They're real. All of them. And now I knew the right place to look. He told me where to find it, and what to do. He thought I'd go there without knowing why, but he was wrong. I knew exactly why.

I've waited for the darkness to cover the sky. When it came, I was already on the edge of the forest outside my town. I only had with me my clothes and my oil lamp. And then I said it. Loudly.

"Please let me in. I want to tell you a story."

I did not wait for a reaction. I walked, slowly, into the shadow laden forest. I walked, and walked, and walked, and never stopped, not even when the cold embraced me. Not even when they told me things. My death. Everyone's deaths, and all the suffering that comes before those. I never stopped, not even when I was being watched. Not even when I was being followed. I shrugged them all off.

Soon, I saw a light. It was still very far, but sometimes darkness will only help you see the light. I followed the light, maintaining my pace, until I saw the mansion.

It was an old mansion. It was impossible to determine how old it was. It simply was...ethereal. There, on the porch, sat an old woman.

I walked up to her, and did not speak. I knew better than to speak to her before she acknowledged me. She raised her head and gave me a smile that can only be described as crooked.

"What story will you tell me?" She said in a straight, emotionless face. And I began.

"Do you know about the Beast from the Shadows? Not so long ago, in the town where I came from, there roamed a monster whom no one has ever seen, except maybe some of his victims. It was said that the monster lived in the shadows, and only came out to feed. The first victim was a maiden, just about 20 years of age. She had short, red hair, a face you can never forget, with the most alluring lips you will ever see. Her name was Mary, or Margaret. I forgot. Anyway, around this time of night, the town's streets were almost empty. They knew better to loiter around when it was dark, but Mary was out. She left her house to give her lover a night visit, as her parents knew nothing about her relationship."

"Mary, as silent as a mouse hiding from a vicious cat, sneaked out of her house. She made sure to leave the window she passed through unlocked, an avenue for her when she goes home. She continued sneaking, staying by the shadows until she managed to leave her street. Little did she know, she has already trespassed the beast's domain."

I noticed the woman's lips move towards what I can say was a smirk.

"As she continued moving, her rendezvous three blocks away, she had to pass through an alley. Halfway through passing by the alley, her pace slowed, as her breathing quickened. Soon, she felt it. The piercing glare that the beast gave her the moment she entered the alley. She saw his eyes, surrounded by the beast's silhouette. She screamed, a scream that reminds you of that time when you lost all hope and gave in to your fear."

"Her scream was cut off, just as the beast lunged towards her, She never had the chance to scream again as her throat was cut along with her scream. Some say that the beast also took her maidenhood, some say the beast ate her heart, but what was sure was that her corpse was found with her throat open, the wound itself jagged, and she was missing both eyes."

At this time, the woman's lips were in a full smile, her eyes smiling along with them.

"The town was in panic. It has been a long while since the last gruesome killing happened in town. They grew cautious and careful. Soon, the town forgot what happened and started being careless again, loitering the dark streets as Mary had."

"One night, similar to Mary, a young woman named Anna left her house. She was beautiful, and had long blonde hair hidden under a cap. She gave you the impression of wanting to be a boy. Anna tried to buy medicine in the pharmacy at the town center, hiding in the shadows, because she was careful about muggers and rapists alike. Like Mary, she came across the beast, this time in the shadow of a large house. Like Mary, she screamed. Like Mary, she was found with her throat slit, and her eyes without."

"This event confirmed to the town, that there was a killer on the loose. Rumors spread. Rumors of a huge beast that lived in the shadows. Some say it was a humanoid monster residing in the sewers. Some say it was the darkness itself. Only the beast knew now."

The woman then had a complete grin, almost scary.

"The killings continued, and the nights were always empty. Everyone in town knew better than to play with the shadows. They seemed to have forgotten, their homes have shadows inside them too. So women continued to die in their homes."

"The townspeople were in a panic like never before. They have started blind witch hunts, accusing each other of the murders. Some of them believed it was a hellish beast. Some believed it was a man scorned by a woman he loved. Some believed it was a woman envious of her victims. Some of us believed it was the personification of shadow."

"They were all wrong, because the beast's true identity was.." I said, but the woman raised her palm towards me.

