《Mesonoxia: Ascendancy》


 Prologue

    ¡°I came to know the darkness, for that is all I have left between myself and freedom¡­¡±


    I wondered what was different as I thought and rethink every solution that crossed my mind. Avoiding fate was a mistake reserved only for great heroes and gods, In stories long forgotten and ruined by each iteration as they were passed down. My grandfather told me of tales so impossible that they would seem truthful if I knew what awaited me hand in hand with my destiny. I was consumed from an early age by stories and myths, my father took a special interest in that after my mother disappeared. He resolved to introduce me to the other side of my family. Dating further back than even the Romans, but as muddled as it was, I hadn¡¯t met them before that summer. My father began the week simply with what to do and what to avoid, but structure devolved quickly to old stories yet again. My great great grandfather was an explorer, but not in the traditional sense. He was a collector of special things and knowledge that he believed to be more important than life itself. He was always away until The Great War broke out and he decided that by leaving for the United states, he would be spared a wretched fate.


    After a decade of searching and recording the many stories of man after nearly a lifetime of work, he built Sinnhoffer Halls as a lodge, for all to come and visit¡­ well the ones he deemed even worthy of stepping over the threshold into its carved onyx and marble pillared vestibule, to regale him the details of their latest discovery or retelling of a folk favorite. Not a single person could tell me how he managed to build such a place or even what he was searching for that led him to abandon his first son overseas. The staff as well as my Aunt said his money came from old textiles and metal working, but they may have been gullible, but I remained skeptical.


    It was my first visit to Sinn house that I remembered the most clearly after my years of cramming my head full of useless facts in a grace period of educational prowess, but after some concentration and a few stories from my relatives, it was a given that I would return to the childlike haze, and in moments turned to a focused recall of my favorite and unclear moments of my 6 year old self.


    It was my first summer outside of Utah, but looking out the window periodically the scenery still held some of the tell tale signs of the desert with rough sagebrush and lone road, still not what I was used to, but in Utah it felt as if you could throw a stone and only hit a dried and cracked surface of dirt long after a storm with no wind to take away its jagged edges. As much as I would have liked to play the adult in the situation and stay awake for the entire drive, I admit I fell asleep as often as a roadside marker passed my window; none of them gave me a single clue of where I was until it all faded away. I remember stopping at a roadside rest stop to my father placing his rough and calloused palm on my knee before saying.


    ¡°Atlas buddy, time to wake up, let''s get something to eat.¡±


    With nothing more than a tired mumbling coming from my mouth I was helped out of the car as my leg had fallen asleep and apparently deeper than I had been. I was astonished by the number of stars I could see after my father carried me into the small diner across the street. I was lost in their shine and even further confused as to how the day had passed me by. The sky which was bright with the sun held high above our heads beading through sporadic clouds and now the moon was up and smiling. I couldn''t help, but stare in amazement at the sight before me. Growing up in Utah had its challenges amongst which was light pollution, but nothing could prepare me for the overwhelming amount of stars stretched before me, casting their wondrous glow from the heavens onto the earth. I think that was the last time that I truly felt alone, but in a good way. My father stepped across the threshold of the diner. I was blinded for a moment; the fluorescent lights were shining a fury on my unadjusted eyes, but quick to forgive my intrusion into the faceless domain. My father sat me down and took his place in the seat parallel to me. Only a few patrons were in the freight car sized diner; The waitress, cook, a teenager with an unusually stuffed backpack, and a man we would come to know as Marcus. The waitress came by, my father ordered himself a coffee with a donut and ordered me a bowl of oatmeal with bacon on the side to share. Although the waitress wasn''t talkative, she didn''t need to, her eyes spoke ahead of her and stature to match; She was here to work, not make friends with the travelers she would never see again. She would open up in time as we stopped there twice a year, until she passed away due to an untreated tumor slowly growing, even as early as this memory I suppose. Food was served in a matter of minutes, the taste wasn''t great, but the cook was kind enough to assume I would want chocolate chips. I didnt notice for a bit until my dad stirred in some half and half he also used for his coffee. After a few more bites, I looked out the window into my own reflection¡¯s gaze, and finally I turned to my father.


    ¡°Where are we Dad?¡±


    ¡°We are just a few miles away from Dallas.¡± my father replied and followed with a light sip of his coffee, he continued ¡° We are almost there, about 5 more hours should do it. Better finish up, we got a lot more road to cover.¡±


    I resumed my stare out the window, only to see the reflection of one of the patrons pulling up a chair to the table. I turned back in a flash, nearly jumping out of my skin, wide eyed, I stared at the man.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡± My father, a patient man, spoke politely after obviously seeing me a bit frightened.


    ¡°I think I know you, it''s been a few years, but I recognize that tattoo.¡± The man in a gruff and deep voice from years of smoking cheap cigarettes and congestion from a recent cold.


    I looked to my father for comfort, the stranger was wearing an old camouflage coat in a nearly disgusting green and a few black stains clinging to the edges, but how could the man see a tattoo, I only knew of one on my father, but it was over his heart, one he had tried to explain to me, but failed on numerous occasions. After a moment of inspecting himself for anything that would resemble a tattoo, and in his confusion the man turned to me, ¡°I was talking about the boy.¡± He slowly turned his head to my father now in doubt. He looked at my forearm and scoffed, ¡°That''s not a tattoo, that''s a birthmark.¡±


    ¡°I think I would know a tattoo when I see one. Where is the woman you came with last time.¡±


    My mind was in disarray, like most children would be. I felt my ¡°tattoo¡± which I knew as my birthmark had been there since before I can remember, it was curved, wide at its center, and pointed at its two ends like a crescent moon.


    ¡°Do you know my mom?¡± I said interrupting the vexed stare between my father and the man


    ¡°I only saw her a few times, many with your father here. I wanted to thank her, every time she stopped here she would give me a bit of cash, I was homeless for a few years, but thanks to your mom, I have a house, not too big, and a job. I can¡¯t pay her back for the kindness, but I can give your father this.¡± He reached into the deep pockets of his dusty jeans and pulled out a necklace with a pendant of a crescent moon and placed it on the table.


    ¡°She dropped it when she was last here, and I figured she would come back sometime, but maybe you will see her first. Well I have to run, but stop by and say hello my store is on-¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    My father waved off the man in an awkward manner, and gazed at the necklace until the waitress brought the bill. Then we left without another word after leaving a tip and dropping the necklace into his shirt pocket. After a few hours of balancing boredom with a few songs playing through the radio that both my father and I knew the words to and my giggling interrupting when my father forgot the words only to make up his own in their place. We had finally arrived. The beauty before me was immaculate, perfectly trimmed hedges and a garden filled with flowers on both sides of the path on our approach to the ornate black gate. As I gazed at the gate sparkling from the morning dew, something caught my eye from the corner, a face coming the hedge, smiling joyfully and a small wave before swiftly retreating behind the hedge¡¯s luscious green leaves just as my father turned to look at me with a half hearted smile on his face.


    ¡°Alright Buddy, you ready to meet your other grandpa?¡±


    I could hardly sit still, my heart was racing in my chest. I have only heard of grandpa Ralph from mom a few times about his passion for art and the many sculptures that now decorate the halls of Sinn House. The gate parted with a creak to reveal the true majesty of my waking nightmare soon to come. We were greeted at the front door by my Uncle Al with open arms which I less than gracefully accepted and was promptly lifted into the air. He gave a hearty laugh and welcomed both my father and I.


    ¡°Wow you have grown, haven¡¯t you? Last time I saw your photo you were barely up to your dad¡¯s knee, but now look at you.¡± He said with a wide grin.


    ¡°How was the trip down?¡± Uncle Al continued as he stood up to face my father.


    ¡°Same boring roads, but decided to drive through the night, much less traffic that way.¡±


    ¡°Good, I¡¯m glad you finally took my advice. Now, have you guys had anything to eat? Melissa just finished making breakfast.¡±


    ¡°No we ate a few hours ago, thank you though.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Al said quizzically, ¡°Hash brown, chocolate chip pancakes, and plenty of tea¡­ also coffee; I never really figured you as the tea type.¡±


    I looked at my father with pleading eyes, excitement clearly leaking from my form.


    ¡°Alright, go on ahead and no tea or coffee for him. I¡¯ll be there in a few minutes.¡± My father said, giving a begrudging look to my uncle. Although it was good fun, I could see the look of annoyance in his quick glare, but it didn¡¯t strike me as odd. I followed my uncle to the kitchen, dropping my bag to the floor in pursuit. The smell was heavenly, a sweet and lightly smoky aroma filled the air. The very moment I saw the kitchen, I began the search for Melissa. She wasn¡¯t family like Al, but she was very close to all of us. At the time Al and Melissa were married, but I had seen her on a few occasions when I was younger when my uncle came to Utah to go skiing and would crash at our house with Melissa when they were dating. I ran up to her with such force that I nearly knocked her over.


    ¡°Oh hi Atlas! I was wondering when I would see you today.¡± She exclaimed.


    ¡°Hi Aunt Mel, can I have some pancakes please?¡± I said nearly begging.


    ¡°Sure, go sit down and I¡¯ll bring it over.¡± She said, a smile cracking its way across her lips.


    As soon as she brought them over, I devoured those pancakes as if they were never on the plate to begin with.


    My father walked into the kitchen when the last bite brushed past my lips. Melissa and Al were cleaning the cooking utensils and their plate.


    ¡°Do you guys know where Ralph is? I can¡¯t find him.¡± Dad said blankly


    ¡°Yeah he is in the garden, He spends his mornings out there. The doctor said it might help with the breathing problems¡± Melissa replied without turning her head.


    ¡°Thanks, come on buddy.¡± He said. I wiped my mouth and hopped off the wooden chair and followed my Dad to the garden; He stooped to tie his shoe and I continued on without him. The garden was huge, decorated with flowers I had never seen before, the sculptures of animals carved from massive logs of Oak. I walked and stared at them all, letting their finer detail fall away.


    I reached the center of the garden to a massive fountain with water flowing from the mouth of a colossal wolf. Nobody was in sight and I noticed I couldn¡¯t hear my father¡¯s footsteps on the limestone walkway. The air was still, and the birds I saw outside the garden were silent. I felt the swelling of goosebumps spread across my arms and neck. The silence sat and basked as if it was a sacred place held away for years from prying eyes.


    There is something there, in the fountain. A glimmer on the surface. I took a steady step forward; one foot and then the other until I reached the pool¡¯s edge. The feeling of being watched intensified with every step, like I was the prey targeted by the predator unseen. I peeked into the water and saw a shiny key resting on the bottom. Curiosity was certainly too tempting and I went to touch the pool when I heard a rugged and ancient voice.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t ready for that yet.¡±


    I swung around in a rapid whirl, heart nearly beating out of my chest.


    ¡°You must be Atlas, I am your grandfather. Come here and sit.¡± Ralph said as he beckoned me towards the concrete bench. He rested his cane on the edge and sat down with the agility of a cat. I cautiously approached, still unable to hear anything, but the sounds of my footfall and the raspy breathing of the old man. He was nothing like Grandpa Rich, he seemed more stoic and less inclined to relish on the past.


    ¡°This fountain was a gift to my father from royalty and it was passed to me when he was laid to rest. It means a lot to me. What did you see that drew you so close to its water?¡±


    I took a seat and said ¡° a key is at the bottom.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± he said with a feigned interest, ¡°let''s go take a look.¡±


    He struggled for a moment, but quickly overcame the stiffness of his joints. He rested his cane on the grass beside the fountain and eased himself to the ground. Perching himself on his knees then rolling up his sleeve exposing the as expected wrinkles of someone his age. He plunged his arm into the pool. I could see the water, it moved differently than the water in a tub or a public pool, it was wrong. Moving slowly was all he could do in the resistance of the water; the waves and ripple disappeared before reaching the edges. He brought his hand up and quickly covered his reddening forearm. I looked in the palm of his hand only to see an old ring, with a blue gem and tarnished silver. I thought he had missed the key and grabbed the ring instead, but as I looked over the edge of the stone, the key was gone. I stood there baffled.


    ¡°This fountain is magic, enchanted to give us the one thing we want most even if we don¡¯t need it yet, this is the last piece remaining.¡± He said as he dropped the ring back into the strange pool of water, and as the ring touched the water, the key from before returned to the pool replacing what was the ring.


    ¡°If you saw a key, maybe you will need it someday, but today it will rest at the bottom. Ever ready awaiting for your return. Your father is a bit lost, he can¡¯t enter the garden unless I say so. I''m feeling a bit hungry.¡± He explained while trying to regain his footing to stand up. I helped the best I could, I took him by the hand on the second step toward the exit. We walked out of the garden to my father walking back towards the house. We followed behind. Grandpa ate as I answered the many questions that he would throw my way, none were particularly hard or specific. After grandpa retreated to his room with the help of both Al and Melissa, I explored the house in search of my room for the stay. Some of the halls were dusty and sheets covered the furniture. Floorboards creaked every few paces until I found a staircase with a light shining on the next floor. I ran up the stairs and saw my father at the end of the hall with an orange and flaked rusted key in his hand. I broke into a dead sprint to his side, with an entire arrangement sorted in my head only to come out as a breathless, paceless jumble of words. He shoved the key in his pocket and ruffled my shaggy hair. He knew what I needed and led me to what I surprisingly wanted, a bed. It was a little before noon and I was tired from the car trip and the mental exhaustion of conversation. I felt sleep take me quickly, but my eyes began to wander before closing. The room looked amazing, but plain in the eyes of an 8 year old, who already missed the posters of movies and video games that took up his time waiting back home for Dad to come home from work. The toys strewn about the room as if I had a personal tornado, or I was the tornado. Dreamless sleep ahead, I pondered the mystery I had hoped I would find in such an old house and if it had already started. I would give anything to have stayed home in those days and after, sure the fun was endless, but the feeling of dread was never far behind.

 May our Stars Align

    It''s been 16 years since that first summer in Sinn House, I still wake up in the dead of night nearly screaming from a horror escape just as I open my eyes, and the memory of an encounter nonexistent in my conscious mind. This morning was no different, but used to the routine, I wiped the sweat from my brow and walked into the living room of my apartment only to be greeted by the squeaks and taps of my roommate and his computer chair. Still playing the game that I had heard before going to bed, but at least he was kind enough to put on his headset. Mike was an insomniac and sleep was never at the top of any of his to-do lists, I had actually never seen him get a full night¡¯s rest in all the years I had known him. I grabbed his shoulder, causing him to jump.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that man.¡± He said with a scowl turned soft with a smile


    ¡°Well I would just say good morning, but I didn''t think you would hear me.¡±


    Mike wearily took off his headset and stretched. ¡°Yeah, you are right. Well I gotta get ready for work, can I get a ride today?¡±


    I took a bowl from the cabinet and poured whatever cereal I had laying on the counter the day before. ¡°Sure, I can take you. Let me eat and we will go. I have therapy today.¡±


    ¡°For sure.¡± Mike said with a half-ass smirk before standing up, only to knock his chair backwards to the carpeted floor. Eventually we made it out the front door and into the parking lot of our complex.


    ¡°Chilly today, right?¡± Mike said while exaggeratingly rubbing his arms.


    ¡°I guess so¡± I said, checking my breath for the warning of a cold day, it was a bit cold, but not enough for the mist of my breath to be seen.


    We began our drive and before I knew it, I realized I was sitting outside the office of my therapist. I was early, so instead of sitting in a lukewarm car, I stepped into the building and took a seat in the waiting room. After a few minutes, a woman about my age walked out casting me a knowing glance. Although salty looking on the outside, she was pretty if not a bit misunderstood. Dyed tips of hair, two piercings and a chest tattoo resembling cerulean scales peeking out from the top of an already low cut top. A white cast covered her left arm up to the elbow. My attention span shot back into place as the assistant spoke my name for the second time.


    ¡°Yeah sorry.¡± I said hastily, grabbing my coat from the chair next to me.


    I walked into the office that I have come to remember every detail of.


    ¡°Good Morning Atlas, I trust you brought your ¡®homework'' as I asked for in our last session.¡±


    An embarrassed look shot up my face, and the heat of frustration with myself.


    ¡°No, I forgot it.¡± The therapist let out a sigh before continuing.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, we will start from scratch then. I have some new questions today, so take your time with the answers. I have a feeling you will need to dwell on them for a bit. Have a seat.¡±


    I sat down, the feeling of embarrassment fading fast, but the anxious fluttering in my chest was still as strong as the first day I came into this office years ago.


    An hour passed at a snail¡¯s pace.


    She walked me out to the lobby, no massive discoveries today just like every time before. It felt pointless to talk about the events, but never able to remember the worst, and unable to move on, like I am forced to talk around the point; the looming dread, the depression of fleeting happy moments, and the drain of social interactions. I left the building shrugging past the next patient. Entering the parking lot, the weather picked up a little bit, the cold residing for the sun and its warm embrace. I saw the same young woman from before, smoking a cigarette on the hood of my car.


    ¡°Excuse me? That¡¯s my car.¡± I said with a note of frustration hidden under my nervous voice.


    ¡°I hoped this was your car,¡± she rose to her feet, ¡°my name is Layla, I saw you staring at me when I was leaving. Seeing as we are both in therapy, you wanna get some coffee?¡±


    I had never been on a date before and the straight forward approach caught me by surprise. I admit I was a little captivated, but the awkward look I apparently had plastered to my face said it all.


    ¡°Come on, there is a place down the street that is amazing. You¡¯re driving.¡± Layla finished with a smirk.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    We drove a few minutes, thankfully the car was running smoother than it had been an hourish earlier. After parking and walking into the little hometown cafe, the aroma of coffee and fresh pastries made the need for conversation even more immediate. Still fresh on my mind, Layla. Her name made a warm shiver cross the back of my neck like goosebumps, but in a nice way. I realized I never introduced myself, and the moment of stifled conversation on my end started to take its toll on Layla; her bits of single sided conversation became less and less. I jumped into action.


    ¡°My name is Atlas.¡± Her eyes looked up to mine from the steamy brim of her coffee and the flakes of a Croissant left over on the table. ¡°I¡¯m really at a loss for words, I am more of a listener in a conversation. I have never been on a date before¡± I spilled out in nervousness, but still with a minor amount of confidence. ¡°You are really straight forward, and I¡¯m sorry for how I acted before.¡± I could see a grin spreading across her face, and a small chuckle slipped past my lips.


    ¡°He can speak.¡± she said following with her own chuckle. ¡°Well it¡¯s nice to meet you too Atlas. Kind of an odd name, but I like it and the honesty, although a little delayed.¡±


    We laughed while sipping our coffee, despite her appearance she was quite pleasant. Her appearance wasn¡¯t bad at least in her words, as I had made a comment on it, she mentioned her friends are so much worse and was absolutely astounded that he had never seen piercings and a colored tattoo. She found it odd, but I explained that I had grown up in a heavily religious gated community and only truly left the pool of the church when my father and I vacationed in Texas at a family estate. She asked for details on the estate.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, it makes me uncomfortable to talk about it. Maybe another time.¡± I said sheepishly


    ¡°I understand, well if you have nothing else to do today. Wanna catch a movie?¡± Layla stepped around the topic. ¡°Sorry, but I should be getting home. I need to feed my dog.¡± Atlas said, although it was a lie to set some unspoken boundaries; Atlas was horribly allergic to dogs and Mike had a traumatic experience with a serbian mastiff causing a mix of fear and hatred for dogs. All together that''s why we got an apartment that didn¡¯t allow pets whatsoever.


    ¡°It''s all good, this was nice though. I hope we can do this again.¡± I said enthusiastically. A wide smile crept upon her face, she took my arm from across the table and a marker from seemingly out of nowhere and wrote her number on my arm. I shot a weak smile at her, and took the marker from her hand and wrote my number on the napkin provided by the barista. She got up and grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and walked out with a pep in her step.


    I took my time getting home, stopping to get groceries for tonight''s dinner. It was nothing special, just rice with stewed meat seared in a pan with butter sauce made from garlic, onions, Worcestershire sauce and an unhealthy amount of butter. The ingredients made my mouth water, although the end result made me sick. It was Mike''s favorite meal and I tried my hardest to keep him happy. His rent money covered a portion of mine as I had been out of a job for a little over a month now. Working night security was easy at first, but as time went on, it had become difficult to balance a social life and work. I eventually fell asleep during my shifts, until one day a fire started in one of the server rooms. Prompting my supervisor to let me go. The termination hurt beyond words; My therapist had set me up with the job as a start to paying off my student loans. I felt like a failure, admittedly I realize there is a balance that needs to be kept in daily life. I waited for Mike to get home before I began to cook. He sat down immediately after slumping his way into the apartment. Shrugging off his bag, he turned to me in the kitchen.


    ¡°What¡¯s for dinner?¡± Mike said in a tired and exhausted voice.


    ¡°Your favorite, I thought you would want it after last night¡¯s gaming marathon.¡± I replied while searing the pieces of discounted meat in a pan he had gotten me for my last birthday.


    ¡°Yeah, thank you. Hey there was a letter in the mailbox for you by the way.¡± Mike said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a crumpled envelope. I took it from his hands gently and smoothed out the wrinkles as best as I could. Sure enough it was for me, hand written without a postage stamp, so I rushed to open it. It was a letter from my father.


    Dear Atlas,


    My beloved son, I am sorry for whatever happened between us that caused you to distance yourself from your step mother and I. I would have said something sooner, but now is the best chance I will get. There are two reasons why I am writing to you today. Your grandfather has passed, along with Uncle Al and Aunt Melissa, in a grave accident caused by a drunk driver. Although your Grandfather was on borrowed time, I anguished over his passing along with your Uncle who I came to know as a true brother, and your Aunt whose flaws never got in the way of her sweetness and it will never be forgotten. As for the rest of the news, I will wait until we are in person as I fear you will be either delighted or dismayed by it. I will be attending the funeral at Sinn house on the 17th at 10 am, 4 days after the delivery of this letter. I hope to see you there, but I will understand if you decide against it. I love you.


    Forever and always,


    Mark Salotto your father


    I stood there with tears in my eyes, choking back a sob. The smell of the burning meat hadn¡¯t phased me until Mike sprung up from his seat to take the pan from the stove to the sink, and doused the small flames with the water from the faucet.


    ¡°Damn it, that was close. What¡¯s going on? What does it say?¡± Mike let out with a sigh


    ¡°My grandpa is dead. My Aunt and Uncle too.¡± I let out in a whisper.


    ¡°Shit, I¡¯m sorry man. Were you close?¡± he said sympathetically.


    ¡°Yes and no, we were close once upon a time. I don¡¯t even remember what caused us to fall apart.¡± The sobs resided and the wet sound that came from my voice was quickly stifled after clearing my throat and wiping my tears away with the sleeve of my coat. I tucked the letter into the back pocket of my pants and went to bed. The exhaustion of the day finally took me away to sleep; my eyes soon became heavy with what I could only believe was grief. I spent my last few moments awake thinking only of nothing, I couldn''t let my mind wander, the pain of that news was enough to send me spiraling.

 A Secret Story

    Soon my mind whisked me away to simpler days and the memories surged away with another form of loss. My mom left my dad just before that first summer, and despite being ostracized by her side of the family before I was born, He received an invitation to spend the summer down there, and make up the pay loss by working on the house. I had no clue what he would do all day, but I had my own entertainment.


    My grandfather would invite me into his study in the evening to read to me the fantastic stories that my great-grandfather had collected over the years up until his death. He would be described as a collector of intangible ideas and the lessons of generations at work. One evening in particular, my grandfather went into town for a doctor¡¯s visit and during the time he would normally read to me, I walked into his study to find he wasn¡¯t there. As a kid I loved to meddle, finding only the treasures that a child of my age would fantasize and fabricate stories about. I found something in the back of a drawer of the writing desk in the center of the study. It was a small thing, and it looked as if it hadn¡¯t moved in a decade or so by the dust around it. I took the odd shaped key, my heart fluttering with excitement, I sprung up and ran to every keyhole in the study I could see until I found one that fit that lumpy key. I was unsuccessful in every attempt. I suddenly heard the slam of a car door and knew I would be in trouble lurking in possibly the most treasured room of the house. I sprinted to the desk and tossed the key blindly in the drawer and heard the clatter of the key falling further inside the desk, where it landed  was behind the drawer entirely. I pulled the drawer out as carefully as possible to not drop its contents across the floor. Just then I heard a creak on the other end of the room, almost an inanimate whisper of the house. I stacked the drawer on top of books haphazardly and walked to the hidden door disguised as a bookshelf. I dropped my guard too quickly, it would be my mistake. The cold and bitter wind coming from the cracked doorway brought chills up my spine, I took my first step into the stairwell I deemed far enough and turned to leave. It was too dark, but the moment I set my sights on the study and the safety of known territory, I heard a voice coming from the bottom of the stairwell.


    ¡°Hello.¡± It spoke softly. I didn¡¯t know how far it went down, they could have been yelling for all I knew.


    ¡°Hello.¡± I replied, trying in vain to not show a bit of fear.


    Nothing.


    ¡°Hello.¡± I said louder, convincing myself I had imagined the voice.


    Nothing.


    I took a deep breath to stop the quivering I felt in my chest, one more time I thought.


    ¡°HELLO!¡± I yelled down the stairs.


    Nothing. I scoffed at the fear I experienced. I closed the door and thought I should ask grandpa about it tomorrow. I turned around to see a figure dressed in tattered black robes lunge towards me. I tried to let out a scream, but I was quickly shoved against the bookcase and an icy hand pressed against my mouth. I froze in place, my eyes wide in a state of terror. It lifted a finger to where its mouth was supposed to be. Still frozen in place, I felt a warmth running down my leg. It cackled, with a horrible voice like broken glass in a bag and coughed fiercely, I felt the spray of fluid on my face. I didn''t even flinch, not blink away the drops that landed in my eyes, staining my vision a translucent red. My lungs were about to burst, I had to breathe, but my body didn¡¯t respond. My eyes were getting blurry, I felt the welling of tears, but I was finally able to breathe when I perceived the immense pain in my side. I looked, his hand was in me, the blackness of his figure creeping its way onto my skin and into the open wounds. I felt him digging through my flesh. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, I had fainted from the pain.


    I awoke an hour later to the back of an ambulance and a flashlight shining across my face. My father was by my side, holding my hand in a feverish intensity.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I said in a whisper.


    ¡°You hit your head son, you might have a concussion.¡± the paramedic with graying hair said.


    ¡°Your aunt found you in the study, unconscious.¡± My father followed with.


    I suddenly shot up in the gurney, checked my side, nearly ripping my pajamas in the process. Nothing, but the pale pink of the rest of my body. The paramedic pulled my father aside while the younger paramedic slipped the blood pressure cuff off my arm and began to pack up. My father stepped back into view and hopped inside the ambulance.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright buddy, we are just going to the hospital to make sure you are ok.¡± my father said reassuringly.


    The older paramedic closed the back doors from the inside and sat in his seat, when he moved out of the way i looked out the window of the ambulance to see the illuminated window of the study and my grandfather casting a shadow on the glass accompanied by the silhouette of a large, gangly man in shredded and flowing coat behind him as we drove away. The terror I had felt before was still there, hiding in a cloud of disbelief for the rest of the summer. I asked my grandfather, my dad, even aunt Melissa and uncle Al, but none of them knew what I was talking about; Saying I had made it up and was over exaggerating. My aunt made sure that I knew what was real and what was fake, even so much as to check my closet and under my bed in a sultry manner, mocking my fear in a way. Sometimes I think it actually made me feel safe in that locked room, especially on the days after helping the gardener pull weeds on the edge of the property where the forest kept a fine line between it and civilization. I would imagine the man sitting under one of the burrows under the many dead trees, waiting and staring into the yard to get me when my attention was elsewhere. I knew that he was real in a sense, but he left no mark on me or any trace within the study. Maybe I hit my head and imagined the whole thing, in any case I wasn''t afraid anymore. Wanting to prove myself right and go home early to my friends, I waited until my grandfather left for the doctor again. The visits were becoming steadily longer throughout the summer and the longest one was at the end of the week. He needed surgery on a tumor and would be out for the weekend, if not longer.


    I knew this would be my only chance and all was well until the twins arrived.


    Valorie and Victor arrived in the dark of the morning with bags on bags of clothes and the stench of something foul I could only describe as an earthy sweat of a pig. I became fond of both them in my own way. I couldn¡¯t keep their interest for longer than a few minutes and as it would turn out, they couldn¡¯t keep my attention for the same amount of time. They never truly grew out of their phase of rebellious youth and inadequate initiative for acclimation. The time came, but a small snag was sure to happen. My father packed a bag for himself and my grandfather, the hospital required for such a surgery was about a day trip away. My grandfather was seated neatly in the car, I reached in for a lukewarm hug from the pale man, but grandfather was already fast asleep with the aid of a heavy sleeping medication due to his car sickness on long trips. My father wrangled the twins out of their room and sat them on the cold stone steps of the house.


    ¡°I expect you to listen carefully to you two, you both are in charge of Atlas until I get back. No parties or friends over, and nothing illegal. I took the liberty of raiding your cache and hiding it.¡± My father said with a serious scowl on his brow. The twins had a look of irritation on their faces, both looking my father up and down gauging his seriousness in the situation. My father continued, ¡°Al and Melissa will be out for the weekend, you will be on your best behavior. If I come back and there is a single mess outside of your room there will be hell to pay.¡±


    Obviously used to the talk before the twins rolled their eyes in near-synch, nonetheless they agreed to the nonnegotiable terms. Dad pulled me towards him with a big hug and said in the kind tone I had exclusive rights to. ¡°Ok buddy, I¡¯m going to be gone for a few days. If there are any problems feel free to call me. I left the number for the hotel on the fridge door and ask for room 103, I¡¯ll pick up or call you back as soon as possible. Also I left the number for Al¡¯s cell phone on the back of mine, and have either Victor or Valorie call them when they need to cook. They are just in the next town over for a family thing and should be back on Monday. I love you.¡±


    I replied with the same heartfelt I love you and hugged my father one more time. I waved goodbye and marched back inside to the twins already vanishing into their domicile, lounging the day away to the video games and long phone calls to boyfriends across the country. I tried to hang out with them, but the same smell that preceded their arrival was the same that repelled me away from even entering that wing of the house. My plan painstakingly waiting was finally here and in the daylight no less.


    I gathered my tools. A digital camera from Melissa¡¯s photography box, a flashlight from my dad¡¯s toolbox, and a well used pocket knife that I had ¡°borrowed¡± from the gardener. I only had 2 hands, so to keep myself from being unarmed or without light, I strapped the flashlight to my head like a coal miner helmet. I knew I looked ridiculous, but it didn¡¯t stop me from my mission. I did take extra precautions from being seen by the twins. Walking into the study, I felt the chill in the air clinging to my exposed skin; Dad had turned off this wing¡¯s heating in my grandfather¡¯s absence.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The drawer came loose like before, the same creak announcing the arrival of the bookcase door. My shaky breath let out a mist as my feet crossed the threshold. Down the stairs I went taking pictures as I went through  cobwebs and  rat droppings that littered the top few steps. I descended the stairs, getting braver as I went, until I touched the landing. I could feel the cold through my shoes. I lifted my head and the flashlight with it. Illuminating the room with an orange glow. I saw nothing of interest in any corner, the room was empty of any trace of life. Dust coating the floor as much as the January snow, I couldn¡¯t believe my eyes, there was truly nothing. I stepped into the center of the room when I heard the rattle of chains. I hadn¡¯t seen chains anywhere before. I held my breath, shuttering in my sneakers, I slowly scanned my surroundings, but nothing turned up. No stone was significant nor pillar suspicious. My search to prove my skepticism of a simple head injury was in vain. I slowly let out my breath, I couldn¡¯t believe that I could make such a thing up. I touched every stone and felt in every crack, there was no secret lever or button in this place. This was it and whatever was down here that night was long gone by decades or more. I was possibly the first person down here in the better half of a century. The chains rattled again against the stones of the hidden room, swinging my head in the definite direction of the noise. My flashlight illuminated the sunlight deprived face of Victor


    ¡°AAAAAAAAAAGHHH.¡± I screamed with the full force of my tiny body, feeling my vocal cords nearly shredding. The fright shocked my heart into overdrive, adrenaline pumping through my veins faster than a dead sprint up two flights of stairs.


    ¡°Calm down Atlas, what are you doing down here? Actually I have never seen this before. Come here buddy.¡± Victor said with a kind reassurance in his voice. I walked up to him and took his hand before he led me up the stairs. ¡°Valerie and I are going to King¡¯s Grove and we wanted you to come with us.¡± I replied yes quickly, the adrenaline shooting through my veins forcing my hand, this house was beginning to get creepy with my father gone.


