfully hitting this skillcheck drops you from the hunter's hands
"The Hunter becomes the Hunted. Just when they think they've got me, I strike back with a vengeance." -John Carlson
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Quick and Easy:
This perk activates after vaulting while injured. Your grunts of pain are silenced and your blood pools are softened. This perk stays activated for 3/6/12 seconds
"In this deadly dance, every second counts. I glide through obstacles unseen, my steps a whisper in the night." -John Carlson
​
Tenacious Detective:
The Detective's investigative instincts persist even in the fog, granting him unparalleled awareness of his surroundings.
This perk activates after emerging through the fog. All Hunter Objects are revealed to you for 2/4/8 seconds. This perk also activates every time a generator is completed. The Killer is revealed for 2/4/8 seconds whenever a generator is completed.
"I see through their tricks, their devices. Every step we take, I unravel their dark design." -John Carlson
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Add-ons:
​
Old Battery:
Common Add-on for John Carlson
This worn-out battery holds sentimental value for John, as it harkens back to his early days as a detective.
Increases battery life by 1 second
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Battery:
Uncommon Add-on for John Carlson
Increases battery life by 2 seconds
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Reinforced Battery:
Rare Add-on for John Carlson
It was a crucial tool that sustained him through long nights and perilous encounters, granting him the strength to persevere against all odds.
Increases battery life by 3 seconds
"I can withstand the storm." -John Carlson
​
Cracked Lenses:
Very Rare Add-on for John Carlson
These cracked lenses were once an essential part of John's detective gear, aiding him in observing details and spotting hidden clues. However, during a fateful encounter with one of his most elusive suspects, the lenses shattered, a physical representation of the shattered trust and fractured reality that followed.
Increases distance of the flashlight by 4 meters
"Stop Him!"
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Iridescent Grip:
Iridescent Add-on for John Carlson
Crafted by the fog itself, it serves as a mocking symbol, highlighting the futility of trying to maintain control or unravel the mysteries that lie within. It is a stark reminder that within this twisted domain, the fog reigns supreme, and no investigation can prevail against its relentless grasp.
Allows you to blind the killer when aiming at their eyes. Blinding takes 5 seconds. Blinding lasts for 5 seconds. Decreases battery life by 1 seconds
"It Fucking Mocks me! The Fog Fucking Mocks Us! There is no escaping! There is no nothing!" -John Carlson
​
Scratched Battery:
Golden Add-on for John Carlson
A battery that never seems to die out when you need it to be alive.
Grants infinite life. The Flashlight will die whenever the last generator is completed.
​
Lore:
In the shadows of the 1970s, when crime and corruption permeated the streets, John Carlson emerged as a seasoned detective with a reputation for his tenacity and resourcefulness. Born and raised in a city plagued by lawlessness, John had a front-row seat to the injustices that unfolded daily. Determined to restore order and bring criminals to justice, he dedicated himself to his work, earning the respect of both his colleagues and the community he served.
John possessed an uncanny ability to uncover the truth, seeing beyond the façade and deciphering the intricate web of lies spun by criminals. His sharp mind and keen instincts made him a formidable adversary to those who sought to evade justice. However, as John delved deeper into the dark underbelly of the city, he unwittingly stumbled upon a secret society that thrived in the shadows—a clandestine organization known as Fog Whisperers.
Fueled by greed and power, Fog Whisperers operated with impunity, pulling the strings behind the scenes, orchestrating crime waves and manipulating key figures within the city. They saw John as a threat, a disruptor who posed a risk to their carefully constructed empire. In a calculated move to eliminate him, they devised a sinister plan.
One fateful night, as John tirelessly pursued a high-profile case, he received an anonymous tip leading him to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Unbeknownst to him, the tip was a carefully orchestrated trap. As he ventured deeper into the derelict building, he found himself ambushed by a group of masked assailants, agents of the Fog.
A vicious struggle ensued, but John was outnumbered and overwhelmed. Despite his valiant efforts, he was overpowered, beaten within an inch of his life. The assailants, believing they had dealt the detective a fatal blow, left him for dead, disappearing into the night.
However, fate had other plans for John. As his lifeblood seeped from his battered body, he was enveloped by an otherworldly mist, a manifestation of the very darkness he had fought against. In his darkest hour, the fog claimed him, granting him an unexpected second chance at life—but forever tethered to the fog and its twisted realm.
Now one with the fog, John emerged as a hunted survivor, trapped within the nightmarish trials orchestrated by the Fog. His skills as a detective proved invaluable in his quest for survival, enabling him to outsmart and evade the relentless hunters that pursued him. Yet, the line between self-preservation and selflessness became blurred for John. His desire to survive often clashed with his moral compass, as he would not hesitate to use his companions as distractions, ensuring his own escape.
While seen by some as a helpful survivor, John's reputation was marred by his self-serving tendencies. With every trial, he walked a precarious tightrope, balancing survival and the instinct to alert the hunter for his own benefit. His conflicted nature, a blend of resourcefulness and self-interest, painted him as a complex figure among the survivors, one whose actions could be both admired and criticized.
As John ventured deeper into the trials, he was haunted by the shadows of his past, the echoes of the crime-ridden city he had once fought to protect. In the fog's merciless embrace, he sought redemption, an opportunity to atone for the compromises he had made. The path ahead was treacherous, but John Carlson, the detective of old, remained determined to survive, to unravel the mysteries of the fog, and perhaps, find a way to free himself from its unforgiving grasp.
​
Amy Light
Difficulty: Easy
Item: Medkit
Perks: Shattered Mirror, Fine Fettle and The Doctor in The Room
Prestige 1: Avoid the Hunter's hit by any means using Shattered Mirror
Prestige 2: Get Injured and heal yourself using the perk Fine Fettle
Prestige 3: Heal 2 other Hunted in 1 round using The Doctor in the Room
Full Prestige: Heal 20 other Hunted as Amy Light
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Medkit:
Gain the ability to heal yourself, and you can now heal any other hunted 25% faster. The Medkit has a total of 5 heals before you run out of heals. This counts self heals.
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Perks:
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Shattered Mirror:
Reveals the aura of the killer whenever they use their power for 1/2/4 seconds
"I turn their tactics against them." -Amy Light
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Fine Fettle:
Increases the speed you are healed by 10/20/40%
"Years of medical training have bestowed upon me the gift of swift recovery." -Amy Light
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The Doctor in the Room:
Increases the speed at which you can heal by 10/20/40%
"Within my presence, the wounded find respite. With deftness and care, I restore vigor to their weary bodies. As my hands move, auras reveal the path to healing, uniting us in our shared journey towards survival." -Amy Light
​
Add-ons:
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Plum Bandages:
Common Add-on for Amy Light
Increases the speed at which you can heal by 10%.
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Adrenaline Vial:
Uncommon Add-on for Amy Light
After breaking from a heal the survivor getting healed gets a 5% boost for 10 seconds
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Band-Aids:
Rare Add-on for Amy Light
Increases boost from hitting skillchecks by 15%
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Doctor Gloves:
Very Rare Add-on for Amy Light
Increases boost from hitting skillchecks by 30%
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Iridescent Vial:
Iridescent Add-on for Amy Light
Gain the ability to instantly heal a survivor at any time. Cannot be used on yourself
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Doctor's Notes
Golden Add-on for Amy Light
No longer experience skillchecks while healing. The Medkit heals 50% faster than normal. 2 less heals.
​
Lore: Amy Light, a beacon of compassion and healing, was born into a world still reeling from the aftermath of World War II. In the wake of the devastating conflict, she emerged as a symbol of hope, dedicating her life to the noble pursuit of medicine. Amy possessed an unwavering commitment to her patients, driven by a deep sense of empathy that compelled her to alleviate suffering and restore lives shattered by the horrors of war. As a doctor, Amy witnessed firsthand the physical and emotional scars etched upon the survivors and soldiers who sought solace in her care. Her days were filled with tireless efforts to mend broken bodies and fragile spirits, tending to wounds that ran deeper than mere flesh. Despite the ravages of war, she remained steadfast in her belief that even amidst the darkest of times, a glimmer of light could be found. However, fate had a twisted plan in store for Amy. One fateful night, while attending to a patient haunted by the memories of battle, an unnatural occurrence unfolded within the walls of the hospital. The fabric of reality ripped apart, and the darkness of the Fog began to seep into her world. Chaos ensued as the hospital transformed into a nightmarish reflection of its former self, with the Fog's influence warping the very essence of its occupants. Amidst the chaos, Amy found herself trapped within the fog, torn away from the life she once knew. Stripped of her medical tools and stripped of her purpose, she was forced to navigate a realm where survival became paramount. Despite the fear and confusion that surrounded her, Amy's altruistic nature remained unyielding, and she became a guiding light for her fellow survivors. Within the trials, Amy became known for her selflessness and unwavering support for her companions. She would risk her own safety to tend to the wounded, offering solace and healing amidst the relentless pursuit of the Hunters. Her presence served as a source of comfort, as survivors found solace in her compassionate spirit, drawing strength from her unwavering commitment to their well-being. However, even the brightest lights can cast shadows, and Amy carried her own burden of survivor's guilt. Haunted by the faces of those she couldn't save, she yearned for redemption, seeking solace within the trials. Every survivor she aided, every life she mended, served as a testament to her unyielding resolve and her determination to rise above the darkness that threatened to consume them all. Though trapped within the fog, Amy remained a beacon of hope, reminding her fellow survivors that compassion and kindness could endure even in the most desolate of landscapes. In the face of unimaginable horrors, she stood as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a reminder that even within the darkest corners, the light of altruism could prevail.
​
Kris Hackley:
Difficulty: Hard
Item: Hockey Stick
Perks: Ice Skates, True Fighter and Team Captain
Prestige 1: Successfully escape chase using the perk Ice Skates
Prestige 2: Successfully escape the Hunter's grasp using the perk True Fighter
Prestige 3: Complete 1 generator and heal 1 survivor using the perk Team Captain
Full Prestige: Stun the Hunter 30 times as Kris Hackley
​
Hockey Stick:
While within 2 meters of the Hunter you can hit the Hunter with you hockey stick for a 2 second stun
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Perks:
​
Ice Skates:
After stunning the killer by any means gain the haste effect for 3 seconds. After this haste ends you gain the exhausted effect for 100/50/25 seconds. Haste doubles you speed. Exhausted makes you 5% slower and you cannot experience haste while it is active.
"With every daring move, I carve my path to freedom." -Kris Hackley
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True Fighter:
Increases your wiggle speed by 5/10/20%. Increases your wiggle sway by 15/30/60%
"You may think you've caught me, but I refuse to be a captive in your twisted game " -Kris Hackley
​
Team Captain:
Kris's natural leadership qualities shine through, even in the face of overwhelming darkness.
