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.