    Victor''s car took us only a few miles down the road to a forest path that quickly faded from view behind the bark and shrubs of the calm forest. Valerie turned around from her seat in the front of the car. ¡°Since we can¡¯t have a party at the house, we are going to have one here. Our friends are already in the clearing. So if we feed you and you have a good time, do you promise you won¡¯t tell your dad?¡± She said with a smirk. I was excited to be at my first party and regardless of the dark forest, he made the mistake of trusting the twins only to realize much later, but in the moment I agreed before following them on the hike into the forest. The path felt much shorter when I walked along the sifted dirt walkway carved by the many others before me. The clearing was up ahead and the smell of wild flowers laced with the tang of smoked BBQ greeted our arrival. People gathered nearly everywhere in their own groups chatting away with a red cup in their hand and others floating between the groups, just to have a laugh before running off to repeat the same thing not even 10 paces away. Tables were scattered across the clearing, many unoccupied, until I saw a group of children around my age playing with a few disregarded pieces of broken branches and a tipped table or two. One of the older members of the ¡°congregation¡± came over to us and greeted both Victor and Valerie. The twins shooed me away to go play with the other kids, before taking an identical red cup, I lazily made my way over to the children.


    They greeted me awkwardly and ran away like it was a game of tag. I was already familiar with this kind of treatment and decided that I shouldn''t bother. I meandered towards the edge of the clearing, kicking various pebbles and snapping broken branches beneath my feet. Once I was in the shade of the trees, I felt the breeze become cooler. I spent a few minutes looking around for something interesting to do. There was literally nothing to do, I already knew I didn''t fit in, so I did what I normally did: explore. There were several animal trails and various downed trees in the way of my own path I had begun to forge. The light of the sun faded beneath the clouds and the shade of the trees. Creating the shadows I had come to partially fear. I stopped my footfall and taking in every sound, I slowed my breath to a soundless whisper. Anxiety had overcome my need for new sights. A crunch of dry leaves behind me, I whipped my head around to face the noise, nothing was different from the way I had come. My heartbeat struck a foul chord and my chest stung with the flow of adrenaline. I heard several branches snap this time to my left, closer than before. I froze in fear, turning my head to face my potential predator, it was so fast that I couldn''t see it from the place I had it to the next, there was hardly any cover on the self imposed path. I felt the need to scream for my aunt or my uncle back in the clearing, god knows how far away it was and if they could hear me past the party noise and the foliage I was behind. I took hold of myself, I looked around frantically for any sign that I wasn''t scaring myself. The canopy of interlaced trees above me began to shake, the weakest of leaves falling at my feet. I glanced upwards, the leaves were too thick to see anything except the flecks of lights from above. The moment I blinked after staring for so long drew out longer than expected from the dryness in the air. When I opened my eyes once more, a pale face was in front of me hanging upside down. I saw it for only a second before breaking into a dead sprint in what I had thought was the right direction. I was already huffing and weezing after a minute or two of the run only to stop and see that this was unfamiliar ground. Slumping against a tree, facing where I had came from, the bushes and tall weeds that I had trampled still swing from the trauma.


    I didn¡¯t focus on the face for more than a second and the details of what it was eluded me, but it did look familiar. I thought it was the face from the day I had first arrived, near the front gate of the house. After a minute of rest, I walked back towards the clearing of the party; of course I took a long and curved way around, nonetheless I knew it was the right direction or at least towards the road. I resolved that I was going to stay with Victor or Valerie for the rest of the day. My nerves were worn thin and being jumpy was an understatement. I heard the music of the party again, smiling that I was now safe when I saw a small child-like figure sitting at the edge of the trees hidden under the shadows of the overhanging pine branches. I approached slowly, a voice spoke in a loud, but still hushed tone.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I scared you¡± it said. I couldn¡¯t recognize if it was a boy or a girl¡¯s voice.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve seen other children my age. Please come sit.¡± The figure gestured toward the rock next to it, I could see the features of its body more clearly, it was pale like before, but the arm it outstretched was skinny and frail looking, but a bracelet of childish charms was disarming enough for me to finally take a seat. The figure finally looked at me, It was a girl about my age, maybe slightly older; a birthmark rested just underneath the collar of her well worn floral print shirt and the overalls sporting a kaleidoscopic variety of paint that dried into the fabric. My worries fell away as I finally spoke after clearing my throat from the phlegm of dehydration.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked, a curious tone spilling over


    ¡°My name is Anne after my mom.¡± she said, I could feel a note of sadness in her voice.


    We watched the other children play for a while in silence, I could see the yearning in her eyes as she gazed upon the various games the group reenacted. I was unsure of what they were actually playing, but it was nonsense to me.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± Anne finally followed up, she turned her gaze to me. I was stunned by the vibrant hue of blue and green in her irises, despite being out of the direct light, they shone as if unbothered by shade and shadow.


    ¡°My name is Atlas.¡± I spoke at a slower pace than I would have liked. She smiled and outstretched her hand towards mine, I took it gently and shook; matching the rhythm that she set. Regardless of her somewhat rugged appearance, her skin was unnaturally soft and smooth.


    ¡°Nice to meet you finally. I think I''ve seen you before, but that was a month ago.¡±


    I gulped nervously, maybe I was right in that I saw her when I first arrived at Sinn house.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Well you were at my house, in fact I have seen you a few times talking to my grandpa. How do you know him?¡± she spouted rapidly. I was right, but how?


    ¡°Is your grandpa named Ralph?¡± I replied, Anne¡¯s excitement shot her face into mine, she stared at me up and down now more curious than ever.


    ¡°Yes yes, that''s my grandpa. I haven¡¯t seen him in forever. I can¡¯t go in the house anymore, but I can see him through the window or when he is in the garden.¡± She nearly shouted, her words nearly ran together as they poured from her mouth.


    ¡°That¡¯s my grandpa too. I think you are my cousin.¡± I said in the same excitement, but I held my tongue longer enough between each word, as it was becoming a pet peeve that I had to pick apart her words to understand where the space was. The excitement in her eyes declined rapidly into dullness as a more serious look had replaced joyful longing. Dread.


    ¡°I have to go Atlas, I am sorry.¡± Anne said, the sadness returned once more in her voice.


    ¡°Wait what did I say?¡± I pleaded to her, just as she rose from her stone seat.


    ¡°You will see one day, but today I am sorry that I can''t say more.¡±


    ¡°No, please tell me. Is it about the ragged man in the study?¡± I rose to follow her.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t in the study, he is never in the same place. He follows the stories wherever they show. He eats them.¡± Anne said with an all too ominous tone.


    ¡°Stories aren¡¯t real. They can¡¯t be eaten when they aren''t there.¡± I pleaded further. My concern grew, but I already knew she wouldn¡¯t have answers, her terror was an unscalable wall. She swung around in anger. ¡°YOU DON¡¯T KNOW THAT. You know nothing and eventually you¡¯ll be like me, if even that.¡± A furious scowl was imprinted on her face, but tears streamed down her face. She lifted one side of her shirt after undoing one strap of her overalls. The caked and dried blood of a wound in her side was the first thing I saw when she ripped away the bandages which were evidently holding her skin together. I stood wordless as she revealed a massive hole in her side. A flow of blood cascaded from the wound, soaking into the overalls and the earth underneath her feet. I fought myself for a time, but nausea won over and I vomited onto the ground in front of me and splashed onto my shoes. Anne buttoned her overalls back up and turned back towards the trail. She looked completely fine in her step and pace. I still saw the blood on the ground and unconsciousness took its turn to throw a punch, but I managed to resist it until I stepped in the clearing of the party before collapsing into the grass and earth recently softened by a drizzle of rain. I heard Victor¡¯s voice and the stampede of party goers coming towards me as I felt the dehydration and the sun beading down upon me. I closed my eyes and when I woke up next, I was back at Sinn House tucked into my bed with an IV in my arm.

 Avoiding the Hymn

    Al was there sitting in the armchair that wasn¡¯t stationed in my room before, but I pulled myself up from the warm and sweaty sheets of my bed. He lifted his head from his paper and tossed it aside on his way to my bedside.


    ¡°Hey stay down, you will be fine, but this is the second time this month. You need some rest. Let me go grab your dad.¡± Al said, placing a hand on my chest gently forcing me to the bed. Al walked out the door and down the hall to my fathers room. It was too hot in the bed and as simple as it was I walked from the room to my fathers room with the IV bag in my hand. I had the excuse ready that I just wanted to stretch my legs. I tiptoed down the hall and around all the boards I had mapped before that made a sound when stepped upon. I placed my ear to my father¡¯s door. I heard the sobs of my father and the comforting of Uncle Al.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this Al, I need her again. I can¡¯t raise him by myself, not when every time I am away, he injures himself or doesn¡¯t take care of himself.¡± my father said, choking down tears.


    ¡°It¡¯s not his fault or your¡¯s. The twins should have kept him closer.¡± Al said sympathy in his voice, trailing every word carefully.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t what I¡¯m talking about.¡± My father said in frustration ¡°He is only 6 years old and his mother is in the wind. I wouldn¡¯t even have considered coming back to this place if she hadn¡¯t left. Everything was great, she was happy at home and suddenly. POOF.¡± My father stopped to breathe, finally calming down a bit. ¡°She goes missing in the middle of the day: no cell phone, no purse, no keys, and no suitcase was missing from the house. The police aren¡¯t any help.¡±


    ¡°She has always been strong-willed and I remember the days of highschool when you and her would leave in the middle of the night to do god knows what. I know you miss her and I do too, but it''s a crisis nobody is prepared for and she will come back eventually.¡± Al said. ¡°Now as I have said. He is awake. Let''s go see him before he falls asleep again, it''s getting late.¡±


    ¡°You are right.¡± my father replied as he started his march towards the door. I turned and ran back down the hall and into my bed before the door even opened. I wasn¡¯t as silent as before, so I am sure that they heard me, but it didn¡¯t matter. I knew my mom was gone, I had seen my dad cry about it before, but I wasn¡¯t brave enough to comfort him; I was insecure of the fact that she left us and I cried in my own time away trapping myself in self conscious thoughts. Was it my fault that she left? I was an outcast in school and constantly bullied for it along with my weight. I wasn''t the biggest in my class nor the most awkward, but I¡¯m the one that got the most attention from the bullies because I let them get to me. ¡®Kids will be kids¡¯ I was told by teachers, but that''s all they did when the real trouble started and my parents enrolled me into another school. A week after my last birthday, but a month before the end of that school year is when it happened. I came home from school, my father had grabbed me from school, as he got off early on fridays. She was gone, there was no note and her stuff was still there. A day had gone by with no word, then the day after with nothing still. My father called the police. They spent days looking for clues and gathering information on my mom. I was home alone when they came to their answer. My mom was trying not to be found, the detective tried explaining to my father. I wasn¡¯t supposed to hear it, but the newer houses had drywall so thin that you could hear a pin drop. There was a bitter taste in my mouth when my father broke the news. He tried to explain as plainly as he could, but he kept to the lie that mom was having a trip to the spa. I knew he was lying and I confronted him. I said I knew he was lying and she was gone. I saw the tears of my father for the first time. I finished 1st grade, I know it didn''t seem like it, but I was smarter than I looked at that age. I was no prodigy, but I understood. My father paced carefully around me emotionally speaking, and our once happy weekends were melancholy leading up to my ¡°graduation¡± to the 2nd grade until a letter arrived in the mail to my father. He hesitated opening it for a week. It was the invitation to Sinn House.


    I woke from my dreamless sleep with a knock on my door. Mike cracked it open.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I said groggily, wiping the corners of my eyes and looking at the alarm clock to confirm the time. It was 8:34 am.


    ¡°Dude, there is someone here for you.¡± Mike said with surprise in his voice.


    ¡°Mike, I swear to god if it is your brother with his water gun again. I will break your nose.¡± I said with the annoyance that can only come from being surprised like that 3 times before could bring.


    ¡°No, Atlas. It¡¯s a goth chick.¡± I flung the covers off of me and hastily recovered a pair of pants from the floors. ¡°Shit. God, I hope it¡¯s not her.¡± I murmured to myself. I shot each leg into my jeans, tearing the small hole on the knee into one big enough to fit my foot without the ankle. ¡°Stop staring at me and pick up your stuff.¡± I said as I glanced towards Mike. He stood there in dumbfounded silence for a moment, but the realizing look on his face spoke for him. He rushed to pick up his various bits of garbage and plates that he had neglected to wash. I sprung from my room and to the front door, whatever mess laid on the floor or on his desk would have to stay for the time being. I opened the door to see Layla standing there, looking better than I remembered. Her clothes were a little more modest and the piercings were minimized to flat silver studs. I welcomed her in and the light from the rising sun illuminated the doorway and her figure perfectly.


    ¡°Hey neighbor, I saw your car up front. I didn¡¯t know we lived in the same complex.¡± Layla said with a smile. I was still a little shocked that it was actually her standing in my living room. Mike brushed the crumbs from his shirt and came into the living room with his hand outstretched.


    ¡°I¡¯m Mike, Atlas¡¯s roommate and umm who might you be?¡± he said with a sly smirk on his lips.


    ¡°Layla¡± she said, not bothering to shake his hand. She turned to me after looking around the apartment. If she was disgusted with the place, she made no sign of it.


    ¡°I thought you said you had to feed your dog yesterday.¡± Layla said knowingly that the complex didn¡¯t allow pets of my kind, but Mike answered before I could reply with an excuse.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a dog, that¡¯s why we moved in. Atlas is horribly allergic and I can''t stand them¡± Mike tweeted before seeing the look in my eyes that I had used that as an excuse to leave.


    ¡°I admit I lied, and I''m sorry. I have never been on a date before and I was feeling...¡± Layla cut me off mid sentence with a laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯m joking, I knew you lived here. It¡¯s alright. I have seen you a few times in the office when you were first moving in. My parents own this place, you probably don¡¯t recognize me. Before I dyed my hair, I was super blonde and I work here, but not really where just anyone can see me.¡± I felt a wave of relief wash over me; I was thinking that she had followed me to my apartment and waited until morning to follow up.


    ¡°Well now that you are awake, do you wanna get some coffee with me?¡± She said blatantly. I looked at Mike for confirmation since he had work later that morning.


    ¡°Dude, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll take the bus today.¡± he said reassuringly. I cracked a smile at Layla, and said yes. I grabbed my jacket from the coat hook and followed her out the door. I was entranced by her as we talked about anything while walking down the street to our local coffee shop. Thankfully the shop was empty aside from the few students lugging their backpacks onto their shoulders before dumping the rest of the cup down their throat. It wasn¡¯t the same shop from yesterday; there were many in this town, but they all had a similar look to them. I ordered for myself and for Layla. We took ours to go as the morning rush followed us at short notice.


    We continued on to a local park, sipping our coffee inbetweens jokes and conversation. I caught myself a few times. I was getting a little too comfortable in our conversations. I noticed that I slipped another detail about Sinn House, but before I could scrub away the trail. Layla quickly asked me about it.


    ¡°So are you close with your family?¡± she questioned sympathetically as I slipped the hint that I got a letter from my father last night. I took a deep breath, I knew I couldn¡¯t escape it for much longer as she had been talking about her dad and his trip to the U.K.


    ¡°I was close with my dad. In my early school years I was super close to him, but during summer vacations we went to our family¡¯s estate in Texas. After about 2 years of going every summer, I decided that I had had enough and protested our next trip to the point that it was canceled.¡±


    ¡°That must have been nice. I wish my family got to go on vacations like that, but what we got stuck with was skiing in the winter and swimming in the summer.¡± Layla said. ¡°What kind of stuff did you do there?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really remember a lot of it, but I remember being with family, but when I wasn¡¯t, I guess I was sleeping or reading.¡± Atlas said knowing full well that wasn¡¯t true. The stuff that I said I couldn''t remember was partially true. The days were chopped up and the moments that traumatized me were locked away deep, or at least that was the theory of the therapist. So deep that even my nightmares of the events were hiding from me, but the dread and terror I felt lived on in my waking mind.


    ¡°I get it, so what did the letter say?¡± Layla said, disrupting my thoughts entirely in my numb silence. I shook myself into the present.


    ¡°What.¡± I replied, and she repeated herself.


    ¡°What did it say? The letter?¡± I felt in my pockets recognizing that I had the same pants from yesterday on. I reached into my back pocket and handed the letter to Layla, who opened it and smoothed the wrinkles caused from my haphazard folding of the frail paper. She took a few minutes to read it as I finished my coffee, and stood to throw it away in a nearby bin. I turned back towards the bench and Layla was standing there with a tear on her cheek, She threw her arms around my shoulder and embraced me.


    ¡°I¡¯m so so sorry for your loss.¡± she said. I embraced her back for a moment before we both let go, while both of us blushed, her blushing more than I could have. The rose pink of her cheeks complimented her eyes better than any eyeliner.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, this kind of stuff happens. If I let it bring me down, I¡¯ll never get back up.¡± I said lacking the solemnness of grief.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that. It¡¯s your family. You need to go.¡± Layla declared.


    ¡°I can¡¯t, I don¡¯t have enough cash to fuel my whole way there. I haven¡¯t seen my family in so long.¡±


    ¡°Well I¡¯ll come with you and we could get Mike to come too.¡± Layla said with an expression fitting of someone in need of a good adventure outside of their geographical cage.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Fine, but we need to get a hotel. I will not be in that house. It was decided and the planning took a day to set up and Mike getting time off work was easy considering that he had never taken a personal day. Layla on the other hand, was a bit more difficult. Her parents insisted that I come over and meet them before they said yes to anything. The meeting was a breeze, since they own the apartment complex: they knew we always paid on time, were generally quiet as mice, and had never really had a problem besides the hole that was knocked into the wall by the couch they had struggled even lifting. It took only a day to organize everything to my surprise. I had underestimated Layla and her capabilities. We were ready to leave as soon as possible until the unthinkable happened and much to my dismay, Mike had invited his brother Will to come with us. Although he was somewhat forced by his mother to bring along the younger brother that I had come to dislike, it didn¡¯t matter when he showed up at our apartment late the evening before we were going to leave as Layla and I were packing the car to leave early in the morning. She had the great idea of rather than stopping for the night half way through the trip, that we should drive through the night. She got the idea when I told her that¡¯s what my dad would do, we had two drivers as I wouldn¡¯t trust Mike or Will behind the wheel of my car. Layla and I would take shifts. She took the day and I took the night. We left early in the morning just as the sun came over the mountain peaks of Utah valley. I slept a vast majority of the way there until we stopped to eat.


    Will was claiming that he was so hungry that he could eat a horse, convinced Layla that we needed food and declined the snacks we had carefully selected. He claimed all of them he was allergic to and forced us to stop at a fast food joint for the greasiest food imaginable. I resented Mike for bringing him along, but I could care less. The time came for me to take the wheel. We stopped on a road I was unfamiliar with, but the map app that I used so often assured me that it was the fastest route. 4 or 5 hours passed without incident until I finally saw a memorable sight on the side of the road. A diner and a shoddy hotel mirroring it. The others were fast asleep and I decided that I wasn¡¯t all that hungry. Those delicious meals I had once coveted long ago did seem good, but I wasn''t craving the nostalgia of days long gone. I had a duty to be there for my family, but in some way I knew I was just following Layla¡¯s lead. I had begun to like her, a little more than just friends. If I even dared call it that, nevertheless I declared to myself that I couldn¡¯t ruin it.


    A few more miles down the road, I was clearly awake when we passed the diner once again. It appeared to be the same one, and the hotel across the street was still as ugly and I was sure it was abandoned. In the darkness, the lights of the diner I saw the figures of people, that were obviously not there before, standing in the windows. I brushed it off, I¡¯m tired from the drive and made a bad turn leading me back down the same road. I chugged the rest of my energy drink and cracked the next one without issue. It felt as if my eyes were taped open and I was sure that I didn¡¯t turn when I passed the diner again. The silhouettes of the patrons inside were gone. Well atleast sitting down I thought. Mike was in the front seat with his head bent at an odd angle, but he tried to rest his head on the slack of the seat belt. I shook his leg, hoping he would wake up without stirring Layla or Will from their slumber. He didn¡¯t wake, he had been up all day and I presume the vibrations of the road underneath the car acted as a lullaby.


    I kept on going, this time I resolved that if it was again I would slam on the horn, The weirdness sent shivers up my spine. I felt my hands were covered in a cold sweat as I clutched the wheel until my knuckles were white. I don¡¯t know how long it was til I saw it again. The map app on my phone drained the battery and when I reached for the cable to charge the stupid phone, it was the wrong type. I looked up my slump in my effects to retrieve that cord. There was a man on the road. I swerved to avoid him. I landed in the dry ditch on the side of the road, I felt my head slam into the wheel and I felt the blood on my forehead stream its way down to my lips and chin. The sudden stop and the blow to my head made my brain feel like it was rattling in the cage.


    ¡°Is everyone alright?¡± I said as I placed my hand on the wound. It didn¡¯t stop the flow, but it did stop it from getting in my eyes. There wasn¡¯t a response in the car. I finally turned my head to face my passengers. Mike, Layla, and Will were missing. My heart jumped out of my chest.


    ¡°Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.¡± I muttered to myself, I pushed the door open as best as I could and squeezed myself through the narrow gap that it allowed. I looked all around, there was no man in the road, All of the windows were intact except for mine. My head was pounding from the concussion and my heart in my chest was overcome with fear and adrenaline.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± I knew I couldn''t be dreaming, the pain was all too real. Did I pass out from the pain and they left to get help? I went to the front passenger to get my phone, it had to have something left I thought. The phone was dead beyond dead and the screen wouldn¡¯t light with even a sign of life. My breath got heavier and heavier as the seconds passed. I looked around outside the car, looking for that damn diner that might have been my only hope for help. I tried to relax and I tried to breathe, but I could only take in so much air before I would need to exhale. It wasn¡¯t enough. I got back into the car once more and turned the ignition of my car and it roared to life without fail. The radio that I had only used for its Aux cord capabilities began sputtering static. The station it was on didn¡¯t display. I figured it was broken. I got out of the car and to the trunk of the car to get a jacket from my bag when I heard the radio speak.


    ¡°Hskkrrrr Hello?¡± I heard it spit out. The signal seemed to struggle, but I knew I heard it. I dropped the jacket to the loose gravel and rushed to the open passenger door.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I said curiously, this can¡¯t be real I murmured to myself. A few moments passed with no response, but the static remained consistent, like a thousand screams pressed infinitely together.


    ¡°Oh god¡­ I¡¯m losing it.¡± I said to myself just loud enough that I got a response. The static grew louder and louder.


    ¡°HSKKKRRRR You should have stopped, you have to stop.¡± the radio spoke, too many voices came through the speakers to describe a single one. The static continued, but the voices became clearer with every word.


    ¡°This is the only way.¡±


    ¡°What! What is the only way?!¡± I shouted into the radio.


    ¡°There are too many doors in the house of one.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t making any sense! Who is this?¡± I shouted again, but I think it was only a one way transmission.


    ¡°Please come back, my son.¡± I heard my dad¡¯s voice over the others.


    ¡°Dad?¡± I said, The Synchronization of the voices fell apart and they all repeated one word. Over and over again, I couldn''t tell what they were saying until one spoke above the others as if it was yelling ten times louder than the chorus of voices.


    ¡°Wake!¡± The voices spoke from my very core, shouting so loudly as I fell into myself.


    I woke in the same cold sweat as I had every night, but I remembered this time, the vision so clear that the horror only set in when the sky was darkened by something immense, swarming in the wake of moonlight. The stars began shining brighter than ever before and the ringing of my tinnitus in my ears became too much for me. I clasped my ears tightly and clamped my eyes shut, but at the moment I felt a comforting hand on my shoulder and a warm spread through my chest. I jolted upright, now fully awake I checked my forehead for the cut and for the blood that was on my clothes. None of it was there. There was no pain and the ringing in my ears subsided to an ignorable whisper. The warmth in my body faded as I peered out through the window to look for the others. Layla, Mike, and Will were walking back to the car with food and drinks in hand from the same place that we stopped at before, down to the very same cars waiting in the drive through; they were laughing at a joke one of them had told, Mike took one look at me and rushed to the door concerned etched on his face.


    ¡°Hey, what happened? You are super pale.¡± He said after handing me the medium fries from his bag and a small paper cup. ¡°I hope you aren¡¯t getting car sick.¡± Will chimed in.


    ¡°Atlas we are still ahead of schedule, if you want to stop for an hour or so, we can.¡± Layla gave an optimistic view and her tone was even easier to read. Her voice said concern, but her eyes spoke dread.


    ¡°No, I think I need to be in the front. I¡¯m fine for now.¡± I said as I nursed the plan in my head that would take us down another road than before. I was disoriented, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it seemed a little too real.


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll drive and these two can sit in the back.¡± Layla replied, as tipped her head towards the brotherly duo.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m getting a little cooped up. I¡¯ll drive Layla.¡± I said as I snatched the keys that were hanging from Layla¡¯s pocket. We filed into the car one by one as I started the engine. I didn¡¯t hesitate for a moment as I put the car into gear and sped off down the road, and soon they were asleep from the greasy food and sugar saturated drink. I took the turn down a foreign road, but the app told me it would take us to where we needed to go, give or take a few minutes. It was the dead of night when I saw the diner again. My frustration overpowered my fear as I pulled off the road into the dirt lot. This road wasn¡¯t supposed to pass the diner, at least according to the maps. I turned off the car and left the keys in the ignition, but I locked the door behind me. They didn¡¯t stir as I shut the door as quietly as I could. I made my way into the aged diner¡¯s interior. I took a seat furthest away from the door and picked up the menu. The waitress came by to get my order for coffee and steak. I wasn¡¯t hungry, but the entree did come with a sharper knife than the ones sitting there folded in a fabric napkin.


    There were only two other patrons in there with me, besides the waitress there was a large man with a double chin and egg yolk dried to the corners of his mouth and elderly woman slumped over in the corner mirroring my seat, she was obviously asleep. The waitress came over with the coffee and a few rolls for the steak, which was running behind. I sat for a few minutes by myself, sipping the scorching coffee and picking the bits of the used coffee grounds from my teeth. There wasn¡¯t anything special about this place. I knew I had dreamt it, the dread of returning to the place I had ran away to only to have it take potshots at my worthless childhood. My steak arrived, steaming and burnt edges of fat. I felt my stomach rumble and decided to eat. Those snacks in the car were not cutting it and I really needed a meal. I took a few bites of the well done meat; it was chewy, but surprisingly it wasn¡¯t half bad. I reached the center of the slab when I spotted something underneath the cut of meat. The texture was different from the plate and I dug it out with my fork. A wet note, it was written on a thick cardstock so the writing wasn¡¯t quite faded yet. I unfolded it with the tip of my knife and a single prong of my fork. The writing was skewed and the ink had begun to wash away in the moisture released by the steak.


    He has found the door of many and you will be his key.


    The tether of 9 seek the one over all


    You can¡¯t run from the sun or the dark of the night


    Flee as you may, you are never out of sight


    I read the note, and my hands trembled at the cryptic tone of this message. I looked up and the patrons were gone, and the waitress stood over me looming quietly blocking me from coming out of the booth seat.


    ¡°Can I get the bill? I need to leave.¡± I said as I tucked the note up my sleeve. She made no effort to show that she had acknowledged me. Her eyelids drooped with the heavy bags underneath and the skin on her face was slacked. I tried to get up and she raised an arm to shove me back down to the cracked vinyl seat. I saw her eyes roll into the back of her head, showing the whites of her eyes and the red veins hiding beneath the eyelids. I took the knife from my plate and plunged it into her neck. I expected blood to come squirting from the open wound, but instead I was met with a thick blackish ooze. She reached up and plucked the knife that still hung from her jugular, her body fell to the floor. I watched as she collapsed to the floor, my terror and guilt nailed me in place, but another figure appeared from behind her. It was overwhelming, I remember this one.


    ¡°You ever give that charm to your mom, boy?¡± The all too familiar stranger said. I saw the camo of his pants as I slowly gazed up from the body of the waitress to the chest of the figure. I finally met his eyes. Although I remembered the face quite intensely of the man, the eyes were wrong. Very wrong. My eyes widened in fear, I pushed my back up against the window of the diner. The eyes were black, too dark for the fluorescent lights of the diner that not even a glint of light was reflected. Looking into the induced nausea of peering over a cliff where the bottom was impossible to see. Endless. I was paralyzed, trembling with a cold chill worse than a winter breeze. He reached towards me with one hand followed by his body as if he was lunging at me. ¡°One day you would have understood, but today is just the beginning. Give into eternity and we will write the stories to change the destiny of all to come.¡±  He pierced my eye with the tip of his thumb. I felt the pain and the blood run down my face only to drench my shirt, but I couldn¡¯t stop him. My vision dissolved into darkness; the pain receded, but so did the world around me.

 An Offering from the Shadowless Man

    The horns and cars could be heard in the streets below. It was a regular Monday morning for Layla. She stretches wholly in the bed she had called her castle of slumber for the past month while she stayed in New York City with her boyfriend. She thought of him less as a boyfriend and more of a wad of credit cards during this season. She had been with Will for years, but in the midst of the American holidays she had come to love. He had a reserved spot in the back of her mind. She knew it wasn¡¯t fair on him, but the amount of trouble that he put her through the last time they went through U.S. customs; she felt the need to express the fondness for shopping, especially with money that was only partially hers. Will was a smuggler for rare artifacts and items so strange that even looking at them sent a steady flow of vomit from the mouths of weak-stomached men and women that were unlucky enough to be searching their luggage. She rolled over to see Will was still fast asleep with his arms tightly coiled around the notebook he coveted since before they met.


    She watched the light stream in through the curtains at the far side of their penthouse hotel room. It was luxury at its finest as far as she had come to experience. She rose from the bed, careful not to disturb the man who slept for 12 or more hours without so much as stumbling to the bathroom as a night of drinking with the rest of their crew. Walking to the kitchen wasn¡¯t so much as a chore, but not waking the rest of the guys and her sister, Terra, was a challenging one to say the least. ¡®Of course they are all drunk¡¯ she thought to herself. Stepping lightly around the discarded beer cans and a near record amount of cheap plastic bottles of vodka. It would be a record if they were empty, but as usual they passed out way before even reaching halfway. She poured herself a glass of whatever was in the fridge, she assumed it was cold coffee. Luckily enough it was black tea. The premade junk she normally passed up on in the grocery store. It didn¡¯t matter as everything else was either alcoholic or spoiled beyond safety. She made her way to the private balcony that she was adamant about having for their return. She felt the chill of the morning breeze rush across her skin. She felt at home, even if the real thing was four thousand some odd miles away from him. Sitting at the point of America in Alaska. Layla tightened her robe which she never left her room without.


    ¡°Good morning Layla.¡± a voice called to her from the other side of the balcony. The sweetness in the voice was homely, but the sudden interruption of the breeze startled her.


    ¡°Hey Mike.¡± She replied. She brushed her hair down with fingers as a comb. She knew it was a mess, but something was better than nothing.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°Did I miss the party last night?¡±


    ¡°No¡­ no party last night. They just went out to celebrate and came back completely wasted. I have been taking some new meds since the last time you guys were here.¡± She took a seat next to Mike and cupped her tea with both hands.


    ¡°Do you mind if I ask why?¡± Layla heard the concern and shot it down with reassurance.


    ¡°Nothing bad, I just had some trouble sleeping for a while now. After my last trip with Will, I''ve just been a little paranoid. I know some of the things are illegal, but the thought of getting caught for the smallest thing is¡­ terrifying.¡± Mike reached out to touch Layla¡¯s arm. The touch was so warm and the feeling of her best friend being home safe was comforting. Feeling relieved with just a touch, she sighed and gave a small smirk.


    ¡°I know how you feel, but we have plenty of people willing to pull enough strings to get anyone out of anything. Trust me, we will be fine.¡± Mike looked deep into her eyes and her gaze sunk into his. ¡°I trust you.¡± she says wholeheartedly.


    A few hours passed with what felt like minutes. The coolness of the breeze began to warm itself in the sun and the conversations between the two warmed the hearts of them both. It had only been a month since they were last together, but the stories they told were both chilling and laughable, filling the gap that felt like years away from each other. The crew woke up shortly after noon along with Will. Now dressed in street clothes, he carried a duffle bag with all of the items that would surely make the possible lifetimes in prison worth it.


    ¡°You guys coming? We have a few hours till the drop, but let''s get a head start.¡± Layla placed her empty cup into the hands of Will. He tossed into the sink from across the room, it clattered for a few moments, but ultimately his throw was good for once. Layla was the maid for this place while she wasn¡¯t on the road and what he did some days made that job feel like a labor camp designed for the loyalty of a slave. It was the least she could do after he saved her, but in the fury of a night of drinking by herself. She wished she had taken the fall, at least that had dignity.