Increases your action speed by 3/6/12% when not within 8 meters of any of the other hunted. Increases the action speed of any of the hunted within 8 meters of you by 3/6/12%.
"Together, we are stronger. With unity and coordination, we can overcome any obstacle that lies before us. Trust in each other, and we shall prevail." -Kris Hackley
​
Add-ons:
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Goalie Gloves:
Common Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 0.5%
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Hockey Putt:
Uncommon Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 1%
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Back Breaker:
Rare Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 2%. Stunning the Hunter inflicts blindness for 20 seconds
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Empty handed:
Very Rare Add-on for Kris Hackley
Gain a haste effect for 2 seconds after stunning the Hunter. Cannot be used while exhausted.
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Iridescent Hockey Wrap:
Iridescent Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 10%
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Professional Hockey Stick:
Golden Add-on for Kris Hackley
Allows you to hit the Hunter twice before the stick breaks
​
Lore:
Kris Hackley had always been the embodiment of determination and leadership. As the captain of her local hockey team, she commanded respect and pushed her teammates to their limits. Yet, beneath her strong exterior, Kris harbored a simmering discontent towards those she perceived as unworthy or unfamiliar. It was this disdain that brought her to the fateful trip to the mountain, seeking an escape from the confines of her team and the pressure of her responsibilities. The day started with a hockey game, where Kris once again led her team to victory. But instead of relishing in the triumph, she found herself growing increasingly irritated with her teammates' shortcomings and mistakes. Seeking solace from the persistent frustration, Kris agreed to join her friends—Emma, Ethan, Anthony, Kyler, Kara, and her siblings Jamison and Kayley—for a weekend getaway in the serene mountain retreat. However, tensions began to rise as Anthony introduced a newcomer to the group—Olivia. Kris immediately resented the intrusion, perceiving Olivia as an unwelcome disruption to their tightly-knit circle. Her feelings of superiority and territoriality cast a shadow over the trip, as Kris became increasingly distant and hostile towards Olivia. As the group ventured further into the secluded mountain, their bonds began to strain under the weight of Kris's disdain. Unbeknownst to them, the dark presence of the fog had already begun to weave its way into their lives. It sensed Kris's isolation and resentment, drawing her closer to its clutches. Tragedy struck when Kris, consumed by her own emotions, failed to extend a helping hand to those in need. As they engaged in risky activities, disaster struck one by one. Kris watched in horror as Emma, Ethan, and Anthony succumbed to their fates—severing the already fragile bonds of friendship. Jamison and Kayley, her own siblings, suffered the consequences of her indifference. Overwhelmed with guilt and remorse, Kris found herself separated from the remaining survivors—Olivia and Kyler. Alone in the unforgiving mountain terrain, the fog began to envelop her, offering a haunting embrace that echoed her internal turmoil. In that moment, Kris's fate intertwined with the fog, becoming one with its ethereal realm. Now, as a Hunted survivor, Kris roams the trials, forever trapped within the fog's grasp. Her once fierce determination transformed into a relentless struggle for survival, and her perceived superiority challenged by the enigmatic horrors that lurk in the shadows. The lessons learned from her past failures now guide her, as she navigates the trials with a newfound sense of humility and empathy. Though the memory of her selfishness lingers, Kris's journey through the fog offers her a chance at redemption. She seeks to overcome her former limitations and forge new bonds, recognizing that unity and selflessness are the keys to survival in this twisted fog.
​
Kyler Hal:
Difficulty: Moderate
Item: Glasses
Perks: Survivor!, Grand Refresh and Reap what you Sow
Prestige 1: Successfully survive one trial using the perk Survivor!
Prestige 2: Successfully take 2 hits for an injured survivor using the perk Grand Refresh
Prestige 3: Successfully stun the Hunter twice while using the perk Reap what You Sow
Full Prestige: Successfully escape 10 times as Kyler Hal
​
Glasses:
Glasses can be equipped or unequipped at any time. While equipped all of the fog is removed, however if you are hit while they are on you break the glasses.
​
Perks:
​
Survivor!:
This perk can be activated at any time while injured. You become broken for 80/40/20 seconds. During this time you suffer from blindness and oblivious. You also make no grunts of pain. Once this time is up you become healthy once more. This perk applies exhausted for 60/30/15 seconds. Exhausted makes you 5% slower and you cannot experience haste while it is active, Blindness makes any aura not appear, Oblivious makes it so the heartbeat constantly seems further than it is, Broken makes it so the survivor cannot be healed.
"Surviving isn't just about avoiding death. It's about embracing the risks and emerging stronger." -Kyler Hal
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Grand Refresh:
Gain a stack for every protection hit you take for a survivor. Every stack decreases your grunts of pain volume by 10%. Gain a maximum of 6 stacks.
"In the face of danger, I'll stand as your shield."
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Reap What You Sow:
Gain a stack for every time you stun the Hunter with a pallet or door. Each stack can be used whenever you hit a skillcheck on a generator. That generator will gain 5% of its current progress added onto the generator. That generator gets revealed to the Hunter. All stacks are lost upon being downed
"Every action has consequences. Let's make sure they favor us." -Kyler Hal
​
Add-ons:
​
Metal Lining:
Common Add-on for Kyler Hal
Increases the speed you put on your glasses by 1 second
"Every second counts when darkness looms. I won't let it cloud my vision." -Kyler Hal
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New Lenses:
Uncommon Add-on for Kyler Hal
These lenses have advanced optics that brighten his surroundings, allowing him to see with greater clarity even in the darkest of environments
While the glasses are active everything becomes 25% lighter
"With a clearer view, I can navigate the shadows with confidence." -Kyler Hal
​
Bloody Glasses:
Rare Add-on for Kyler Hal
Being hit while the glasses aren't active breaks them. Being hit while they are active does not break them
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Blue Glasses:
Very Rare Add-on for Kyler Hal
Reveals the killer in blue while looking in their direction
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Iridescent Lenses:
Iridescent Add-on for Kyler Hal
These unique lenses, infused with the essence of the fog, grant Kyler an extraordinary vision that transcends the boundaries of the physical world.
Removes the fog and darkness while active. Your vision becomes red while active.
"Through these lenses, I see a twisted reflection of my fate."
​
Golden Glasses:
Golden Add-on for Kyler Hal
Increases the fog for the killer while in chase with you AND the glasses are active
​
Lore:
Kyler Hal was a free-spirited adventurer, always seeking thrill and excitement in life. In the vibrant era of the 1970s, he yearned for experiences that would test the limits of his courage and fill his life with unforgettable memories. It was during this time that he found himself drawn to a mountain resort nestled in the picturesque Colorado landscape—an idyllic setting for the adventures he sought. Accompanied by his friends—Emma, Ethan, Olivia, Kris, Kayley, Jamison, Kara, and Anthony—they embarked on a journey filled with laughter and camaraderie. The mountain resort promised an escape from the constraints of the mundane world, offering a playground for their youthful spirits. Little did they know that their escapade would lead them to the unforgiving clutches of the fog. As they explored the resort's scenic trails and indulged in adrenaline-fueled activities, Kyler reveled in the freedom of the mountains. The majestic peaks seemed to call to him, urging him to push his boundaries even further. However, their joyous excursion took a dark turn when an ominous presence loomed over their group, watching their every move. Tragedy struck swiftly, as Emma, Ethan, Kris, Jamison, and Kara fell victim to the unknown malevolence that pervaded the mountain. Their lives were cut short, leaving Kyler, Olivia, and Anthony as the sole survivors of the harrowing ordeal. The weight of loss and survival weighed heavily upon Kyler's shoulders, his carefree spirit burdened by guilt and grief. It was on their journey back to civilization that the fog made its insidious move. Trapped in a dense mist that seemed to devour the world around them, Kyler found himself separated from his companions. Panic and confusion washed over him as he desperately searched for an escape, but the fog had claimed him, pulling him deeper into its eerie realm. Now condemned to wander the trials as one of the Hunted, Kyler fights to preserve the memories of his lost friends and find solace in their spirits. The fog taunts him, a constant reminder of the past he cannot change and the choices that led him to this haunting existence. His once carefree nature has morphed into a resilient determination, fueled by the desire to honor the memories of his fallen comrades and seek a way back to the world he once knew. In the trials of the Fog, Kyler's courage is put to the test, his survival dependent on his ability to adapt, cooperate, and outmaneuver the relentless Hunter. Through the fog's relentless challenges, Kyler seeks redemption, not just for himself but for the friends he lost on that fateful mountain journey. As he navigates the trials, he discovers that true strength lies not only in physical prowess but also in the bonds forged with his fellow survivors, united in their shared struggle against the encroaching darkness.
​
Anthony Kael:
Difficulty: Easy
Item: Toolbox
Perks: First Serve, Hate The Sinner and Panic Headed
Prestige 1: Finish 1 generator using the Perk First Serve
Prestige 2: Finish 1 Generator using the Perk Hate The Sinner
Prestige 3: Finish 1 Generator while injured using the Perk Panic Headed
Full Prestige: Finish 30 Generators as Anthony Kael
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Toolbox:
Can be used while working on a generator. While using it it you complete generators 25% faster, however getting off of generators is much slower.
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Perks:
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First Serve:
What some may see as old scrap you see as good machinery
This perk activates after touching a generator with no progress. Gain a 25% boost on that generator until one of the following happens: You leave the generator, you are hit or you fail a skillcheck. This perk has a 60/30/15 second cooldown
"When the sparks fly, and the machines come alive, it's my chance to make a difference." -Anthony Kael
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Hate The Sinner:
This perk activates for 15/30/60 seconds after being injured. Gain a 15% boost on fixing generators during this time. This boost is increased to 30% if you are deep wounded
"There's a fire inside me, a relentless drive to fix what's broken and reclaim our chance at survival." -Anthony Kael
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Panic Headed:
Unlike most, you don't scream from Injuries. You take the pain and laugh in the face of death
Gain a 3/6/12% boost to all actions while injured
"When the world spins in chaos, my mind clears. Panic fuels my every move, heightening my senses and sharpening my focus" -Anthony Kael
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Add-ons:
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Spanner Wrench:
Common Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases speed by 2%
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Measuring tape:
Uncommon Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases speed at which you put the toolbox away by 15%
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Metal Mallet:
Rare Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases boost from skillchecks by 5%
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Screwdriver:
Very Rare Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases boost from skillchecks by 10%
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Iridescent Screwdriver:
Iridescent Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases boost from skillchecks by 20%. Toolbox now deactivates whenever the first generator is completed
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Golden Wrench:
Golden Add-on for Anthony Kael
Gain the ability to sabotage Traps. Decreases boost from skillchecks by 2%
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Lore:
Born with an innate talent for tinkering and fixing things, Anthony spent his days as a dedicated technician, ensuring that machinery and devices functioned flawlessly. However, his life took an unexpected turn when he embarked on a fateful trip to a serene mountain resort with his friends, unaware of the horrors that awaited them. As Anthony and his group of friends arrived at the picturesque resort, tensions ran high. Despite the warnings, Anthony insisted on bringing Olivia, a newcomer who was not well-received by the others. Little did they know that their collective actions would lead them down a path of darkness and despair. Tragedy befell the group one by one, as the mountain became a hunting ground for an insidious force. Ethan, struck by an arrow, met a grisly fate with a snapped neck. Emma, entangled in the gnarled bark, was mercilessly slammed into the snow until life left her body. Kris, the team captain, met a fatal end when she plummeted from the treacherous mountainside, her neck snapping upon impact. Kayley, left to bleed out on a meathook, succumbed to her injuries. Jamison's ill-fated encounter with a bear trap sealed his fate, leaving him lifeless. Kara, too, fell victim to a cruel trap, bleeding out as her final moments slipped away. Amidst the bloodshed and loss, Anthony, Kyler, and Olivia found themselves as the sole survivors. They navigated the treacherous terrain, their bond forged in the crucible of survival. However, their resilience would be tested further as they encountered the enigmatic force that lurked within the fog. As Anthony faced the horrors unfolding around him, his resourcefulness and technical prowess became his greatest assets. Cirrus, drawn to his unwavering determination and problem-solving skills, claimed Anthony as its own, entwining his fate with the merciless trials that awaited him in the fog. Haunted by the memories of his fallen friends, Anthony now roams the fog, driven by a relentless need to uncover the mysteries of his tragic past and outwit the forces that seek to consume him. With his technical expertise and a determination that knows no bounds, he fights for survival, ready to uncover the truth behind the malevolent presence that binds them all.