“That’s enough. Go inside.” She said, almost on the verge of laughing, like she learned of a secret that entertained her so much.

The doors swung open ever so slowly. I looked to the woman and it was like she forgot I existed.

I climbed the steps in anticipation, because now I can meet the beast. I wished I brought my collection of eyeballs to show him, though.

I entered the house.

Kyle Foster

---

I fled from my home at the stroke of the twenty-second hour. My mother and two siblings, all sound asleep. They would not approve of my departure were they aware of it, thus I saved them the drama of the situation.

I had been telling them, and many others about this for months. I was firm in my curiosity but my peers denounced me as delusional. They told me to take time off and think carefully about what I had been proclaiming, yet all I did in response was continue with my “ramblings”, as they put it.

I knew. They didn’t. There was nothing I could change. In the end, I suppose facing my suspicion alone was inevitable. The tales I recounted… none of them ever involved more than one person.

Perhaps that’s how it’s meant to be.

I dressed warm, for I knew what would befall me. I took a flashlight from a kitchen drawer and as many batteries that I could fit inside my coat pockets. I took the family car and drove slowly away from the house. Once I was far enough, I sped towards my destination. I was eager, ready to face the legend so many denied as true. I was always ready to believe something… different, existed in this world.

I parked outside a campsite, on the gravel lot where few other vehicles had been stationed. The people there were asleep in their tents, and didn’t notice me as I walked through the grounds and towards the edge of the forest. I felt the chill of the night air around me, looking up at the cloud-ridden moonscape lighting my way. I stopped where the trees became clustered and the ground became nothing but leaves, dirt, and twigs. I stood there, attempting to present my composure to no one in particular. But in truth, I was deeply afraid. I breathed slowly, and mustered the strength to utter those sacred words.

“Please let me in. I want to tell you a story.”

As expected, I was met with no response. But that simply reassured me whereas many others would be discouraged and likely to return home in shame. Not I, however. I steeled myself, and began my trek forward, into the dark of the woods. I held my flashlight forward, weaving my way through the trees. I felt the same as many would when I stood in the darkness. I was afraid of the unknown. But this was a different scenario of its own, for I knew the unknown lurked around me. I wasn’t afraid of something that I thought was out there. I knew very well they were present and poised to slaughter me.

Some minutes passed. I felt the predetermined chill creep beneath my sleeves and collar, rattling at my bones. It would have frightened someone else, but I was excited to see the story come true.

T́̾̅҉̗̫̪̗h̳͎͊̍̿͊ͥ͗ȇ̾ͫ̚͏̞̪͈r̰̹̈̀ͨͣ̇̀e̓͗͒͆̂̓͏̰͖
͕̱̬̣̤̒̾̈́̃ͮ̒ỹ̖̗͚͓̎̍͟ơ̫͉̞̏ụ̤̰͇ͮ͐͝
̝̉ͬͪ̏̑ͫ͞a̩̒̋̓̎ͮr̮̮͖̙̰͙̰̎̊̏̄e̙̝͇͙͎͐̌̎͞.̮̄̄

There. I heard it. A woman’s voice, resonating amidst the night wind. Speaking to me.