    Layla threw on a pair of jeans and a top which was her fathers. She savored the memories tied to the stained and faded shirt, it made her feel safe. Tucking in the edges and slipping on the jacket that Will picked out for her the week before. They took to the street. The rest of the crew stayed behind as many suffered from what both an experienced doctor and an amateur nurse would call minor alcohol poisoning. Will, Mike, and Layla first stopped for food while Terra slipped into the department store. Clothes were always on her mind and when we would sit out of the ¡°hunt¡± in the deep of winter, her cascade of bags would be the first thing we ransacked when we got to Mike and Will¡¯s place. Layla looked forward to this, but she hoped she would be able to go home for the first time in years. They wasted time in each and every way that they could find. From ax throwing in a warehouse long past its use to begging to see the top of the empire state building for the 10th time and Will giving in to it. Terra didn¡¯t find herself close to Layla, but she did find the comfort of having a family member worth it. Terra was older than Layla by about 5 years and knew that Layla was only her half sister after all. Their interests kept their teeth and nails from digging into each other at every available moment, but when they were alone the storm within both calmed substantially. Will and Mike waited on the streets below as both had developed a fear of heights early in their life. Layla and Terra felt the tug to have a conversation, but neither would budge until one apologized.


    They gazed out from the observation deck, the clouds parted hours ago, but still could be seen at the edges of the horizon. Layla turned to Terra. She wasn¡¯t eager to apologize, but knew it was necessary. Before Layla could swallow the lump in her throat, Terra said without turning.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to say anything. I¡¯m the one to blame little sis.¡± Layla was shocked. The lump disappeared, but it was replaced with the lack of words in her mind. The record completely jumped off the track and now only silence fell from her mouth.


    ¡°I know I was in the wrong and to chastise you for wanting to feel safe by being left out was the wrong move. I¡¯m sorry. That trip must have messed with you more than I thought. I looked through your drawers when you were asleep.¡± She finally turned towards Layla and embraced her, hard enough to pop her upper spine. Layla exhaled rapidly as this happened, it always caught her off guard. Terra let go of Layla, allowing her to breathe. Layla raised her eyes to lock with Terra¡¯s. Tears welled up for a second, but were wiped away when Layla went in for another hug. Their height difference was apparent as Layla buried her face below Terra''s sternum. They stood there for a few moments, Terra¡¯s hand running through Layla¡¯s dark chocolate hair.


    ¡°Before we go back down to the guys, I have something to tell you.¡± Layla pulled her face away and gazed up into the gentle blue eyes of her older sister.


    ¡°I¡¯m pregnant.¡± She announced with the widest grin Layla had ever seen. Excitement filled her body and she started jumping in place with Layla. Finally having the courage to speak, Layla asked.


    ¡°Who¡¯s the Father?¡±


    ¡°Mike. We were stuck in Cairo, waiting for our flight. The trip didn¡¯t make sense at the time, but you know how it is with him. If you aren¡¯t paying for the trip, treat it like a vacation and with wine it was a match I couldn''t refuse. I know you like him, but I have known him longer.¡± Layla felt the color leave her face. She couldn¡¯t deny what she said was true. She forced her happiest smile, but inside a pit was forming in the depths of her stomach.


    ¡°I¡¯m so happy for you, have you told him yet?¡± Layla asked.


    ¡°No, not yet. I¡¯m waiting til the spring. This season is always hard on him, he gets depressed far worse than you have ever seen. I have been trying to cheer him up, but this morning is the first time I have seen him laugh in weeks.¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± Layla stopped Terra. ¡°If you are pregnant, why did you go out to celebrate with the guys?¡±


    ¡°I ordered Virgin drinks all night, I claimed that the beer was gonna give me major heartburn, then faked a slur in my voice until I got back to the safe house and passed out.¡± Terra replied with air quotes drawn with her fingers for the words passed out. Terra looked at her well worn watch and a surprised tone shot through her voice.


    ¡°Shit, We have to go. We got thirty minutes until those doors close. The guys must be pissed.¡± Terra seized Layla¡¯s hand and rushed to the elevators. After brushing past a few tourists that arrived shortly before leaving, they both made their way down to the lobby.


    ¡°If you don''t mind, could you keep that our secret for now? I don¡¯t want to scare him.¡± Layla agreed, nodding fiercely, knowing that if she didn¡¯t agree she would more than likely be pummeled like it was back at their small town middle school.


    Mike and Will were enjoying their coffee on the curb when Terra and Layla shot out of the revolving doors. Terra shouted.


    ¡°Hey, get a move on. We are going to be late.¡±


    Will looked at his watch and bounded from his concrete seat. He flung the duffle bag over his shoulder and shot into a sprint with us falling behind slowly. Will was a natural athlete while the rest of us were suited for less demanding tasks, but we still kept the pace as best as we could manage.


    Several Minutes later and many blocks away from where they started, they were nearly out of breath. Layla rested her hands on her legs and tried her best not to pass out. She thought this over and over again, Layla knew she was being dramatic; she still garnered the sympathy of the others. The door she had come to fear was before her once again. Layla sucked down the pungent air around her in the hope of calming her nerves. Will straightened his jacket and slicked back his hair with the sweat of the run. He gave a subtle look to the rest of them, his gesture to follow his lead. They approached the bodyguard standing in the way of the door. The tailored suit made him look bigger than he was, but no doubt was carrying more than just a Kevlar vest underneath. His eyes poured daggers as he asked for the password in a gruff, but well practiced voice.


    ¡°Konec.¡± Will said confidently. The password was different from the last few times that Layla went with Will to the buyers. Will walked past the bodyguard with Mike and Terra following behind. Layla froze for a second, anxiety filled her to the brim, but overcame the urge to run. She stepped up to the door, but the bodyguard stood in her path.


    ¡°Not you.¡± He said as the door closed behind him with a thud.


    ¡°What, Excuse me?¡± She exclaimed, the bodyguard didn¡¯t acknowledge her in the slightest and she got the message. She left out a sigh and sat at the end of the alley on a dented trash can. Defeated for the moment, but she figured it was for the best. ¡®I mean what is a little cold when I don¡¯t have to deal with those guys.¡¯ She thought. She would have passed the time on her phone, but realized shortly after patting her pocket that she left it on the nightstand of the Penthouse. She sat there and waited for something of any interest to take her attention from the minutes she would spend in the dull cold.


    ¡°Excuse me¡­ might you have a light?¡± a voice rose from the shadow of the deep alley. Layla stood from her makeshift chair in a fright. The figure of a man stepped into the light that Layla had previously been sitting at the edge of. While Layla took the time to steady her furiously beating pulse, she stole a look at this man; his clothes were business in appearance, but lacked the blandness of the color palette. He dressed in a burgundy pinstripe suit and a black tie tucked just above the second button of his dress shirt, but most interesting of all was the lack of a shadow trailing behind him.


    ¡°Apologies ma¡¯am, didn¡¯t mean to frighten you especially at this hour.¡± The man spoke in a regal tone resembling a gentleman from old films that she used to love, but that didn¡¯t sway Layla in the slightest.


    ¡°How long have you been standing there? How long have you been watching me?¡± Layla questioned harshly despite the commanding presence of the man.


    ¡°Not long I assure you, I merely step out for a smoke.¡± Layla, confused, although not baffled by the sudden appearance of the well dressed stranger, silenced herself only for a moment to think if she saw the man exit the club and mocked it up to being unobservant in her quickly tiring state, but still puzzled about his shadow, although attributing it to the angle of the light.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Sorry, it has been a longer day than I thought.¡± Layla apologized to the man.


    ¡°Not a problem. I assumed this was the city that never sleeps, but may I ask? Are you from around here?¡± The man asked with a smirk cracking from the side of his lips.


    ¡°No, Just staying in the city for work. My boyfriend is in there.¡± Layla replied with a small gesture towards the door that the bodyguard remained ever vigilant and surprisingly unaffected by the cold. She was cautious of the man and reminded herself of the only warning Will gave her. ¡®This city will swallow people whole if they aren¡¯t careful.¡¯ What was once a smirk turned into a well meant smile before the man lit his cigarette. Layla was confused. `Didn''t he ask for a lighter?¡¯ She thought to herself, she could not see the lighter directly, but saw the flame that it produced as it lit up the darker portions of his clothes; the flickering light reflected off a metal pin of a bird on his shirt collar, but Layla couldn¡¯t identify it in the time it took to light the white stick in his mouth.


    ¡°Here on business then?¡± The stranger asked after a long drag from the cigarette. The smoke curled and danced in the frigid air, completely unbothered by the passing draft.


    ¡°Yeah for now, we are going on vacation for the winter.¡± Layla relinquished this partially against her will due to the excitement she held for the occasion.


    ¡°I see.¡± the man replied. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not in any position to take away such a vacation, but seeing as you are here at this place. Might you be interested in a job, nothing as illegal as what is done here, but it would be all expenses paid.¡± Layla was a bit taken back by this offer, and she replied with respect. She hoped she could decline without hesitation.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡± Layla said as her mind berated her with insults. One after another for her submissive attitude.


    ¡°It¡¯s better than the last person I offered it to, but it is somewhat urgent.¡± He said before taking another puff of his smoldering stick of cancer. Layla wished she could smoke one, even after her promise to Will. Her anxious state, although slight, was visible and only deteriorated from the smell of the tobacco wafting through the stale air of the alley. The breeze was not kind enough to take the wisps away from her nose. Layla glanced at her watch. They were there for nearly an hour.


    ¡°Well in case you do accept. Take my card.¡± He said before taking another step into the light, Layla watched as his shadow failed to emerge in the light, her throat closed in fear as she continued to stare. He passed a silver lettered black card to her, which snapped her out of her trance as she took it with the same submissiveness that lingered in her mind.


    ¡°Remember¡­ limited time offer.¡± He smirked once again as he extinguished the snub of the last ember of the cigarette on the brick wall behind him and haphazardly flicked the butt deeper into the alleyway. As he did so, the door swung open and out walked Will, followed by Terra and Mike. Will had a gash across his cheek, not deep enough to need stitches, but still enough to be a steady drip of blood which soaked his jacket in a wet and dark stain. Layla rushed to his aid. She pulled a napkin she had stashed from fast food joints, it wasn¡¯t a lot, but it was a better use than her year-round allergies. She turned her head back down the alley only to see the man had either disappeared completely or stepped back into the shadows; she believed the latter.


    ¡°What did they do to you?¡± Layla said with a frantic worry in her voice as she dabbed away the blood from his chin and the edge of the cut.


    ¡°I know why those idiots at the penthouse didn¡¯t want to come with us now.¡± Will said through clenched teeth. Mike looked down the alley, evading Layla¡¯s gaze as she looked at Mike, then Terra.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t rare antiques or artifacts. They are fakes with drugs shoved inside. The others must have emptied them out when we were asleep or before they got back.¡± Terra explained slowly. She shifted her eyes to the street.


    ¡°They are probably gone already. I bet they were counting on us getting killed.¡± Will shouted. He brushed Layla''s hands away forcefully and punched the wall with such force that his knuckles began to bleed immediately from the impact on the brick.


    ¡°We are out. No more jobs for us or them, but we now owe four million dollars or we lose our heads to the bastard that did this to my face.'''' Will said calmly, but crudely pointed towards his cheek, nearly touching the open cut. He led the way back to the hotel and in silence they followed for several blocks. His gait through the street gathered the attention of passersby, but the anger that seemed to seep out from his every step made their eyes avoid us. Soon they were back to the penthouse, and Will¡¯s prediction was correct as usual. The others had packed up everything including the contents of the minifridge, which they would undoubtedly be charged for. Trash was littered through the living room and bottles were smashed against the drywall with their shards scattered in every direction. Layla and the others kept their shoes on, tracking the moisture and dirt lodged between the treads of their soles throughout the carpeted floors. Will, unbothered by the mess, nearly broke into a sprint towards the bedroom. Only seconds before Layla heard the screaming tirade of curses from the room. Mike ran to the open door, kicking whatever trash in his path. Layla followed him cautiously and saw Mike holding Will in embrace. Will tears stream down his face, restarting the dried blood. Tears mixed with blood transferred to Mike¡¯s coat and down his backside. Layla peered into the closet where the room safe had been located. The small, but strong steel door of the safe lay on the ground with black shavings peppering the carpet around it. The safe was completely empty. Layla gasped and felt tears of her own began to well in her eyes after


    After an hour of the sobs filling the room, Terra entered the room with a cheery smile on her face. They looked at her, almost hatred filled their eyes. The contrast of emotions in the room and relented to the stronger side, Will and Layla wiped their tears away as Terra pulled a key from her pocket. Layla didn¡¯t understand or recognize the key, nor the reason why this made Terra smile so vibrantly, but Will got the idea and produced his own smile, even wider than Terra¡¯s.


    ¡°I knew something was wrong from their ¡®celebration¡¯ last night.¡± Terra said while gesturing with air quotes. ¡°So when they were sleeping, I stashed everything that was there, in the safe behind the receptionist''s desk. I¡¯m kinda surprised you didn¡¯t see mom¡¯s necklace Layla. It¡¯s been around my neck the entire day.¡± Terra held up the malformed pearl in a sterling cage hung from a thin lace of leather. Layla cracked a smile and a final tear as she rose to hug Terra. It was the last gift they gave to their mom before she passed and they stole it from her jewelry box before running away. It wasn¡¯t valuable in the slightest, but the memory was priceless as it was the first and only vacation outside of their home state. The thing still smelled of salt water and it was the only thing not pawned off by their father, but only because Layla spent an extra day in the house, sorting through the various trinkets that her mother took home from the beach. Will nearly collapsed in tears. He was too cautious of banks and kept all the money he earned in a manila envelope, wrinkled and covered in the doodles of pencil for notes whose use faded by the days. That scare would have surely put Will and Layla on the streets with nothing more than a suitcase full of clothes and shared what was in their pockets.


    ¡°Will, how about we start our vacation early?¡± Mike said as he joined the hug of both Layla and Terra. Will doesn¡¯t normally fall for these things, but relented in the end and joined. The embrace was warm and she could spend hours like this, however the memory of the stranger in the alley pushed its way to the surface. She broke up the group embrace and pulled the card from her jacket only for a second and stuffed it back into the thin pocket.


    ¡°Let''s get some food. I¡¯m starving.¡± Mike chuckled, he patted Will¡¯s shoulder friendly, but firmly.


    ¡°You guys go on ahead, I¡¯m gonna stay back with Layla.¡± Terra said to the guys, who took only a moment before opening the door to the hall and allowing it to close behind them.


    Layla and Terra began the chore of cleaning the glass and trash. After their job was complete, Terra called room service and the bags of garbage were gone within minutes. The attendant had a plastered look of frustration and disbelief in his eyes as they loaded his little cart with a few bags they managed to fill, nevertheless the attendant didn¡¯t raise any concern, but his look reassured them that he knew. They set it down as gently as they could to prevent the glass from clattering inside and preventing any concern with the manager on what had occurred in their room.


    They sat in exhaustion from the day behind them and their hasty clean up. Layla tried her best to get the glass up by hand, but gave in to the idea the cleaner was going to vacuum anyway, regardless of how clean the room looked and decided to just keep her shoes on. The hotel had proved their competence when providing the luxury items; such as slippers, complimentary soap, and the softest towels Layla had even known. Those were all a part of the bounty taken by their now former coworkers, but luckily enough they forgot the remote to the large television bolted to the wall. Terra collapsed on the couch and patted the seat next to her. Layla accepted the invitation as Terra turned on the remote to whatever channel she determined was interesting. Before Layla sat on the couch, she removed her jacket and the card she was given by the stranger fell from the unzippable pocket. She lunged for the card; anxiety taking the wheel to her motor control, but fumbling with her fingers. A long, but thin piece of glass found its way beneath her finger. She yelped from the sudden prick and made her way to the sink of the kitchen, but clumsily knocked over the end table, who saw fit to shake her balance as an act of revenge in the process.


    Layla stuck her bleeding finger under the hot stream of water and hoped the glass wasn¡¯t still in there, wincing as she poked at the wound.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Terra had picked up the card and studied it for a moment. Layla didn¡¯t respond, mostly due to her not hearing the question in full, but knew what Terra had asked. She ignored Terra as she searched for a band-aid after plucking the sliver of glass from her flesh.


    ¡°Who is this from Layla?¡± She asked again, this time trailing Layla with the card wrinkling in her grasp. Finally cornering Layla in the bathroom; Terra held up the card, and demanded her attention as calmly as she could. Layla sighed as she pulled the final flap of the cheap band-aid, it wasn¡¯t the correct band for a cut like this, but she stretched it enough to work.


    ¡°I got it at that place.¡± Layla tried hard to keep her gaze on Terra, but she felt embarrassed for not telling them.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t come in with us. Who gave it to you?¡± Terra felt anger rising in her tone, but it was for a good reason. She has been on this side before and knew it couldn¡¯t be good.


    ¡°Some guy, I didn''t get his name, but he had a pin of a bird on his collar.¡± Layla used the vague description of the pin; it was the only thing that stuck out of his appearance outside a suit she poorly remembered. Terra¡¯s face went blank, but not out of fear or terror; she stopped her line up of questions without hesitation, though the color drained from her cheeks.


    ¡°That guy saved Will from basically being beheaded in there. He gave the idea that we could pay back the money owed.¡± Terra said candidly, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub with Layla.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why he did it, he came out of nowhere and persuaded them to stop, they gave us a chance. They let us go and kept talking with him right up until we reached the door.¡± Terra said with her head in her hands. Layla sat down next to her and rubbed her back.


    ¡°He offered me a job, all expenses paid. Should we take it, I mean if he helped us there. Maybe he has some authority with them.¡± Layla said.


    ¡°Whatever job he has, it¡¯s not worth it. There was something off with him, I can''t put my finger on it, but I got a horrible feeling when he started talking.¡± Terra said, balling up the card and dropping it to the floor.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait on it, but I need to tell Mike or Will. I don¡¯t want to be the person that holds onto an opportunity and leaves it to waste.¡± Layla said as she rose from the uncomfortable brim of the porcelain, snatching up the small ball of paper. Terra watched her throw a ball of paper into the wastebasket before leaving the bathroom. She fought the urge to follow, but instead chose to gaze at her sister who now left through the door of the sanctuary. Layla felt the wrinkled surface of the card in her palm.


    Layla shambled down the hallway towards the roof access. Despite the warnings posted on the door, the lock was disengaged and the alarm was disabled. A little trick that Will performed for a late night picnic which Layla ended early due to the chilling breeze paired with the lack of stars. She stepped out onto the loose flakes of snow. It was serene to gaze on the lights below yet unable to hear the boisterous noises of the streets below. She stared at the clouds overhead and willed them to open their embrace even for a moment. As per usual they ignored her pleas and responded with snow. The cold powder vanished as it touched her skin leaving behind droplets. She tasted the pollution of the city through them when she pursed her lips. Layla had dealt with homesickness before, but then she had Will to hold in her arms as she cried those bitter tears. She had no home left, though she was with friends and family, it wasn¡¯t the same. Layla wanted to hear her mother¡¯s songs once more, and it was her mother¡¯s indecision that took away any chance she had to hear them again. Layla removed the business card that she managed to grab without Terra noticing. The wrinkles were extensive, but the silver letter of the phone number was still readable. She dialed the number without a second thought.


    The ringing of the phone broke the silence of the night as it buzzed intermittently until someone on the other end answered.


    ¡°Hello?¡± The voice began. it was a female voice, which dissipated the worry behind Layla¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Um, hi. My name is Layla. I was given a business card with this number. I don¡¯t really have much to go besides this number.¡± Layla tried her best confident tone, but the words felt wrong coming from her lips. Her anxiety spiked as she waited for the woman to answer.


    ¡°... Yes, I see. This is the office of Dr. Armistead. Our Business hours are 8 am to 6 pm Pacific standard time, please call back during our business hours and we will set up an appointment.¡±


    Layla was relieved that it wasn¡¯t some ¡°casting agent¡± or something worse.


    ¡°I understand, but is it possible I could speak to him, I really need to talk to him.¡± she said.


    ¡°I am sorry, but that won¡¯t be possible until after the weekend as Doctor Charlotte Armistead is at a psychology seminar in New York city.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m actually here in New York, is it possible I could get her cell number, it is really important. I am one of her patients.¡± It was a flat out lie, but it was the best Layla had to throw out.


    ¡°Look, I understand that it is important, but I can¡¯t just give out a Doctor¡¯s personal information, especially my employer.¡± The lady broke the tone and act of professionalism. It was noticeable that she was already annoyed by the call; possibly due to it being after hours or that was all the end of the ¡°programming¡± she needed to say to get rid of late callers.


    ¡°Please, it is an emergency.¡± Layla faked the choke of tears and to her benefit, a great gust of wind flew past her. She hoped it was enough of a sign to expedite the information she needed. The lady let out a sign and Layla heard a notification through her phone. It was a picture sent from a number she didn¡¯t recognize, it was a photo of a number and a name written on a scrap of paper.


    ¡°Thank you so much.¡± Layla sniffled, the cold air working to her benefit.


    ¡°Delete it after you are done, I could lose my job.¡± The lady was irritated, but the notes of sympathy came across as bright as day.


    ¡°I will.¡± Layla replied before hanging up the phone without a goodbye.

 Our Lives Bring Truth

    Layla was a step closer, but not down a path that seemed to scare Terra. Something was obviously amiss and it became clear to Layla, that whatever the job was, it would mean talking to Dr. Armistead. Layla walked back inside of the building and into the penthouse. Will and Mike were back and already devouring the personal pizzas they often coveted above normal takeout.


    ¡°What took you guys so long?¡± Layla asked, as she approached the last pizza box. Her order was written in black marker and it was wrong, but Layla saw no need to complain, nonetheless It was food and warm.


    ¡°Line was long.¡± Will replied through a mouthful of food. Layla cracked a smile, picked up the first piece and joined the others in their ritual. Stuffing their faces as if starved for weeks, in between mouthfuls, they told their jokes and points of interest until they were too full to even think of laughing at another of Mike¡¯s long winded jokes. Layla slept soundly through the night, but Will became restless. The previous day took its toll.


    Layla woke as soon as Will finally maneuvered the sheets and duvet from beneath her. As rude as it was, Layla decided to get dressed and leave before the others woke. Just before she walked out the door, the Balcony door opened. The cold breeze stopped her in her tracks as she turned to face Mike.


    ¡°Morning, you are up early.¡± Mike said. Layla felt herself blushing.


    ¡°Yeah, just going to the coffee shop down the street.¡± Layla said. She shuffled towards the door, hoping to escape before he offered to come with.


    ¡°Oh, Can I come with you?¡± Mike replied. It was too late. No matter what she said from this point on would not deter him, and she would eventually relent.


    ¡°Sure, why not?¡± Layla answered rhetorically, she forced a smile as Mike followed her out.


    They walked in silence to the shop, thankfully it wasn¡¯t so early that they were close, but to their surprise a line had already formed out of the door.


    ¡°The sun isn¡¯t even up, it won¡¯t be for another 2 hours.¡± Layla complained with her arms folded to warm the blood vessels in her hand and fingers.


    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad. Think of it, that warm coffee and the fresh donuts. I bet that is why they are here as early as us.¡± Mike said. It was his best quality to make the best of a bad situation, but in an inconvenient situation it only annoyed Layla. Mike continued his own conversation, which Layla ignored to the best of her ability. Until a question grabbed her attention so fast, it almost made her dizzy.


    ¡°Did you call the number?¡± Mike said, there was no longer a smile on his face when she looked at him.


    ¡°No, what number?¡± Layla replied. She tried her best to reassure him, but he knew all too well when she lied.


    ¡°Terra told me about the card, and she knew you only tossed out the wrapper of the bandage.¡± He said while gesturing towards the hand and the bandage she knew still covered the wound.


    ¡°I did. I did. Alright?¡± She said defensively. She expected the bite of her sister to vicariously flow from his lips, and braced for the onslaught. She should have known better than to expect something that was against his nature.


    ¡°What did he say?¡± Mike said, compassion lining every word like silk thread.


    ¡°Nothing, it was a lady. A receptionist, I think.¡±


    They bought their coffee and Layla recreated the conversation between her and the lady from last night, and showed him the picture of the doctor¡¯s information. His concern was virtually nonexistent; his curiosity and attention was entirely in her conversation. He asked questions back and forth; about the man, the phone call, and things that Layla could only speculate about.


    ¡°Have you called her yet?¡± He finally asked. Layla took a long sip before acknowledging the loose end in her tale.


    ¡°No, not yet.¡± she said.


    ¡°Well why?¡± Mike was getting impatient, he looked as if he would take her phone from her pocket and call the doctor himself. His hobbies were reading and mysteries were his favorite genre. It would have been in her best interest to have kept it secret, but the cat was out of the bag.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go see if I can find her. A phone call seems¡­ invasive almost. I mean I have her name and I can guess where the seminar is being held. I saw many ads for the seminar around the city.¡± Layla said after dumping the rest of the coffee down her throat.


    ¡°Well let¡¯s go.¡± Mike said. The smile had returned to his lips.


    They spent the next hour looking online for the address of the seminar, luckily only one was for this weekend, they took the first taxi they managed to wave down and gave the address to the driver. Soon they were faced with an unassuming building and walked inside. Layla was the first to spot the sign of the seminar and the itinerary of speakers. There was only a single woman handing out the pamphlet. They approached.


    ¡°Well hi there. What¡¯s the name?¡± The woman spoke with a southern accent.


    ¡°Sorry we are looking for Doctor Charlotte Armistead, we heard she might be here.¡± Mike spoke first. He was confident and Layla was not, but still followed his lead.


    ¡°Don¡¯t send out the search party just yet, you both can sign in and go in yourselves.¡± She responded. Her grin was professional and hospitality wasn¡¯t lacking. She handed Mike a pen and pointed to a clipboard at the end of the table. Layla took the pen when he was done, but before she was done the woman spoke again.


    ¡°Now open admission is three hundred dollars, but seeing as you two are together. I¡¯ll cut you a deal, five hundred for the both of you.¡± Her smile didn¡¯t falter in the slightest. Layla looked towards Mike, he kept the facade of a smile as he reached into his back pocket. The woman turned to greet the next guests. Layla saw her chance and snatched two name tags from the carefully sorted box. Mike saw this and stopped as Layla shoved the tags into her jacket.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am I¡¯m sorry, but I wasn¡¯t told how much this would be. This is so embarrassing, we¡¯ll just go.¡± Mike said before putting his wallet away.


    ¡°It¡¯s no problem, honey. We hope we can see you next year.¡± The woman replied as she crossed out both of their names with a marker. Mike took Layla¡¯s hand and led her out of the building.


    ¡°Are you insane?¡± Mike exclaimed through his teeth. Layla looked at him, smirking as she pulled the name tags chosen at random.


    ¡°Listen, I want an answer and we both know you don¡¯t keep that much cash in your wallet.¡± Mike merely stared at her for a moment, and chuckled.


    ¡°You are really taking after Will.¡± Mike said ¡°let¡¯s go around back and find a back door.¡±


    ¡°Lead the way.¡± Layla finished while she passed one of the tags to Mike.


    The two circled around the building until they found what they were looking for, better yet some people were there. Cigarettes in hand and deep in conversation, Layla and Mike blended in with the stolen names pinned to their jackets. After a few minutes the group snuffed the burning stubs against the wet asphalt and retreated indoors. Layla was nervous about their entrance, but luckily only one guy stood at the secondary entrance to the seminar. He nodded as they passed through the threshold. Despite whatever expectations that Layla had for the place, she never imagined the amount of people inside. The place was packed to the brim with people. The stage was empty except for a sign with the same itinerary as the front. Layla searched eagerly for the name tag bearing the doctor''s name until Mike whispered into her ear.


    ¡°Look at the sign, She is up in an hour.¡±


    Layla focused her eyes on the sign, he was right.


    Mike continued, ¡°she probably won''t be out here, let''s check the office spaces.¡±


    Layla took the closest door and began her fervent search for any other signs, now more focused than ever. She was close, she could feel it. Finally she reached the end of the hall, one door remained. Just before her hand touched the knob and heard a conversation from within. It was quiet, but she pressed her ear against the door. The southern woman they first met was in there speaking to another woman, presumably Doctor Armistead.


    ¡°It¡¯s like you said Doctor, you are definitely popular with the young folks. That is the fourth incident today. I just wish the last ones paid the entry fee.¡± The Southern woman said.


    ¡°You can¡¯t charge them extra Debra. If they need help, you would only damn yourself for charging them.¡± The unknown woman replied.


    ¡°Listen here, you may be able to pay your bills with that fancy doctor¡¯s degree, but I can¡¯t. Not with the wages I get here. I may be your friend Charlie, but I still have the number for the ethics committee. You rat on me and I¡¯ll have your medical license within a day.¡± Debra hissed.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry. I will pay you instead. Just let them in, I don¡¯t care about the consequences, but I need to help them.¡± Charlotte said.


    ¡°That¡¯s more like it. I¡¯ll let you know when they come in, just to be nice.¡± Debra said triumphantly.


    Layla saw a shadow from beneath the doorframe, she sprung from her position of eavesdropping and ducked into an empty office down the hall. She listened to the muffled clap of thick heels on the thin carpet. When they reached the tile of the main hallway, Layla rose from her hiding spot and approached the door of Doctor Armistead¡¯s temporary office. She turned the handle and opened the surprisingly light door. The woman sitting behind the desk lifted her head from the stack of notecards and peered at Layla.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Interviews aren¡¯t until after my presentation.¡± Charlotte said dismissively before returning her gaze to the stack of cardstock.


    ¡°Sorry to disturb you,¡± Layla began, ¡°I need to talk to you about this card.¡± Layla drew the wrinkled card from her pocket and tossed it on the desk. Charlotte¡¯s face went pale, the color drained like water.


    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± She said, she backed her chair away as if a bug was on the desk.


    ¡°A man, with a silver pin of a bird on his coat. He said he had a job for me, but as I see it, you know something I don¡¯t.¡± Layla dropped her act of kindness, and it was time for an interrogation.


    Charlotte removed her glasses with trembling hands as carefully placed them in her lap.


    ¡°I do.¡± She put it plainly.


    ¡°Well you know the man then? What job does he have for me? Why do I have to run around and overturn every stone just to get here?¡± Layla rapidly spouted the questions that she prepared on the way.


    ¡°That was my husband¡¯s card, before he passed away 3 years ago. His body was scattered in a pond in east Texas. It wasn¡¯t a business card, it was the only card he had made to contact me. He had Alzheimer¡¯s. Early stages, but he had these episodes where he would lose things,¡± Charlotte let out a long sigh as she brushed a tear from her eyes, ¡°he always remembered something his mother used to say ¡®Even in the dark of the clouds you can always see the silver lining, you only need to look¡¯. The point is that that card was missing from his clothes, well what was left of them.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m sorry for your loss.¡± Layla said, her face softened. The mood of the room shifted completely to somber when Mike walked through the door.


    ¡°There you are honey, you can¡¯t wander off on me like that,¡± He forced a smile and poked Layla¡¯s back, ¡°sorry to disturb you ma¡¯am, can we have a moment?¡± Before Charlotte could answer, Mike pulled Layla out of the door.


    ¡°What the hell do you think you are doing?¡± Layla whispered aggressively.


    ¡°Security saw you take the tags, I had to ditch mine before they saw me. I managed to slip past them, but they are coming. They have a picture of us and they are asking the people in the seminar,¡± Mike said before looking over his shoulder to the end of the hall, ¡°you have to hurry otherwise I¡¯m leaving without you.¡±


    ¡°Fine, two minutes tops.¡± Layla whispered. She walked back in to see a briefcase on the desk and a revolver on the desk. Panic raced through her head.


    ¡°You know as well as I need that life is short and how you live it is your choice.¡± Charlotte said, great streams of tears fell from her eyes, streaking the thick mascara down her cheeks.


    ¡°Hey, no I¡¯m sorry. I just wanted answers. I didn¡¯t mean any harm.¡± Layla raised her hands in defense; Mike walked through the door unphased by the scene, until his gaze hit the gun.


    ¡°Whoa lady, cool down.¡± He said as he copied Layla¡¯s gesture.


    ¡°Sit down, it¡¯s not for you. I tried looking for answers myself, what with the police being useless unless it affected them. Backwater town cops have no right to hold a gun or carry that badge. I found all I could, but I¡¯ve done all I can with the system I grew up on. I know what the job is because my husband got the same call and failed. Take the briefcase or don¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t care less.¡±


    Layla reached for the briefcase, and grabbed it by the handle.


    ¡°Why us?¡± Mike asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be scared of the dark, there are worse things hiding in our God''s light.¡± Charlotte said.


    Charlotte raised the revolver to her chin without wavering and pulled the trigger.


    A clap of thunder rang through the enclosed room amplified tenfold.


    Blood covered the wall behind her chair in an instant.


    Her body and chair collapsed to the floor, tipping the balance.