Kara Scaler:
Difficulty: Easy
Item: Boots
Perks: Back Track, The Queen and Sixth Sense
Prestige 1: Successfully escape from Chase using the perk Back Track
Prestige 2: Successfully escape with at least 1 other Hunted using the perk The Queen
Prestige 3: Successfully hide from the Hunter using the perk Sixth Sense
Full Prestige: Escape 10 chases as Kara Scaler
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Boots:
You run 1% faster than all other survivors. Your footsteps are silent.
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Perks:
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Back Track:
After vaulting through a window your grunts of pain and pools of blood are removed for 2/4/8 seconds. Once this time ends your pools of blood backtrack the the vault location.
"In this tangled game of survival, every moment counts. I leave no traces behind, vanishing into the shadows. They'll never know where I truly tread." -Kara Scaler
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The Queen:
Reveals your aura to all survivors. While injured all survivors gain a 5/10/20% boost to healing. All of the Hunted who escape gain a 100% boost in experience
"The Queen commands, and her will is absolute. Together, we rise above the pain and despair." -Kara Scaler
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Sixth Sense:
Reveals the aura of the Hunter for 3/6/12 seconds when you hear their heartbeat. While within the heartbeat of the hunter gain a 3/6/12% boost to all actions
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Add-ons:
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Soft Tissue:
Increases movement speed by 0.5%
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Steel Toe Boots:
Increases movement speed by 5%. Removes the silent footstep effect
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Leather Boots:
Increases vaulting speed by 5%. Removes the silent footstep effect
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Winter Boots:
Removes the silent footstep effect. Increases speed after being hit by 10%
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Iridescent Tissue:
Increases movement speed by 3%. This stacks while Deep wounded.
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Fur Boots:
Removes the silent footstep effect. Increases movement speed by 2%. Increases vaulting speed by 3%. Increases wiggle sway by 20%
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Lore:
A striking figure with an air of independence and a disquieting aura, Kara possessed a longing for control and an unspoken desire for affection that ultimately drove her down a treacherous road. Intrigued by the allure of the Hackley mountain resort, Kara insisted on gathering a group of friends for an adventure. Among them were the determined Kris, the gentle Kayley, the steadfast Kyler, the empathetic Anthony, and the spirited duo of Ethan and Emma. Despite her reservations, Anthony chose to invite his friend Olivia, much to Kara's discontent. Her desire to maintain a close-knit circle was fueled by an underlying fear of losing control. Within the group, Kara clashed with Kris, a natural leader whose presence threatened Kara's own desire for dominance. She held an unspoken disdain for Kayley, who had a deep connection with Jamison, Kara's secret love interest. The weight of unrequited affection burdened her heart, and only Anthony, her confidant, shared her pain and understood her longing. As they ventured into the heart of the mountain resort, the group encountered unspeakable horrors. Emma's tragic demise shattered Kara's world, traumatizing her to the core. The harrowing scene would forever haunt her memories, igniting a primal fear and unraveling the fragile threads of her composure. In the midst of chaos, Kara's selfishness and desperation propelled her into the forest, seeking refuge from the horrors that unfolded. But fate had other plans in store. Trapped by a vicious bear trap, Kara cried out for help, her screams echoing through the night. Hours passed, each moment a torment as she wrestled with pain, fear, and regret. As the agonizing hours slipped away, Kara's desperate pleas were answered by an unexpected force. The fog, sensing her turmoil and her broken spirit, reached out to claim her as its own. It enveloped her in its ethereal embrace, forever sealing her fate within its enigmatic realm. Lost to her friends and the world she once knew, Kara became a reflection of her own inner turmoil—a haunting reminder of the consequences of selfishness and the yearning for control. In the fog's clutches, she is condemned to wander, her soul forever tormented by the choices and regrets that shaped her tragic journey.
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Maps:
Harvest Haven:
Type: Abandoned Farmlands
Harvest Haven is an eerie and desolate farmland, haunted by the memories of a tragic event. Once a thriving agricultural community, it now stands abandoned and forgotten, overrun by overgrown crops and ominous scarecrows. Dilapidated barns, broken fences, and rusted farming equipment serve as reminders of a life that was abruptly shattered.
Main Building: Farmhouse. The Main building has 1 generator inside it, and when the generator is completed the lights inside are turned on. (Safety: Safe)
Size: Moderate
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Resort Ruins:
Type: Mountain Resort
The Resort Ruins capture the remnants of what was once a luxurious mountain getaway. Now reduced to a desolate and overgrown wasteland, the ruins bear witness to the horrors that unfolded within their walls. Collapsed structures, cracked swimming pools, and twisted amusement park rides serve as eerie reminders of the resort's tragic past.
Main Building: Ski Lodge. The Main building has 1 generator inside the basement. Upon this generator being completed the lights inside and outside are turned on. (Safety: Balanced)
Side Building: Ski Lift. The Side building has 1 generator. Upon this generator being completed the lights inside are turned on. (Safety: Unsafe)
Size: Moderate
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The Prowler's Shack:
Type: Mountain Resort
The Prowler's Shack is a secluded and ominous structure tucked away deep within the fog. It serves as the dwelling place of The Prowler, a twisted refuge where he orchestrates his malevolent pursuits. The shack is surrounded by dense forest, and the air is filled with an unsettling stillness, as if nature itself holds its breath in fear.
Main Building: Prowler's Shack. The main building has no generator inside it. (Safety: Balanced)
Size: Small
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Derelict Manor:
Type: Mountain Resort
Derelict Manor is an abandoned and decaying building that once stood as a grand mansion. Time has taken its toll on the once opulent structure, leaving behind a maze of crumbling hallways, broken furniture, and faded portraits. The atmosphere is heavy with a sense of abandonment and despair, perfectly reflecting the darkness that haunts The Prowler's past.
Main Building: The Manor. The Main building has 3 generators inside it. Once all generators inside it are fixed all lights inside it turn on. (Safety: Very Safe)
Size: Large
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Fog Offerings:
Forgotten Ritual: Common Offering. Increases the chance of going to Abandoned Farmlands by 25%.
Faded Postcard: Common Offering. Increases the chance of going to Mountain resort by 25%
Vengeful Spirit: Common Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 25%
Desperate Prayer: Common Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 25%
Bloodstained Ledger: Common Offering. Increases the amount of experience you get by 25%
Cursed Cornfield: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of going to Abandoned Farmlands by 50%
Ripped Blueprints: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of going to Mountain resort by 50%
Dark Embrace: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 50%
Beacon of Hope: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 50%
Knowledge Tome: Uncommon Offering. Increases the amount of experience you get by 50%
Harvest's Call: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of going to Abandoned Farmlands by 75%
Ruined Brochure: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of going to Mountain Resort by 75%
Blood Oath: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 75%
Survivor's Pledge: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 75%
Duo Dice: Rare Offering. Increases the amount of experience you get by 75%
Hunter's Mark: Very Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 100%. If two are placed both Offerings are discarded
Survival Talisman: Very Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 100%. If five are placed all offerings are discarded
Essence Amplifier: Very Rare Offering. Increases the amount of experience gained by 100%

Teotihuacan was built on a geodetic grid system (a power center) in perfect sacred geometrical alignment with the cosmos to harness the energy of earth and sky. To understand it, we must go back to the original truth of the purpose. advanced design of Teotihuacan suggests that ancient builders had knowledge, not only of architecture, but of complex mathematical and astronomical sciences. The term 'Teohuacan' was found inscribed halfway across the globe on monuments in China, the term means 'place of the sun'(*our translation is 'Place to tie up the sun)Mercury, Hermes was the great Messenger, which also speaks for the planets quick trips around the sun. An aerial view shocked many researchers, but following the traditions we know what every pyramid was used for. Circuit Board-Teohuatican with two large processor chips— the Sun Pyramid and the Moon Pyramid. . One of the most interesting things about Teotihuacan is the finding by archaeologists of the extensive use of mica embedded in numerous structures. This mineral is found 3,000 miles away in Brazil and it is found in all buildings, housing complexes, temples and along the roads so basically this mineral is all over Teotihuacan.
The pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacan contained considerable amounts of mica in layers up to 30 cm. Human use of mica dates back to prehistoric times. Mica was known to ancient Indian, Egyptian, Greek and Roman andChinese civilizations, as well as the Aztec civilization of the New World. The earliest use of mica has been found in cave paintings created during the Upper Paleolithic period (40,000 BC to 10,000 BC). The ancient civilizations & their inexplicable similarities are only shocking when one has disregarded our ancestors traditions as 'mythical ', which is a mistake made by academics only recently.
Mica is stable when exposed to electricity, light, moisture, and extreme temperatures. It has superior electrical properties as an insulator and as a dielectric, and can support an electrostatic field while dissipating minimal energy in the form of heat; it can be split very thin (0.025 to 0.125 millimeters or thinner) while maintaining its electrical properties, has a high dielectric breakdown, is thermally stable to 500 °C, and is resistant to corona discharge. Muscovite, the principal mica used by the electrical industry, is used in capacitors that are ideal for high frequency and radio frequency. Phlogopite mica remains stable at higher temperatures (to 900 °C) and is used in applications in which a combination of high-heat stability and electrical properties is required. Muscovite and phlogopite are used in sheet and ground forms.