D͇̲̗͔ͫ̈ͭͩ̍̏ő̞̭̪ͭ͗̓̐̊̕e͈ͨ̌ͫͯͅͅs̲̳̱ ̧̟̘̺̠ͧ̓̆̑ͤ̃ͪh̲̝͈̘͉͒͗̈́̐̅ͨě̷̬͓͎̇ ̢̠̞̋̃͌̽̽ͨ̂ḩ̣͆̌ȁ͍̹ͬ̀v͈͚̰̳̽͟ͅe̦̬̺̯̰̤͓͗ͦͨ͌̔̔͐
͍͉̫̬̻͈͖̽̈̇̕s̷̤ụ̪̫̰͔̯̈́͂p̦̭̲̙̺̎͟p͚̗͔̮͍͎̦ͨ̊͛̉̿ͧḷ̙ͯ̾̎͜e̠ͮ̎͆̇̓ ̆͆ͯ̉͂ͧ̅s̝̘̠̹̱͉̈̆͟k̢̟̠̥͍̩̠̤ͦ̍ḯ̥̰͔̬͒̕n̜̦̭̗̬͉ͧ̔̈̽ͤ͡?̙̈́ͧ
̥̮̔̅̎̈́͗̚͝Cͧ̂͌͏͎̼̪̮͈ͅâ̈́̎̍̈҉̮ń̲̫͓̺̜̜͠ͅ ̶͔̎̓̔w̨̳̲̔̈́̔͑̾̌e͓̟͎͇͍̗ͮ̑͡ͅ ̯̰̻̣̒ͮͦ͌m͍͈̜̱̹͛̆̓ͨ̓͠ä̝͖͚̟͚̙͍́k̩̖̣̇̀̓̒̒e͖̪͙͍̖̥̅͒͆ͩ
ͯ͒̑ͪ͘s̡̺̻̜͓͚̖̖͒ͤͤ͆́͛ò̲͇͙̜͖̱̲͜m̢̗͓̳͎̓̈́e̊̏̀̓̚͟t͓̻̒̄͜h̀ͬ͊ͣͬ͐̐͏̫͔͖̦͓̝͍i̭͕̙ͧn͖̺̯͎ͫ̂̊͌ͯg̴̘͎ͮͪͪ̅̚
̭͗̽o̧̙̘͖̫̹͊́ͣǘ̦͚͙̙̻͛̒͊̌̀̾ṯ̥̤ͯ̓͡ ̻̱̭͉̼o͆͗ͤfͨ̓̓ ̸̖͉͚̬͔̖͚ͤͭ̏ͩ͐h̛̝̰͈̜̘̮͔i͍͔͐ͮ̚͝m̗̤̙̰̯?̡̩̦̗͋̀̀ͩ̆̔ͅ

A man’s voice.

H̖ͩ̇̆I͎̮͙̮̣͒͊̄̉̾ͥ̚Ŝ̢̱̥̣̫̠̹͉̐͂͋̚͠ ̹̬̰̹̗͖ͬͪ̍ͫ̒͌̾͞M̢̫͎ͪͦ̓̎̌̇̇I̺̼͈͈̍̄ͮ͊͠͠N͚̠͉̫̟̟ͤͬ̓̌ͧ͋̏͋͘D̴͓̳̮͇̼͕̩͑͘͢ͅ ͕͍̝̗̪̤̣̿̅̒S͓̬ͮ͘Ṱ̡̜̮̊͆̋̔Ḭ̛̗͍̺̩̇̒̑̈̾̏ͣ͑̚R̜͕̟͈̦̫̫̲̃̋͒ͅS̵̬͍̄ͣ͢.̷̧̘͖͈̯̼̳̗͌̆͝
ͣ̎͐̄ͬ҉̧̮̖͕̼̕ͅḤ̷̲̜̞͌̆̂̏̑̌̋͢Eͤ͑ͯ҉̼̖͈̦̰̳̬̪͞ ͖͓̐̒ͥ̆͐̚͝I̗̻̰̫͙̝͖̳̲͑̉̒͢Ŝ̵̯͈͔̄́̉͜ ̸̢̯̘̘̦̤̝̻ͥͨ̐ͦͯ̍͝C͇̫̞̿ͣ̈́ͦͮ͐̈́̑͟͝Oͭ̅̄̉͊ͪ͏̡̬͍̟͚̕M̺̠̜͍̖̱̹ͮ͛͛̌̂̆̑̎͠I̩͎̠̫͈̹ͧͨ͢͡N̴̬̹̹̻̗̝̭̦̾͜͜G̴̥̟̠̟̣̬̞͔͓̍͊͗.̡̹̾̀͑͌͟
̵̶̣̩̤̈͊ͣ̌̐̎̍͌F̥̬͉͉̜͔ͥ̇͛ͦͣͥͫ̍́̕͢O͉̼͓ͭ̇͜R̨̛̩͖̼͉̲̭̼̍̏̊ͭ̐ ͎͋́́͠T̷̬͇͖ͫͫ̐̇H̖̰̯̥̮͎̹̫̚E̛̟̮͖̯̼͇̙̿̈́́̂ͭͅ ̛͚̤̝͗́Ç̡̪̾̿͂̈̽̊̍R̸͇͕͕̰̈́̀́ͮ̎̎Ǫ̹͓͍͍͕̬̂ͭͤͦ͂̇ͬ̍͡Ǹ̶̤͔̩̟̦̠̺̂̊͂͒̎̀E̶̘̩̱ͥ̉̃̀ͧ̾̽̈́̕.̢̢̬̪̳͐̇̊͑̍͐̈̐

A demon’s voice.