    As her body lay on the carpet, dark red flowing through her hair made black pool beneath.


    Mike sat in the chair, a look of shock carved so deep that when he finally realized the specks of blood on his face, all he could do was stare. Layla on the other hand, shrieked so loud that she almost didn¡¯t hear the stampede of footsteps coming down the hallway. The adrenaline pumping through her veins finally reached her mind.


    ¡°Mike, we have to go now.¡± Layla exclaimed. She pulled him from his chair, his gaze rested on her, but he looked through her as if she wasn¡¯t there.


    ¡°Mike snap out of it,¡± Layla shouted, ¡°we have to go.¡± Finally their eyes met and Mike grabbed the case from her hand as she pried the window open as far as she could before pushing Mike out. It wasn¡¯t a long fall, but when she landed, Mike had only started to move away. Her arm broke her fall, but the roll she was preparing for didn¡¯t help. She felt the sharp needles of pain forcing their way through her muscle and skin. It was very broken. Mike helped Layla to her feet, she braced her arm. Tears crowded over her sight. She couldn¡¯t hide it from Mike, who broke into a sprint to the nearest shop, she had no choice, but to follow. The pain was unbearable and felt like an eternity in between strides. Mike pushed Layla into the bathroom and locked the dead bolt. She finally cried, letting the tears freely escape. Mike examined her arm and left for a few minutes, she couldn¡¯t bear to move herself so the door remained unlocked until Mike came back with a roll of duct tape, a bottle of vodka and a bottle of pain relievers . He pulled them from the flimsy bag and ripped the packaging apart. He broke the rubber bowl from the plunger and doused the wooden rod with the vodka. Layla examined her own arm and saw the unnatural bend of the bone. Mike removed his belt.


    ¡°Bite down on this and try not to scream. I paid the cashier to take a smoke break,¡± Mike said as he pressed the worn leather into her mouth, ¡°deep breaths now, in¡­ out.¡± Mike grabbed her arm. He was a nurse before Layla met him, so trusting him was the easy part. Mike ramped the pressure of his grip and using the rod of the plunger as a guide, he set the bone back into place. Layla felt the grind of the bone. Her nerves were on fire as she screamed twice as loud as the scream from the office. Her face blushed as red as blood, but only for a few seconds. She fainted. Mike continued his makeshift splint and called Will, who immediately answered.


    ¡°Get the car, We have a problem.¡±


    Layla dreamt of the moment the revolver fired, over and over again, and when she woke her arm still tingled with the pain, but not nearly as vicious. Her ears still rang, she rose from her bed and walked into the living room. Mike, Will, and Terra took the liberty of rummaging through the briefcase, papers were scattered everywhere. Will looked up and hugged Layla, careful not to touch her arm.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you ask me to come with you? This wouldn¡¯t have happened if I was there.¡± Will said, guiding her to an open seat. Layla sat carefully and took a few papers to glance at as she thought of a response to give Will.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m sorry for doubting you, but I don¡¯t think this is much better than what I was thinking,¡± Terra said in earnest, ¡°but listen to this ¡®I arrived at this ancient mansion and met with the groundskeeper over my reason for coming, he was saddened at first, but relented to give me the key to the house. I walked inside its dust laden halls only to be lost in its labyrinthe. There is something unnatural in its construction, but I can¡¯t quite place a finger on it. I will continue my investigation in the morning, but for now I will be staying in my car. The groundskeeper was kind enough to come looking for me around midnight, to lead me out. As I stepped back through the door to the cold chill of Autumn, I couldn¡¯t help, but wonder whose voices followed my steps if the house hadn¡¯t been lived in since the selfish tragedy of drunken stupor.¡¯¡±


    ¡°It was the caretaker for the old man, It was his eldest son. Albert I think. I found it a bit ago. The poor idiot wrapped the car around an old hickory tree.¡± Will said from across the room, Layla noticed the tea he prepared. Will passed the warm mug to Layla, she winced at the movement.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who this guy is, but he was loaded. There are a bunch of preloaded cards hidden in the lining. I checked all of them, and they got about a million split between all of them.¡± Mike said, his eyes never lifted from the crudely stacked papers in his hands. Layla sipped the sickly sweet earthy brew with a creeping trepidation as to the conclusion the others set their minds to. Mike stopped his search on a sheet of paper so weathered that the corners were nothing more than fibrous strands stained with age. Dropping the rest of the papers sent an order across the room, halting everyone''s activities. Terra shifted herself along the couch to peer behind Mike¡¯s shoulder; her eyes flicked from line to line of the letter at a slower pace than Mike, but his reaction to whatever was written was subtle compared to Terra¡¯s. She yelped before covering her mouth, Terra¡¯s excitement was poorly contained. Will swiftly strode towards Mike and seized the paper from his hands, Mike¡¯s expression was catatonic and shocked to his core.


    ¡°Holy shit.¡± Will gently set the paper on the table for all to see. Layla was afraid to even glance at the paper, much less read its contents. Terra with such speed that Layla felt the couch¡¯s failed attempt to tip backwards.


    ¡°Do you know what this means?¡± Terra said, grabbing Mike and shaking him in an exaggerated comedic fashion.


    ¡°We are going to be rich.¡± Will cheered. The temptation of the letter was overwhelming and proved too much for Layla. She grabbed the letter from the coffee table and read it slowly to herself.


    February 1st 1943


    My eldest brother Aleksander,


    It has been a morning brushed with death after a gruesome year in the lines of battle, it is in the spirit of fortunate news that I write you today. As to when you receive this letter is unknown or if my fortune were to turn sour before my return. I have met a man within the field, a civilian at best, that had a particular favor as to your name, our shared name. His face was lashed with scars and burned in years before, and his name eludes me even now, although I was sure that I asked. He claimed to be an associate of yours in your studies, but the details were difficult to hear amongst the boisterous noise of gunfire. He led me away from the frontlines against my will, but I do recall walking alone in many instances. He requested me to write this to you and so I shall.


    He wished to meet you again in person to discuss a business opportunity. It is strange that he knew my name and even to find me on my patrol, in fact I don¡¯t believe I had even been in the field. My mind twists and bends the details of my encounter, perhaps it is the shellshock I had seen so many others afflicted with. In any case, none of these details truly matter aside from the fact that the man pulled a gold bar from his pocket and offered thousands more in return to meet again at the place he met you before. The specifics were kept from prying ears, including my own. My mind is left to wander in these evening hours to the true purpose of this man, but your decisions are your own and I should have trusted them sooner.


    Give my regards to Little Ralph and your wife Eliza, I hope to see you all very soon.


    May dawn shine on your doorstep


    Respectfully, Ulrich Sinnhoffer


    Obviously Layla was missing the need for such excitement and reasoned that the ¡°gold bars¡± mentioned could already be gone. She remained skeptical as to the letter¡¯s authenticity, although strange was the least of her concerns now that her mind floated towards the story told by the late Charlotte Armistead. Whatever this house holds and the danger that so easily slipped past the details of the pages now scattered across the carpeted floor. What killed and possibly tore Charlotte¡¯s husband apart could still be there, lurking in the halls of this place. Layla finally took the stand against the recklessness that would likely ensue.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear that lady Mike,¡± Layla yelled, freezing everyone in the midst of their preemptive celebration, ¡°she killed herself right in front of us and for what? This gold? The cards belonging to a dead man?¡± Layla ripped the letter into rough confetti and tossed it into the air. She continued, ¡°you all ransacked this briefcase of something that is beyond us now that you have a motive and compensation. Who knows how many people that man tried to lure in before us. This is crazy and you know it.¡±


    ¡°Layla, We have all read the papers and now we have each other. This has to be some joke, and you have seen the things rich people have been doing for years for kicks. The way I see it, we have a chance to get everything we want and more. This is probably a publicity stunt or a movie set with hidden cameras. That guy probably just had an accident. I mean all this money would only last for a while, split between all of it.¡± Mike said, doing his best to calm her down. It was little reassurance, but it was interesting to say the least.


    ¡°Tomorrow we will go to the cabin and stay away until we can all agree on this.¡± Will announced softly as he put an arm around Layla¡¯s shoulders and led her to the master bedroom. He laid her on the sheets and draped the duvet over her. Layla¡¯s emotions were beaten and bruised after that long day and it was Will¡¯s only talent when it came to their relationship. Within the turn of the hour Layla was asleep in the warm silk sheets. Will and the others shoved everything of theirs into their bags, and filled the SUV Will bought the previous summer to the brim. The drive would take them nearly a full day on the road without weather conditions, but the off-road capabilities of that car would see them there in one piece.

 Embers in the Moonlight

    The driving made Layla carsick beyond her normal capacity, but she managed to keep her hearty breakfast tied down until the first actual stop for some lunch. Moving around only helped for a few steps, but it was apparent that it was coming and it was approaching fast. Layla charged her way to the nearest trash can, but only reached half way before Layla took the plunge in a bush. Evacuating everything in her system in a few short, but powerful heaves. Terra stoked and patted her back until she was done. Layla wiped the miniscule chunks of obliterated fruit from her chin as all of them walked into the diner. Will sat in the corner booth and prompted everyone to follow as he made himself comfortable on the dirty cushions. Within a few minutes after ordering, their food had arrived in abundance, Although her stomach was now as empty as the diner around them, she went easy on the food, chewing so thoroughly that it was almost a liquid. All of them were quiet in the car and it was no different here until Layla swallowed her fry and spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about last night.¡± She said plainly, she knew it was only to clear the air, but it needed to be said.


    ¡°It was a bad day and we all felt it.¡± Mike said apologetically in between bites of his enormous burger.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t our place to rummage, but after what Mike told us, I couldn¡¯t resist.¡± Will spoke as he waved down the waitress for the bill. Yesterday was a blur in Layla¡¯s mind and it was a blessing. She retrieved the Aspirin from her bag and popped two into her mouth, the sting of her arm was presenting a concern to the trip. If it continued, she would say something. Loading themselves into the car after paying the bill, Will set off again on the highway. Layla soothed her stomach and watched from the passenger window as the others prattled off jokes and nonsense. Slowly Layla¡¯s eyes shut once more and to sleep was the best way to pass the time.


    Layla woke in a snow covered landscape and glanced across the field to the treeline from where she stood, dreams were a delicate thing she reminisced and delighted herself with. The road was calm and free from distractions enough for true sleep to be attainable. Layla always loved her dreams as she controlled them as if she was a god inside her own head. This time was different. Layla normally walked on the beaches of impossible length and flew between mountain tops like she was the wind, but today she was stuck in the place in the most literal sense. Bound to the cross of a scarecrow and forced to watch the field.  In the distance a bright orange glow peeked through the pines, the scarecrow¡¯s cross did everything in its power to resist any movement, but eventually she managed to snap the ropes and fall into the powdery snow. It was cold to the touch and bitter in her mouth like ash and dust. Layla actually felt cold, which she never felt before. She pressed onwards towards the light, the cold breeze sent sharp daggers into her lungs with every breath. Carving a path through the snow and through a jumble of trees, she finally laid her eyes on a massive fire. She warmed herself for a moment before seeing a shadow walk across the light of the vibrant flames, as blurry as it was the shadow was a man. Tall, taller than anyone she had ever seen and when she focused on it, the figure disappeared leaving nothing in its place. Layla stood there in the bonfire¡¯s radius, basking in the glow, she thought to herself that if she was going to be stuck here, she would enjoy the imaginary comfort. It was just a dream and the danger was non-existent. Something drew her eyes to the edges of the fire, a sweater. One of the sleeves was burnt clean off to the shoulder, but the rest seemed fine until she recognized it. The unique and rather ugly image was a sleigh, like a child¡¯s depiction of Santa''s sleigh. Gasped in fright as the rest of the fire transformed, every bit resembled something she remembered from last year. This was the cabin Will took us to every year after we started dating. Framed paintings turned to dust, leaving only the solid oak frames smoldering in the dirt driveway. She looked around frantically for anything resembling people, but the only thing to appear was debris of various things she knew and saw for years. Layla screamed as she heard a voice from right next to her ear that sent shivers and paralysis through her entire body. She felt as if her body was submerged in the frozen waters of Blackstone bay for years before.


    Atlas. Find the boy, find the door, find the.


    The voice and it¡¯s message abruptly halt and faded when Layla is forcefully awoken by Terra who was violently shaking her shoulder


    ¡°Hey sis, Are you okay? It looked like you were having a nightmare. I didn¡¯t think your nightmares were that bad.¡± Terra said. Luckily they were alone in the car. Layla rubbed her eyes from any loose tears and sat up.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± Layla replied groggily, brushing the question aside.


    ¡°We are about a few hours away. Will stopped to get gas and Mike is grabbing some energy drinks for us.¡± Layla glanced outside and saw the moon in the sky, closing in on the horizon. Will and Mike opened their doors and shut them in synchrony.


    ¡°Look who''s awake.¡± Will said playfully. Mike distributed the cans between all of us. Layla didn¡¯t decline the can. She sipped the can¡¯s sweet contents as they drove down the road, the early morning hours had its magic. Layla only saw one car on the road, its headlights lighting up the asphalt for a second as it passed. The music of the radio did little to ease her mind, that dream sent shivers up her spine. The meaning eluded her until the sun rose above the trees and a line of blaring sirens forced Will to pull into the strip of dirt along the sideroad. Disappearing into the distance.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be good, but it¡¯s not our problem.¡± Will said.


    Firefighters and police waited for them when they turned onto the private road. Will stopped the car and walked up to the police officer setting up the road block. Several minutes of arguing pass, and Will forces himself back to the car with a business card in hand.


    ¡°What is going on?¡± Mike asked as soon as the door slammed shut.


    ¡°Gas leak went wrong, every house on this road got torched alone with everyone in them. It happened a few hours ago, but they didn¡¯t get the call until one of the locals saw the smoke.¡±


    ¡°Oh my god.¡± Terra gasped out in shock.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be a gas leak, someone would have called sooner. Especially some of the people I know here, they are graveyard shift people and not to mention all of these cabins have their own propane tanks.¡± Will explained, none of the others were willing to argue. Will hid the car down one of the dirt roads and we waited for every emergency vehicle to leave. We walked down the private road until we reached the cabin. The charred pieces of memories drenched in water, Layla couldn¡¯t help to notice that only the house and its contents were burned.


    Will and Mike fought tears as they tore through the crumbling debris, Layla¡¯s eyes caught on an object at the edge of the property, the bright colors only faded slightly from the muddy water. Layla walked cautiously to the object and using her hand, she brushed the mud and ash from its face. A sweater poorly depicting Santa''s sleigh, she pulled it from the puddle and held it in front of her to examine. The sleeve was burned horribly and nothing was left before the shoulder. She dropped the sweater back to the ground and stood. She remembered the dream as if she was living it over again, she glanced around for terra and sprinted towards her the moment Layla saw her.


    ¡°We have to go now!¡± Layla exclaimed, Will and Mike ran from the crumbling cabin. Through the trees they saw a cop car coming back down the road. They shot into a dead sprint back to the car, avoiding the road through the surrounding forest. Clawing for every breath as the four found their way back to the car, and piled in.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a gas leak, this was Arson.¡± Mike pushed his head into his palms.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill whoever did this.¡± Will¡¯s rage seethed through his teeth.


    Layla understood the pain of losing one¡¯s home, but this was more than she had been through.


    ¡°Hey, let''s go back into town and get a hotel for the night. We can¡¯t do much today.¡± Layla calmly stated, she wanted to tell them. That nightmare was too real for a dream and looking upon the destruction sent shivers across her skin. Will forcefully shifted the SUV into drive and sped down the road like a whirlwind dragging the fallen leaves, uprooting them from a dying slumber. Soon underneath the shallow streetlights and bright sign of a motel; upon further thought  Layla had misspoken, a small place like this could only support the minimum lifestyles. She sat disgusted in their temporary accommodations, wondering if the room was not only clean, but how many people slept peacefully in the room and how many decided against sleep in exchange for a dance in the sheets. Distracted for only a moment, but startled when Mike shoved the keys of the car into Layla¡¯s hand. Terra peered through the window¡¯s wispy curtains to Will waiting on the corner for Mike. They mentioned a bar down the road, something from their youth, comfort was a glass away. Layla laid her back on the bed, her thoughts swirled madly inside her mind. Questions without causation, and likely answers slipping through the gaps of reality she knew and admittedly took for granted. ¡®What if I caused it?¡¯ She thought to herself, of course she knew that was nonsense. It was a matter of circumstance and the strangeness of the last few days had clearly given the nightmare as a result.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Will lead the way to ¡°The Pit¡±, a bar just off the state road. He remembered his first drink there when he turned 18 with the help of his father, it was the one winter he wouldn¡¯t be beaten to a pulp. Though he hadn¡¯t visited apart from the occasional passing during the holidays. Mike was quiet and slow compared to Will, staring at the cracks in the concrete as he placed one foot after another in pursuit of Will. The cold breeze was a godsend with the stale and congested air trapped with them for the journey.


    ¡®Fuck it.¡¯ Will thought as he turned to face Mike.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Will shouted at Mike. if there were people around, Mike had wrangled their attention with the force of whiplash. Mike lifted his eyes from the pavement and stared at Will with a shock akin to spilled milk.


    ¡°Why do you care? You are going to drink and I¡¯m following you because I don¡¯t want to be alone.¡± Mike shrugged past Will and continued down the weathered street.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t mad?¡± Will grabbed at Mike¡¯s jacket, ripping one of the buttons from its threaded anchor, ¡°What the hell is wrong with you. We lost the last thing we have from our parents and you want to play the sad bitch.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you.¡± Mike murmured under his breath, he felt the air become colder as he began to see his breath manifest as a cloud of vapor.


    ¡°Fuck me? Fuck you,¡± Will pushed Mike to the ground with little regard for the sharp gravel he would land on, ¡°I¡¯ve enough of this, one job after another gone south in one way or another. I can handle that and come back smarter.¡± Mike sat without even a quiver in his body; he stared at his brother for a long time, watching his every move only to see that it was as obvious as an open wound. He was hurting, the pain boiling over in a fit of rage, contained only by the line he reserved for his friends and family.


    ¡°I know how you feel.¡± Mike stood and brushed the back of his jeans twice. The bar was only a block away now and the neon shone brightly in the light of the receding dusk.


    ¡°YOU DON¡¯T KNOW HOW I FEEL!¡± Will screamed at the top of his lungs, he charged Mike and tackled him to the concrete, the sharp gravel that had hurt through the denim of his jeans had now penetrated his skin, he felt the burn of dirt and grime in every scrape. Will forced Mike to his back and shoved knee on the top of his chest as Mike fought back, but was powerless to even move Will¡¯s 200 pound frame.


    ¡°He hit me every day since Mom left.¡± Will delivered a punch to Mike¡¯s jawline.


    ¡°He beat me for every mistake I made.¡± Mike felt his nose trickling with blood as it ran down his cheeks and stained the filth sidewalk a dark crimson in the faltering light. He stopped struggling in exchange for trying to breath through the bloody saliva streaming down his throat.


    ¡°He took me away from her and the only time I felt safe was that cabin.¡± Will came down with one final strike before the street light above them finally illuminated them, Mike saw Will casted in light through one good eye unclouded by swelling flesh. Will jumped back from Mike, tears filled his eyes as well as terror for his brother¡¯s wounds. Mike sat up with trepidation, his wounds only looked bad, but in reality Mike had been through worse. Physical pain was only a limit to Will, but to Mike, it was little more than an ache.


    Will fell to his knees before Mike. The water works of his realization sprayed eagerly from his eyes; despite his willingness from hostilities, the aftermath proved too much for his mind to handle. Mike placed a hand on his shoulder and knelt with him.


    ¡°I know what happened, mom told me everything when he passed. I¡¯m here now and¡­ and.¡± Mike¡¯s eyes trembled with his own tears, he struggled to hold them, Will thrusted his arms around Mike¡¯s torso. It was a different feeling, normally it was the other way around, but that was the perk of being younger. He pulled Will to his feet as best as he could without falling over himself, his vision spun for a moment and the daziness settled as he felt Will¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°I think that was our shortest fight yet. Too bad you busted up my face to do it.¡± Mike smiled through his bleeding gums towards the pain was a little much, but with a cold whiskey in his hands he knew he would be alright in time. Will¡¯s anger softened to a flatline as he listened to Mike¡¯s labored breathing. It would take a long time to get back to when they were and he knew that Mike would not live this down easily.


    ¡°I need a drink.¡± Mike said as he took his first step towards the bar, Will was surprised to hear this as he remembered the chip Mike had worked so long to earn.


    ¡°Five years down the drain.¡± Will replied, he steadied Mike as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder.


    ¡°I could tell you down to the hour since my last drink. I couldn¡¯t care less about five years down the drain, I have earned this drink unless you have another way to get rid of the pain.¡±


    ¡°Mike, you always carry around a bottle of aspirin and you want to drink away the pain.¡± Will chuckled aloud at the implications for such a thing for anything other than pain-killers.


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about my face.¡± The seriousness of Mike''s tone silenced Will¡¯s joking personality in its tracks. The drink was for more than just the stinging of the open cuts, swelling he felt rising in his cheeks, and the bruising around his eye; he wanted it because it pulled a memory from the muddy parts of his memory. Mike didn¡¯t want to trade childhoods with Will, but he would have preferred one of any other, including an orphan¡¯s upbringing in the care of a careless system. What Will experienced physically, Mike experienced in the form of mental and emotional. Pills for the sake of fake illness and attention only for grave situations. Half of the time Mike came home from school to an empty house, an empty pantry, and bedding directly on the floor with no bed to speak of. His mother became a streetwalker for the money, drugs, and the occasional talk of being loved by someone too stupid to not notice the rot in her soul.


    Their drinks piled on one after another and soon the tab was little more than a mortgage payment for one of the locals. They joked and used the various attractions of The Pit. a pool table missing the eight ball and a mechanical bull tucked into a back corner for the rare times that freshly adulted women and men came in with a license fresh from the press. Of course Will was the first to try the latter, and to his surprise he succeeded to ride the metal beast for all of ten seconds. It was after midnight that the bartender decided to cut them off and nearly toss out the swinging double doors. Will turned to Mike with an impossibly large grin, it was signal enough for Mike as he lunged in for a hug; as it turns out Mike was no longer the serious drunk he was before, but he now swung like a pendulum between a loving childish canter and sweet tears of lost joy.


    ¡°They probably miss us, Mike. That¡¯s it for tonight.¡± Will took his place as the adult in this activity, although his speech was more than slurred from the bitter taste of Tequila he felt burning away at his stomach lining.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired any*hic*way.¡± Mike began his stumble down the street with Will in tow. At this moment they didn¡¯t have a care in the world, and as for the cabin they spent year after year in, they considered it a lost cause because it was a chance to start again.


    Layla woke in a cold sweat to a loud clattering in the room, she rose from the ruffled sheets and tossed blankets to see the door to the hotel room nearly ripped off of its hinges. The wooden frame was splintered to pieces and past the threshold Layla saw the bright red brake lights of a car. She fell from the bed and nearly ran on all four limbs to get to the door, but managed to rise to her own two feet. When she stepped onto the cold concrete of the cheap motel she froze solid with fear, she felt like her body was shutting down and at the corner of her eye she watched a great shadow grow on the side of the motel and followed its every step to the running car. It was an old model, something her grandfather would have owned in the sixties. Eventually she saw Terra come into view in the arms of a large man dressed in a long and tattered black coat. Her vision blurred for a moment when she stared into his face, but when he looked at her, Layla felt a warmth running down her legs against her will. The man shoved Terra¡¯s unconscious body into the trunk of this car and when he closed it, Layla saw the only thing that mattered: a plate completely unobscured and the name of a state. The car drove into the night as fast as lightning before Layla felt the pull of a mysterious force, it ripped her backwards to the bed, she tried to let out a scream. Layla did hear a scream, but it wasn¡¯t coming from her. She turned her head as best as she could and saw Mike and Will at her bedside, shaking someone awake like their life depended on it. Layla watched as they desperately tried to watch Layla up. She looked as if she was being tormented from the inside out. Layla stared at her body as she was pulled closer and closer to it until eventually they became one. Her body lunged forward and shrieked as loud as humanly possible with such fear that she felt the strain of blood vessels within her neck nearly burst as she relented to cry instead.


    ¡°He took her, the man that burned our cabin down.¡± Layla spoke between the sobs emanating from her fragile frame. Between the tears she looked at Will and Mike who stood there stunned at her revelation; they struggled to comprehend in their inebriated state, but Layla wiped away her tears and took the laptop from Will¡¯s bag. Despite her fear of criminal activities, this was the first thing she would do willingly. She typed the plate into the police database they had the privilege of breaking into a few months ago. Lo and behold, her dream of the car and the plate had a match within it.


    ¡°Get your asses in the car NOW.¡± Layla shouted at the two, shocked at the order they had received.


    ¡°We are going to Texas.¡±

 Hostage to The Shadows

    I awoke with a start, the icy granite digging into my back as it had for who knows how long. The mist of sleep and weary dreams quickly left the focus of my attention. I recognized this place, but only as much as it was like all things I remembered, darkness was unchanging and the fibrous black scarred my retinas. It was a haze all its own, but something was different. Visions began swimming in Atlas¡¯s mind, I could remember the diner and that man.


    ¡°Layla!¡± I shouted blindly into the dark without so much of an echo returning to greet me. She disappeared without a trace, I remembered it so clearly, but the circumstances surrounding those moments were curiously fogged. ¡®Was I even there?¡¯ I thought to myself as I struggled against the chains and shackles latched to my forearms and ankles.


    ¡°You boy.¡± A dried and calloused voice sprung from the darkness. I froze, Ice water shot through my veins and my whole body became as still as the air.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid, I am just as immobilized as you are.¡± Unmistakably this was an older man¡¯s voice accompanied by a rattle of metal against metal that rung through the air.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked quietly. The answer was slow, but eventually it came in the form of a question.


    ¡°Would it make a difference to us? This place is as solid as a fortress and I imagine we will become a part of it soon enough.¡± The man¡¯s voice reeked of a hopeless despair. I was still weary of the man and his voice; it wasn¡¯t the same as the man in the diner, but the memory of his features faded with every passing moment. I had gotten an answer to my question, although it was my own desperation that crawled through the logic of my cage.


    ¡°My name is Atlas.¡± I said as confidently as I could, or at least I imagined it to be. The man scoffed and shifted against the rugged stone and its tentacles.


    ¡°Bullshit.¡± I didn¡¯t expect this, not even remotely.


    ¡°What the fuck do you mean?¡± My patience drew its thinnest line yet, an imaginary line in the sand. I wondered if he would dare cross it.


    ¡°That boy is dead, and he has been at every turn. Every lead I had in finding Atlas with what little information I had to go on. I may be a doctor and an occult expert, but I am not a moron. So you think you can sit there and pretend you are that dead fucking kid¡­¡± the man¡¯s voice was no doubt angry and hateful towards me, but he lost his traction and returned to hopelessness of these shadows.


    ¡°Go ahead. We are trapped in here.¡± He finished.


    After hearing that speech, I laid my head against the stone. I wasn¡¯t comfortable in any sense of the word, but it did give me time to think. ¡®How did I get here?¡¯ and ¡®why am I alive¡¯ swirled endlessly as I brought a flow of tears onto myself. Sleep was out of the question as I fiddled the rustic lock on the cuffs of my shackles. One after the other they popped, Although I had no knowledge of how these worked, it was easy enough to pry them off my wrist. They clattered to the ground where I waited to hear my ¡°cellmate¡± verbally lash at me again. When the air became still again with nothing more than my shaky breathing, I patted against the wall for any sign of a door. I began circling the room in search of the smallest crack in the stonework. The room was entirely solid, until I felt the cold and flaking rust of metal protruding from the wall. I felt intently for the end of the chain, but when I felt the soft give of flesh I knew I had gone too far. I heard his breathing now as clear as ever. The man was asleep and despite his enormous form, he didn¡¯t snore. I knew that being big didn¡¯t always mean they snored in their sleep, but it was the case for his father and Uncle. A dark thought streamed through my mind like a spark of breath taking electricity, he remembered the letter his father sent to him what felt like days ago about the passing of his grandfather that took both Melissa and Al with him. He sprung backwards as that thought also sparked something in the room. An orange light sprung into the room for a second; the light wasn¡¯t enough to look for the door, but it was enough to see the features of the man.


    His eyes were not unlike the waitress from that diner, but there was more. A seeping black ooze came from in between the granite¡¯s microscopic cracks. It formed a sloppy lace of tendrals piercing the skin of the man. He stirred once again as if he was waking from a pleasant dream, the clothes of the man were a semi-formal suit and a long and shiny chain protruded from his vest pocket. The man was certainly old and gray, but the areas around the puncture wound seemed twice as wrinkled. I reached for the chain and snatched it from his pocket before the light suddenly flicked out. It was no more than a handful of moments of light, but still the darkness became untamed once again in my eyes. Retreating to the farthest corner of the cell to examine the object. It was a watch, ancient and rough with tarnish as I ran my finger along every contour for the silver. When I pushed the button to open the watch, I wasn¡¯t met with the glass surface that should have been there instead. It was open and deep. A small flicker of light came from the inside of the watch. I watched in amazement as the watch¡¯s face came to light before me. It was like a tv or a peephole, but my curiosity got the better of me and I poked my fingers through the watch. I felt like I was falling, falling for ages, but soon enough. I was in a place I was sure I had never been. In the place around me, stood great stone walls and a spring in the distance following the path. I heard the flow of water and felt the coolness of the misty spray permeating the air. I had never felt so at peace when I felt my feet moving forward without my permission.


    ¡°Are you coming honey?¡± An unfamiliar voice came from my lips as I heard the stampede of feet patting against the dusted trail. Three small children ranging from 4-8 rushed past me, they shrieked in excitement before jumping in the spring; following the small children was a woman roughly middle aged. Judging from the smile plastered on her face and the glow of happiness in her eyes, she loved the man before her. Again my feet marched to the spring and when I peered over the water, a different face greeted me. It was beyond resemblance at this point, it was obvious that this body was the man in the room. After a few minutes of being trapped in the memory playing with the children and occasionally sneaking a kiss from who I assumed was his wife, It eventually faded to darkness and I was met with the same granite, but now the man was awake once again, and room was lit with the fury of orange flame coming from a large brazier. The man spoke without anger in his voice, but sadness and panic were now in control.


    ¡°Where is it?¡± He said frantically and repeatedly. Despair sought sympathy. It was obvious that the man couldn¡¯t see me as I approached and dropped the watch in his lap. Suddenly he lunged for the watch and cradled it in his hand.


    ¡°Where are you thief?¡± The man said with accusation brimming from his voice.


    ¡°Do you miss them?¡± I said, hoping he would drop his guard and finally speak.


    ¡°I did once, but being a doctor. Nobody cares how you are doing and what you can do for them.¡±


    The room¡¯s light flickered slightly as if a breeze struck for a moment.


    ¡°Listen, something is going on and it is obvious we are stuck.¡± I took a minute to consider my words, he thought it was still dark. I knew he couldn¡¯t see, but I decided not to reveal my advantage. ¡°What is going on?¡±


    The man¡¯s face lost every shred of color as he spoke, it felt like hours as he relayed the information of a man with a silver raven pinned to his collar of a red suit, how he was offered a job in Texas about a mysterious place named Sinn House, and how the house was haunted by a spirit. The first response was a surprise along with the third, but Sinn house being a mysterious place was the biggest shock of all.


    ¡°I know the Mansion. I basically grew up there with my family.¡± The man silenced himself and swiveled his head to survey the room.


    ¡°He is coming, he knows we are awake.¡± Tears flooded his eyes before he tried to push himself as deeply as he could into the corner. His arms wrapped around his knees as his body curled into a fetal position.


    ¡°Who is he? We can take him.¡± I said, but in vain as I heard the stone slithering over the stone. The sound gave me goosebumps, although what followed shattered my perception of reality. Whimpering could be heard from the corner now as my body faced away from it. I stared at the shadows that formed from the dying light of the smokeless fire and from it came the crackling of splintering glass.


    Sleep.


    A soft voice permeated and echoed in my mind, it was the voice of unimaginable timbre and cadence. It was as smooth as a stream of blood against marble. The insight invaded my mind¡¯s eye just as quickly as I succumbed to restful slumber and when I awoke within the dream it was as if I never recalled that place. Forgotten in the smog of lost places.