The Maya Codex Vaticanus records faithfully the very ancient oral traditions of Central America. In one curious passage it states that “in the First Age, giants existed in that country(Mexico). "These 7 who escaped from a deluge , arrive in Cholula and there began to build a tower… in order that should a deluge come again he might escape to it.” Nahuatl language it’s named Tlachihualtepetl (‘artificial mountain’). Originally it was named Acholollan (‘water that falls in the place of flight’).
-Olmec(Xi)-had two different religious associations (gya-fa):the jaguar-man or humano-feline cult and the humano-bird cult. The humano-feline cult was called the nama-tigi by the Olmecs, while the humano-feline cult was called the kuno-tigi..Xoc Bas Birdman
The Teotihuacan(Tlalocan )mural depicts a range of mountains covered in rolling clouds and mists, below a brilliant red sky dominated by the huge figure of Tláloc, the Maya/Aztec god of celestial waters. Falling from Tláloc's open hands are flaming droplets of celestial water, likely representing the high-resonance isotope of protium, that overtly reference the ignition of celestial water vapor to form HHO plasma. The differentiation of celestial waters from terrestrial waters through the infrasonic evaporation of water vapor corresponds to special modern water purification processes involving the separation of resonant lightwater (protium) from dissonant heavy waters deuterium & tritium
The plumed headdress of Tláloc is comprised of radiating feathers of green and red hues, representing the colors of auroral plasma. Three arching red plumes stand out from the other green plumes of the headdress, extending from either side of the central figure and from the foreheads (pineal glands) of the two smaller figures in profile, representing the three frequencies of sound that generate nonlinear standing waves. Rising above the giant central figure of Tláloc is a majestic twisting Tree of Life image, composed of intertwining plumes of yellow/green and pink/red aerial HHO plasma that appear identical to modern photographs of the plasma discharges of red sprites.
Tláloc, God of Celestial Water, god of the vapor that rises, from the earth warmed by the sun after the rains, god of the mist that ascends from the valleys at dawn, god of the water that returns to its source in the clouds that swim over the highest peaks, god of the humid incense from which rise the copal prayers and the prayers of sacrifice
Tláloc is the return of vapor that strains to rise, is the return of time that strains to remember. Tláloc, God of the Fight Against the Current, with whose aid the hero battles against the torrent toward his own origin and beginning, towards the wings of his soul, the wings that Tláloc hides in the hero's past
The cycle of years is past - the waiting ended. Come - reunite, pilgrims, for the sky is in flames! From Xochicalco to Teotíhuacan the red spreads one step, another step, and another, only twelve short steps from the cave of the womb to the final conflagration
The red skies depicted in the Teotihuacan mural are also directly referenced in the Pyramid of Fire Codex, when it states that "the sky will be in flames" that will spread from one pyamid to another, as the worldwide netwrok of pyramids and sacred sites become activated to bath the area in the brilliant infrared and ultraviolet-A light of aerial HHO plasma plumes.ancient, unknown science designed to create energy directed up is excavating the tunnel.
-The geoposition of Teotihuacan pyramid complex (19.68°N 98.83°W), reveals a nonlinear (or Fibonacci-based) resonant alignment with respect to the Great Pyramid of Giza, being 7,684 miles away or 30.9% of the Earth's mean circumference (of 24,892 miles)..which is also observed in the Paracas petroglyphs.
The Sanskrit descendant cultures of Asia express the same essential interpretation given by the Maya culture of Central America; identifying the planet Mercury as ‘the fast runner’ that takes ‘quick flight’ around the sun, having a short orbital period of approximately 88 days. Among Nahuatl cultures, the art of running was crucial to the functioning of society, enabling the rapid conveyance of messages over long distance.
Mercury is the link (messenger) between the gods (higher principles) and humankind. In the ancient art of alchemy, such as in Hermeticism, Mercury, sulfur, and salt were the Earth's three principle substances that represent the trinity in creation. As sulphur is the symbol for the active principle, mercury is the symbol of the passive principle.The symbol of Mercury is the cosmic womb being incubated by the cross of the four elements of creation - earth, air, fire and water. Mercury is the messenger in Astrology as it is in mythology. It is the planet of day-to-day expression and communication. Mercury's action is to take things apart and put them back together again. It is an opportunistic planet, decidedly unemotional and curious. Mercury not only rules communication, it represents coordination. Thought processes, ideas, and sensory information from both unconscious and unconscious sources all need to be coordinated and understood.
Ive said before that the mercury was used to accomplish communication wth the Gods, The fluid metal element mercury was extolled as generating the luminosity of the blood of gods, for its threefold biophotonic extension of human longevity, whereby adepts of the alchemical arts were able to attain long lifespans. Mercury was closely associated with its extreme volatility, which must be carefully controlled to achieve positive results. Mercury was considered an ethereal element for its low boiling point of 357°C. When heated above this temperature, quicksilver will rapidly vaporize as toxic fumes inspiring an association with quick flight: ‘mercury has wings’.
A number of the Mesoamerican pyramids there are key components designed into their construction that act as magnifiers. These components appear to be important in the creation, magnification, and distribution of telluric fields.Pyramid & Scalar WavesEarly Irrigation of Teotihuacan
Provenance od Limestone used in Teotihuacan
Identification of Pyrite & Hematite
• Water, either moving naturally including rivers or cenotes (found at El Castillo at Chichen Itza) or by artificial canals or tunnels, similar to the Temple of Inscription found at Palenque.)
• Geo-magnetic fields. Naturally formed telluric fields that have high and low period throughout day and night.
• Pyramid design. The specific pyramid shape appears to greatly enhance the telluric fields that pulse up and into the center of the chamber.
• Pyramid interior fill. At a number of pyramids, rocks that are good electromagnetic conductors fill the interior of the pyramids and are used to enhance the pulsing field. Rocks that have veins with quartz, granite, and other electrical conducting properties appear to be favored. Characterization of lime carbonates in plasters from Teotihuacan, Mexico: preliminary results of cathodoluminescence and carbon isotope analyses
Dr Burke &Dr Brooker research determined that each location had been chosen because of its naturally occurring telluric energy field that pulsed up and into the structure or surrounding area. Also Burke and his research partner Kaj Halberg discovered electro-magnetic signatures that measured impressive charges on top of the pyramid. In a series of scans, the readings showed an average change of 908 volts over a short period of time, which was concentrated in the early morning hours. As ive stated in the past, this is the ideal time for sungazing. The pineal, contains magnetite & creates its own magnetic field. This was once a universal practice at Sacred sites, in 2009 until Nov 2012 The grand maya council held 52 full moon ritual of the new cycle where we visited sacred sites around the world and brought back these rituals. Burke mentions the readings and states, “These voltages might sound lethal and if it were a household current they could be. However, static electric charge in the air is a different type of electricity and even a thousand volts is not dangerous.” His discovery of pyramid field generation is fascinating, but what he actually uncovered was a means of generating and perhaps distributing electromagnetic energy within a pyramid complex. Which aligns with the term used for the ancient Egyptians, the Great PrNtr-house of Nature, or house of energy).
Stanford edu-Native American & Polynesian population The Genetic Evidence for 2 founding populations has constantly confirmed our traditions, the idea of independent invention is absolute nonsense. Theres an overwhelming amount of evidence, "believe" is a term unfamiliar to Dogon culture & ive yet to see the point in such a thing. If preconceived biases have clouded the minds of the majority, and they ignore evidence thats their fault. The age of the Fourth Sun, the Age of the Black Headed People (Aztec), or the Age of Heroes (Inca). This is the era in which Quetzalcoatl appeared in Mexico -- tall of stature, bright of countenance, bearded, and wearing a long tunic. His staff, shaped like a serpent, was painted black, white, and red [reminiscent of American Indians' mythology of three races of Man]. The staff was inlaid with precious stones and adorned with six stars.
-Between the 14th and 16th centuries during the Aztec era, Quetzalcoatl was worshipped as the patron of priests, the inventor of books and the calendar, as well as the protector of goldsmiths and other craftsmen..Shamanism, was invented in west Africa & brought to the Mesoamerican civilizations. The Aztec oral traditions say that Quetzalcoatl & his followers brought these beliefs ,and came from the East across the oceans. This is now corroborated by genetic, skeletal remains, artifacts, you name it. Quetzalcoatl was just a High Priest of Anu. The Gold tipped spears,or as Columbus calls it ' guanin 'to the Indians of Hispaniola. Samples of which sent back to Spain on a mail boat, and the proportion was found to be identical to what was being forged in African Guinea.
Moche Reed BoatThe Xi(Olmec) were a mix of a Polynesian/Oceanic elite aristocratic people accompanied by priests of the Orisha(Yoruba)/Mende(MalinkeBambara)responsible for introducing the religious practices and astronomical worship of the Mother Goddess complex (Venus, the Dogon Sirius observation and the Venus worship of the Olmecs, the use of the ax in the worship of Shango among he Yoruba of West Africa and the use of the ax in Olmec worship as well as the prominence of the thunder God later known as Tlalock among the Aztecs).It was R1b-V88(Yoruba) that were known as magicians to the Mayans & local Aymara over in Bolivia because of their knowledge of acoustics, which they have preserved from the Nile Valley (Anu colleges of Heliopolis).
Again, we see Toward the end of the Fourth Sun, wars between the gods were taking place. [The Battle of the Titans?] The gods' war brought havoc to the land; wild animals overran mankind, and Tollan was abandoned. The fourth Sun had begun 5,042 years before the time of the Codex Vaticano-Latino 3738 (1533). The time the Fourth Sun ended is not stated, but the Codex was written during the Fifth Sun. The Fourth Sun may have perished by means of the Jaguar. The Fifth Sun is referred to as the Age of Kings by the Incas.

SWIM heard that if you touch a radio tower you would be able to hear the broadcast playing while you’re internal organs turn into teriyaki chicken.
SWIM was thinking of hooking up a zum zum YouTube vid on a radio tower and touching it so they could hear the voice of god talking to them as the angels carry them up to Vikdicks sex dungeon in the clouds.
SWIM is seeking opinions/advice 👍

Rick had expected that taking an entire tribe to Sinco would be slow. Who wouldn’t? It was a whole tiny village after all, one nearing a handful hundred.
But the Orcs, and by extension all the other maidens, had more than one surprise in store.
When the tribe had set off, they’d done so with a grand demolition. The moment everything of value had been picked up and packaged, the village was then torn to shreds by anyone willing to take part in the little destruction-derby.
Following this, the tribe would split up into hut-family units.
Every “family” would be made of one human and multiple maidens. The maiden with the highest standing within the family unit (almost always an Orc) would be in charge of carrying and protecting the human on their back. And the rest would handle the luggage and supplies that “family” unit would take with them.