Ÿ̰̩́̆̄̔̾͞e̞̣̤̐͒͝s̤̩͕̩͎̉̃ͦ̊̑.̛̐ͨ͊̒̊.̟̙̍͑.̴̿ͧ̓ͦ̏ ̷̘̺̜̫̖̜͉ͭͩͥ̓c̷͎̥̠͉̦̠͑̋o̴̦̰̟͈̤ͦm̯͈̤̲̹̽̾͡e͙͓̟͂̽͞ ̝̩͍̠̪ͅt̡̺̦̔o̶̬̊ͭͦ ̴̪̟̫̳̣̝͔ū͕̓͐͊͌s̴̳̗͎̥̜ͭ̉́ͤͦ̇͑,̥̖̝̻͈̅̇ͧͨ̚͜ ̠͍͎̺̜̈́̃̊̏́̏l͎͎͍͈̓̕i̪͈̥̦͚ͤ͞t̵̪ͧ̚ṱ̥̯̼̯ͥl̹͓̤ͫͥ̃͂͐̏͘e̢̠̺̠ ̮ͩp̑̆͛͆i̴̩̦̜̙̙ͧ̾̀̊̃͂̌g̛̲̼͐͛ͦ.̪͆̑ͣ̐
̪̤̺̙W̪͊̈́͋̏̅ė͖̟̬͎̦̎́͛ͬ ̰̰ͤͦͭ͞w͙̺̲̠͔ͩ̾̎͢a͍̱͓͌͑ͥn̥̦͕̫̫̞̍͋̽̎t̵̙̦̣͚͈̙͕ͥ ͈̯̻͎͚͓͑t̙͓̤ͨ̆ͅo̶͎̲̘͉̰͔̍̽ͥͧ̐̑ͩ ͔̯͚̆̈́͛sk̃͛̎̋͡i̩̻̼ͫ͑̎̋̀͡n̫͠ͅ ̵̞̩͍̟̩͑ͧ͌̽̆̂y̮͎̞̫̖̏̅ơ̺̝̦̔u͕̩̺̞̺̼͒̉ͭͬ,̪̿̈́͗͛͢ ̷̬̭̜̥̣̜͗̂̊͐a͔̣̥͙ͦͪ͢n̜̲̺̭̺͚ͫ͐̿͌d̟͇͇̝͖̪͔̊̍̓ͮ͡
̳̖̈̓͋ș̨͚̹̤̝â̸̺͔ͩ̇͗l̴̝ͭͧ̓̍ť͔͖̲ͮ͊͜ ̩̘̝͔̎ͩ̄̚y͎͇ͤ̊̈́͋ͧ̍̎o̺̬ͤ͌̃ͤ͑̽͌u̇̐͊,̛̤ͭ̉̐ͯ̆̇ ̬a͈̙͎n͈̜̝̞̬̿̈́d͈͚͈̭͂ͅ ͉͒͆̅̾͗̒͝ḷ̛̳̳̖̭͚͗̇ͦͮͤ̚i̢̫̬͌͂c͔͚̰̬̙͔͉͆̚͠kͥ̅ͭ̋ͨ҉͖̳̗̥ ̤̻ͣ̏ͣ̋ͨ͢a̳̖͕̍̉͐̆ͮļ̫̼̗̝̑͗́̓͐̾l̬ͪͨ̽́ ̿͗̌̒ͥͮ̉t̺̗̱̣̬̝ͪ̉̉̒ͯ͢h̳͇͍̺̠̯̪͒ͮ́̀̀ė̞̯̘͔̬̭ͤͤ̀
̡̏b̸͍̫̬̺̤ͥl͐ͭͭ͗͛̏́҉̬̖͍̘ͅͅȍ̳̇͠o̱̗̹̒̍̔̃̉̎ͨd̵̖̻̺̄̓ ̡̝͈͎̃͛̿͆b̫̰͎͓̹̳ͦ̇͐è͕̳͒͋̍̂̋f̘͓̟ͤͬͥ̑͌͢ọ̲̜̱̜̾͗r̳͖͒ͤ̔͑͒͛ẹ͔͔̫̤̥̰̇͘ ̵͉͈̦̩͚̻̀̀ỉ̖͉̗ͣ͒̅́ͅt͚͉͍͕́̈́ͦ̀̚ ̐ͤ̔d̝̳̼̟͈͖͞ṛ̭̮̘͟o̼̼̞͙̜̲͉ͫͪͪp̍̒̅ͣ̑̾͝s͓̻̲̘͔̽͊͆́ͥ.̙̂͗͌͐͋͘