    ¡°Wake up, breakfast is ready.¡± I heard the rough and congested of Al¡¯s morning voice coming from behind the highly decorated door of my room. Last night was the longest time I had slept in weeks, what with school now a site of abandonment, at least for after the holidays. I rose from the creaking well worn mattress of my teenage years, and dusted the headphones I wasn¡¯t allowed to use during the weekdays, but now I didn¡¯t care and neither did anyone else in this house. What was a grueling walk to the kitchen when I was little, felt like nothing now that I finally grew during the school year. In a few days, I will be fourteen years old and ironically a new year will be just the thing I need. Despite going back to that school for a few more months, most of my friends were older than me by at least a year or more. It wasn¡¯t something I worried about daily, but it was something that concerned me due to the fact they would go to a new school entirely. Leaving me behind for a year. My tired body rose from the cheap silkiness of cotton and to the cool varnished wood of my bedroom floor. The feeling always shook my waking mind although it was ineffective against the personality waking within. Donning a tank top and sweatpants to the kitchen, with an MP3 player in hand blasting the classic rock and metal of my father¡¯s former interest. The hallways ahead were still shrouded in darkness, Uncle Al didn¡¯t care to turn on the light switch at the end of the hallway. Normally this didn¡¯t bother me, but today carried the first chill of winter. East Texas almost never got snow, but the frost was the one thing that made most folks turn on a heater, at least for the early morning. It was this that made my father finally decide to sell the house in Utah and move in, rather than commute for the summer. His career wasn¡¯t anything to scoff at, but when he told me that we would be here full time about two years ago.


    The sickly sweet scent of imitation maple syrup was a shock when I stepped into the kitchen. I gagged at the thought of consuming that on pancakes or waffles. It was one of the only dishes Uncle Al could make with any succession since Melissa was Indisposed with her mother¡¯s growing ailments. He should have offered to go with her, but I remember that night and the shouting match between the two. For normal people this wasn¡¯t an issue, but we are far from normal. Anne was still out there, after all these years, in those woods. Uncle Al stared at his stack of sloppy pancakes. One side had a crispy tan while the other was a white at original batter.


    ¡°Morning Al.¡± I said before serving myself a pair of pancakes for two plates and drenched one serving in syrup. I left without a second glance at Al towards the garden. Anne waited behind the hedge for me, the only reason I knew she was there this morning was a feeling in the back of my head, a twitch of being watched from afar. I saw her smile as I tried desperately not to slip on the frost dew on the grass. My father put down a path of concrete for my grandfather, but I couldn¡¯t be bothered to take it. Her green eyes and pale face stared at me on my approach with a smile clearly plastered on her face.


    ¡°Good morning Atlas.¡± Anne said the moment I reached the inner sanctum of the garden, Grandpa Ralph was already there this morning, wrapped in a heavy coat and gloves along with the worn cane I never saw him without.


    ¡°Morning Anne, how is grandpa doing?¡± I questioned; it really wasn¡¯t a concern for me, this became a daily occurrence that Ralph visited Anne.


    ¡°He is tired, I refuse to let him keep winning.¡± The chess board on the concrete had pieces scattered like a battlefield left only a white king standing in a checkmate. Anne had lost and by the scratch marks made in the frost, she lost every match. Grandpa Ralph rested his forehead on the crook of the cane and quietly snored away.


    ¡°Do you want to play?¡± Anne asked with a begging look in her eyes.


    ¡°Not right now Anne, Grandpa has to eat first.¡± I replied while I gently nudged Ralph¡¯s shoulder with the edge of the plate. He awoke with a start as he gripped his cane like a rifle before his eyes flashed with recognition and he cleared his throat as if to distract us and himself from him forgetting where he was.


    ¡°Atlas, you are here early.¡± The shade of the clouds covered the sun for a moment, but no doubt that the sun had already risen about an hour ago if not longer.


    ¡°No grandpa, I¡¯m on time today, have you taken your medication?¡± I said just as I passed the syrup soaked pancakes to him with a fork I tucked into my pockets. He liked his pancakes as sweet as sin, although it was against his doctor¡¯s orders he still pressured us for at least one meal packed to the brim with sugar. I pulled the small canvas satchel from the ground beside him and took the handful of pills from the side pocket. He swallowed each of them one by one and took a swig from the antique canteen he refused to replace. Rust surely coated every surface on the inside, but he claimed that it made him stronger.


    ¡°Thank you son, I would have forgotten otherwise.¡± Which wasn¡¯t a lie, every day that I wasn¡¯t home in the morning, he forgot them. The state that it induced in the evening after was beyond undesirable and thus I made it my mission to remind him. The degradation of his mind was slow at first, but now if he skipped even a single dose, there was hell to pay.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep?¡± I asked blindly in between the bites of oddly squishy yet firm pancakes. He devoured his like a starving dog and promptly took a finger to the sugary ooze to wipe the plate clean. I wondered about the day he would inevitably choke and quickly shoved the thought down with another bite of breakfast.


    ¡°It was a long night, your dad was up late sweeping the property for the coyotes we heard,¡± Ralph said, patting his belly with satisfaction, ¡°He didn¡¯t find any though, after clearing their den last month. They only use this place as a hunting ground.¡±


    ¡°I kept him safe.¡± Anne burst out with a wide smile. I no longer found her entertaining, but when she didn''t grow up, I pitied her and.


    ¡°Now, we have gabbed long enough for now. Where did we leave off?¡± Ralph said as he placed each piece of the chess board into another pocket of the satchel.


    ¡°It¡¯s been over a month since you taught me anything.¡± I replied with a deep sigh in my chest.


    ¡°You must learn control, even if you cannot see the result, there will always be a pushback.¡± I have been excited for these lessons since I was twelve, but progress was nothing more than a slow fermentation as Ralph tried long ago to explain. He mentioned that it took him nearly 20 years to be able to influence his environment.


    ¡°Your gift has always been in arms reach, like your mother¡¯s.¡± Ralph continued. It may have been close this entire time, but the reason it was so slow was because of the veil. The veil has always been weaker here in the sanctum of the garden, but that didn¡¯t make it easier. The real reason that we couldn¡¯t do it until the strongest time of year for the veil. He described it as a precaution or resistance training, the caution was due to the entity of the house that I deemed The Ragged Man. I had seen him several times since my first encounter in the library, but nothing as terrifying or painful as that. He appeared after a nightmare or when my grandfather was away for his doctor. It was the thing that killed Anne, although we refused to talk to her about it.


    ¡°Atlas!¡± My grandfather exclaimed, ¡°you must focus, not daydream.¡±


    I cleared my mind and focused on the fountain¡¯s water. It did not have the coolness of the morning nor the frost at the edges of the pool. It was immune to the elements for reasons beyond me. I felt the ripple of the water and rush of each molecule, but just as I began to pull a pillar. I imagined that I would be able to do more in this amount of time. Frustration quickly flooded my mind and I released the breath that I didn¡¯t realize that I was holding.


    ¡°This is pointless, we can¡¯t keep doing this. This is crazy that you think I can do this.¡± I almost shouted at the old man.


    ¡°You opened a doorway long ago. You are doing it now even if you don¡¯t see it.¡± We had talked many times about the hidden staircase in the study, but now it felt like an excuse that I was more. There was never a staircase to a forgotten dungeon in the study. Grandpa Ralph showed me the blank wall behind, then to my surprise a shimmer appeared and the stairway formed from it. The moment couldn¡¯t have been farther from the forefront of my mind. In these days of puberty I became a moody teenager and as much as I tried to be reasonable, it was becoming futile.


    ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk.¡± I said without a second notice as I left the sanctum to visit my father. Of course he wasn¡¯t in the house or the tool shed fixing the various things that broke down with age. I retrieved the dirt bike that Grandpa Ralph bought me for my birthday last year, and rode into town. My father was likely not making a trip to the hardware store like he claimed most days, but at the Baptist church down the road. No doubt trying to coax another date from the Groundskeeper. She was about his age if not younger, and no doubt not interested in my recently lovesick father. The cool air would definitely calm my nerves. It was only the weekend after Christmas, but the time approaching to return to school was a relief from my stress. I stopped short of the edge of the property, something glimmered in the distance like shimmering water. I hadn¡¯t noticed this before so I took it upon myself to investigate. The bike lay propped against the flimsy kickstand as I killed the engine. The sound of the abandoned orchard was silent aside from the occasional chirp of a bird in the distance. I approached slowly, drawing back every breath and avoiding every fallen branch as I snuck between the trees. Slowly a pond of standing water came into view, the stagnant water reeked of rotting wood and decomposition. When I approached the water I was awestruck at the sight before me. A column of water rose from the surface of the pond. The water was clear enough to see through the anomaly and the idea struck me. I peered between the trees towards the mansion and saw that the pond lined up nearly perfectly with the back of the garden.


    ¡°I did it¡­ I DID IT¡± I screamed with excitement before hearing a branch crack only a few meters behind me. I swiveled my head towards the sound with an inhuman speed. I felt the pop and crack of my spine warning me with a shiver apart from the cool air.


    ¡°Dad, what are you doing here?¡± My father stood between the trees with his mouth gapping in terror. He took one look at me and simply said.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± It was a question, but the thought of answering it honestly was unimportant. I saw fear flicker in his eyes apart from the dark circles around his eyelids.


    ¡°I came looking for you, I wanted to check on you.¡± Concern was heavy in my chest for his heartbreaking relationship with that foul woman. He approached cautiously and placed a hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯m grateful for the interest, but when I saw your bike collapsed on the side of the road. I had to come see.¡± He said without taking his eyes off of the watery pillar. I was by no means dressed for the morning weather, but when a sudden brush of freezing chill ran down the back of my neck, I was paralyzed by the feeling. Eyes everywhere hidden in every crack of shadow, the water behind me creeped to the soles of my slippers. I suddenly turned to see that my pillar had taken the shape of a small humanoid figure, its hand raised in a gesture of a hello. The breeze whipped past my ears, almost whistling a long and saddened tune. The figure took a step towards Atlas, its body was still connected to the water, but each step it made caused a ripple across the surface.


    ¡°Run boy.¡± Dad had lunged to be in between Atlas and the figure with a large branch in hand and viciously swung at the water. This did nothing to stop the figure in its pursuit. I tried to back away, but ended up slipping in the muddied earth. I tried to focus as best as I could to dispel the figure. I had summoned it more or less, but I caused it. I placed my hand before myself towards the ever-rippling figure. Eventually it came close enough for my father¡¯s makeshift club to make contact. The wood slashed the water, but just as it had with the edge of the water, it did nothing to stop the crawling advance. Droplets of water and small clumps of mud clung to the branch as my father finished every blow against the figure. Eventually it stopped at the edge of the water and stared at my father before slamming its arm into his chest. The force of water clapping against the fabric and my father¡¯s chest was hard enough to sound throughout the trees. He was sent tumbling to the ground as he gasped for air. His clothes were drenched with the foul water. The figure tried to take another step to the solid ground, but as soon as its foot touched it. The water that held its figure fell away from its body. I focused my mind once again and poured my strength into another attempt, but destroying something inevitable connected to me proved harder than creating. It was only a phantom, I felt its despair as it retreated to the center of the pond. I struggled to rise to my feet as I grappled with the sleek mud. As soon as my balance had returned, I went to my father. He had managed to breath, his eyes continued to stare at the figure now tucked into itself.


    ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± He said to me harshly, although fear was there I felt his anger towards the thing. We made our way through the thicket of trees as I stole one last glance behind us. A tall figure in the distance stared at the pool and the creature sunk back into the water.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± It wasn¡¯t a lie, at least not intentionally, I told him as he loaded my dirt bike back into the truck. I knew I couldn¡¯t tell him what I have been doing with Grandpa Ralph. His disdain for this place was understandable, but to add another thing to that ever growing list was my last thought.


    ¡°Well whatever has been going on, it''s creeping me out. I¡¯ll drain the water tomorrow. I don¡¯t want it to ruin the property line, I have a hard time keeping our neighbor¡¯s livestock from eating the hedges.¡± I glanced up at him when a headache flashed behind my eyes, I pulled myself into his truck as we prepared to spend a day in town. We needed things for the new year¡¯s party on Wednesday: Alcohol for the Adults, snacks for all, and an easy dish for the potluck that evening.


    After a few days of uneventful pandering towards distant relatives who decided that they would stay in the guest rooms of Sinn House rather than staying in a hotel only fifteen minutes away. I only interacted with them when I had to, such as carrying their bags to their rooms or watching cousins who ranged from being unable to speak and being able to open the cabinet above the fridge for pre dinner snacks, but when I got away I locked myself in the study with Grandpa. He spent his time reading old books and occasionally attempting to use the typewriter on the corner of his desk. It was more decoration than anything, but it didn¡¯t stop him from asking for a replacement ink ribbon when the fog of old age and alzheimers took control in the evening. The night before the party however was different. His movements seemed youthful as he climbed the ladder attached to the bookcases by a rail. I rushed to secure the ladder as I had seen him fall before and ultimately was not eager to see it again.


    ¡°Thank you son.¡± He acknowledged as he carried a large leatherbound book from the tallest shelf. The book looked heavy enough to crack his oak desk, but in his hands it presented no challenge. The leather was dark and cracked, and the pages sandwiched between were discolored by age to a degree dried and spilt coffee. I wondered what strange magic lay trapped within its pages, but before he even considered opening it, he glanced at my spying eyes resting on the book. He coughed and cleared his throat as a sign I had seen a few times that I wasn¡¯t allowed to see, I turned my back and braced myself for the onslaught of unknown relatives coming to pinch my cheeks and interrogate me for any semblance of entertainment. To my surprise he called me back.


    ¡°Sooner or later you are going to see this, so why not see it when I¡¯m still alive.¡± Ralph said his normal exhaustion of the later hours was nonexistent. I turned to face him as he cracked the book up open to a seemingly random page, I walked around the desk and pulled his chair to force him to sit. Upon the page was a great and sprawling tree depicting many portraits and names along with their assumed birthdates. A family tree was something I was familiar with due to having to do at least one a year for school. It was a useless exercise for me, but the other students in my grade seemed to take great fun from it.


    ¡°This is our family, every year I update the birth and death of each member.¡± He pointed a finger to my portrait, although it was obviously hand drawn, the detail was incredible and I remember what photo the drawing was based on. It was the last family photo my father took with my family keeping me settled on her lap. A tear escaped my eye and I quickly wiped it away.


    ¡°This year we lost two people, although distant and otherwise unimportant to us, it is my job to keep a record of it.¡± Grandpa Ralph took a marker from a drawer and crossed out two faces from a page before my page. I noticed that Mom¡¯s face wasn¡¯t crossed out.


    ¡°What about my mother?¡± I thrust a finger to the early portrait of a face I could never forget.


    ¡°Well. Who told you she was dead?¡± He replied as he returned the marker to its respective place. A memory of red sparked inside my brain as I recalled my father talking to the police in our former living room.


    ¡°Do you dream of her still?¡± The question caught me off guard.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I made a wager against myself that if he went on his spew of nonsense that I would walk to the lake and drown myself, but I did dream of her.


    ¡°Nobody is truly gone when you hold them in your heart. Our dreams are connected to everyone that is a part of us.¡± My heart wept for a second at the touching throat when my hand pressed against the mass of pages in my grasp.


    ¡°I haven''t had a dream in a while, but yes I do.¡± The weight on my chest began to rise to my throat as I choked down a sob. It was a sensitive subject to me; the thought that she left us for another man. The way that the guidance counselor and police officer tried to explain it always threatened to shatter.


    I am here


    I flipped the handful of pages open, the voice inside my head was familiar and it compelled me to do so. When I took a glance at the page, I saw nothing of interest beside a script that was clearly a journal entry with a date long before my birth.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Grandpa Ralph exclaimed while attempting feebly to push me away from the book. Upon closer inspection the journal entry faded from view to something that looked like a confession. Grandpa Ralph tried to force himself between the book and I, but all attempts proved fruitless as I read the only passage that I needed.


    Kill the boy last, take him like the mother.


    I turned my head towards Ralph, his expression was grave as his body began to shift. The creaking of bad joints quickly turned to the shattering of bones and the ripping of skin. I quickly turned to run from the abomination rapidly transfiguring from the body of my grandfather.


    ¡°Come here son.¡± The thing¡¯s voice sounded like the shattering of glass. I desperately tried to place each foot carefully just as I realized what the thing was. I turned to face The Ragged Man.


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared of you.¡± The grotesque beast of a man stood staring at me, my confidence was fading fast. I needed a distraction.


    ¡°I know what you are.¡± I claimed blindly, hoping that the mystery was over between the two. The man cocked his head to one side and to the other before completely turning its head over 180 degrees accompanied by a cascade of shattering vertebrae and sinew.


    ¡°You know¡­ nothing.¡± The man reached to one end of the desk and used every bit of strength to send it crashing into the book case. The splintering of wood and the domino of books falling should have brought my father sprinting, but nobody came.


    The body of the Ragged Man began to flicker and shutter as if it was a broken television.


    ¡°You are an insignificant worm ¡­¡­my feet. Your bloodline is my trial¡­¡­. I will rise from the depths of ¡­¡­ half existence and become one with the ¡­¡­ savor your breath.¡± The lights of the study cracked and shattered leaving only darkness to be seen. Not even the light of the receding dusk shown through the windows.


    I woke from a fitful sleep and grasped the bleeding wounds on each of my hands from the thrashing I apparently did with my sleep. The room was a bitter darkness, all feelings of safety now fled with the fading mystery. My mom, my grandpa, my family and dad have possibly all gone by now, the only hope I had was to open a door, a door stolen away from my reach. I hadn¡¯t realized how many things I had forgotten nor how many things I remembered. I felt my face and touched the stubble of a growing beard. ¡®How old am I? I couldn¡¯t answer that, but I knew I wasn¡¯t even close to fourteen as I remembered, ¡®what happened to my memories?¡¯ The last thing I remembered was the study and that bizarre transformation of my grandfather. ¡®Was that even real?¡¯ Of course It was rhetorical, but the feeling grew. What was being replaced could have been my memories, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the haziness now clouding my thoughts was the remnants of dreams. Escaping through the cracks in my conscious mind. Despite how tired I was I felt around, the older man was gone or moved somewhere else. The shackle that I woke up to before wasn¡¯t replaced, instead a platter of what felt like food sat before me. Suddenly feeling the emptiness of my stomach, I dug each hand into the entree and began shoving the food into my mouth. When I rested to chew between each handful, I felt like my skin was crawling after a few mouthfuls and I stopped my chewing to relax. I thought it was my nerves, but when I sat still I felt the wriggling of little maggots crawling on my exposed skin. I heaved the still squirming contents of my stomach in the corner of the cell. The splatter of it against the granite made every heave harder and longer until the only thing that came forth was the hot acid of bile burning my throat. After taking a second to breath, I stood to escape the mess and stench of vomit. When I was only a few steps away from the disgraceful mess, I tumbled over something metal. The brazier from earlier. I recovered quickly and reduced myself to a crawl the rest of the way. I was miserable, but now I have the tools to escape. I placed my hand against the granite and succumbed to the fogged places within myself.

 All Roads Lead to Sinn

    This was quite possibly the longest time Layla went without speaking to Will. Nearly a full day has passed since they left the motel on a mission to rescue Terra. Although the circumstances were beyond strange and the convenience of police databases, the situation warranted actual worry in the three remaining people of the group. Layla rested her back after being the first shift to drive while Will and Mike sobered up with the burnt coffee of a rest stop. Mike luckily wasn¡¯t drinking, his tolerance for alcohol was minimal at best and being a lightweight certainly saved him from being the one to take them the rest of the way. Will was different in his own way and his tendencies for drinking only led him to conflict and more drinking, but yesterday was the first step he needed to stop. Will glanced towards Mike fiddling away with the contents of the briefcase, and couldn¡¯t help but stare at the bruises now covering a portion of his face. He wanted to apologize more than he wanted to find Terra, maybe that was his issue when it came to responsibility. He always focused on his mistakes rather than care for the things that came his way. Maybe it wasn¡¯t a problem, at least the way Layla saw it, she saw the kid inside that when he broke something that he could or couldn¡¯t fix, that he would move mountains to do so.


    ¡°I got something.¡± Mike said out of the blue, Will kept his eyes on the road, but gestured for him to continue.


    ¡°Apparently the car Layla saw last night belonged to Albert Sinnhoffer, the same guy that crashed the car two years ago while he was drunk driving. We knew this, but according to this the heap was towed back to the house and the title was given to Mark Salotto, the groundskeeper slash son-in-law¡± Mike rustled through the mound of papers and pulled a page out as swiftly as a magician, ¡°but now I see why, he is the last inheritor of the estate and interestingly enough his son Atlas was the last one to go missing on the property. The same night as the car accident.¡±


    ¡°Cut the shit Mike, I know you wanna play detective, but for fuck sake Terra is gone and possible taken by this motherfucker. As soon as we get there, I¡¯m gonna break his jaw and we get Terra back. Understand?¡± Will hardly raised his voice, but the message was clear. Rage was a silent killer and easily accrued.


    The quiet of the trip returned as Layla fluttered wearily between awake and fitful slumber.


    Soon they arrived at a sight to behold. Mike shook Layla¡¯s arm, succeeding to wake her as they approached. The high hedges were a luscious green and the gate of black wrought iron seemed almost polished. Layla leapt from the car to open the gate. The thing was dreadfully dated and looked as if it never needed a lock or electronic opener. The gate creaked open with the horrifying squeal of rusted hinges. As soon as the SUV was through, a shed at the far end of the green grass shot open its door to reveal a rugged man in overalls covered in dirt and a massive pitbull only held back by a rope.


    ¡°Hi, we are here for a job.¡± Layla shouted across the field of grass as soon as both Will and Mike got out of the car. The man dropped the rope and the dog sprang into action. It led a full tail charge towards the three while the man lifted something up to his shoulder. The dog was enough to scare Will and Mike into a sprint back towards the front gate, but Layla was absolutely still until she heard the familiar thunderclap of a firearm; the open field did nothing to lessen the block to her eardrums, it was a much larger caliber. She stood there stunned as he raised the firearm again and aimed directly at her. The dog had nearly reached the guys as they fumbled aimlessly with the gate, when Layla gathered the courage to speak again. Maybe it would save her life.


    ¡°I know about Atlas, Mark!¡± She screamed as loudly as she could. The man dropped his rifle just as the dog reached the gates and leapt at the two who narrowly escaped behind the iron bars. The man let out a sharp whistle and the dog came trotting back.


    ¡°Come on in, I figured one of you would come by again.¡± He said as he turned his back towards the former trespassers. Layla waved the two back to her side, although they were hesitant, nevertheless this proved her determination and neither of the guys would dare stand against it now. They approached the shed with trepidation because one wrong move felt as if it would set off a landmine placed conveniently on their path, but it was a foolish thing to think.


    ¡°So, they''re still sending people out aren¡¯t they?¡± The man poured himself a cup of coffee from the oldest percolator they had ever seen, then a cup for each of them. The squeal of the styrofoam and the scent from the fresh brew filled the small foyer of the garage. The view outside made it look like a shed, but as it turns out it was only a vestibule for the garage hidden by the trees. Will stared at the cars for every one of them carried some degree of collectible vintage and his eyes fell on the one at the end, covered in a dust sheet and several tools.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡± Layla took a small sip from the cup and gulped hard as she swallowed the scalding liquid.


    ¡°You know, the old doctor, twins in matching suede, and a twitchy fellow um¡­ Marcus.¡±


    Layla looked deeply into his eyes and he looked back with the same tiring depression of loss. His face drooped slightly on one side and the wrinkles were becoming more visible the longer she stared.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry we disturbed you, but do you perchance have the car that Al drove still?¡± A grave look settled in his features as he slowly contemplated his answer, but before Layla had a notion of an apology he replied.


    ¡°Yes.¡± The gruff tone settled on the three and as ominous as it was, Will passed his gaze to the dust sheet at the end of the line of cars.


    ¡°Is that it?¡± Against his better instincts, Will pointed a finger across the garage towards the disregarded heap. Mark placed his cup on a toolbox and sighed before beckoning the three to follow. He brushed a few of the tools into a crate and ripped away the sheet in a blinding spray of dust. None of them could resist the urge to cough before the particles of ashen dirt, all except for Mark.


    Before them stood the crumbling and mangled shell of a once beautiful car; once the cloud settled away from view, Layla merely gazed at the contents of their one lead. Pieces strewn, scattered haphazardly within the cab and rust creeping its destructive tendrils around the frame. Underneath the paint and upon the chrome which was now dulled in intensity, the toll was paid and timeworn was the price.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be it.¡± Disbelief rang true in Layla¡¯s voice, but had no meaning to Mike or Will.


    ¡°Sorry girl, this is it,¡± Mark patted the roof of the car before peering inside, ¡°this is what was left after that night. I would¡¯ve buried this car with them. This pile haunts my dreams and since the nearest scrapyard is about four hours away I can¡¯t afford to tow it. So here it sits until they come to tear this place down.¡± Mark¡¯s voice bounced around within the confines of the garage until Mike spoke up.


    ¡°Tear the house down? The place has history and the value of it must be astronomical.¡±


    ¡°This place is a curse.¡± Mark slammed his fist into the side of the car, causing a significant dent. Despite being an older model with the engineering and hardware of actual steel, his fist came away with small red pools forming under the skin, but never broke the surface.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you leave then?¡± Layla said, she placed a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ If I do, he dies like her.¡±


    ¡°Like her?¡± Layla moved her touch to the weathered hands of the man and felt the cold rough calluses cutting into the tender parts of her hands. This was against her nature and she could already hear the argument she would receive from Will, but the hurt behind his voice and the trauma lurking behind his eyes. The dark circles and heavy bags of his features gave him credibility, meanwhile Will and Mike exchanged looks and covered the heap once again with the tarp. Will knew he needed the comfort and predetermined that Layla had found a loophole in his own logic. It was acceptable, but seeing the tears in the older man¡¯s eyes had begun to form and the pressure of sadness formed behind his. Although none of them had any clue what was actually going on inside Mark¡¯s mind, the urge of sympathy was all the more present.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be dark soon,¡± Mark wiped whatever tears escaped and gestured to the stairs leading to the loft, ¡°There is some bedding and cots up there. You can stay the night.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the offer, but we can get a hotel, it''s only two hours to town.¡± Mike pointed out, but the look he received from Mark was enough to make him recede.


    ¡°The roads aren¡¯t safe, especially for you.¡± Mark gathered himself and left the others to their own conversations, but doubled back before leaving the garage. ¡°Don¡¯t go inside the house after dark.¡± Layla shot a glance at Will and Mike before leaving the garage to pull their stuff from the car.


    ¡°This is great, I¡¯ll find the bedding if you set up the cots.¡± Mike said, returning to his cheery state as if this was normal. Will took one glance at the loft and turned to follow Layla. Mike shrugged and went along with his own plan. Once outside, Will caught up to Layla who was busy pulling whatever bags they would need for one night from the SUV.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious, we are not staying here. I don¡¯t know about you, but that guy has to be unstable. Do you really want to be murdered in your sleep?¡± Will slammed the door once Layla was out of the way, which startled her, but did not deter her.


    ¡°That man isn¡¯t a killer and maybe if you saw what I saw, maybe you would take him up on his offer. Whatever is going on, he is trapped. Did you hear what he said there?¡±


    ¡°He is obviously hurt, but that doesn¡¯t make him sane. The gun and the attack dog. Who knows what else he has access to. He looks like he has PTSD, and the only thing that kept us from shooting us was his dead son¡¯s name.¡± Will brushed his hand against his forehead and eyes, which came away with the sweat of the Texas sun, ¡°this doesn¡¯t feel right and you know it as well as I do, but listen to me. What if he is the one who killed the others that came here before.¡±


    Layla knew an argument was coming, but wasn¡¯t prepared for the fear that often came from her. Her once usual questions swirled in her mind like: Is it safe, will we be caught, and are they going to kill us. Every time the worry crackled in her voice, Will would be the one to sway her and keep her level-headed until they were safe, but now that the worry sprung from him Layla was unsure how to handle this.


    ¡°If you want to leave, then just leave. I believe I am safe and Mike will agree with me. I am staying.¡± Will''s face became bright red as he heard those words, he pulled the keys from his pocket and stormed over to the driver¡¯s side. The engine turned over almost immediately and the pop of the gears shifted into drive. Layla watched as the car zoomed through the gates which were still open from their entrance. The dog stormed from its small domain and chased the SUV down the road until they were both out of view. Layla stacked herself with the bags she pulled out and hobbled her way to the garage, Mike emerged from the door and rushed to help Layla.


    ¡°Where is he heading off to?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, he just needs some time to breathe. He will be back in the morning.¡± Mike reassured her.


    After a while, The cots were placed in the corner near the air conditioning unit, an idea orchestrated by Layla. Mark walked inside the garage and noted that they were missing one.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s not ideal, but thank you for staying. It''s not often that I get visitors that understand.¡±


    After placing an unlabeled box on one of the workbenches, he pulled up a chair at the end of the cots.


    ¡°Thanks for letting us stay, I don¡¯t think I could last another minute in that car.¡± Layla settled herself on top of the covers, although they were a little dusty, but were surprisingly comfortable.


    ¡°If you don''t mind me asking, what was your job here before¡­ they passed away?¡± Mike tried skirting around mentioning it, but found it nearly impossible to avoid.


    ¡°Same as what I do now, I became the summer groundskeeper shortly after my wife left. My son and I moved from Utah after spending a few summers here; Although this place was built and owned by my wife¡¯s family, it never felt right to take advantage of the situation. Atlas lived with the family in the mansion, while I stayed in the shack behind the garage.¡± He seemed more interested to share, but Layla imagined that this was only the show for polite company.


    ¡°That sounds lonely, being away from your son and your wife leaving you. I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Layla readjusted herself to be the smallest amount closer to him.


    ¡°It was a lot at first, but after one winter I realized that this place was special and its mysteries were made for Atlas. He was the smartest kid I had ever seen: good grades, athletic, and so kind. That boy was something else, and what he could do felt as if it was just a miracle. Spanning projects for an endless imagination¡­ imagination.¡± Mark trailed off, lost in that one word until Mike verbally vomited the question that surely would have had him shot if he asked earlier, but something was different about his demeanor that became apparent as the seconds passed.


    ¡°Where is your son?¡± Layla felt the color run from her features as she listened to the question, and regretted not leaving with Will.


    ¡°He was taken by the man, I should have listened to him.¡± Caught completely off guard by the answer, Layla expected the surly tone from before, but not sadness. Somehow she knew that this was a touchy subject and now understood her purpose here, but decided not to share. This man had been through enough and likely was under the watch of law enforcement. The pieces came together before her, but it wasn¡¯t ready at least not from a speculative point of view. She suddenly remembered her dream of the burning cabin and the fleeing shadow. Find the boy, find the door, and find what? Missing pieces were always pet peeves, but mysteries were only scattered pieces.


    ¡°What man?¡± She blundered, Layla felt his dead eyes meet hers and the cold shiver of anxiety fluttered in the back of her head.


    ¡°The Ragged Man. A stupid name I know, but it was the thing he described it as for years.¡±


    His hand reached for the back of his pants causing Mike to flinch as well as Layla, but instead of a gun as they expected, it was a flask. Large and scuffed with years of use. He took a large swig and offered the scratched silver container to Mike and Layla. She refused, but Mike obliged with the token and shuttered; nearly spitting out the stuff, Layla saw the watering of his eyes as he finally managed to swallow the stuff.


    ¡°For the years we spent in the house, I had never seen it, but Atlas was a different case. He saw things that made little to no sense. His imagination was wild and unpredictable, but it began to fall into a pattern between creativity and borderline schizophrenic. For a while I tried to make appointments with therapists, school counselors, and once my sister came to diagnose him. All of them failed, some more than others.¡±


    ¡°What did he see?¡± Mike pulled himself closer to the edge of the cot, he could not resist the lure of haunting tales, but caution was tossed aside. Layla did the opposite, she backed herself away from Mark and hoped he didn¡¯t notice.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it; my boy was clearly delusional, but sometimes I can''t help but notice when he began to pull away. Atlas was shy at first when he met his grandfather Ralph, but later on I saw how close they became. The night I finally saw the man, the night my boy was taken away,¡± Mark choked back tears as he slicked his hair back from his forehead, and continued, ¡°the same night I lost the last of my family. There he was, that thing stood in the window of the study and stared at me until¡­ until it disappeared into nothing. I rushed inside and searched for him. The man was gone, along with my son. I left him alone, Albert took everyone out of the blue.¡± Layla could now hear his speech start to slur as his sobs rushed out. He buried his face into his hands and all they felt for him was sympathy, but there had to be a reason. Mike took him by the shoulders and guided him outside. Layla expected the feeling of sadness to reside, but even with him gone the heaviness of the air never lifted. All she could really feel was the gloom of losing her own family members. First her mother and her battle with cancer, now her sister recently taken to god knows where, but now the trail feels cold. The clearly destroyed car, and the house that was not right. She no longer suspected that she was being lured to this place under mysterious circumstances; Layla had been dragged here. She only wished that she fought a little longer, but there was obviously a punishment for running away. Layla stood as Mike walked back inside. He glanced towards the box from before and made his way towards it.