And from there, they would break into a jogging pace that, to a human, would have been a dead sprint.
Rick had the distinct “honor” of being carried by Urtha since Monica’s job as the chief meant it was her job to be at the tip of the metaphorical spear. Meanwhile, Rick was left seated on a sort-of-backpack the tall Orc carried.
Kiara flew overhead with the handful of other flying maidens that’d been woken up from the boxes. Leaving Eva and Dia to carry their belongings. It left an unpleasant aftertaste in Rick’s gut.
The smirk Dia kept shooting his way as he petulantly crossed his arms and resigned himself to being glorified luggage. “I could at least be playing the drums to mark the pace or something. It’s not like we’re being subtle or quiet.”
“Humans have no place drawing attention where danger lurks,” Urtha said, the only one present that wasn’t even winded. “Less so the Father.”
“Some feral might think you are a cheesy snack.” Dia, huffing as she pushed herself, still giggled.
“The tribe is tense enough already.” The Orc shook her head. “We rarely bring this many weaklings with us.”
“One of many changes to come.” Rick held the sigh, mostly because he was holding on to the chair to keep from falling over. He didn’t want to think about it, but once they reached Sinco, things would get complicated.
They were effectively marching out, seeking to conquer a city. Whether it be through actual warfare or maneuvering, they weren’t sure just yet. They just knew that they were prepared for the former if the latter didn’t work out. The reports had come in: Sinco was not in a good place. The constant presence of highly aggressive ferals had been chipping away at their defenses.
The only hope the city held was that they would receive reinforcements from Aubria.
Rick would get there faster.
It was in these thoughts that he pondered throughout the day. The tribe traveled and rested too often to the Orc’s liking. There was much friction to be had, and the humans were guarded like the treasures the tribe considered them to be.
When night came, a singular large hut was made for the humans, and the maidens would sleep in rotations. There would be small songs and minor stories that were shared, small moments of comfort. But they were all held under the looming watchfulness of the tribe.
Because they were at their most vulnerable. One missed feral deciding to make a stand could mean a human getting hurt. Rick had to begrudgingly respect them for that. As much as he loathed being treated like some kind of porcelain doll, there was no room to question that the maidens were going the extra mile for everyone’s safety and survival.
Though they would sometimes go a bit overboard against the maidens that “slowed down the tribe”. His role mediating such disputes had become his main role throughout the following days.
One morning, as they were preparing to set out, he heard it.
It started with a scream, then a yelp, and then a rush.
By the time Rick realized what was going on, Monica was upon him. Drenched from head to toe and stinking of salt and seaweed. The massive maiden was looking at him with a smile that threatened to split her head in two.
“Rick!” She hovered over him, dripping water all over. “Come! Come!”
“Is everything alright?” He asked from the discomfort of the portable chair he was currently occupying.
“COME!” she insisted, hopping on her feet and skittishly looking back, aiming her ear in the direction she’d come from. “Quick!”
“The tribe is not heading that way.” Urtha pointed out.
Rick considered it for a second. “Are there any problems shifting course to travel nearer to the sea?”
“It is a bad idea. For many reasons.”
Her words brought nods from Eva and Dia, to which Rick could only respond with a shrug. “Ok, then we could call for a break for the day, give everyone a chance to properly unwind, and I’ll go with Monica.” He pointed over at the feline that was bouncing on her heels, just barely holding back from reaching out and yanking him into her wet embrace. “Seems like the chief is very excited about something.”
“I bet its food,” Eva said.
“Urtha?” Rick waited.
The Orc glanced over at the crowd. “We will set camp for the day. We cannot afford to lose any of the weaklings.”
That was as good as he could’ve hoped. Rick nodded and was immediately snatched by Monica’s fuzzy paw. The maiden picked him up, putting him over her shoulder and trotting through the shrubbery and trees with little regard for who might be following.
Rick got himself a face full of leaves, flinching and batting them away. “Hey, wait, the branches-”
The Sabretooth yanked him into her arms and broke into a full sprint. Dirt and rocks burst forth from where she stood as air whipped about them. Her fang-filled smile only grew. Monica’s eyes were only focused forward. Rick, meanwhile, was trying to avoid swallowing bugs. The insects that kept flying about appeared to prefer smacking against his face.
There was a moment of clarity, light, and blue.
And with a splash, he was underwater.
Rick made the mistake of gasping, swallowing sea-water, wildly flinging his arms to get himself to the surface. Monica yanked him out of the water, leaving him feeling like a half-drowned cat as he coughed and spat.
“LOOK!” she proclaimed, dropping him on the sandy beach as she hurried towards the crashing waves, kicking at them and sending sprays of foam high into the air. “Rick! BIG!” She waved wildly, rushing her way into the water, then back out.
“That’s the sea.”
“Monica see!” With wide arms, she tried to point at all of it at once.
“No, it’s a new word. Sounds similar.” He combed his hair out of his face with his hands, removing his shirt. “Sea. S-E-A. Big, wet, and salty.”
“BIG WET!” Monica was cheering and splashing, kicking her way up and down the shore, jumping into the waves and coming out a dozen meters away and then making her way back to the shore.
“It’s the sea.” He couldn’t help but smile, watching as she slapped the water with her huge paws, creating a billowing tower of water and foam to rise at least a dozen meters into the air.
He put the low-end terrifying notion of how much force was packed into that strike and kept an easy-going smile.
“It’s the ocean.” The voice called from above, Kiara leisurely drifting down and sitting next to him. “Too far away from anything or anyone. Few ships go through here.”
“So chock-full of dangerous ferals?”
“Just like everywhere else.” Her eyes weren’t on Monica. The Succubus’ gaze appeared more focused on trailing the waves as they crashed into the shore. “Likely they’ve been scared off, though. The rush must have eaten everything available near the shore.”
Rick looked at the waves, then at her. “How can you tell?”
“There’s nothing in the waves.” She pointed. “Usually there’s at least the odd Sprite.”
“Maybe Monica scared them off.”
“Doubtful.” Kiara shook her head, turning to eye him with a slight smirk. “You’re drenched. Maybe you’d want to take your clothes off?” Her gaze trailed over him in a distinctly predatory way.
“You’re hungry, huh?”
She leaned closer, hand reaching over to caress his shoulder. “Maybe a little more than that…” Gold eyes locked to his, her hand gently pushing his back into the sand, the Succubus moving in closer so that she could pin him down.
Rick grinned. “Careful with the splash.”
The momentary confusion turned to shock and horror as she was yanked away and flung into the sea. Monica stared with ample amount of self-satisfaction as the Succubus swore and sank into the waves. “No horny time.” The feline declared, looking at Rick with a dangerous glint in her eyes.
“I understand.” He raised his hands, playing the role of innocent bystander.
“Play time.”
His eyes widened with concern. Uh oh.
She reached down, pulling him up by the shirt. “Rick train swim.”
“I know how to swim.” He quickly proclaimed, grabbing hold of her claws as her arm tensed. “BUT!”
Monica hesitated, looking at the water, then at him with narrowed eyes. “But?”
“Don’t throw me like you did Kiara or I will break,” he said, quickly relaxing a little as he pointed up into the air. “Throw me a little up. Gently, into the water.”
She eyed him for a moment, and with a flick of her tail, caught a stone. “Like this?” She grasped the rock and gently tossed it into a high arch that fell into the sea with a little plop.
“Yeah, just like-AAAAAHHHH!!!”
He was flying, body spinning in the air as gravity quickly lay claim. Rick did the only thing he could think of, curling into a ball, drawing breath, and plunge. He was underwater in the next instant, bubbles and light, with the sandy bottom still within sight.
It was down there that he spotted Kiara looking up at him with a smirk, a bubble wrapping her head. The conspicuously naked Succubus used her wings to swim up at him, catching him in her grasp and pulling him down.
Rick clutched his mouth, trying to keep his breath.
Kiara’s amusement was apparent as she held him by the shirt, looking at him with a mischievous twinkle. The iron grip remained, and he could see what her plan was, so he leaned into her, breaking the surface of the bubble with his face.
The breath was cut short with the kiss.
Then she shoved him away, waving off and winking as she swam further away from the shore. The speed she was moving with clearly was one not meant for him to follow, so Rick didn’t, going up to the surface.
Monica was waiting for him, excitedly grinning from ear to ear.
“Again!” he declared the moment he stepped on the sand. “But this time not from the shirt or it might rip.”
By the time others were reaching the beach, the duo had figured out a way to make the launch procedure safer… ish. Mostly in that the victim of choice would stand on Monica’s palm and curl into a cannonball, so that she could then throw.
And the maiden had quite the throwing arm.
The couple of Goblins that showed up excitedly joined in. Then came the Orcs, Mousegirls, and Doggirls, and by the time Urtha had shown her face, the various tribe members had a line of eager volunteers to be thrown into the sea. While the Orcs were competing with one another to see who could get their cargo the furthest from the shore.
Dia caught sight of the glare before Rick could even speak up. “I’ve set up a rotation of guards with the ones keeping watch over the tribe,” the healer proclaimed. “And the water maidens are working as lookouts.”
“Do you think that would placate me?”
“Do you want to play in the launch games?” Rick asked, giving Dia a warning look. “I bet you’d give Monica a run for her money.”
“She is stronger.” Urtha spoke after just a moment of observation, shaking her head. “I would need to wait for her to tire.”
He looked at the Orc as she remained near them, but didn’t sit. He could almost taste the tension within her, that knot of uncertainty. “Would you like to build a sand castle, then?”
“A castle of sand?”
“Exactly that.” Rick sat up. “Just wet sand and more sand, and make a castle with it.”
Urtha’s thick brows furrowed. “That… sounds childish.”
He shrugged. “Sand is fragile and crumbles easily if mishandled. Consider it a test of skill.” A sly smile followed. “Or are you scared a little human will be better at it than you?”
With a scoff, she stomped her foot once. “Show me.”
“I’ll join in!” Dia said. “It’s been a while since I’ve played mud-walls.”
“The what now?”
“It’s a game we healers played when little helped give us finer control over our power.” She crouched down, grabbing a handful of wet sand and proceeding to carefully lay it down in the shape of a very thin tube. A tube no thicker than a straw, and tall enough to reach her knee. “The trick is in pushing the water away at the right time.”
Rick and Urtha shared a worried glance.
Two hours later, things had escalated… a little.
It turned out that the Orc’s ability to make wood nearly as tough as steel could be applied to sand to just enough of a degree that Urtha had made a box tower about two meters on the side and five tall. Rick, working with a knife, carved out details on the tower.
Mostly windows and bricks.
Dia, on the other hand, had built a miniature replica of the fortified city of Balet. Devoid of any details, the city was a configuration of boxes roughly knee height.