I didn’t listen to them. I wasn’t supposed to. I kept onward, disregarding their jokes, and their threats, and their inhuman growls. I didn’t know who they were, but their existence, albeit with some hesitance, reassured me once more. I walked forward, never deterring. Even when I began to feel the legion of eyes in the dark peering at me from afar. Amidst the voices, I heard sounds of leaves rustling wildly, as if something were dashing forth to eviscerate me. I paid it no mind, as I was instructed. But I will admit, it was difficult. They all intensified in strength as I continued forward. The chilling breeze, the voices, and the presence of something… else. At their peak, they all culminated into a whirlwind of impeding hatred, trying with all their might to halt me, to destroy me. But as I saw the light in the distance, none of their attempts mattered. I saw my destination, and I made haste. The breeze became a gale, and the voices began to shout violently. I dodged tree after tree until the moment I stepped into the clearing, and then... it all just stopped.

The breeze had died. The voices, silent. I could not feel a presence behind me anymore. And it caused me to breath a sigh of relief.

I looked forward. I saw the mansion, with its decaying walls and broken windows. If ever I could believe it to have been a normal abode, it would have looked like a lavish paradise isolated from the world. I saw the soft, somber beauty in it. And then, I saw her.

The Crone.

I stepped forward, towards her. I remained silent, and I turned off my flashlight, and let her lantern guide me instead. I climbed the steps, and stood before her as she rocked slowly back and forth in her chair made of twigs and splintered wood. I waited for her to begin what I could only describe as a ritual. She slowly raised her head and gazed at me, filling me with unease as her beady glass eyes pierced mine. Her mouth, it stretched into a grin, as if with a sense of sick pleasure, and she said to me...

"What story will you tell me?"

I hesitated, for I had thought for many days what to tell her at this moment... and I was still unsure. But I suppose the first thing to come to mind was better than no thoughts at all.

"He used to be... a little boy." I said to her.

She kept her smile.

"He lived in a lavish house with his strict and arrogant guardians. He had a pet whom he loved, a little mouse he found in the fields near his home. He fed and cared for it, and called it his friend, but when his parents found it, they took it away from him. “Filth!” They said, “Filth that does not belong in this house!” The boy was distraught, but he found another mouse to call his friend. Every time his parents would find his new pet, take it away, and kill it. But he just kept finding more. Eventually, the two had enough. They dragged the boy to a graveyard, and imprisoned him within a crypt vault. With the intent to leave him there to be eaten alive by rats, they drove away and returned home."

Her smile grew.

"The boy was scared at first, but soon he found many, many rats within the vault. They were larger, and more menacing than the field mice he was accustomed to, but they treated him like a friend just the same, for the mice had put a good word in for him. But the rats were… malicious beings. They told him to do away with his clothes, until he was left with nothing but a loincloth. They fed him rancid meat from the recently dead brought to the graveyard. And though it took time, the chain of his iron collar was bitten and chewed through, and he was free. By then, he was no longer a little boy. Many years had passed, and the vault had changed him. He was tall, and he had spindly limbs and jagged, filthy hands and feet, with prickly fingers. He was emaciated, living on nothing but the meat of the dead. His eyes became wide and their lids shriveled, leaving him blind. His nose became flat, but still worked as it was intended to. His grin stretched into a thing of evil, never dropping, and his teeth became giant and menacing."

And grew.

"One night, when his parents were old and withered, the boy – now calling himself “the Rat Man” – returned home with his many rat companions, all of them quite hungry. They laid siege to the parents’ opulent mansion, infesting it, and devouring them in their beds. The Rat Man merely stood there and watched. As he left the mansion, he saw the field mice, and approached them. But they fled from his sight, horrified by the monster the rats had turned him into, no longer the little boy they called their friend."