    ¡°He said he brought some MREs, and some reading material.¡± He pulled them from the box and tossed one to Layla, but she wasn¡¯t hungry. Layla worried about Will; if Mark was telling the truth, what was the danger that awaited him?


    Will finished his beer, ones that he packed for their trek and hurled the bottle into the treeline. He had never really left the property, but decided to stay out of view.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Layla.¡± He said to himself, he slid his back down the side of the car and rested against the rims. Mark¡¯s dog followed him to the edge of the property and stayed with Will. After their first encounter, Will figured that the dog would attack him, but as soon as he left the car, the dog sat in the dirt and watched him down the six-pack of beer one by one. The dog eventually drew closer as the sun slowly faded behind the horizon and the sky grew darker. He fiddled with the collar around the dog¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Either I don¡¯t remember your name or we haven¡¯t been introduced.¡± With the last remnant of light, Will managed to read the name engraved into the tag.


    ¡°Colt huh? Good name. I¡¯m Will.¡± The dog licked his hand in response and placed his head on Will¡¯s lap. Will always had a soft spot for dogs, at least small dogs; the larger variety tended to scare him after his experience of a stray when he was barely older than six.


    ¡°I don¡¯t say this that often, but you are a sweetheart.¡± His eyes shifted to the edge of the trees and the pale light cast by the moon.


    ¡°I should probably go, you too Colt.¡± The dog rose to its feet, mirroring Will as he pulled himself up with the assistance of his side mirror. Colt sauntered back towards the house while Will opened the door to the driver¡¯s seat and hopped inside.  The engine took a little coaxing as Will cursed under his breath, finally he stopped his attempt. The car was sentient for that moment as it refused to start. Will instinctively lift his fist to his face as he let out a breathy belch into it. The alcohol sent up in his breath was ripe enough to make his nose burn.


    ¡°Good choice.¡± He opened the door again and stepped away from the car. He remembered a house on the way there and decided to take his chances rather than returning. He placed his keys within their hiding spot inside the driver¡¯s side wheel well and began his walk towards the general direction. The dark was never a fear of his, this made the occasional cloud passing the moon a little less scary. After a few minutes of walking on the dirt path, Although he knew he wasn¡¯t lost the further away he was from the SUV the path became unfamiliar. An hour had passed before Will saw the lights of a nearby farm house. He found it odd that he managed to reach the place without ever seeing the asphalt of the main road, but there he was. His weakening state of exhaustion after such a long day was beginning to show, he reached towards the knocker on the front door and tapped it down three times. He waited and waited for an answer. The lights were on, cars were neatly arranged on the driveway, and the braying of livestock could be heard behind the house.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Will cracked the open and called inside.


    ¡°Is anyone home?¡± He knew this was a bad idea, nevertheless in his faltering judgment he walked inside. Walking through the living room and kitchen for any signs of life. He found none until he went upstairs to the bedrooms, inside a room only a few feet larger than a supply closet sat a bear. Plush and soft, despite the fur being weathered by years of coddling and washes; Will reached down to pick the small thing up, recalling the childhood moments that he would carry one just like this one and in that moment he stopped dead in his track¡­ the bear was warm, nearly twice the temperature of the already chilled house. His blood ran as cold as ice as he searched the corners of the room with his eyes alone, in the back of his mind, he knew he was being watched. He dropped the bear to the floor, it was nearly inaudible except for the clack of the plastic buttons sewed to the face colliding with the hardwood beneath his feet.


    The air of the room shifted from the cool night ahead to a bitter and blistering chill, behind Will was thumping as if something was running down the stairs. He whipped his gaze to the open door to see a shadow receding from view. The flutter of his heart became a spiked pain within his chest, each beat thundered against his chest as if trying to break free. Rather than flee, however, his curiosity only served to thrash violently against the will of his own mind. ¡®Someone was here¡­ oh shit¡¯ Will thought to himself as he stealthily attempted to avoid the creaking floor that had suddenly appeared in every floor board with every stride as he made his way down to the living room. He watched vigilantly for whatever was waiting for him. His breath slowed as he tried to calm himself as he desperately concocted the story that he thought the house was abandoned. He knew this was a lie and assumed that it would automatically be detected, but with the rush of blood in his ears and the quaking in his chest; this was the best excuse that popped into his mind. Shivering feet guided him down the stair gracefully, he thought to just go for the door without even a second thought. He waited and listened for anything else around him even the slightest gust of air would have sent him straight through the window without fear of broken glass or the chance of him getting shot in the back as he escaped. This was Texas after all. When the coast was clear on all counts, he turned the corner to the foyer and amongst the pile of old shoes and boots, he saw something he never expected. The door was open, although his memory was severed on whether he had closed it or not; it didn''t matter, he leapt at the opportunity when he heard movement in the kitchen. The wood was old and the mesh somehow older, breaking it was as simple as newspaper. He braced for the impact, closing his eyes and charged forth with his shoulder and head bowed when suddenly a hard impossible surface appeared at the end of his brutish stride . His body fell to the floor nearly lifeless, a wound of split flesh opened on the cap of his shoulder and the side of his head. Blood trickled through his hair, stained the carpeted entrance. What was once a proud staple piece of the jesting, yet loving home that had once said ¡®Why are you still here?¡¯ now read as ¡®why are you here?¡¯ the pool of dark burgundy covering only one word, but never growing larger.


    Will laid still, unconscious for hours, until he was woken by the shrill screech of silverware on plate. The humming buzzed in his ears loud enough that he felt as if he was certain that others could hear it also. His body was still limp as he slowly became alert about his surroundings. Try as he might, his eyes could only flutter for a moment before being forced to shut once again, the pain of the lights were too much to handle. Will forced himself to open his eyes, he strained for a moment that felt like ages; when he finally saw what he hit. Panic shot through every nerve in his body like a storm shuddered inside his flesh.


    The door that was gone, replaced with drywall and the stained white of decaying dry paint. All evidence that had once had once pointed to freedom had been substituted for an inescapable blank. He pushed himself to his knees before he felt a tug on his shoulder that took the brute of the force. He glanced at it, the soaked blood on his shirt had become dry, but most importantly a hand was there.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Will shouted in fear, pushing himself to the wall. He curled into a ball before taking a look when a voice spoke; he relaxed, but still remained cautious. He squeezed his eyes shut.


    The voice was soft and kind, resembling a mother¡¯s voice, though the words were muffled he took a chance and peeked towards his captor. A woman; old, but no older than his mother. A dress of sown flowers and rays of sunshine captured perfectly in thread and fabric. Handmade to say the least, her lips didn¡¯t move when she spoke.


    ¡°Come to dinner, I made you your favorite.¡± She wore a smile, wrinkles of crow¡¯s feet barely noticeable on her fair skin. Will whimpered as he cowered heavily in his hands.


    ¡°You are safe here.¡± Will was already forming a plan, however he would have to accept it before enacting it.


    ¡°Ok.¡± Will¡¯s normally so confident voice had turned sheepish in her presence. He pushed himself to his feet, although his stance was faltering, he slowly regained the strength to move when the smells of whatever had been made enticed him further. The house was filled with the scent of baked goods, savory meats, and sweet notes of cinnamon or strong nutmeg. She led the way, he peered through the doors past the foyer, furniture so old that even the places that they sat were digging into the hardwood floor. The feeling of imminent doom rested deeply at the back of his mind, every step felt closer to comfort, the sting of air upon his cuts dulled tremendously when he finally stepped into the dining room. A family of six sat before him, many with wounds like his and worse sat with smiles carved deeply into their face, but the eyes. The eyes were filled with darkness, so deep and dark that the light cast from the buzzing fixture seemed just as dark as the shadows. He took his seat and his eyes rested on the banquet before him. He reached for the basket of steaming rolls, the alcohol leaving him starved as it was purged from his system.


    ¡°What do you think you are doing?¡± A large and calloused hand gripped his forearm tightly, the owner of said hand stared deeply into Will¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Grace will be said in this house.¡± The man¡¯s torn voice strained with effort as the words left his lips.


    ¡°That¡¯s right honey.¡± The woman spoke from her end at the head of the table, ¡°Jilly, do you want to say grace?¡± Her gaze turned to the smallest of the family. A little girl no older than eight, holding the bear Will had found upstairs.


    ¡°Yes Momma.¡± She outstretched her hands to the two beside her, prompting everyone to join.


    ¡°Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.¡± The prayer was simple enough, Will was disoriented to say the least as he listened to the prayer he had been so familiar with. ¡®Is this a concussion?¡¯ He thought the eyes of his captors were odd to say the least, but maybe he was seeing things, although he felt safe nothing had persuaded him that this was normal or that the door had just never been there. His thoughts were always cloudy after drinking and maybe this whole evening was just a misunderstanding with himself.  ¡°Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.¡±  The girl paused for a moment after the prayer, but had not said amen. Being as young as she was, maybe she forgot the end. Will recalled seeing something to that extent on social media before where they make something up and get a laugh, but she continued on a new verse.


    ¡°Thy evil that we have come to deserve, hear our prayer Lord. We offer all we have to be forgiven, protect us this night and the day to come. We march for thy glory and we should fight for thy name. Amen.¡± Confusion struck Will as he listened to this new verse, though it wasn¡¯t odd for family¡¯s to make their own traditions and ¡°rituals¡±, the gravity behind the girl¡¯s voice felt heavier than when she began.


    ¡°Amen.¡± The others chanted before the cacophony of cutlery and scarfing of food. Will opened his eyes after a few moments to see that his plate had already been filled to the brim with food and in the portions that he would have served. Mashed potatoes underneath a slice of spice cover brisket with gravy drizzled over top, corn neatly piled separately from the green beans, and candied yams placed on the dish for a roll. Placed in his hand was a roll, cut cleanly and buttered perfectly. His appetite took the wheel, seeing the others so clearly enjoying the food, he thought no harm to the food. He shoveled every bit into his salivating maw and when he needed to breath he filled his mouth with the sweetest glass of iced tea. Will was beyond certain that before there had been just a nasty illusion of fear and drunkenness that when he was asked a question by the mother that he nearly missed it.


    ¡°So what have they been doing in the Sinner¡¯s house up the road?¡± Will cough into his sleeve, secretly wiping the spilled food from his lips. His eyes avoided the faces of the others as he looked towards the head of the table. Her plate was empty aside from a glistening carving knife resting in the remaining juices of the Brisket.


    ¡°Nothing aside from visiting, we will be gone in the morning.¡± It felt like a lie, but he was certain that this was a one night endeavor.


    ¡°Oh well, that¡¯s not so bad. Tell me dear, how did your cabin burn down that made you come so far to see a bitter old man?¡± Will felt the spines of fear creep up his spine.


    ¡°How¡­ how do you know that?¡± Unsure whether to run or to fight. Will pulled his knife deeper into his grasp.


    ¡°Oh we know lots of things. Word spreads fast in the family, like Mike and Layla are alone with no way out. Mark fast asleep with a bottle of whiskey half as old as him and you hide your keys in the wheel well of your car.¡± A smile flickered on her lips just before the lights flicked on and off to back on again. The wounds of the others around him seemed just a little older and the smell of the food was dissipating as a smell of decay pushed its way through.


    ¡°Listen, thanks for the food, but I should be gone.¡±  He forced an awkward smile as he backed out his chair only to be met with a hold as strong and cold as iron hold him in place, in an instant the two men to his side had him trapped in place. From beneath the table cloth were two sets of black holes and smiles for both holding his legs in place.


    ¡°We can¡¯t just let you leave, that wouldn¡¯t be right.¡± The lights flickered again and when they returned, all of those who were sitting before stood with their faces staring directly at Will. All that was left on the table were no longer food, but parts. Parts of what Will didn¡¯t want to know. Bowls of eyes of every color, a femur lay half carved where the brisket was, and the dish of candied yams were not much different besides a whole human finger lay still underneath the syrup still painted with nail polish.


    ¡°Oh fuck, please don¡¯t hurt me.¡± Will pleaded pathetically as he struggled hopelessly against his fleshy restraints.


    ¡°Oh we aren¡¯t going to hurt you, not yet at least, Although I can''t say the same for Him.¡± The girl replied, she pointed her finger towards the mother.


    Where the mother stood sat a shroud of blackness, as deep as the eyes of the others. He stared intently at the mass of darkness and from it came an arm. Just as dark and deep and in its hand was the carving knife.


    ¡°As long as you do what he says, no harm will come to you or your friends.¡± The man that had spoken before dinner, whispered into his ear, which only caused Will to struggle harder than he had ever done before. A figure of a tall thing came from the darkness, it flipped the table out of its way causing every piece of cutlery, dish and body parts across the room with ease. The thing approached slowly as if relishing in the fear obviously emanating from Will. It didn¡¯t speak, it only pushed its head closer to Will¡¯s face. Will didn¡¯t know the question it had asked, but without a doubt he knew the answer.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why we are here, I don¡¯t know who Atlas is or who the others are. What Key? I haven¡¯t been in the house.¡± Will prattled these off as if it was an interrogation, but they were truths in his mind. The thing stared deeper into his eyes. The whole house groaned as if it had let out a sigh of frustration as details of the thing became clear. Tattered clothing and an ever shifting pattern of twisting muscles flexed underneath the things skin. The face was nothing more than writhing tendrils of living shadow, when the details of its appearance seemed to reach a zenith, The thing chuckled a wretched laugh, and thrusted its hands into Will¡¯s eyes. A piercing screech emanated from Will¡¯s lungs as his breath was drawn out from the mind splintering pain thrust upon him. He fought viciously, but was powerless to stop what came next.


    Layla woke from a fitful sleep on the cot inside the garage. Mike was snoring away as he cuddled a spare pillow meant for Will. She was worried about him, but came to the conclusion that he was safe in town drinking his cares away at some bar that would likely throw him out. She glanced at her phone to check the time.


    ¡®No service¡¯ read proudly at the top of her notification bar, but surprisingly the time was only about two am. She figured some music would be able to knock her out. The light chill in the garage forced her to hide inside the sleeping bag. The muskiness was mostly gone now, replaced by her sweat and whatever remained of her perfume. ¡®Just a few more hours then he will be back.¡¯ She thought to herself as she queued her favorite playlist. A few songs passed by with so much as a droop in her eyelids, while finally an old song from her childhood came along. She remembered when Terra and her would sing along like children do. This one had finally begun to do the trick, despite the synth and bad lyrics of 80¡¯s pop, she felt the tug to finally shut her eyes after placing the song on repeat. She woke with a start when her unconscious mind realized that the music was no longer playing. She searched for her phone within the sleeping bag and the floor around her to no avail. Finally she pulled a flashlight from her bag and shined the beam around the garage. Mike was still fast asleep, although now on the cold concrete of the garage beside his cot. She pointed the light towards the entrance to see that the door was wide open. Layla pulled on her shoes, knowing full well that she had bent the arch and crept towards the door. The moon was still high in the sky and the stars were so vibrant. ¡°If nothing else, the view out here is beautiful.¡± She said aloud, though nobody was around, it still felt necessary to say as a way to commemorate it. She stepped out of the garage, and took one look at the house. It was creepy in its own way, but it looked even more dilapidated in the moonlight. From there she made her way to the shack behind the garage, the door was shut tight, but the unmistakable sound of snoring was audible. ¡®Where did you go?¡¯ Layla rubbed her eyes and stretched her back. ¡®It will have to wait until tomorrow¡¯ she took one step towards the garage and heard the song. As faint as it was, she knew it. Layla followed the noise to the back of the house, logically it wouldn¡¯t be here. It was too far from where she heard it, but undeniably it was getting louder as she approached a hedge of what looked like a garden. The leaves were willing and the climbing weeds flourished along the bases of the statues. She turned off the flashlight when she heard a voice from within singing along to the lyrics of Blue Monday by New Order.

 Confessions of a Moonlight Song

    Layla peered around the final corner of the hedge garden, Moonlight streaked through the leaves of a mighty oak that towered over a fountain and in those beams figures faded in and out of the glow. A elderly man, a boy, and a small girl sat diligently as if they were conversing before she arrived, but to her surprise the old man and boy were still talking, although no sound escaped from them. Their clothes and skin carried an intangible ethereal blue glow; Layla watched the three closely when she finally spotted it. Her phone sat in front of the girl who was coloring away on nothing with nothing; as the song continued, the girl was the one that was singing. Her voice was beautiful if not trained, but as Layla became enthralled by the sight the music stopped abruptly. The man and the boy disappeared, leaving the girl behind, who turned to stare at Layla intently.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Layla thought to run, but after the weirdness she had already seen damaged any instinct of danger.


    ¡°I¡¯m Layla.¡± softly she spoke after swallowing the lump in her throat, which was surprisingly dry.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± The girl stopped her scribbling strokes and patted the concrete slab of a bench. A stillness resting in the air that even the insects who were chattering away held a reverence for such an invite.


    ¡°My name is Anne after my mom.¡± she held out a hand to shake, but quickly retracted it with a look of pained embarrassment.


    ¡°Hey it''s alright, I¡¯m not going to hurt you.¡± Layla watched as the look receded from her face, but she took the offered seat as Anne pulled away slightly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about that,¡± a slight frown formed on her lips, ¡°I can¡¯t touch anything.¡±


    Layla was no less confused by this statement, but slowly started to look closely at the features of the girl and noticed that even though she seemed solid enough, the faint details of grass and leaves seemed to show through her. Layla held out her hand in curiosity, Anne was slow to take a chance and opted to decline.


    ¡°Sorry I took your phone, Uncle Mark gets mad at me when I take his, but I haven¡¯t heard that song in so long.¡± Layla offered a small smile despite the uneasiness rising in her stomach.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± she asked, noting that it was obviously a garden, but the tension sitting heavily in the air begged her to reconsider.


    ¡°Grampa had a word for it¡­ It was always just the garden for me. A place for us to be safe. Others came before you, but didn¡¯t stop because they weren¡¯t strong enough to step inside.¡±


    The inner child present within Layla prompted questions, but all seemed complex yet pointless in their intention for the young girl.


    ¡°Why weren¡¯t they strong enough?¡± Layla pushed through her mind to ask. Anne bit her lip and stifled a breath. She seemed deep in thought for a few moments until the slam of a door emanated in the distance.


    ¡°This is the Umbra, a place between places. Only a dream walker can reside in this place, grandpa was the strongest one of our um.¡± Anne struggled with this word, it was unknown in her vocabulary, it was something that hardly received a mention.


    ¡°Bloodline.¡± Layla interjected, the idea was implied for years amongst the books and shows that she loved so much.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Anne¡¯s excitement spread to her features. ¡°Then Atlas came, but then everything began to go wrong. The thing that took him is still here. He was a secret for so long, but then Grampa got sick and¡­ and.¡± Anne wiped invisible tears from her face and snuffled before continuing. ¡°You have to find his journal, I can''t come back for a while.¡±


    ¡°Wait! You can¡¯t go yet. Where is Atlas? What is the thing?¡± Layla regretted wasting so much time, just fumbling over herself, but before Anne could have had a chance to answer a colossal and furious cloud blocked the light of the receding moon. The morning was fast approaching. Layla watched as the image of Anne faded as if she was nothing more than mist and imagination. She ripped the phone from its resting place on the concrete bench and sprinted towards the house as the first drops of rain patted to the ground.


    Not a single thought other than finding the journal and getting the hell out was on her mind. Layla barged into the massive mansion through the back door as the thunder rose into the distance. Not a single lock was present on the heavy wooden door besides the one encased inside the handle. The air had a staleness resting in the kitchen, it left a bitter inkling of taste in her mouth and nostrils as she pushed the unclean furniture aside and the dust now in full assault. Each speck seemed to recognize her as an intruder, but not a single one proved themselves to stop her advance.


    ¡°It''s gotta be in one of the rooms.¡± Layla swung every door in her way, watching every corner as if the shadows hid it away or were ready to grab her. The thought of actually entering the house was a dread ever since she read the papers in the briefcase, and only distilled into a fear when she first laid eyes on the foreboding shell of the house. The hallways twisted and turned as if it was leading her into a trap, although that was not on her mind, it was no doubt evidently becoming a reality. Finally it struck her square in the chest, the light of the corridor gave off nothing more than a gloomy glow waiting for her to turn the corner. She sprinted around every obstacle, down every hallway, and every doorway until she saw the yellowed gloom of an exposed bulb flickering vibrantly. The door sat before her, the breath she finally exhaled lay stiff in the stale air. Cautiously she approached the looming apprehension of that door standing between her and answers, but as soon as her fingers felt the chilled feel of brass, Layla collapsed before claiming the grip of the handle.


    Layla¡¯s head rocked forward with terror as she felt the eyes resting on her as she began to stir in the borrowed cot. Mike shook her arm vigorously while Mark watched the door of the garage with a stifled fury. Her head rattled as if a wild animal thrashed around as a means of escape.


    ¡°Wake up Layla, you have to get up.¡± Mike whispered into her ear, a subtle note of fear lingered on his lips when she heard it. Voices muffled only by the building''s walls and tinted glass around the interior. No, not tinted. It was as if it was night still, but at the peak of midnight without so much as a glint of starlight.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Layla said aloud, Mike rapidly covered her mouth with the palm of his hand. It reeked of sweat and stale dust.


    ¡°Not so loud,¡± Mike spoke as softly as a mouse, as he waved Mark over. Mark lifted his jacket and stuffed his previously unseen revolver into the waistband of grimy sweatpants. The dark stains of something shimmered slightly as he warily approached the bedside. He placed a single finger of his lips before he whispered his response.


    ¡°The moonlight has gone, they are back. We must get to the road, they won¡¯t be able to follow.¡±


    Layla shuffled from the cot as she searched for her phone only to find it missing. Layla rushed to slip on her shoes as she listened to the voices outside. Where she expected anger or something off putting to deter her, all she managed to hear was conversations, ordinary conversation. Some spoke as if to a loved one or seemed to be laughing at a joke, maybe even a snippet of applause further from the edge of her hearing.


    Mike grasped her once more and spun her away from the window.


    ¡°Don¡¯t listen, that''s what they want you to do. You can¡¯t listen to them.¡± He cupped her ears and kissed her forehead. A small warmth filled her chest, but was short lived when the scent of a rusty aroma invaded her senses, though she didn¡¯t react it was clear something was wrong. Just as soon as Layla''s hearing was released, the noises outside were replaced by a chant so deep in layers. Voices once too kind had turned to a guttural mocking chorus, begging them to come join. Layla¡¯s face paled with the horrible realization of their ¡®siren¡¯ song that when Mark opened a hatch hidden away at the back of the shop, she bolted without hesitation behind Mike with Mark trailing behind them. The cold dew resting on the leaves of bushes slapped viscously against her skin while they blindly charged through the surrounding forest, every drop collected on her clothes weighed her down until Layla tripped on an exposed root. The fog swirling in her head subsided for a moment as she gazed ahead towards Mike, who didn¡¯t even turn toward the thump of earth as she collapsed. A vibrant masquerade of blackness rested in the path before them, but only Layla could see it as it swallowed both Mike and Mark before a humanoid figure too tall to be anything else, but a living nightmare walked from it carrying something. She shrieked silently as the breath returned to her lungs. She rose from a crawl to a run as her body took over, but as she turned to run away. Her body stopped as she felt the convulsion of muscle and skin in her side. She gasped as she felt blindly at something protruding from her stomach. The stinging heat of blood gushed from her wound, just as her eyes became blurry with the overwhelming pain, the black mass that had erupted from the wound now pulled out. Left with nothing she turned to see the figure that overshadowed her, although it didn¡¯t speak. Layla knew what he wanted to say as she held her side before once again meeting the dirt.


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    ¡®I¡¯ve been elsewhere lately, strange dreams becoming realer by the day.


    Could you blame me Anne? The Umbra has so much to share beyond these chains.


    We both search for the mantle, but only one can hold the Moribond.


    I¡¯ll see to it, a place for you to rest. Held fast in the gaze of her.


    Bring you not worry, an end is only a boundless crossroad between us and our hallowed rest amongst the dark between the stars.¡¯


    Layla leapt away from the door and fell to the floor clenching her side, the remnants of pain now fleeing her flesh as if it were a passing breeze.


    ¡°My torment is now a memory I am forced to relive every moment I show a path laid into us from birth. Fate has always been left to chance, but here even the gods that came before dare not to tread amongst these grounds of rite. You must free him and reclaim a nameless birthright.¡± Layla¡¯s lips moved, but it was not her voice. Anne spoke from the unseen shadows of her consciousness. Feeling the air press from her chest, Layla sobbed quietly as the voice and her passenger receded from her body. The violation felt more than just the touch of invasion, but as if she was a puppet of her own will under the guise of fear and unknown answers. Layla pulled herself from the crashing waves of anxiety and lumbered to the kitchen she barged into with the only thoughts in her head being one of escaping. The endless hallways before her forced to reconsider. ¡®If they have shown me so much and the secrets they hold against me, what is waiting for me outside this place? If I try to leave, what is stopping me from being killed like Anne.¡¯ Surely this was fear taking a firm stand, but truly it was only instinct protecting her. That vision was real and the pain she felt was only the beginning for her and Mike. The gears finally fell in place.


    ¡°WILL!¡± Layla screamed into the night as she brushed her terror to the side and sprinted through the mansion. When the open door of the kitchen came into view, Mike glanced curiously into the mansion with a small flashlight not daring to cross the threshold.


    ¡°Layla, what are you doing? It''s 4 am. It¡¯s too early to start exploring.¡± Although he stated the obvious, his face lit with concern when the light rested on her face covered in tears and sweat. Layla embraced him wholly and through sobs spoke.


    ¡°We have to find Will. He is in danger. I can¡¯t explain it right now, but we can¡¯t leave.¡± Layla struggled to catch her breath, but managed only a few words before stepping around Mike. Layla pressed onwards around the perimeter of the stone and at last towards the front gate.


    Mark yawned loudly as he pulled a large flashlight from his belt. He shone the bright light at Layla and cried out to her.


    ¡°You can¡¯t leave, It¡¯s not safe!¡± Layla pretended not to hear him, but just as soon as she laid her foot on the stone of the driveway, she fell unconscious. Sleep is now a demand of her body after many restless nights, her body was all the more exhausted than ever. Her eyelids became heavier by the second, on the edge of her vision she glanced upon a figure beyond the gate staring towards her with a menacing intensity.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get her inside. There will be daylight soon enough, this always happens on the first night.¡± Mark tucked his light back into its holster and gestured to Mike to grab her.


    Layla was fast asleep, although Mike was still just as tired as her, he managed to drag her back to the cot. Mark pulled a space heater from one of the many cabinets and powered it on in their direction.


    ¡°So why aren¡¯t the roads safe at night? I never asked before, but this seems a little too far if you are trying to scare us into staying.¡± Mike threw off his jacket and pulled up a chair to Layla¡¯s cot.


    ¡°Too many questions, not enough answers. So just take me on my word boy. That last place you would want to be is in that house at night, but the road is far less simple.¡± Mark mirrored Mike and perched himself on the hood of one of his projects.


    ¡°Lost too many good people to the woods and the road even before I came to stay here with my boy, but the last straw was an older woman that came here roughly 2 or 3 years ago.¡±


    Mark reached for his flask, but groaned as he patted his side; mumbling curses under his breath as he walked to the nearest cabinet and fished a dusty bottle from the cluttered mess.


    ¡°The lady was looking for me, although she had nothing, but insults for the man who found her husband. Torn to shreds in the pond not too far from here.¡± He poured the amber liquid straight down his throat and offered the bottle to Mike. Shaking his head at the offering, Mark continued, ¡°She stayed a few nights, I assumed to process the grief. So I let her be, while I was working late on the last night she stayed. Something odd happened. A vibrant light flashed in the woods behind the garden. Of course I grab my gun and trot over there to investigate. I find her with nothing more than a book. Standing stock still in mid-step.¡±


    ¡°A book?¡±


    ¡°Not important, but as soon I walked into the brush, I heard this hum. Well¡­ not a hum, but like a fine ringing in my ears, then this lady began screaming. I stood there baffled as her body just started shaking as if she was having a umm¡­ a seizure. So I go and comfort her. Keep her from choking on her tongue then suddenly at the edge of the pond further away. I see this thing marching through the brush and trees as if it wasn¡¯t there. This unforgiving blackness, too deep than to be anything, but a complete void. It watched me, no like it was looking through me. My veins turned to ice, but before it could get any closer. It stops right at the property line as if it was a fence. It''s a warning now, but as soon as she woke the next day, she was wrong. Like her brain got all mixed up. Of course I called her a cab to the hospital, but she never made it there as far as I know, but I found her journal.¡±


    ¡°Can I see it?¡± Mike chimed in, Mark pulled it from his back pocket and tossed it over to him.


    ¡°I can¡¯t make heads or tails of it, but you can be sure the answer to something is in there. Like i said I knew one of you would come by again. Trying to piece together the deaths and my missing son, but it ain¡¯t that simple.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you honestly just leave?¡± Mike flicked through the pages, noting the drawings and personal notes written in haste and madness.


    ¡°I can¡¯t, I just can¡¯t bring myself to do it. I know it was the faith of the family, but it soon became my own. When one is lost here, they become part of the house. Some are more notable than others, but they are here just the same.¡± Mark stared intensely at the bottle for a moment before placing it back into its home. ¡°After Atlas was taken, he was still here, just not to be seen by me, but if I left he would be tossed into the weave of the others. I didn¡¯t believe it at first, but then Ralph began to lose himself in his old age and would ask to hear the singing, but the vast record collection in his study was never enough. Christmas eve is when I finally gave in and asked him what he meant. He wanted to be taken into the Parlor. I pushed his wheelchair inside and took a seat beside him. It was nothing for hours, but he was in bliss as if it was just a pleasant memory, but when I went to take him out he said something I would never forget. ¡®Can you not hear them?¡¯ I told him no, then he took my hand and suddenly the house was filled to the brim with people. Old dress and fancy new suits all together singing carols. I ripped my arm away and it stopped. Ralph gave me this look, knowingly feeling the disturbance in myself. ¡®I¡¯m not long for this life, and those two in there won¡¯t be up to the task.¡¯ Ralph slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved a key unlike anything I have ever seen. Ancient and weathered with scratches both old and new. He pushed it into my hands and the people returned, this time watching me. Waiting for something. I turned back toward him and he wasn¡¯t an old man any more. The scars were the same and that ugly button up was unmistakable. Ralph was a young kid again, not much younger than Atlas. He took the key back from me.¡± Mark¡¯s breath quivered as he let out his breath, and merely stared at Layla¡¯s resting form, wondering how she could sleep and be lucky enough to avoid the nightmares that conquered his mind long ago.


    ¡°Then what?¡± Mike was sitting on the edge of his seat, eating up every word of his story.


    ¡°All he said next was this will be yours one day, keep up our home and Atlas will return in one form or another.¡± Mike baffled at such an incredible anecdote, but unconcerned if it was real or not.


    ¡°Where is the key now?¡± Mark glared at him, covering his vulnerable self with an instant and returning to his gruff state.


    ¡°Stay with your girlfriend, I have work to do.¡± Without even a second notice, Mark slammed the door behind himself just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Will mumbled to himself as he opened the journal up once again. Mark was right when he said that he couldn¡¯t figure it out, but the longer Mike studied the images it seemed to click, but was immediately lost again as soon as he turned a page. Layla stirred in her sleeping bag.


    ¡°You are right, it''s been a long night. I¡¯m tired too. He pecked her forehead gently, thanking her exhaustion that she wouldn¡¯t remember it. Mike laid back in his cot, wondering if Will was alright like he thought, second guessing was becoming a habit. One he knew he would regret.

 Shades of the Umbra

    Sweat dropped viscously from my forehead and plummeted to the floor below. The noise was infuriating against the stone in the otherwise vacant space. Time had slipped by unnoticed as I carved away into the impenetrable wall before me. Fury pumped through my veins as my progress dwindled with the pain of broken nails and blood seeping from the wounds.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± I screamed into the darkness and echoed back in nearly an instant. My body collapsed against the floor. Each time my fingertips even touched that stone sent sparks of agony throughout my body. Tears welled behind my own eyes, I fought to keep them there, but failed. Now that I was awake, every moment felt longer when I had nothing, but darkness clouding my vision. Now sobbing in an empty room I felt helpless, sobbing to myself pitifully as if my captor would feel the mercy I pleaded for. Hope was fleeting as well as the cold air. The floor began to feel warm as well as the air that once stung my lungs. Death, however dreary, was now a welcome guest. I shut my eyes and held the flow of tears as my savior came, but as the cell began to warm, images showed themselves flicking rapidly across my eyelids. My final moments were as sure as the blood dried against my skin. Suddenly a noise, no a light appeared into the room. My senses remained foggy and hazed, combined in desperation for interactions. I fought against my own judgment to open my eyes, when finally I gave into it. The room was still dark, almost darker than it was before. In the distance was a single glimmer, on the far side of the room was a single speck of light. Not between the cracks, nor on the stone. It was past the stone. I rose to my feet, strength fleeing as much as the stinging cuts now closed by brittle shells.