It was when some maidens that had tired of the Monica-Launcher™ had gathered to watch that things escalated. With Mousegirls quickly getting recruited by Dia so that they could turn the sand boxes into detailed houses, and Urtha recruiting other Orcs so that they could put together a second tower.
Somewhere along the way, Sheel had shown up to set up an impromptu grill service.
Rick got his fill as he watched the competition unfold, recovering his energy and feeling exhausted in a good way. He caught sight of Kiara emerging from the sea, sans clothes. The Succubus took one look at the gathering, and eventually locked on to him.
The alluring blue-haired Succubus shifted her walk, tucking away tiredness and presenting only assuredness and grace. Her ample hips swayed with a mesmerizing rhythm, tail punctuating every step with a flick. The maiden made a show of pushing her sky-blue hair over her shoulder, presenting her bare chest for him to drink in.
There was a twinkle of enjoyment in her golden eyes when his gaze locked on to her body. A sly smile played on her lips, seductive and coy.
As she reached him, the succubus knelt down and whispered in his ear, her voice soft and alluring. “Is this spot taken?”
Rick felt his throat dry, and he coughed a little. “Sure.”
Kiara grinned wider, taking his lap, tail reaching under his shirt to caress his chest. “It is very comfortable.” She punctuated her words by grinding against herself against his crotch a little. “You seem thrilled to see me.”
He wrapped his hands around her midriff, pulling her against his chest, ignoring the slight discomfort of her wings. “Be warned that Monica is looking our way,” he whispered. “Engage and you will get launched. She’s gotten great at it.”
The tail twitched. “Noted.” Her tone was begrudging. “I meant to ask, are you familiar with… this? The sea? The ocean? The depths?”
“I’ve been on my fair share of boats, and went diving in a reef once.” He admitted freely. “And I’ve flown over the clouds in one of the most boring technological marvel my world built.” A little chuckle followed. “But I think you were meaning to lead this somewhere else?”
Kiara shifted, staring over her shoulder for a moment. “I’d like to hear more about your world sometime.” Her voice held an edge of hesitation to it, and Rick had the distinct impression she was trying to hold something back. “But yes, I was meaning to lead the conversation to this.”
The tone was gone; the look was gone, replaced by smug satisfaction as she held up a blue gemstone. The object was the size of a pearl and a deep, glimmering blue.
“An impure elemental stone.” The Succubus declared. “Take it.”
Rick obliged, lifting it to get a better look. Light wavered and refracted within the sphere, adding a shimmer that made it look as if there was a tiny sea contained within. Twisting and shifting the stone did not make the illusion of change, making the little sphere appear like a looking-glass of some sort.
The refracted light swayed and shifted against his palm like an aurora.
“It’s… this is really impressive.” He declared after a moment, glancing back at her.
“I stumbled onto this while looking for something else. It has some minor value, but is mostly useless since it has a very low purity.” She shrugged her lithe shoulders, trailing his jaw with her sharp nail. “Consider it compensation.”
He frowned a little. “Compensation for what?”
She shrugged, beating her wings once and hopping on to her feet. “I will go get myself a change of clothes and a snack.” She turned to leave. “You’re more than welcome to join.”
Rick could only chuckle. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m exhausted right now.”
“Have it your way.” The maiden vanished into the thicket, sauntering off to the tribe. “If you’ve got nothing better to do, pay some attention to the little leech. Wouldn’t want her to feel neglected, now would we?”
Where had that come from? Rick watched her go, taking a moment to stand up and check that the little get-together was going nowhere. From there, he turned his focus inwards and sought the bond to Eva. It was tougher than he’d expected, especially with the noise from all the other bonds trying to drown out everything.
He found her sitting on a rock, at the very edge of the sandy shore, staring off at the setting sun. The maiden had her knees tucked against her chest, body covered under her black cape, only her red eyes and pale face exposed to the sunlight.
She noticed his approach, but didn’t react.
Rick took a spot next to her, not quite within arm’s reach. “You’ve avoided talking with me. Anything I should worry about?” His question caused the intended result. Eva looked at him with wide eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you don’t like small-talk, and this is just about the most important subject I could think of.”
The Fledgling turned away. “True.” She acknowledged. “I cannot answer your question, sir.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.” She hugged her knees, turning away and towards the horizon.
Was she hesitating to take a stance, or was she unsure of what stance to take to begin with? Rick nodded a little. “If it’s any consolation, it’s weird for me, too.” He lay back on the stone, looking at the orange clouds above. “Especially with how stiff you’re acting.”
“The Wildling-King calls me his property, and then complains he is treated with the due formalities?” Eva glared.
“Point taken.” Rick sighed. “I just expected that you’d learn from the others.”
“I cannot compare myself to the monster that is Monica or Kiara, nor consider myself to hold a fraction of the trust you give Dia,” she summarized. “I am a Fledgling. Anywhere within the kingdom, a slip of the tongue, a mistake, or a perceived fault would earn me severe punishment.” The maiden glowered, then sighed. “I myself have given such for less.”
“So you don’t know what to expect from me, but will avoid talking with me about those expectations.”
The glare intensified. “I would trust you of all would understand the matter is not that simple.”
“You’re not calling me sir.” He replied with an arched brow, watching her flinch. “I don’t want to insult your intelligence, but it seems like you’re intentionally running on a groundless hypothesis. So my question would be, why have you kept at it?”
She deflated with a sigh. “I don’t know.”
Rick reached out, ruffling her hair. “Well, while you think about it, how about spending some actual time together with the others? Brooding didn’t get you the answer you were looking for, so how about trying to change the pace a little?”
The glare intensified. “I was not brooding. What do you take me for? I am older than you! I was the head of a noble house of great prestige!” She shot to her feet, glaring, lips curling into a snarl.
Rick stepped closer, directly into her personal space. “Evangeline.” He declared, his tone holding only the barest edge to it.
The Fledgling flinched, looking away, hands hiding under her cape. “You are right.” She spoke, deflating. “I… am Evangeline now.”
She moved to kneel, to lower herself, but his hand on her chin held her in place. He raised her gaze so that they would meet eyes. “The only line you stepped over was baring your fangs at me. Nothing else.”
He wanted to step away, to turn around and go to the beach with the others. But something else held him in place as he looked down to those ruby red eyes, the way she trembled against his palm, how she inhaled deeply and her eyelids fluttered. The maiden leaned into his touch, taking a hesitant step closer.
“Th-this…” Eva stammered, swallowing.
Rick leaned closer. “This is your chance to step away.”
She didn’t.
The Fledgling followed the gentle tug of his palm, raising herself to her tiptoes, leaning into the kiss. She froze, opening her mouth a little and scratching his lips with her fangs in hunger. They pierced, only enough to draw a drop of blood, only enough to make him flinch.
Eva recoiled, eyes wild, face beet read. “I, no, I-… This isn’t…”
The maiden vanished into the shadows before he could say anything. He could sense her quickly making an escape through the darkness. The human was left mostly amused at the reaction, chuckling as he took the long way back to the others.
He could understand why Kiara found entertainment out of teasing the Fledgling. Idly, he wondered if they could exchange some notes.
​
----
​

Hello, I'm back, kinda.
Things have been a monumental mess over on my end. Lots of things happened over the past couple months.
I'll be clear: Reddit isn't a convenient place to post stories. Yes, there's a community, but the website is very clearly designed for other kinds of content creators. Story writing is more of a "Despite" thing. Combined with the upcoming policy changes ^{(what with the site being sold off and wanting to coerce users into their App, at the cost of all else}), I don't think I'll be sticking around.
The story will continue being regularly posted over at Royalroad and Scribblehub.
There's practically a full volume already posted over there. Seriously, as a writer I can't stress enough just how monumentally important the post-scheduler is for me. My life is far too chaotic and sometimes I spend weeks without time or energy to prepare the posts, and then just dump 15 of them into the auto-loader.
I will try to get the next full volume (up to chapter... 62?) posted here throughout the next couple weeks, and unless something changes, I'll mostly stick to those other sites from there onward.
See you guys around, and thanks for sticking this long with the story.

[First]
[Standard Patreon Link].

Chapter Three: The Golden Path
A short distance from the camp, they stand beneath wide spaced eucalypts.
The implacable, nameless Warden. A mysterious, masked witch. And with them, raw and uncertain, Gilander.
Gilander swallows and recalls the first time he was named Wayfinder. The nightmare that ensued. And he swears a silent oath.
No more half measures. No more failures. Not this time.
The Warden flexes, testing his bandaged shoulder, then nods approvingly to the witch.
“My thanks, Aostlah. Did you bring the potions?”
Her porcelain facade turns to Gilander. The smooth white mask bears the faint rise of cheek and chin, the shadow of a nose and an unnerving, eyeless gaze.
“The boy is weak, I mislike this gambit.” Her voice is sharp.
The Warden dismisses her remonstrance with narrowed eyes. “He is stronger than you think.”
“Begging your pardon, Mistress Aostlah, but I want to help. I can do this.”
The witch nods slowly. A gloved hand reaches into one of the many pockets of her moss-green cloak, and she withdraws two lacquered gourds.
“This elixir will lend you strength and sharpen your senses.”
The Warden pulls the stopper and drains his in one smooth motion.
Gilander sniffs suspiciously. It smells like cinnamon and grass. With a grimace, he downs the oily fluid.
“Come,” says the Warden.
Leaving Aostlah to clear away her things, they venture further through the open scrub. They take a path leading up, toward the apex of the ridge they are camped on.
“When sunlight fails, the darkness in the forest will rise again. This time it will take us all. We must reach safety today.”
The witch’s brew roils unreasonably in Gil’s stomach as they climb. The gash on his arm throbs, and within the wound the tiny stone pulls like a magnet as the Warden moves ahead. Gilander’s ears start to buzz and his blood begins to sing in his veins.
They stop at an open stretch of granite that looks down across the valley.
“See that?” The Warden points across the thick canopy. On the other side of a low valley, a treeless plateau rises above the sylvan chaos. “Open your senses to the forest, Gilander.”
Gil breaths deep, a slow blink. When he opens his eyes, his vision has widened. His Talent is a whisper raised to a shout.
The Warden’s steady heartbeat pulses to his right, and he can feel others in the near distance. Small creatures scurry through the bushes around them. Birds flit among the branches.
“Ah. I’ve never felt the presence of other creatures like this. Is this what it’s like for the real Vilt?
Rather than answer, the Warden mutters in a strange, wistful tone. “When they learned of the Dusklands, Clan Vilt abandoned the Islands.”
A frown clouds Gil’s brow. His father’s words echo in his memory.
Filthy beast! No son of mine could have such treacherous blood!
“Relax, boy. Reach down. Life dwells within the land beneath.”
Gil inhales, tries to sort the deluge flooding his senses. It’s like listening for a breeze while standing in pouring rain. He has long suppressed his meager abilities, but now the floodgates are open.