And grew.

"The Rat Man, disheartened by the mice’s’ retreat, returned to the crypt vault, and-"

She raised her hand at me. I stopped immediately, having satisfied her requirement. I held back my own smile as I listened to her say, "That's enough. Go inside."

The double doors in front of me swung open, nothing but darkness lying beyond their frame.

This was it.

I was either to leave now... or go inside. And meet him.

The Rat Man.

Perhaps, to many others, the prospect of coming face-to-face with someone or something they feared... dissuaded them. But I was anticipating this. Ready to feel the fear. Maybe that was my problem, deliberately seeking something to frighten me... but I couldn't help myself. I believed in the fantasy, and the horror. I was ready for it.

I stepped inside, and the doors closed behind me.

I've heard the legend a thousand times. From my grandfather's raspy voice and my childhood friend's giggling laugh, from my chiding mother's disapproving tone and my teacher's monotone preaching. But none of them really believed. It was just an old legend; standing at the edge of the forest and pleading entrance to a wicked demise. Surely, such a thing could not be real. And if it was, who would actually attempt to enter? Personally, I'm the type to say 'Bloody Mary' only once before running from the bathroom, manically switching on lights and running to bed. The scariest movie I've been able to stomach was aimed at twelve-year-olds.

And yet, somehow, I still found myself standing at the edge of a pine tree forest, a flickering flashlight in my shaking hands. My friend, a stubborn girl of 16, had coerced me to join her in 'validating the legend'. As we had walked to the forest, she had rehearsed dozens of stories telling tales of monsters with sharp claws and fierce roars. As we had approached the looming trees, her voice seemed to grow more and more distant- even though she was walking beside me. I heard the crunch of her combat boots, in fact, it echoed through my ears and I could not hear anything else. My eyes, which had previously been trained at the ground, glanced up at her in confusion. But she was gone.

So, I now sat against an outlying tree, too timid to begin yelling her name but completely terrified of walking home alone. My immediate thought was that she was playing some kind of prank. Surely she would jump up from behind a bush soon, laughing, doubled-over at my shrill scream of terror. But that never came. She never came.

I lost all hope. Dried tears clung to my face, but no new ones would come. I had run out of options, and suddenly the forest looked slightly more welcoming. Maybe if I entered, I could escape the relentless crunching that would not leave my mind. It beckoned me, and for a split second, I justified the idea of entering. Before my mind could catch up with my body, I was standing, clutching my flashlight, shaking.

"Please let me in. I want to tell you a story."

Kyle Foster

---

I was surrounded by darkness after I entered the mansion. The light from the Crone’s lantern disappeared with the closing of the doors. I quickly turned my flashlight back on and beheld where I then stood.

Seemed to be… a cave. Hovels and indentations carved into the dirt walls. Skeletal remains, some human and others vastly alien to me, filled each spot. Cobwebs and stray bones littered the long hallway, and I knew very well where I walked into at that moment.

The burial vault.

The Rat Man’s burial vault.

I braved myself for what I knew would be a dangerous path ahead. I knew from the story, which I read quite some time ago and remember to this day, what was to come. Strange though as it was, I heard none of the Rat Man’s little companions scurrying about the vault. Yet I knew they were watching, tucked in between the bones, hiding away when I shined my flashlight at them.

They knew why I was here. And they surely told their master of me.

I reached the end of the hallway, and I came to a large, circular chamber. Several stone coffins made a circle around the perimeter, with an unlit brazier standing at the center betwixt all of them. I stepped into more and more piles of bones as I walked, with only mere patches of dirt visible now. I looked at the peculiar, nonhuman remains mixed with those of my own kind and wondered what they were taken from. Other monsters, perhaps? The Rat Man could have sent his minions to devour them upon their intrusions. Or maybe this is where monsters of this world were laid to rest.

I didn’t know. The stories were unclear. But I was ready to learn many, many truths. Behold what could not possibly be, but in fact, is.

I proceeded through more hallways and chambers, up staircase after staircase. While I was between wanting to meet the Rat Man and escape the burial vault, I was intent on keeping my pace. Either he would find me, or I would leave, and return for him later.