    ¡°Taunting me now?¡± I seethed through my teeth. The tendrils of the shadows swirling around my  begging me to stay, though I felt their passes, only pushing me onward. My eyes trained on the dot, inviting me to follow with its shimmering light. My shackles fell away and finally my cell behind me. Stone no longer material, I passed though into nothingness for only a moment. The light still beckoned me forth as if it was saying I wasn¡¯t trapped, that I was free from one step and the second was mere paces away. The speck never grew in brightness or lost one of its many hues.


    ¡°What the fuck.¡± my body woke, it¡¯s trek stopped as my mind reeled back from the world around me. I whirled in my step, my eyes meeting everything around with the horror and joy my mind was not privy to just yet. The cell, the room, the dungeon I was in no longer lay before me, instead I was in this gray, this blackness, this Umbra between the beacons of dream and stars.


    ¡®No these thoughts aren¡¯t mine.¡¯ Before me appeared a path. Not in stone nor even material of the world. My feet regained feeling as the pressure of numbness faded revealed the texture that comforted even the smallest of insecurities within my soul.


    ¡®I must walk.¡¯ I fought with the notion and breath that willed me further, I begged myself to jump away into the endless below, but found that my gaze directed itself towards the glow once more.


    I felt the cell behind me approach, moving like a predator amongst the brush. It awaited my fall, to catch me once more and never let me go. I felt the eyes of an impossible haze rest on my shoulders. I finally focused myself and ran down the path. My body carried me faster than wind and never tired from the short breath I struggled to breath when I was thrust forward by another force. I could not turn to see, but its touch felt familiar and fleeting. The spark that once smiled as I escaped his hold now encompassed me. The gloom of shadow and the endlessness of gray fled into the crevices between the light of the study.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Atlas.¡± A voice that flickered like a flame in my memory.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± It had been an impossible stretch of time, decades if not centuries seemed to shrink as the familiar words came back to me. A woman sat at the desk far older than I remembered. The study was littered heavily with books, old and new, some torn to imitate confetti, their words scrapped to make new ones and all written meanings becoming unknown to me.


    ¡°I do not know, but I believe you knew me only as Mom.¡± Her details now replaced with the same gray as the place before. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a lie or a truth, but I couldn¡¯t prove either.


    The details of her figure seemed to shift not only in appearance, but in size as the moments stretched in the silence between the two.


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t remember me, but it has been so long since I left. I couldn¡¯t stay, not with him threatening to escape. When He took Anne¡¯s life, I knew it was time to fight. I knew him once as if he was an imaginary friend, but when he came out of the shadow I knew what he was capable of. This place was built to contain him, between the steeples of the faith, but he learned from his mistakes.¡± The study conjured a whirlwind of papers and books, and in the midst of the havoc on its edges an image built from the shadow and straps formed as her story continued.


    ¡°I left you and your father behind to close the door that I helped open, but the time I reached far enough, it was already too late. My body died in the room you found behind the bookcase. Dust was all that remained when you came down, complete with the cutest getup looking for ghosts. You always were an explorer like me, but I never thought to warn you of the danger.¡±


    I pulled my eyes from the barely recognizable image of myself.


    ¡°Danger? What is this place?¡± I approached the desk and gazed deeply at her, the question finally rung out from my lips as if they were trapped.


    ¡°This is a nightmare, impossible things and memories both fake and real. I¡¯m in danger as we speak. This isn¡¯t real and neither are you. I¡¯m in some coma right now and you are talking about some end of the world shit when in reality you are long dead and I¡¯m happy for it. You left me and Dad, it doesn¡¯t take a genius to figure that out. I hoped you would come back after my trip to your family¡¯s personal nuthouse. It¡¯s been years since I had even thought of you and now I¡¯d like to go back to my friends, to MY apartment, and TO MY EXISTENCE outside of this fever dream, but let me fucking guess I imagined you up just to cope within my own head as my body lay dying on some goddamn hospital bed waiting for someone to have the fucking guts to rip the damn cord!¡± The rage in my chest thundered away as the study and its illusion of images faded to the gray while the figure remained before me.


    ¡°You were so young when the gift came,¡± The voice spoke meekly as the figure faded away. ¡°, I tried so hard to protect you, I promise. This world was one of many, more than either of us can hope to know, but beyond us was help as the rest came to be claimed by what remained there. We are the tenth cycle, we were meant to be the last as our God gave the last of himself to bestow us a gift that no cycle had before.¡± I thrust my hand toward the thing¡¯s throat, the image of a woman gone. Whatever remained was vulnerable as I wrapped my fingers around what I presumed was a neck. I screamed in anger at the thing as I tightened my grip.


    ¡°You are nothing more than embers in my mind, what proof could you have when all I have seen is from myself or some memory of a tv show from before I fell asleep. Twisted by my dying brain and further by whatever accident claimed my life.¡± Whatever was left of the study replaced itself with vague colors and objects that were blurred beyond recognition.


    ¡°Let me show you.¡± The voice choked out in pain, suddenly I realized that I hadn¡¯t needed to breath in several minutes, I gasped for air where there was none. I clawed at my own throat, releasing the entity as the room formed before me. My vision remained fixed on the skinny young boy that came running down the hall towards the two.


    ¡°Relax yourself, breathing isn¡¯t a requirement of this place. You merely think you need air, so you panic until your mind shuts down again and you will be back in the hands of him.¡±


    Though the scene before me became unsettling as I soon realized that the little boy before us was me, I managed to focus on my breathing, whatever was missing before had returned, I knew I had no need to breath, but the thought of losing that one simple thing sent terrible images flickering in the back of my head. I managed to relax for a moment, as the boy spoke.


    ¡°Come on dad, you are going to miss it.¡± Young Atlas pulled my hand behind him, his grip was surprisingly strong, as he directed me down the stairs, I looked to my features as the light of the foyer met my skin and clothing.


    ¡°Yes, you are in his memory. From his point of view, you will see what I have to say is the truth.¡±


    The starry sky greeted me as the last glimpse of sunlight dipped behind the horizon. I remembered this night, it was the fourth of July, the first one since we moved down here and dad sold our house in Utah. The flurry of lights illuminated the garden and the green lawn that he fought so far to keep that way shimmered from the dew of the vigorous watering cycle that was cut short to preserve the guest¡¯s and their clothing. I was only 8 years old at the time and coincidentally the weariness of day started to show as the barrage of fireworks that lit up the sky began to slow. Atlas¡¯s head drooped onto my arm as we sat on the folding chairs borrowed from the garage. As the others applauded Victor for his performance with the pyrotechnics from a degree that was ridiculed so heavily, I hoisted Atlas¡¯s small frame into my own arms and marched to his room, actively avoiding the guests that blocked my path. Finally I opened the door separating the party of tipsy patrons, when I was met face to face with Valorie sitting on Atlas¡¯s, no, my bed.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± My father¡¯s voice escaped my lips in a hushed tone, I wasn¡¯t merely watching through his eyes, I was him. I placed my body, My mind was confused, the swap between the perspectives presented a toll not only on my mind, but my very being. Two memories existing at the same time, I remember my father talking to Aunt Valorie then pulling her from the room before I returned to sleep, but the shock of what was about to transpire forced me to pull away from the vision.


    ¡°You have to let this happen, otherwise you won¡¯t be able to leave.¡± The voice of my mother rang in my ears, The vision froze in place at the exact moment that I felt Valorie¡¯s eyes rested on my father¡¯s lips. I turned away from the putrid wallpaper and the glow of passion in my Aunt¡¯s eyes to the gray gloom and the figure that imitated my mother.


    ¡°I felt the same fury when it first happened, but I was powerless to do anything about it and you are too. You cannot change the past, what is done has been done.¡± I balled my fists and sighed as I released them.


    ¡°This didn¡¯t happen, it couldn¡¯t have. My father never got over you.¡± I said, knowing my words were false even before they left me.


    ¡°It¡¯s a human need to seek out comfort, although Mark resisted for as long as he could, my fiend of a sister exploited it for her own benefit. Blackmail was never beneath her, and so he suffered for ages at her hand especially after The Ragged man took you away.¡± The calmness in her voice was no doubt human now, but it only served to anger me.


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    ¡°How can you just stand there and allow me to see this?¡± I spoke, my boiling blood neared another overflow.


    ¡°I still feel the need to protect you, although it would be useless to shield you from the truth no matter how dark.¡± The blurriness of her figure began to recede and her form reassembled to be her again.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t enough.¡± I thrust myself back into the vision, the anger propelling me to seize control of my father¡¯s arms and body fully. I covered my Aunt¡¯s mouth with the burly and calloused hands of my overworked father and whispered into her ear.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what kind of blackmail you have or whatever lies slither from your lips, but if you come near me or my son again, I will make sure you pay with every ounce of your being.¡±


    Her eyes became wide and her mouth opened to let out a scream, but stopped as she realized the hatred that flared behind my father¡¯s eyes. I felt the tugging at my mind as I spoke what I had to say.


    ¡°Now I¡¯m going to let go, then you are going to pack up whatever you have and leave. Nod, if you understand.¡±


    Valorie nodded and pulled my hand away. She backpedaled down the hallway and just before she could turn around, she yelled


    ¡°My father will hear about this.¡± Just as she turned, Ralph walked up the stairs, cane in hand and Al holding up the other.


    ¡°Hear what, my dear?¡± Valorie froze in her step and apprehensively turned towards her aged father. Valorie pointed a wicked and harsh finger at me.


    ¡°That pervert you call a son-in-law groped me and has been stealing money from the estate.¡±


    Valorie summoned the tears of the victim she so often acted out, though I recognized it, I hoped my grandfather would be able to also.


    ¡°You did what!¡± Uncle Al released my grandfather¡¯s arm and marched towards me.


    ¡°Calm down, both of you. Little Val, I have known for a while that it has been you stealing money and torturing your brother-in-law with blackmail that you scarcely understand, much less understand that it was Albert¡¯s own secret. Surely you wielded expertly, but against someone who has lost so much and would rather meet pain with servitude.¡± I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe as Al turned his anger to his little sister.


    ¡°I was hoping you would have felt sorry for stealing the money eventually and pull yourself from the doubt, but seeing as you happily seek to cause discontent, I ask that you leave.¡± Ralph raised his hand and waved it to the foyer¡¯s stairs.


    ¡°If you are going to act like a snake, at least have the courtesy to crawl on the floor.¡±


    Valorie ran down the stairs and past the guest, crying the very real tears that once bought her sanctuary.¡± I walked past Al and grasped Grandpa Ralph¡¯s hand, but before a word of thanks could be said. The vision was ripped away and I plummeted to my knees, the thumping of my heart joined with the smile carved onto my lips.


    ¡°You changed it. How did you change it?¡± The voice of my mother sprung out from behind me, catching me by surprise.


    ¡°I just did, what is this feeling?¡± I felt the warmth in my chest grow as the strength of my body buckled before me, but this was different than before. I couldn¡¯t quite place what it was, but I felt stronger than I ever had before and full, as if I had eaten an entire feast.


    ¡°You stole the memories of your father, every moment after between Valorie and him; good and bad erased from his mind. It''s impossible.¡± I pushed myself up, the feeling in my legs returning fast. I turned my gaze to the figure and studied her features closer as if putting together a puzzle and finally her face came back to him, a cascade of emotions flooded my body.


    ¡°Mom!¡± I rushed to embrace the formerly elusive entity, my arms wrapped around her frame as I squeezed her. The very warmth transferred between the clothing and skin sparked memories that shouldn¡¯t exist. My first steps, my first haircut from my mother, how she held me for my vaccinations, when she first held me as I was swaddled in the hospital while she thought of my name.


    ¡°I named you Atlas because you could carry the world¡­ my world. I did not know your fate or the role you would play later, but it¡¯s time you earn your name, my son.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ready mom.¡± I pulled away to see the pleasant smile still spread across her cheeks.


    ¡°Find the door, my sweet baby. I will take you as far as I can, but you will be in more danger than you have ever known now that he knows you are awake within the Umbra.¡± I sought to ask her what the umbra was, but the meaning pressed itself into my mind.


    ¡®A lonely road we walk, where dreams become manifest and nightmares hold the power of conquerors. This is the final gift for us, to create our own worlds from the cinders of old gods and their ancestors whose power they reaped.¡¯


    A path appeared before us, their patterns shown like constellations against the void beneath, putting ours to shame. They weaved back and forth, mimicking the popular ones that I loved the most when I was taught by my grandfather. Each step forward was graceful as the space between each step became longer.


    ¡°This place is amazing, where are you taking me?¡± I watched my mother as she seemed to gallop and leap great heights.


    ¡°We follow the path, one laid by the wisest of our bloodline. This place is one of many around your world, some smaller and some spanning galaxies wide. This is the one he conquered and tamed to house the denizen you call the ragged man, when I was your age he was nothing more than a bruised child who escaped his father¡¯s wrath through dreams. I did not know what he would become while I helped open the oldest door. His name was Arthur, he wanted nothing more than to be free, but it was that same desire that led him to kill Anne and sever the tie between my body and this.¡± I stopped for a moment, forcing my mother to do the same.


    ¡°If this place is to hold him, why is the Sinn house being affected? I can¡¯t be the only one that noticed for so long, I mean how did I even get away?¡± It was an honest question, but tears still welled in my mother¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t get away. Your body was 8 years old, but your mind has grown exponentially in this place. On the outside, in the real world, it has been years since you were taken. Your father searched high and low, now he stays thinking you are like Anne where if he leaves, you die. It isn¡¯t true, but he believes it is since he is the last one and he can¡¯t convince himself otherwise.¡±


    I gawked at her defensively.


    ¡°What about my friends or my apartment?¡± She pulled me close to her and spoke in the softest voice she could muster.


    ¡°Memories made to make you complacent as he stole your ability bit by bit. Do you remember where you met your friends or what city you live in, or even what neighbors you lived around?¡±


    I didn¡¯t, every detail that would even suggest an answer was hazing.


    ¡°Whatever life you lived in there¡­ is gone and never existed. The people that came to the house looking for you were fed on by Arthur and the details, no matter how small, faded as he fabricated your life from the memories of the other. We have to help the three remaining, Mike, Will, and Layla, but I fear they may be the last sacrifice before I fade away.¡±


    ¡®Layla.¡¯ My heart fluttered at the image I remembered before the diner on the side of the road.


    ¡°They came to help, I heard them. They know I am here.¡± I spoke as I sprinted down the path. I expected myself to be winded by the speed I was moving, but another thought took its place.


    ¡°What is the Tether of Nine?¡± I shouted at my mother who bounded behind me, struggling to keep up.


    ¡°The others, the ones from the previous cycle. They want the power that our world holds. Being forced to manifest when their reality collapsed, when all material collapses what remains is the energy of all those that lived before creating monsters of impossible power left to rule over nothing and darkness for an eternity. Your grandfather could explain it better, but his soul is trapped outside the Umbra.¡±


    Suddenly a voice shrieked from the darkness below, echoing endless and infinitely. It pierced my ears and deafened my senses.


    ¡°You talk so loud for something so small.¡± The booming claps of vocal thunder vibrated every bone in my body.


    ¡°Run Atlas, Please.¡± My mother pleaded as a shadow consumed her and the path behind me. I heard her scream for a moment before the same silence greeted me. The road stretched endlessly in front of me as every step seemed to lengthen my course.


    ¡°Yes, Run boy. Your mommy can¡¯t save you now.¡± The voice cackled with a familiar laugh. The sound that once surrounded every nightmare and lingered every time I stepped foot into the study.


    ¡°I know you¡­ I know your name!¡± I shouted towards the stalking shadow. The thing stopped its advance and appeared to shrink as a figure crept from its shroud, and approached me.


    ¡°You know a speck of my being, extinguished when I became a god over this place.¡± I felt the cockiness in his voice, the glare of hatred fall upon my own.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t a god, you are nothing more than some kidnapping asshole that stole years of my life.¡± I took a stance, readied myself to pounce at him. It was the most useful thought in my head, besides running. Running only got me so far, now I chose to fight, my wounds receded the moment I regained my strength.


    ¡°You think you are so clever, in this place I hold the power and the crown to take what I want. You walk so readily into my world. So proud that you feast on your father¡¯s bad memories. So proud that you escaped a mere trap meant for the mouse who dared trespass.¡± He finally stood face to face with me, though He was much taller, I met his gaze.


    ¡°It runs in the family.¡± I said before I thrusted myself into him, just as I had done with the memories of my father. I felt his grip slide off of me like raindrops, as I fell into the blackness of his being. The world spun around me as the view of the Umbra shrink to the same speck as the one that pulled me from my chains. I shut my eyes as I plummeted endlessly until I crashed into something hard. I ripped my eyes open to see an unfamiliar sight. A plain room decorated with charts and pictures of young boys and girls as if it was school picture day. I sat up from the padded table when a nurse with a baggy white coat and the tackiest striped color shirt beneath.


    ¡°This is the third time this week Arty, I can¡¯t have you in here every time you wanna take a nap.¡±


    I took a moment to examine myself, I was different. My hands and arms are somehow slimmer than my normal body. I stood and approached the mirror, peering at my features as if I was losing my mind. In the reflection, stood a boy nearly anorexic, whose nose was slender and long and hair the puffed out to one side, but otherwise clung to the skin. My eyes were a deep brown and slightly bloodshot. I couldn¡¯t have been older than 13, but the fuzz that gathered on my upper lip would beg otherwise.


    ¡°What are you gawking at, it''s not like your classmates wrote on you again.¡± The woman approached the phone on the desk.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna have to call your dad, you missed the buses home.¡± The underlying tone on her voice was threatening, although minor compared to what I would receive from that man.


    ¡°No, please don¡¯t. I can walk home, if you don¡¯t call him, you won¡¯t see me again.¡±


    I placed my body in-between the phone and the school nurse. She folded her arms and stared at me through thin, wide glass, it felt like a magnifying glass as she watched me.


    ¡°Fine Arty, but next time I catch you in here, nothing will stop me. You have my word.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Ms. Tuffin.¡± I skulked out of her office, placing each step carefully until I was out of that school. Each day felt like a new hell, today was no different except that it was a friday. My father would be out of the house until Sunday night, and until then I had the house to myself since Bailey was out with her boyfriend.


    Tonight was the night, I knew it in my core, but I couldn¡¯t help to feel a weight looming over me waiting to strike.

 Voices through the Static

    Layla jolted upright as soon as her eyes opened. Mike, who still remained by her bedside, placed his hands upon her. One on her forearm and the other on her back.


    ¡°Hey, hey. It''s alright I¡¯m here,¡± Mike spoke softly, cautiously counting his words, ¡°What happened last night?¡±


    Layla looked around the room, peering into every shadow of the garage as if something would pounce from them at any moment. Only a few moments passed in silence before her words croaked from her lips, still groggy and muddled with the phlegm of rest.


    ¡°I¡­ I saw her. The girl.¡± Layla ripped away the blanket, and pushed herself from the cot.


    ¡°That''s not what I meant, and you know it.¡± Mike followed behind her as Layla led the way out.


    ¡°I know Mike, you wouldn¡¯t believe me if I told you, but Will is in danger.¡± Layla braced herself from the sunlight that sought to blind as soon as she met the fresh air.


    ¡°Mark found his car this morning, about a mile down the road. I¡¯m asking you what you meant by that.¡± Layla adapted to the light of the afternoon sun only to see the SUV that brought them here.


    ¡°Battery is dead, but the keys were inside the wheel well. It''s just what he would do, but he is gone. Mark talked to the neighbors, but nobody had seen him last night.¡±


    Layla¡¯s heart dropped as she heard this, powerless and hopeless. He was already gone, but she needed a brave face for Mike. She knew of their troubles, and what their father did to scar them both. In her mind this would be futile to fight, although Mike was stronger than he was many years ago, she feared he may burst.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I meant, I guess I was just scared, maybe he caught a ride with someone and stayed in town like he said. I mean if he was in danger do you think he would have time to hide the keys?¡± Layla felt the acid of her lie already eating away at her heart, but she could take it. Will was in danger, but now she feared that he was dead, suffering the same fate as Anne.


    Mike saw the look in her eyes and brought himself to hug her still despite the logic she presented.


    ¡°About time you woke up, sleeping beauty.¡± Mark shouted from the far corner of the house, snuffing out the ash from his cigarette on the tread of his boot.


    ¡°Looking at the damage you caused last night, I can see why you were so scared. Chairs tipped over and the carpet in the hallway nearly ripped from staples,¡± He chuckled as he got closer, Layla smelling the alcohol dried to his shirt, presumably from last night, ¡°must have scared shitless by the place. It doesn¡¯t matter though. Come on, I made lunch, well breakfast for you both, but I didn¡¯t expect you to wake up at the asscrack of dawn. It''s in the kitchen, come and eat while it''s fresh.¡± Mark waved them both to follow as he readjusted his loose fitting trousers. Layla saw the crack of a smile on his face, although it seemed unlikely, but maybe he just needed a bit of company. Mike walked ahead of Layla, catching up to Mark in no time. They chattered away as Layla stopped to stare at the hedge garden, wondering which part was a dream or if they were both real.


    Bacon, tomatoes and Lettuce sat neatly prepared on the granite topped counter; the smell of fresh bread was more than welcome as it greeted Layla.


    ¡°Just a few minutes and the bread will be done.¡± Mark sat at the table, as Mike filled his plate, meticulously each ingredient on top of the other, just waiting for the bread sitting on the stove to cool. Layla, although practically starving, felt like she wanted some answers, thus breaking the ice once more.


    ¡°I was scared. I saw something last night, but I¡¯m lost in what it means.¡± Layla sat opposite Mark, who stared briefly before returning his eyes to the table where a thin book sat.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you were dreaming. Now sleep-walking I can understand, but even though its meaning is lost on me.¡± Mike stuffed his face with a couple bacon strips, there was enough for everybody and then some, but Mike was one to sample everything.


    ¡°It''s a¡­ new place¡­ she always does this.¡± Mike tried to say between chewing the thick bacon.


    ¡°Atlas used to do that all the time when he was a kid, but even then it stopped when he came to this place. It''s like he knew this was his home.¡± Mark flicked the book close, the corner of the page dog-eared to hold his place.


    ¡°No, it''s not that. It¡¯s like I was me, then me, but seeing through someone else''s eyes. I felt Anne, and I saw her too.¡± Mark rose from his seat and pulled a serrated knife from a drawer. He cut thin slices of the otherwise thick, and round bread loaf. He avoided eye contact with both Layla and Mike as he placed the pieces on an empty plate.


    ¡°Where did you see her?¡± Mark refused to raise his head, cutting more and more slices from the shrinking loaf.


    ¡°In the hedge garden, by the fountain.¡± Layla rose, slowly placing her hand on top of the hand which wielded the knife. Mike piled the stack he made onto the steaming bread.


    ¡°So it is true then¡­ you are one of them.¡± Layla watched his eyes well with tears threatening to burst, his breath becoming heavy and the stench of booze emanated from his lips.


    ¡°We know, we were sent here. Like what you said, there were others. Seeking evidence of the disappearance of Atlas.¡± Layla was putting it together, finally the pieces she taught to keep now made sense, even if she had to force them to their limits to fit.


    ¡°No, that was never the goal. My boy is lost, in a grave somewhere or worse. You are a dream walker, Come with me.¡± Mark dropped the knife to the counter, walking through the house, through the same path that Layla had taken the night before. Finally the door, which marked her descent of madness as Anne saw fit to indulge.


    ¡°The study?¡± Layla questioned as Mark pulled a ring of keys from his pocket.


    ¡°Yes¡­ if you are here for the truth, then the answers are here. Records of every disappearance, every murder and all the family records of all who called this place home. This place is far from clean and even farther from a home.¡± Mark turned the key slowly as if metal was brittle and threatened to break from the slightest touch. The doors squeaked, then howled as the opening became wider. On the curtains and books lay a heavy layer of dust, worse than the rest of the house. The walls were covered in books, many with the classic hardcover that Layla knew back in school and some with handmade leather stitched with twine and thin straps of leather.


    ¡°Browse all you like, but keep me out of it. I haven¡¯t had to drink like this in months, but you want to hit every nerve I have left. I won¡¯t be so nice next time, you want me to be a bleeding heart.¡±


    Layla watched as Mark retreated down the hallway towards the entrance, although slow, it was clear that she was on this ice. Layla flipped the light switch, illuminating the room in a weak orange glow. She hesitated for a moment, but Mike decided to squeeze past her with a plate in hand. She hadn¡¯t heard him come up behind her, but was nonetheless grateful that she wasn¡¯t alone.


    Hours felt like minutes as the time passed like the pages she scoured. Mike offered a B.L.T. to her multiple times over the hour, but ultimately ate the sandwich after she declined it so many times. Hunger was the bottom of priorities and she flipped through every mention of dreams within the books. Ralph kept an extensive dream journal for years, after the mantle was passed on to him from his father, Aleksander. It seemed that this was the awakening of himself, categorically marking the importance of each dream. Mike started to go through the books, but became bored after a few pages. He pulled apart the cabinets, recovering jewelry as well as artifacts along with incomplete works of art, if you could call it that. Many were mechanical in nature, stripped for parts or flatout broken. Layla finally found something, a mention she had not seen before in any of the handmade books.


    ¡®The Moriband¡¯


    She poured deeper, but slowly deciphering the book¡¯s titles and their meaning. He wrote about the death of a granddaughter who was killed, which she assumed was Anne, but could have been postdated to seem like an eerie vision. Finally Layla found a single passage after skipping to the final book, one that sent a chill across her skin.


    ¡®My death is close, I feel it tick by unannounced in the air. True it is my son who will be my end, conquered by grief for his lost progeny. I felt the same for a time, but it is the least of my concerns. Atlas¡­ our last descendant will be taken as I cannot hold the tide, and even in death he will be more vulnerable than ever as I must keep Anne from fading. She was the key once, and so was my last daughter; now that Valorie has taken the name of another and distanced herself from us. The wake of the world is nigh, and the edges of both worlds have become clouded in my final days. I see his smile and the laugh he gained from his mother every day, but I can¡¯t tell him yet for he is too young, but maybe you can Layla¡­¡¯ Layla stared at the book, horror in her eyes as she continued to read. ¡®I know you are there, so weak, yet the last chance I have to save him from oblivion. Anne has seen fit to share a taste of the Umbra, but I fear it will not be enough for you to speak with him. Years ago, I created a machine, though I could never see the time in which I would need it. The Umbra is a mess of worlds, yet it is a gift for us to use it, in fact we were the only ones who could. Our bloodline was strong, but not invincible when it came to the consternation of wonders this place could produce. We die like any other, but this place holds us in the veil between. This device would allow you to communicate with Atlas inside the prison. The prison created by The Ragged man, as I chose to call him. It is a place of memories, stolen from the house and the minds of those who visit. He will not be able to dispatch Atlas so quickly, as the boy is the strongest of all bloodlines. It will take years for him to break, but I apologize at the time you read this, I believe The Ragged man will begin to take more than he should; waking Atlas from the dream within a dream. Your time is short, so we must be underway.¡¯ Layla read the instructions twice before calling Mike from his adventure of scavenging.


    ¡°Go by that bookcase,¡± Layla pointed to the opposite side of the room, ¡°Three rows from the bottom. Pull the book.¡± Mike slowly stepped over to the shelf, his energy sapped from the hours of boredom. He pulls a book, but to no avail.


    ¡°Nothing happened.¡± Mike replied, studying the book now in his hand. Layla reread the instructions once more, searching for the title she passed over.


    ¡°There should be one called umm¡­ ¡®The Soul of the Midnight Sun¡¯, it has to be there.¡± Layla jumped to her feet and rushed towards Mike. The book shelf was filled with obscure titles and covers, and finally Layla found it, tucked further back from the other books, Its cover was stained black, spine cracked and weathered from its many times being read. She pulled it and heard a faint click as the shelf creaked open.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Mike asked rhetorically. Layla pulled the bookcase back from the wall, swinging away like a door on hinges. Behind which sat a large safe, along with neatly piled papers in manilla envelopes. Each one addressed to Ralph Sinnhoffer, Layla kicked them out of her way as she laid a hand on the dial of the solid safe. The tumblers thrummed and ticked loudly from the years of hiding. She spun the dial a few times before putting in the combination she was given.


    ¡°6¡­ 14¡­ 32¡± Layla spoke softly to herself as she precisely and slowly turned the dial, then stopped.


    ¡°Well? Open it.¡± Mike excitedly said as he shook in place. Layla drew in a breath and twisted the handle. To their collective surprise, that door popped and opened, although the metal squealed in protest. Inside sat a radio, or at least something akin to one. Old, yet modified with components from machines that neither had seen before. Layla carefully picked asymmetrical hardware and brought it to the desk.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°What do you need next?¡± Mike was ecstatic as he studied the device with awe.


    ¡°I need the key, all I have is a sketch in the book. I don''t know where to even look.¡± Layla buried her head in thought. Mike took a moment and stared at the open book before snatching it up and running from the study; within a few minutes He returned with Mark behind him.


    ¡°What is this I hear of a key? You would be better off leaving well enough alone.¡±


    Layla glared at him, noticing the unease in his stance.


    ¡°You hid yourself away, and refuse to move on. Now I didn¡¯t know any better, you would be drowning yourself in a bottle before we got here. Give me a chance to prove why we are here.¡±


    Mark looked uncomfortable at this accusation and was nearing his limit of hospitality, but Mike saw his moment and shoved the book in his hands. The passage that he read on the way.


    Mark¡¯s eyes danced across the page, and his blood ran cold.


    ¡°He knew¡­ how did he know?¡± He said dumbfoundedly.


    ¡°You have to know what key that is. You told me about it this morning, now we need it whether you like it or not.¡± Mike spoke with authority tucked deep into his voice and stature. Layla was confused as to what he was talking about, but saw the results he would retrieve as recognition flashed in Mark¡¯s face as he turned, dropping the book, and ran from the study.


    ¡°What did he say this morning?¡± Layla asked, Mike let out a smile as he relayed the story Mark told him as they awaited his return. They heard clattering in the hall a few minutes later just as he came bound in with a folded piece of cloth wrapped tightly in his grip.


    ¡°Here.¡± Mark unwound the cloth to reveal a tarnished silver key, the bow of the key resembling a simple open eye, while the other teeth were complex. It was almost unrecognizable as a key, the lock would have needed to be incredibly intricate for it to work properly. Layla seized the key and shoved it inside the keyhole on the radio.


    ¡°Turn it already.¡± Mark anxiously awaited this, but was clueless as to why they needed to stop.


    ¡°Close the door and lock it.¡± Layla ordered Mike, which he followed with a previously unknown haste.


    ¡°It¡¯s done, but why did I need to?¡± It was clear to her that Mike hadn¡¯t finished reading the passage and its instructions.


    ¡°They are going to come, this machine is going to weaken the barrier.¡± Layla felt silly saying it aloud, but if the passage was truly in its entirety they were in danger.


    ¡°What time is it?¡± She looked to Mark, who was the only one wearing a watch.


    ¡°It''s just before 8, and in about an hour it will be dark.¡± Layla glanced over to the book still sitting on the floor.


    ¡°Midnight. That''s the time it said, we need to wait. Mark, we need to defend ourselves. I don¡¯t know what is going to come through that door, but we need something.¡± Layla was curious what this new feeling in her chest was, her heart beat with anxious thumping, but her head remained clear if not sharper.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got just the thing. Come on Mike, I¡¯m going to need your help.¡± Mark pulled Mike from the study as the chiming of the grandfather clock sounded somewhere in the house. Layla hadn¡¯t noticed it before, but these precious minutes of daylight left would prove to be ones that she cherished.


    Just as the last of the dusk passed over the horizon, Mike stumbled in the room with a large case in his arms with Mark right on his heels with another case that no doubt had a chainsaw entombed inside.


    ¡°Right, open it up Mike and let Layla have first pick.¡± Mark relocked the door and opened the case, revealing what Layla already expected. A beast of chainsaw, whose blade was surrounded by the most jagged metal teeth she had seen and from underneath his coat came a long extension cord.


    ¡°Is that thing Electric?¡± Mike asked as he panted.


    ¡°Gas-powered is unreliable and unsafe indoors. Thinking ahead, I don''t want to go out because of carbon monoxide poisoning.¡± Mark grinned through his teeth as he pulled it in, only to show off with a little revving.