He draws it in. Relax.
“It’s like we’re standing in a stream… some kind of power… flowing…”
“Good man.” Pride colours the Warden’s voice, “Now, listen close.”
Beneath the roaring blood in his ears, he hears the droning chant of a thousand voices. A song?
It is a language he cannot speak. But somehow, the music lifts meanings and memories into his mind.
“Ridge between two valleys,
where stone meets sky,
where ghost trees stand,
Dig-for-water.”
“I hear music, a song about this place”
“A tool of the Numani, forged over ages. A gift the Vilt can share through their Talent. You must find a way through the web of memories. We need you trace a path across the valley.”
Flecks of his soul rise from his skin and join the flux. Gil explores the stream. He begins to drift, then swim. He twists through the undergrowth. Explores hills and burrows. Creatures slumber, hidden in their holes. Lizards scale trees, and birds flit through the canopy. Predators stalk shadowed trails.
He pictures the plateau in his mind and rides the tumbling flow, gliding past forks and tributaries. Deadfalls and ravines form dead-ends and he doubles back. Avoids the hungry patience of lurking carnivores. Most trails have a soft golden glow, others are dark and harbour shadowy threats. And Gil senses a deeper darkness somewhere behind them. A taint in the flow.
Hunger without need.
He recoils from the starving black and refocuses, chasing golden paths, back and forth, until he finds the song of the plateau.
“Clear above the Tangle,
place without shade,
red dirt, red stones,
One-tree-hill.”
He looks back across the valley and recalls Dig-for-water, and he is swept back to his body.
The glowing track lingers in his vision, a crooked line snaking across the valley. “I see the way!” he gasps.
“Well done, Gilander,“ the Warden grins and claps his shoulder. “Now for the hard part.”
^WC-843

My girlfriend and I went out to my grandparents lake house for a week, it's about a 2 hour drive out, nice quiet area. No cell service, lots of pick up trucks, that kind of place. On the 4th day we had gotten into a routine, going into town, going to the lake to kayak and swim, then going home to watch the Simpsons on VHS, play monopoly, etc.
On this day her dad (who thinks we're there with my family) asks to speak to my grandparents. It was at this time that my two tabs we're just finished peaking and things had just stopped looking like a cartoon. She starts to get upset while I'm having trouble processing. Eventually as we're trying to figure it out I tell her I was high as a cloud (I thought she already knew from how I was acting).
She said that I just seemed sort of special today, she didn't realize I was THAT special today. Are first idea was to bring an old couple into the house to pretend to be my grandparents. We decide that's a terrible ideas and we eventually decide to call my grandparents and ask them to lie for us. It goes over pretty well, we do a rapid clean up and leave, making it there 4½ hours after she received the text.
She had to drive of course, she did great for only having driven for 30 minutes at a time.
Once we're there the infamous call happens and her dad says he trusts her implicitly and declines speaking to the grandparents who we are now sitting next to. We get home a few hours later, unpack, and pass out.
We decided the next morning to head back and enjoyed a couple more days there.
The biggest concern of them finding out is they wouldn't trust her anymore and would likely punish her by not allowing her to see me anymore, she would go to college and that would be it.
Tl;Dr my girlfriend and I trauma bonded while I was on two tabs she didn't know about.

TL;DR: I went swimming with a friend and had my scars exposed. No one gave me any shit for it (dirty looks, etc). It felt amazing to just let loose and have fun. I went to a friend's house (I think I called her Daphne in a previous post) for a sleepover last night. We've been friends for months bc of the classes we had with each other. We bonded over similar music taste, humor, etc. We both sh as well. Daphne is one of my closest friends and I'd do almost anything for her. We pulled an all nighter and wrote abt 9 raps on SoundCloud together (all of which were total bangers^). We decided to go be the public pool in her subdivision. However, I hadn't brought a swimsuit. She offered to lend me one, but I reminded her of my scars. I decided to just sit by the pool dressed in my black ripped jeans, tucked in mcr tshirt, and fucking raincoat/jacket. We got to the pool and I had such a godamn urge to jump in, let myself have some fun. Ive had such a hellish time lately and wanted to just let loose for once. I said "...should I jump in?" Daphne laughed and encouraged me to. I slipped off my socks and jumped into the pool, fully clothed. It was uncomfortable and a stupid fucking decision, but it was fun. So much fucking fun. I got Daphne to text her older sister to bring me that swimsuit she offered and made sure to ask if having my scars showing would be okay. She told me ofc it was and that It would be okayy. Well the swimsuit didn't fit but I did take my shirt off and swim in my bra and jeans (I have scars on my shoulder). I was super nervous, but Daphne and her sisters didn't give me any dirty looks or ask abt them. It felt amazing to just let loose and not worry abt letting my shoulders show. We ate pizza and swam for the rest of the afternoon.

Teotihuacan was built on a geodetic grid system (a power center) in perfect sacred geometrical alignment with the cosmos to harness the energy of earth and sky. To understand it, we must go back to the original truth of the purpose. advanced design of Teotihuacan suggests that ancient builders had knowledge, not only of architecture, but of complex mathematical and astronomical sciences. The term 'Teohuacan' was found inscribed halfway across the globe on monuments in China, the term means 'place of the sun'(*our translation is 'Place to tie up the sun)Mercury, Hermes was the great Messenger, which also speaks for the planets quick trips around the sun. An aerial view shocked many researchers, but following the traditions we know what every pyramid was used for. Circuit Board-Teohuatican with two large processor chips— the Sun Pyramid and the Moon Pyramid. . One of the most interesting things about Teotihuacan is the finding by archaeologists of the extensive use of mica embedded in numerous structures. This mineral is found 3,000 miles away in Brazil and it is found in all buildings, housing complexes, temples and along the roads so basically this mineral is all over Teotihuacan.
The pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacan contained considerable amounts of mica in layers up to 30 cm. Human use of mica dates back to prehistoric times. Mica was known to ancient Indian, Egyptian, Greek and Roman andChinese civilizations, as well as the Aztec civilization of the New World. The earliest use of mica has been found in cave paintings created during the Upper Paleolithic period (40,000 BC to 10,000 BC). The ancient civilizations & their inexplicable similarities are only shocking when one has disregarded our ancestors traditions as 'mythical ', which is a mistake made by academics only recently.
Mica is stable when exposed to electricity, light, moisture, and extreme temperatures. It has superior electrical properties as an insulator and as a dielectric, and can support an electrostatic field while dissipating minimal energy in the form of heat; it can be split very thin (0.025 to 0.125 millimeters or thinner) while maintaining its electrical properties, has a high dielectric breakdown, is thermally stable to 500 °C, and is resistant to corona discharge. Muscovite, the principal mica used by the electrical industry, is used in capacitors that are ideal for high frequency and radio frequency. Phlogopite mica remains stable at higher temperatures (to 900 °C) and is used in applications in which a combination of high-heat stability and electrical properties is required. Muscovite and phlogopite are used in sheet and ground forms.
The Maya Codex Vaticanus records faithfully the very ancient oral traditions of Central America. In one curious passage it states that “in the First Age, giants existed in that country(Mexico). "These 7 who escaped from a deluge , arrive in Cholula and there began to build a tower… in order that should a deluge come again he might escape to it.” Nahuatl language it’s named Tlachihualtepetl (‘artificial mountain’). Originally it was named Acholollan (‘water that falls in the place of flight’).
-Olmec(Xi)-had two different religious associations (gya-fa):the jaguar-man or humano-feline cult and the humano-bird cult. The humano-feline cult was called the nama-tigi by the Olmecs, while the humano-feline cult was called the kuno-tigi..Xoc Bas Birdman
The Teotihuacan(Tlalocan )mural depicts a range of mountains covered in rolling clouds and mists, below a brilliant red sky dominated by the huge figure of Tláloc, the Maya/Aztec god of celestial waters. Falling from Tláloc's open hands are flaming droplets of celestial water, likely representing the high-resonance isotope of protium, that overtly reference the ignition of celestial water vapor to form HHO plasma. The differentiation of celestial waters from terrestrial waters through the infrasonic evaporation of water vapor corresponds to special modern water purification processes involving the separation of resonant lightwater (protium) from dissonant heavy waters deuterium & tritium
The plumed headdress of Tláloc is comprised of radiating feathers of green and red hues, representing the colors of auroral plasma. Three arching red plumes stand out from the other green plumes of the headdress, extending from either side of the central figure and from the foreheads (pineal glands) of the two smaller figures in profile, representing the three frequencies of sound that generate nonlinear standing waves. Rising above the giant central figure of Tláloc is a majestic twisting Tree of Life image, composed of intertwining plumes of yellow/green and pink/red aerial HHO plasma that appear identical to modern photographs of the plasma discharges of red sprites.
Tláloc, God of Celestial Water, god of the vapor that rises, from the earth warmed by the sun after the rains, god of the mist that ascends from the valleys at dawn, god of the water that returns to its source in the clouds that swim over the highest peaks, god of the humid incense from which rise the copal prayers and the prayers of sacrifice
Tláloc is the return of vapor that strains to rise, is the return of time that strains to remember. Tláloc, God of the Fight Against the Current, with whose aid the hero battles against the torrent toward his own origin and beginning, towards the wings of his soul, the wings that Tláloc hides in the hero's past
The cycle of years is past - the waiting ended. Come - reunite, pilgrims, for the sky is in flames! From Xochicalco to Teotíhuacan the red spreads one step, another step, and another, only twelve short steps from the cave of the womb to the final conflagration
The red skies depicted in the Teotihuacan mural are also directly referenced in the Pyramid of Fire Codex, when it states that "the sky will be in flames" that will spread from one pyamid to another, as the worldwide netwrok of pyramids and sacred sites become activated to bath the area in the brilliant infrared and ultraviolet-A light of aerial HHO plasma plumes.ancient, unknown science designed to create energy directed up is excavating the tunnel.
-The geoposition of Teotihuacan pyramid complex (19.68°N 98.83°W), reveals a nonlinear (or Fibonacci-based) resonant alignment with respect to the Great Pyramid of Giza, being 7,684 miles away or 30.9% of the Earth's mean circumference (of 24,892 miles)..which is also observed in the Paracas petroglyphs.
The Sanskrit descendant cultures of Asia express the same essential interpretation given by the Maya culture of Central America; identifying the planet Mercury as ‘the fast runner’ that takes ‘quick flight’ around the sun, having a short orbital period of approximately 88 days. Among Nahuatl cultures, the art of running was crucial to the functioning of society, enabling the rapid conveyance of messages over long distance.