I didn’t finish my story for the Crone. I simply began telling another one.

Living another one.

The further I walked into the forest, the more my fear seemed to melt away. The fear, having left quite a large hole in my psyche, was quickly replaced by the dubious feeling of complete and utter dread. As if I was consenting to walk leisurely towards my own death. As if I was pulled there, by some otherworldly force. The crunching noise still persisted. It grew louder and louder, until, within the blink of an eye, it stopped. Completely. Everything stopped; but I could not stop walking. I could not stop walking when I heard a child pleading for their life and I could not stop when I heard the sickening crunch of bones, because I knew they were not real. Or, at least, not as real as the punishment if I stopped.

Finally, I saw the mansion. It could have been beautiful, but it looked sick and empty- Even the light emanating off it seemed eerie and vile. At least the screams had subsided. Then, I saw the woman. She looked skeletal, inhuman, but at the same time, very amused at my presence. I approached her, footsteps uncertain. I knew that I must now be silent, which wasn't too hard, given the fact that my tongue seemed to have retreated to the back of my throat and my teeth chattered like rattling shackles.

"What story will you tell me?"

A sharp intake of breath. "My story goes like this: A man lived in the poorest area of a poor city. The man, with his greasy hair, pallid skin, and sinister smile made his living as a doctor. His patients were the poorest of the poor, the type who only came to see him because the blood they had been coughing up for months had begun to come up with organs, too. And even then, they payed not with money-as they had none- but with themselves. The doctor took sadistic pleasure in saving the patient from near death, and yet, taking away what gave them life."

"He fixed them up with precise stitches and shiny casts, and in exchange, he would cut out their eyeballs and bend backward their knees. He would replace their faces with crude masks and, if he was up to it, chop off their toes slowly and deliberately. Whatever experiment he could devise, he would make a reality. He and his army of maimed men eventually left the city, after he had had his fun with every person poor enough to seek him out.

The doctor could no longer satisfy his blood lust by operating on others. And so, one day, he took the bonesaw to himself, gradually replacing his arms and legs with other parts, until he was no longer recognizable as a human. No longer capable of thought, reasoning, and long past the point of empathy, he and his posse finally fell prey to their animalistic nature, and with their sharpened teeth-"

With a wave of her hand, the woman passively spoke. “That’s enough. Go inside.”

Shaking, I entered.

I entered the house and closed the door. As I turned around, I expected an old, unkept lobby, but all I met was darkness. Shadows. I checked my lamp, and found it strangely still lit, with it's light seemingly only estending to itself. I had nothing to do but walk forward, for I did not fear the dark.

I walked, and walked, and felt the way I walked through gradually narrowed. Soon, I could touch both walls, and the path was the exact size for me to pass through. In the distance, I saw something shimmer. With no other options, I walked towards it. I walked, the same pace I walked when I was passing through the forest, hearing disembodied voices say cursed words. I recalled the tiny bit of fear I felt then, and compared it to what I felt inside the house, and I was sure- I wasn't afraid.

Slowly as I walked, the shimmer seemingly brightens, and increased in size due to my closing in. A few yards away, I saw what it was that reflected the light from my lamp. Glass.

I walked closer, and this time saw a figure behind the glass. He seemed to be walking towards me. Who was that man behind the glass wall, I wondered. Curiouser and curiouser, I walked, increasing my pace, and found that he did too. Was it a mirror? I wasn't sure. It didn't feel like a mirror, because while he reflected my actions, the man looked nothing like me. In fact, he didn't look like anything at all.

I got closer, and this time I stood two feet away from the wall, as he did. I asked him, "Who are you?", and stood there waiting for his reply.
"I am the dweller of the shadows. I am that which is feared by men and women alike. I am he who devour the bold. I am the one waiting in pitch black. I am the darkness." he said.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
"Before, I was both here and not here. Now, I am truly here. Before, I was here because of the sheer amount of fear and belief those fools had in me. Now, I am here because I wanted to meet what I created. I wanted to meet the darkness. I wanted to truly know it." he replied.
"Who are you?" I asked again, knowing the answer to every question I've asked him.
"I am the beast from the shadows. I am you." he said.