Mercury is the link (messenger) between the gods (higher principles) and humankind. In the ancient art of alchemy, such as in Hermeticism, Mercury, sulfur, and salt were the Earth's three principle substances that represent the trinity in creation. As sulphur is the symbol for the active principle, mercury is the symbol of the passive principle.The symbol of Mercury is the cosmic womb being incubated by the cross of the four elements of creation - earth, air, fire and water. Mercury is the messenger in Astrology as it is in mythology. It is the planet of day-to-day expression and communication. Mercury's action is to take things apart and put them back together again. It is an opportunistic planet, decidedly unemotional and curious. Mercury not only rules communication, it represents coordination. Thought processes, ideas, and sensory information from both unconscious and unconscious sources all need to be coordinated and understood.
Ive said before that the mercury was used to accomplish communication wth the Gods, The fluid metal element mercury was extolled as generating the luminosity of the blood of gods, for its threefold biophotonic extension of human longevity, whereby adepts of the alchemical arts were able to attain long lifespans. Mercury was closely associated with its extreme volatility, which must be carefully controlled to achieve positive results. Mercury was considered an ethereal element for its low boiling point of 357°C. When heated above this temperature, quicksilver will rapidly vaporize as toxic fumes inspiring an association with quick flight: ‘mercury has wings’.
A number of the Mesoamerican pyramids there are key components designed into their construction that act as magnifiers. These components appear to be important in the creation, magnification, and distribution of telluric fields.Pyramid & Scalar WavesEarly Irrigation of Teotihuacan
Provenance od Limestone used in Teotihuacan
Identification of Pyrite & Hematite
• Water, either moving naturally including rivers or cenotes (found at El Castillo at Chichen Itza) or by artificial canals or tunnels, similar to the Temple of Inscription found at Palenque.)
• Geo-magnetic fields. Naturally formed telluric fields that have high and low period throughout day and night.
• Pyramid design. The specific pyramid shape appears to greatly enhance the telluric fields that pulse up and into the center of the chamber.
• Pyramid interior fill. At a number of pyramids, rocks that are good electromagnetic conductors fill the interior of the pyramids and are used to enhance the pulsing field. Rocks that have veins with quartz, granite, and other electrical conducting properties appear to be favored. Characterization of lime carbonates in plasters from Teotihuacan, Mexico: preliminary results of cathodoluminescence and carbon isotope analyses
Dr Burke &Dr Brooker research determined that each location had been chosen because of its naturally occurring telluric energy field that pulsed up and into the structure or surrounding area. Also Burke and his research partner Kaj Halberg discovered electro-magnetic signatures that measured impressive charges on top of the pyramid. In a series of scans, the readings showed an average change of 908 volts over a short period of time, which was concentrated in the early morning hours. As ive stated in the past, this is the ideal time for sungazing. The pineal, contains magnetite & creates its own magnetic field. This was once a universal practice at Sacred sites, in 2009 until Nov 2012 The grand maya council held 52 full moon ritual of the new cycle where we visited sacred sites around the world and brought back these rituals. Burke mentions the readings and states, “These voltages might sound lethal and if it were a household current they could be. However, static electric charge in the air is a different type of electricity and even a thousand volts is not dangerous.” His discovery of pyramid field generation is fascinating, but what he actually uncovered was a means of generating and perhaps distributing electromagnetic energy within a pyramid complex. Which aligns with the term used for the ancient Egyptians, the Great PrNtr-house of Nature, or house of energy).
Stanford edu-Native American & Polynesian population The Genetic Evidence for 2 founding populations has constantly confirmed our traditions, the idea of independent invention is absolute nonsense. Theres an overwhelming amount of evidence, "believe" is a term unfamiliar to Dogon culture & ive yet to see the point in such a thing. If preconceived biases have clouded the minds of the majority, and they ignore evidence thats their fault. The age of the Fourth Sun, the Age of the Black Headed People (Aztec), or the Age of Heroes (Inca). This is the era in which Quetzalcoatl appeared in Mexico -- tall of stature, bright of countenance, bearded, and wearing a long tunic. His staff, shaped like a serpent, was painted black, white, and red [reminiscent of American Indians' mythology of three races of Man]. The staff was inlaid with precious stones and adorned with six stars.
-Between the 14th and 16th centuries during the Aztec era, Quetzalcoatl was worshipped as the patron of priests, the inventor of books and the calendar, as well as the protector of goldsmiths and other craftsmen..Shamanism, was invented in west Africa & brought to the Mesoamerican civilizations. The Aztec oral traditions say that Quetzalcoatl & his followers brought these beliefs ,and came from the East across the oceans. This is now corroborated by genetic, skeletal remains, artifacts, you name it. Quetzalcoatl was just a High Priest of Anu. The Gold tipped spears,or as Columbus calls it ' guanin 'to the Indians of Hispaniola. Samples of which sent back to Spain on a mail boat, and the proportion was found to be identical to what was being forged in African Guinea.
Moche Reed BoatThe Xi(Olmec) were a mix of a Polynesian/Oceanic elite aristocratic people accompanied by priests of the Orisha(Yoruba)/Mende(MalinkeBambara)responsible for introducing the religious practices and astronomical worship of the Mother Goddess complex (Venus, the Dogon Sirius observation and the Venus worship of the Olmecs, the use of the ax in the worship of Shango among he Yoruba of West Africa and the use of the ax in Olmec worship as well as the prominence of the thunder God later known as Tlalock among the Aztecs).It was R1b-V88(Yoruba) that were known as magicians to the Mayans & local Aymara over in Bolivia because of their knowledge of acoustics, which they have preserved from the Nile Valley (Anu colleges of Heliopolis).
Again, we see Toward the end of the Fourth Sun, wars between the gods were taking place. [The Battle of the Titans?] The gods' war brought havoc to the land; wild animals overran mankind, and Tollan was abandoned. The fourth Sun had begun 5,042 years before the time of the Codex Vaticano-Latino 3738 (1533). The time the Fourth Sun ended is not stated, but the Codex was written during the Fifth Sun. The Fourth Sun may have perished by means of the Jaguar. The Fifth Sun is referred to as the Age of Kings by the Incas.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1
By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you
thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up. I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me. “I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

https://preview.redd.it/tcu7hskgbv4b1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=f7fe232d48a0d5f2af4f47e0af059dbbd90d6941

Equinox is a relaxed, no drama PvE-focused ARK space since 2017, where players can enjoy modest rates and quality of life improvements to the game, without sacrificing all sense of progression and making the game completely effortless.

Throughout the years many passionate breeders, creative builders and brave adventurers have passed through our community. We invite you to join our organized Discord server where you can find more info on our rules, settings, mods and plugins. Should you need any assistance, our helpful community can point you in the right direction. If you're new to the game, we encourage you to join
🪐☄️
In August 2023 we will launch our Ark: Survival Ascended cluster. Many of our current ASE servers will be closed in late 2023 to make room for this new upgraded and supported version of the game. In the meantime, join us for these next months as we celebrate this final chapter and patch of ASE.
Visit our website: https://www.EquinoxArk.com
Check us out on Discord: https://discord.gg/uKbeZGuUBJ
__________________________________________
Rates:
- 3x Experience - 4x Taming - 2x Harvest - 10x Breeding
__________________________________________
Clustered Servers:
- Ragnarok - Valguero - Fjordur - Svartalfheim - Crystal Isles
- Weekly DLC Server 1 - Weekly DLC Server 2
• These two servers rotate to a different paid DLC on a weekly basis.
__________________________________________
Features:
● Dedicated hardware for a lag free experience ● Equalized dino levels to be on par with Ragnarok and Valguero ● Cloud based transfers for more security ● Custom boss, beacon and loot crate drop tables ● Element, trophies and tributes are transferrable ● Grow babies in soul balls with full imprints ● A colorful cross-server chat with a private messaging system
__________________________________________
Mods
Akka's Interior Decor Structures ARK Additions: The Collection ARK Nucleus Awesome Spyglass Base Size Examiner Breedable Fenrir Castle's Keeps & Forts: Remastered Death Helper Dino Storage v2 DinoTracker eco's Garden Decor GG Stacks V2 1000-50 Kraken's Better Dinos Lethal's Reusables MarniiMods: Hairstyles Nominal Structures 2.0 (N+) Paleo ARK: Legends Expansion S-Dino Variants Shiny! Dinos Swim Clear Scuba Mask Vegetation Planters / SE / Gen 1
We have quite a few mods however most are smaller mods that download and load quickly. Load times tend to come from the structure, decor and dino mods. Please subscribe to the list below in advance so your client is ready should you wish to check out servers! 🦦
Equinox Cluster Mod Collection

Equinox is a relaxed, no drama PvE-focused ARK space since 2017, where players can enjoy modest rates and quality of life improvements to the game, without sacrificing all sense of progression and making the game completely effortless.

Throughout the years many passionate breeders, creative builders and brave adventurers have passed through our community. We invite you to join our organized Discord server where you can find more info on our rules, settings, mods and plugins. Should you need any assistance, our helpful community can point you in the right direction. If you're new to the game, we encourage you to join
🪐☄️
In August 2023 we will launch our Ark: Survival Ascended cluster. Many of our current ASE servers will be closed in late 2023 to make room for this new upgraded and supported version of the game. In the meantime, join us for these next months as we celebrate this final chapter and patch of ASE.
Visit our website: https://www.EquinoxArk.com
Check us out on Discord: https://discord.gg/uKbeZGuUBJ
__________________________________________
Rates:
- 3x Experience
- 4x Taming
- 2x Harvest
- 10x Breeding
__________________________________________
Clustered Servers:
- Ragnarok
- Valguero
- Fjordur
- Svartalfheim
- Crystal Isles
- Weekly DLC Server 1
- Weekly DLC Server 2
• These two servers rotate to a different paid DLC on a weekly basis.
__________________________________________
Features:
● Dedicated hardware for a lag free experience
● Equalized dino levels to be on par with Ragnarok and Valguero
● Cloud based transfers for more security
● Custom boss, beacon and loot crate drop tables
● Element, trophies and tributes are transferrable
● Grow babies in soul balls with full imprints
● A colorful cross-server chat with a private messaging system
__________________________________________
Mods
Akka's Interior Decor Structures
ARK Additions: The Collection
ARK Nucleus
Awesome Spyglass
Base Size Examiner
Breedable Fenrir
Castle's Keeps & Forts: Remastered
Death Helper
Dino Storage v2
DinoTracker
eco's Garden Decor
GG Stacks V2 1000-50
Kraken's Better Dinos
Lethal's Reusables
MarniiMods: Hairstyles
Nominal Structures 2.0 (N+)
Paleo ARK: Legends Expansion
S-Dino Variants
Shiny! Dinos
Swim Clear Scuba Mask
Vegetation Planters / SE / Gen 1
We have quite a few mods however most are smaller mods that download and load quickly. Load times tend to come from the structure, decor and dino mods. Please subscribe to the list below in advance so your client is ready should you wish to check out servers! 🦦
https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1666259698