    Mike grunted in agreement and opened the case. Inside sat two rifles and a simple pistol, along with a few cardboard boxes of what Layla presumed to be ammunition. It has been years since she handled a gun, the last time being in the wilderness with her father; who decided hunting was a better sport for two young girls rather than gymnastics. At this moment she was grateful, though she only picked the pistol, it would be enough. Mark walked Mike though loading the rifle and how to use it, but said to only use it when he was out of the way. Layla watched as the stars shined in Mike¡¯s eyes. It was not ideal circumstances, but she knew this had meaning to him; meaning that was lost when Will and his grandfather finally passed the first year they had met.


    Mark barred the door securely with the furniture and a freshly emptied bookcase as the time passed. Layla stood up from her sitting position and approached the machine.


    ¡°Are we ready?¡± Layla counted the seconds and minutes out of habit, though it was hours, she knew it was nearly time to start. Mark looked at his watch.


    ¡°It''s only eleven o¡¯clock. Didn¡¯t you say it was midnight?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but according to the book, it needs an hour to power up. I don¡¯t know what he meant, but I¡¯m sticking to the instructions even if it kills me.¡± Layla felt the irony of that statement, knowing full well that she might die anyway. Whatever was coming would no doubt be monstrous and ruthless.


    ¡°Turn it on.¡± Mike said, never taking his eyes off the door.


    Layla turned the key twice as per the instructions, but neglected something vitally important.


    ¡°Well you have to plug it in,¡± Mark scoffed, hiding the exhale of a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding, ¡°not everything runs on batteries.¡±


    Layla, embarrassed by the statement, rushed behind the desk and located the socket. The moment that the metal prongs touched the opening, a spark connected with her bare skin causing her to let out a shocked gasp. The machine whirred to life, spitting out various frequencies of static as if it was searching the radio waves. Suddenly a loud shutter emanated throughout the house as if the very foundation quaked as a response to the ignition of the old radio¡¯s circuits.


    ¡°Alright, whatever comes¡­ be ready.¡± Mike said as he pointed the barrel of the rifle towards the door. He sounded scared, but courage grew in his chest as the seconds passed by. Layla watched out the window towards the front door only to be met with darkness veiling whatever was preparing to lay down a siege.


    There was a knock at the door to the study. Three taps followed by silence.


    Mark approached the door, chainsaw in hand, and placed an ear to the finely lacquered wood.


    ¡°Layla.¡± a voice rang from the other side, loud enough to be heard by all three of them.


    ¡°Will?¡± Layla set the pistol on the desk and rushed to the door. Pulling Mark away as she placed an ear to the wood.


    ¡°It¡¯s me Layla, what¡¯s going on?¡± The voice did indeed belong to Will; his baritone notes, cadence, and even the soft way he said her name.


    ¡°Will! Where did you go? What happened?¡± Layla threw one question after another, hoping he would at least answer one.


    ¡°I stayed in a hotel in town, I couldn''t get back until now. I needed a new battery.¡± He responded. Layla couldn¡¯t believe it, but accepted it nonetheless.


    ¡°One second, let me open the door, I missed you so much.¡± Mike watched as Layla pulled the furniture from the doorway, bile and uneasiness  rising in his throat as he lifted the rifle once more, this time pointing it at Layla.


    ¡°Don¡¯t open that door.¡± Mike said, although he accepted Layla¡¯s explanation earlier, this seemed too far to believe.


    ¡°Why would he show up now?¡± She stared at Mike, as he tried in vain to ask for logic.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, we need to let him in. Whatever is coming, we need to keep each other safe.¡±


    Against his better judgment, Mike allowed her to continue, but never moved his rifle from the door.


    ¡°It will be ok Will, something is coming. I can¡¯t explain, but the moment I open the door, I need you to get behind us.¡± Layla choked back a sob, one born from both fear and happiness.


    ¡°I understand.¡± Layla pulled the last of the blockage and her hand shot towards the handle, twisting it in one fluid motion.


    Something kept the door closed, even as she pulled with all of her might.


    ¡°Let me try.¡± Mark had remained quiet up until this moment as he took the handle from Layla.


    As he tugged at the door handle, it wouldn¡¯t budge even an inch.


    A black hand punched a hole straight through the wood, casting splinters across the study, and snatched Mark¡¯s arm up to his shoulder. As his arm was pulled through the black abyss of a hole, Mark began to scream. Increasing in volume and intensity as Mike and Layla remained paralyzed in place. The sound screeching from his throat became inhuman as his clothes began soaking in the deep black stains of blood.


    Mark dropped the chainsaw and drew in a breath as his eyes floated to the back of his skull. Whatever had held on to him so tightly finally released him and as his body dropped to the floor, Layla¡¯s face turned as white as a ghost as the deep red blood soaked into the carpet and streamed down the wooden surface of the door only to see that Mark¡¯s burly arm was ripped clean off. Through the gaping hole of the door stood a figure of pure black in the flickering light of the hallway. Mike¡¯s heart pumped a fiery dose of adrenaline through his veins as his eyes rested on the figure, but still remained paralyzed until its first step.


    ¡°MOVE!¡± Mike shouted at Layla, his voice passed right through until the crash of glass shocked Layla  out of her trance. Her mind raced causing her hands to quake and the room to fall silent once again. Her wandering eyes guided her towards the window, a faint glow reflected on its panes. As she edged closer and closer, below the window on the stoned path stood a group of people. All staring at her, all an endless black, and at the very center stood Will in the same clothes with a devilishly large grin, unnatural in every way.


    BOOM. Will pulled the rifle¡¯s faded and stiff trigger. The sound bounced off of every wall piercing her eardrums, worse than Charlotte''s incident.


    The rifle let out another thunderclap, one after another as Mike panicked. The figure was closer, now a hand reached towards the door. Mike watched the pulsing black of its flesh and its taloned fingers when suddenly a vibrant resonance of static pulsed through the machine. Layla had nearly forgotten about the thing as she stared at Will¡¯s empty eyes.


    The large figure stopped as if unable to move through the invisible barrier.


    ¡°H-hello?¡± Layla choked out, prying her gaze away for just a moment


    ¡°Hello.¡± a voice filled with static crackled out from the radio. The figures outside opened their mouths unnaturally wide, all of the windows on the study shattered instantaneously. Layla instinctively threw her arms above her head,  There was no sound, their screams stuck inside their throat, only emanating pure silence.


    ¡°Oh god¡­ I¡¯m losing it.¡± The radio spoke again, the static slowly dissipated, as if the interference was becoming the conductor. The handle of the study began to turn once more. Mike let loose a final round at the creature¡¯s chest. A deafening howl shook the house and the foundation, books shook from their place, lights flicked so rapidly that many burnt out or shattered in their sockets. A headache flared deeply in Layla¡¯s head, as the glass resting on the floor began to shift and pull itself together. Its shape is so undefined, but its complexness seems to defy logic, and the laws of nature. Mike watched the performance unfold, impossible angles and colors refracted from the light. Its power burnt holes impossible to repair yet so easily ignored. An idea floated from the back of Layla¡¯s mind, from Anne¡¯s watch and tongue.


    ¡°This is the only way.¡± Layla spoke, as she gazed longingly at Mike, who was entranced by the incomprehensible object forming before them.


    ¡°What! What is the only way?¡± The voice became clear, it was a male¡¯s voice. Similar in age and maturity.


    ¡°Destruction is creation¡¯s first tool.¡± Mike said, his voice nearly inaudible as his features began to pale and calm.


    The everchanging sculpture began to pull. The very anchors of the room, anchors of reality. It pulled every inch of light and as the shadows grew around them Layla saw the radio inched toward the epicenter of the gathering.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t making sense! Who is this?¡± The male voice screamed pointlessly through the speakers. Mark weakly pulled himself from the pool of blood, the pale shock on his face said it all, but he managed a few words, amassing every ounce of strength before falling back into unconsciousness.


    ¡°Please come back¡­ My boy.¡± his voice was fading fast, his eyes rolling back into his head.


    ¡°DAD!¡± The voice called one last time as the pull of the mass became too strong, the radio collided with the object. Layla felt the pull herself, but as she gave in to the bright object standing in between them all, she held onto a fragment of Anne''s voice, speaking to her in the last moments of consciousness.


    ¡°We have begun, he is awake.¡±

 The Seventh Pillar

    The way home was a long trek through backyards and railroads longing for use. A sprinkle of rain clatter on my shoulder as I marched through the overgrown weeds and discarded trash of passing cars. I cursed at myself, I had left my jacket at home. I thought again and again in my mind, battling familiar thoughts and forgotten memories. I knew this wasn¡¯t my body nor my place in the world, nevertheless marching to a place I called home. I was miles away from the school, the rain seemed to pick up the moment I reached a small overpass of an abandoned road. Its crumbling infrastructure provided little comfort as I sat and wrapped my arms around myself for the small bit of warmth. Stopping was the best I could do to stay dry, but it proved to be a fatal mistake as a group of hooded boys approached me in the rain.


    Their chattering sparks an instinctual fear in the feeble heart of my body.


    ¡°Well, well, well. What do you know? He is homeless.¡± The leader of the group took one look and smirked viciously like a wolf had finally found prey.


    Donald Hughes, the bully who had tormented me since he had first laid eyes on me, and his group of lackeys sworn to defend and ridicule all the same.


    They chuckled as I tried to look away, trying to hide in plain sight.


    ¡°Where were you during Homeroom, runt? You missed reading time, and I know you just love reading time you fucking nerd.¡±


    ¡°Go away¡­¡± my voice feebly croaked, the respite of the nap I took inside the nurse¡¯s office wearing thin.


    ¡°I¡¯m not in the mood to beat you today, wrestling tryouts were after school today. You aren¡¯t worth my time.¡± I was shocked to hear this, he had beaten me up after every event or afterschool since first grade.


    ¡°I would say go home, but lucky for us¡­ you are trespassing on our turf.¡± The panic surfaced in my mind, I had forgotten the most important place to avoid after school.


    ¡®How could I have been so stupid, the overpass.¡¯ I glanced at the graffiti that littered the stonework and concrete; the swear words and vaguely obscene images combined in a random scramble that layered over each other throughout the years. They are going to kill me.


    ¡°You have to pay a toll if you don''t want us to hurt you.¡± The second in command, Richard Harris, said as pointed his order to surround me. I was helpless, the cold proving too much without my jacket.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I chattered through my teeth, my body felt as if I was freezing solid.


    ¡°Nothing we want, but we take what you have to offer.¡± The largest boy, William Porter, sneered from underneath his hood. In an instant, they rushed me. I kicked, and I screamed as they ripped the damp clothes from my body. Each piece of fabric that was torn away brought more cold until all I felt was my skin exposed to the element, my flesh festered with goosebumps as the chill of the wind and the bitterly freezing rain pelted my skin.


    Finally they had taken every piece I had to cover me, they continued amongst themselves as they laughed mockingly as they tore each article of cloth into smaller and smaller shreds.


    ¡°You little shits, I¡¯m going to bust your heads open.¡± A large burly man appeared at the other end of the overpass. Carrying a crowbar drenched in a deep red substance, then like any other logical person would do, the group of pubescent tormentors scattered like rats in a fire; each of them ran in a different direction than the last.


    ¡°Get up Arthur, it will be okay.¡± As I stared at the figure, I was not able to fully appreciate the sudden arrival of my savior as I shut my eyes for a moment.


    I awoke to a small fire and a majority of my body wrapped in a scratchy blanket of stained wool.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I said into the night, but startled myself when a voice spoke from behind me.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing really.¡± I swung my head around to see a girl perched on top of a large slab of concrete, the same crowbar of the man leaned against the wall.


    ¡°Aurora¡­ how did you do that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not too sure, I knew you were in danger and I came. It was surprisingly easy to hide in my house and go to sleep.¡± She said as her fingers swung a necklace back and forth on the tip of her finger.


    ¡°What is that?¡± I stood, but quickly pulled the blanket up to my shoulders. My body ached all over, but after seeing the kind eyes of my first friend, the pain began to slip away.


    ¡°I got it from a boy, he is kinda like you.¡± I watched as the silver glinted in the moonlight, revealing a small crescent moon pendant.


    ¡°I mean I like you, but you aren¡¯t real. My daddy says that imaginary friends are just that¡­ imaginary.¡± Her words stung, but she was wrong.


    ¡°I¡¯m the one that''s real, you are the imaginary friend.¡± Anger sparked in my voice, I had seen this girl in my dreams and now in my waking life.


    ¡°I¡¯m hallucinating. I know what that means for people around here. I¡¯m real, not you!¡± I shouted at her. I saw the tears ripple across her eyes as they slowly fell down her cheeks.


    ¡°I¡¯m going home.¡± I turned away from her, leaving the fire to burn itself out, but when I turned to take one last look, she was gone without a trace.


    ¡®I don¡¯t need your help.¡¯ I grimly thought to myself. The sky was beyond dark and the weather had subsided. I knew it would be back, but not for a few hours.


    Soon after that I saw the familiar street lights and the faded signs that I loathed.


    The lights of my home were off, like normal and the door locked tightly. Nothing was worth stealing inside, but cheap alcohol strong enough to strip paint. Even then that was a prize worth having in a town like this.


    I pried the window of my bedroom and climbed inside. I rejoiced for a moment in the lingering heat of the furnace that would remain off until my father returned home. I pulled some of my clothes from the hamper, although these were beyond small on my frame, I felt comfortable until a noise sounded from the living room. I walked out cautiously to the sight of my father¡¯s girlfriend in a deep sleep on the couch. The heavy tobacco that wandered in the air stung my nostrils and almost made me cough, but I kept my composure.


    I didn¡¯t like her as a mom, but she knew how to cook and joke with us. I sat at her feet. This day was too long, this life was longer.


    I could feel the edges of myself chip away every day, but something was different. As my eyes struggled to stay open, I heard a singing. A ringing so twisted inside itself that it seemed to speak. I woke up in the gray room I always dreamt of.


    In the void of gray, I was the master of my dreams, of my life, of my destiny.


    I spotted a figure at the corner of my vision.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    I shook myself awake as I opened my eyes in the gray room. A boy younger than myself stared curiously at me.


    ¡°Are you my new imaginary friend? Are you going to tell me that I¡¯m not real either?¡± The boy asked as he sat before me.


    ¡°Arthur?¡± I spoke, hearing the echo of my voice in the distance. There was no denying it, this was the Umbra, but far more limited in its reach.


    ¡°Yeah that¡¯s my name¡­ listen, it''s been a hard day for me. If you want to come back later, I¡¯ll understand.¡± Arthur spoke as looked for something in the distance, staring at what seemed like thousands of miles away.


    ¡°What do you see?¡± I ask as I sit down beside him.


    ¡°I¡¯m deciding now.¡± His breath began to slow as he concentrated, I watched in anticipation.


    I knew for a fact, that this was the beginning, but somewhat lacking.


    ¡°Do you want to hurt them?¡± I stare into his eyes, now facing him in an instant. He paused his train of thought, and stared back towards me.


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


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    ¡°But if you could, I mean.¡± his features rippled and his expression changed.


    ¡°I would,¡± He said, the edge of his lips falling into a frown, ¡°and I wouldn¡¯t stop until they felt how I felt.¡±


    I decided to let him work, I couldn¡¯t do anything yet, but the feeling was strange nonetheless. I had his memories, but what he sought was not the same as before. I remained baffled as he finally stood, and held out a hand.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me your name yet.¡± Arthur says with a hint of condescension.


    ¡°My name is Atlas.¡± I treated my words with warmth, the gray of the room seemed to darken slightly as if it were a thunder cloud.


    ¡°I think I knew that one, I remember reading about it in school.¡± He said as he turned to walk into the gray expanse before them.


    The further we walked, the more colors and shapes began to form from the nothingness. Great scenes of nature to pathways stretching endlessly between buildings of impossible heights. A song played across the ethereal landscape, and finally Arthur stopped before a door. The song imprinted itself inside my thoughts, shifting between familiar notes and unknown chords. The sound was beautiful yet unnerving as the noise seemed to stop when Arthur placed his hand upon the door.


    ¡°I wish I could have had more time, but if I got back I would never find this again.¡± Arthur choked back his tears, I knew what he was thinking. ¡®His family will be lost to him after he opens that door.¡¯


    ¡°Could you forgive them?¡± I asked as I placed my hand over his, noting the considerable difference between their hands.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can Atlas. I spent years dreaming of the end. Every moment I spent in the waking world, every second they spent beating me. It would mean nothing in the end.¡± Arthur¡¯s tears streamed down his cheeks and fell to his feet, but did not rest on the ground.


    ¡°Our world was one of many, doomed to repeat every step in a march towards destruction. When you have a chance to do something, we must take it.¡± Arthur¡¯s voice quivered, the maturity of his words betraying his visible age.


    ¡°Do better than them, be stronger than the others. You could grow up to do anything, don¡¯t waste the life you were given.¡± I said before pulling him into a tight embrace. ¡®I could change this so that he doesn¡¯t become the ragged man, make it so that he can¡¯t become my family¡¯s tormenter.


    ¡°You would think that, wouldn¡¯t you child?¡± A presence loomed above the two of us. A crimson cloud forming tendrils circled like a hurricane above us.


    ¡°I had half a heart to think that you would just kill the boy and be done with it, but no. There is no such thing as the easy path with you humans¡­ Such a need to take the righteous path, it''s quite disgusting.¡± A man approached them from the fading path behind them; cane in hand resembling a serpent, and a deep red suit.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Arthur pushed me away, I felt his mind begin to repel me.


    ¡°Well who I am isn¡¯t important, not really. This is only a body I stole in my search for the both of you. See now What I am is what concerns you. I spent lifetimes in search for something like you two, but I missed only by a measly decade. It''s unfortunate, but now I get a do-over, you know before time has a way to repeat itself.¡± A crooked smile spread across his lips revealing a row upon row of teeth covered in a gory viscera.


    ¡°I am the lord of this realm, reveal your name!¡± Arthur shouted at the top of his lungs, shaking the ground beneath us. I felt myself visibly cringe away at such a phrase. ¡®He truly believes he controls this place, and what memories he held, only proved my point. Dungeons and Dragons, whatever that was.¡¯ I thought to myself.


    Arthur stared at the man, but gave me a glance.


    ¡°If you are my imaginary friend, help me. We can win this.¡± Arthur readied a stance like he was going to change the man, but I knew we were no match.


    ¡°You are technically correct Arthur, but you can only view the dreams of others. Is that correct? Now who really controls it, is your friend right next to you. The reins go to the strongest. The Umbra is not a playground for all to have an equal share, then it would be chaos.¡±


    Arthur turned to face me, the stance remaining as strong as ever, with a look of betrayal carved deeply into his features.


    ¡°Is it true?¡± Arthur¡¯s tears dried quickly as the gears began turning inside his head.


    ¡°Of course it is true Arthur, in fact this a memory. That gift is valuable¡­ if you know how to use it. Atlas only came here to stop you, rewrite history the way he says fit, which means destroying you.¡± The man cackled sinisterly.


    ¡°It¡¯s not true, Arthur. We can change the world, but I do have a secret.¡± I felt the shame fluttering in every beat of my heart.


    ¡°I killed your family because your grandfather trapped me after tonight. Luring me into Sinn House. A place where stories and dreams were so abundant that it rivaled the very universe in size. 47 years only to be brought back here, to where it all started.¡± Arthur ripped through my memories and connected the pieces. I felt the hostile void beginning to stare back at me as I gazed into his eyes, hoping to find the shred of good that still remained.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what this evening is for, see Arthur¡­ What Atlas doesn¡¯t know is your purpose, but I do. You were meant to open a door and you would have if not for the girl, she is going to be in a special place you hold very dear, but I have since taken care of that,¡± The man let the red juice drip from his teeth and down his chin.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find that whatever fragment she left here and in the waking world is gone. Torn to impossible little pieces, I hope you don¡¯t mind.¡± Arthur¡¯s face paled immediately, as he searched inward. I knew what he looked for, his sister.


    ¡°You bastard!¡± Arthur grabbed my head and with an impressive show of strength, he slammed it into the door. It opened on unseen hinges as my vision faded, I watched the cloud as the sky began to swirl with an unimaginable speed, lightning crashed and collided together.


    ¡°Yes! Yes!¡± The man shouted to the heavens as Arthur passed through the darkness doorway, he walked proudly towards me and bent at the knee to meet my eyes.


    ¡°You had so much power, but you know how these things are. Early bird gets the worm, but let''s not have a repeat of the last time.¡± He stood and smirked before delivering a powerful kick to my abdomen, sending me through the doorway after Arthur.


    I felt a cool stream wetting my hair and my clothes, waking me entirely. I rose to my feet and glanced at my surroundings with awe of the unknown spectrum of colors. The pain in my stomach scorched like acid behind my skin. I double over in pain, vomiting up stomach acid and clumps of blood into the crystal clear water. Even as the mess touched the water, it immediately disappeared as if it was impossible to dilute. I wiped the corners of my mouth with my sleeve, and felt the eyes of thousands suddenly on me. The pool stretched ahead for miles, revealing nothing, but a shimmering surface reflecting those impossible colors and darkness.


    ¡°I have heard this call since birth, and I searched for all of my life to find it. Only to be unworthy.¡± In the distance a fountain rose from beneath the gentle current. Arthur was there, waiting for me. Although the miles between us were immeasurable, I could hear him clear as day and much like before every step I struggled in pain amounted to dozens, if not hundreds.


    ¡°It is death. I know what it means. It is only another trial. I did not survive last time, so I fed on others like me to survive.¡± Arthur touched the water flowing from the fountain''s edge.


    ¡°A trial for what?¡± I staggered for a moment, catching what little breath I could hold.


    ¡°The trials of becoming. I read all the books from endless libraries, both real and imagined. Now that I have proof, and the key, I can open the next step for all mankind. I can¡¯t save them all, and I know I am doomed to repeat my future, but there are others to come that wish to claim this world and all beyond its borders.¡±


    Arthur stared at the twisted band of physical blackness that rested at the fountain peak.


    ¡°The Moraband is the crown of death and the key to ending all suffering. Our first trial was Flesh. Which we stole as we crawled from the very flesh of gods.¡± The colors in the sky shifted to depict a fading battleground where millions fought only hundreds.


    ¡°To shadow; that we won from the demons that tricked us into imprisonment.¡± The scene shifts to a man shaking hands with a disfigured and malnourished form with long teeth and horns.


    ¡°With memory we adapted into stone with our homes and monuments of tools long forgotten.¡± Stonehenge showed in the stark contrast of shadow, the features becoming weathered as the weeds grew around them.


    ¡°Spirit; unknowingly passed and grown with every generation. Forming their laws and stories that buried the truth of origin.¡± Masses of citizens gathered below the pristine stone balcony of the pope, religious texts printed ad infinitum and rewritten every decade.


    ¡°Mirror; when the path ahead was too hard for our caveman ways, we looked within ourselves and found the solution of happiness and morality. People justify their own means, and their own judgment on others.¡± soldiers marched, leaders saluting empty promises, weapons forged in the destruction growing in power and number.


    ¡°Finally our trial. Dream. Our people searched for millenia, but lacked the tools and power to see anything come of dreams. Today we have manifestations, fortunes, lost children found after weeks of searching, and actualization of destiny in the form of a product spread worldwide; sold for profit rather than advancement or need.¡± Rockets streaming into the stratosphere and further, medication pumped into bottles, and artwork owned privately in the home of an extravagantly rich person.


    ¡°Death will bring an end to wars, to famine, and the greed of mankind. Our goal¡­ our purpose in life is to create a world beyond our selfish needs. To possess the means of living beyond the life of those before us. God or whatever created this universe is gone, maybe onto the next or forever, but It isn¡¯t coming back. The powers that created this world, and all of others, are gone. The egg is all that remains, what grows from the dreams and lives of all mortal and immortal things.¡±


    I watched as every word Arthur said began to change him. He grew up, his arms and legs lengthened as his face became more defined. His chest became toned and sculpted as his voice deepened to a well defined baritone.


    ¡°There is a price though, there must be.¡± I said as I opposed him on the other side of the fountain.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid there is, and I¡¯m sorry.¡± In the very moment, Arthur materialized behind me and wrapped his arms around my neck, squeezing with the strength of an anaconda. Every movement I made to struggle, his latch only deepened its resolve.


    ¡°It requires sacrifice.¡± Arthur¡¯s chest heaved as he continued to squeeze, but just as my vision faded I felt a pull from deep within myself. The crown that sat above the water began to quiver in place as if it sought to escape. The water at my feet receded as the alabaster stone beneath began to crumble.


    ¡°Give in, there is nothing to be done.¡± Arthur began to twist my spine at the neck. The singing from before started again, this time the words were clearer, but their meaning was lost on me; I was losing consciousness. My form crumbled to the ground, Arthur smiled as the crown floated from its perch and rested itself in his grasp.


    ¡°Finally¡­¡±


    I observed helplessly as he raised the band to his head and placed it gently on his skull.


    Arthur screamed as if his very being was being ripped around. The crown shattered like glass, the pieces that remained on his scalp dug deep wounds into his flesh, turning his flesh black. The effect spread rapidly as all color of his old self was fading into a void made flesh.


    I saw the pieces that failed to take hold had fallen within reach. I pushed myself, reaching with the last remnants of will. I grasped the cold fragment, it sunk beneath my flesh, but it did not hurt. I reached for another and another until none remained. I felt life return to my body as warmth filled my veins. Arthur had become himself, the form I knew him as. The ragged man.

 Rewritten Bounds

    I felt power, surging like an enormous river. I felt the current of the Umbra pulsing through my veins and far beneath them I felt the very essences of something undefinable.


    ¡®The cost is paid, but the toll is divided.¡¯ my mind spoke for itself as I tried desperately to disregard the euphoria that sought to control me. My movements were slowed by what unfolded before me.


    ¡°I see now, this was no script nor path more true. Atlas¡­ you came here without purpose, only to flee, but now you serve as a final test.¡± The ragged man spoke through wet sobs emanating through his throat.


    I struggled to my feet, watching Arthur do the same although fatigue was heavier on his shoulders.


    ¡°A vessel from the lord himself. I know him now as he knows us. We were the last he meant to create. A lineage he holds to such a high regard that he would sacrifice all to keep contained, ever fed through our suffering.¡±


    I felt the ground beneath the water begin to sink as if decaying before my eyes.


    ¡°What the fuck are you talking about? The only truth you see is the one you want to see.¡± I shouted at him, as Arthur studied his black rippling flesh as if it were a marvel to behold.


    ¡°We came to be the last as he was the last. That¡¯s how he came to our world. The Lord over Crimson, our true god. I see you now and hear my plea.¡±


    Arthur raised his hands to the sky, the air around them began to shimmer like the heat waves from a hot summer road.


    ¡°Come forth, rend us for our transgressions.¡±


    The ceiling overhead began to crack and crumble, the whole of this place was shuttering to the calls of the monster before me.


    Suddenly I felt hungry eyes on me, hundreds if not thousands waiting in the dark as each crack summoned more to await a feast. I turned my body fighting against the current now rushing past me as Arthur chanted a pleaing warcry to the heavens of this place. Searching the room, I saw nothing in the means of escape.


    ¡°I failed you mom, I¡¯m sorry.¡± my cry and tears  reverberated throughout the umbra, and through every fissure developing in the chamber. A shifting from beneath my form pulled me from my trance, terror bolted through my body as I was pulled through the earth. My hands shot desperately as the edges of the hole, tears replaced by screams as Arthur stood to smile at his work. Before my eyes met with the black undercurrent a figure appeared that I did not recognize. She was dressed sharply in a tight white dress, tendrils of light sprung from her body, wrapping Arthur so swift that the movement was nearly instantaneous. I watched with bated breath as she turned her eyes towards me.


    ¡°Wake.¡±


    She spoke a single word no louder than a whisper, but with such force behind it that the quaking stopped and the ravenous eyes retreated back into the darkness that birthed them as I choked in the devouring grave my body lay trapped in. The ceiling my eyes now forced to watch, their patterns now devoid of energy were strangely calming as I lost the energy to fight.


    I awoke gasping for even the smallest amount of air and coughing an imaginary filth from my lungs and throat.


    ¡°Oh fuck, oh fuck.¡± I cried into my hands as I wept through great heaving sobs. I laid there for hours, in this place I hadn¡¯t even dared to peek at.


    ¡®I fucking died, I fucking died.¡¯ I repeated over and over again in my mind. The cold was beyond real, beyond even a pleading doubt. My skin irritated by the tears was burning, screaming red. The gusts of hurricanes and tornadoes were second to the breaths I stole from the place I laid curled, preserving whatever heat I emitted. It felt like days passed before I managed to stop and see where I was. A great plain sat before me like a still image, every blade of grass sitting still as I wondered where I was. It was a painting that sat before me. My eyes remained focused, unable to even turn my head to see the rest of the room I sat in. In my peripheral vision, I saw nothing, but the gray of the Umbra. Fear flooded my chest as a voice, the same that banished the cowardly shadows and one belonging to the one who incapacitated Arthur.


    ¡°Arthur was always going to take the Moraband, and always will pay the price of such corruption. His life was forfeit the moment his corporeal form left the rotting womb of his mother. You saw his life and lived only a brief portion of a single day, but you knew all along what his purpose was. Even from a young age as yourself he brought the chaos of his dreams to the waking world. You brought some of your own, but I have been here to guide you as I do with all of my children.¡±


    My jaw seized as I struggled to speak even a single word. Every veins in my body struggled to even push a drop of blood to assist.


    ¡°I need you to listen Atlas; I have helped on more than a thousand occasions with your bloodline, but now I need your help as well as Layla¡¯s. I have spoken to her, only feeding a handful of information at a time of course, but now is not the time for games.¡± The words flew through the air, but my mind struggled to keep them in place long enough to understand them. ¡°There is something awakening across the bounds of my power and the very edge of certain reality. Our creator is long gone, but his children remain. Not simply made from clay like the toys of our past, but made from the essence of God, almighty in their own right. The Lord over Crimson, the Eldest of the nine, came here long ago during the peak of your depravity for war.¡± The words formed and reformed in my thoughts etching themselves like a memory of dread against the walls of my skull. Each letter carved expertly through gray matter and neurons as the degradation of the voice became more apparent. This thing isn''t human and the charade was failing every moment it spent trying to emulate humanity where none existed.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I almost didn''t recognize the voice until I felt the vibrations leave my throat. The restraints on my limbs began to loosen and muscles relaxed only enough to turn my head as it instinctually faced the being staring intently at me.


    ¡°I am Iyan the Dreamer and you are Atlas the Mantel. I was given many names from the Infinite and divine, the great builder of all things unseen, and my favorite theory in the dreams of humans Soul of Ymir as I came to be when the world was created. I have no spoilers to the means of creation, but why must one thing be correct when the plausibility of more is equally valid when the starting point is everywhere at once.¡±


    I watched as the figure shimmered and shifted like the vision of my mother before.


    ¡°Mom¡­ but you were gone, taken by the ragged man.¡± Although formless and featureless aside from the shimmering, it was clear that its expression changed; It was hesitant at first, but its assembled humanity faltered as the truth made way through.


    ¡°I am not your mother, I took form as I saw fit to push you forwards. You stagnated for years in the cell of his design, losing piece after piece of your powers, you finally awoke when I saw fit to place the note in the diner as a warning. It would be only natural to let him take everything you have, but when I saw the influence of the Lord of Crimson. I had to take action.¡±


    Those words shook the very foundation I rested on, forcing tears back into my eyes at the thought of losing my mother to the Ragged man.


    ¡®A convincing lie, but it was necessary. I could not have escaped without her, and now I have the tools needed to escape again.¡¯ I thought to myself, logic weighs heavier than the experience of loss.


    ¡°You mentioned I was the Mantel. What did you mean by that?¡± I questioned Iyan, it was obvious it wasn¡¯t going anywhere until Iyan gave me the request, I might ask while I can before Iyan.


    ¡°It¡¯s ironic the name Atlas, the original was given the punishment of holding the sky and the heavens for his transgressions against the gods, but some would say that he would hold up the world. I don¡¯t have the literal sense to do this, but the suggestion I gave to your mother was more than she needed. She had the secret passed by your family and with the others in disarray with themselves at the loss of Anne to the Ragged man¡¯s hunger. You are the name you hold, meant to carry the burden of humanity.¡±


    ¡°What else have you done? Why are we continuing this when I saw you capture Arthur?¡± My throat burned with the frustration growing from this conversation.


    ¡°A memory, one you changed only enough to get a second chance in the real world. You hold a piece of the Moraband, the only piece that would matter in the coming days to the years until your final trial. The piece of myriad lost truths, a portion forged over ten thousand lifetimes and the deaths of trillions before the moment your life came to be.¡± I watched as the being recounted this as if it had explained it countless times before.


    ¡°The past was forgotten, but you rewrote the very lives that come after. Some for the worse, but many for the better. The present is changed, but the outcome of your path is still to be determined. The task I give you is the one I am not capable of outside this place. Destroy The Ragged Man and the army he controls. Restore the lives of those he stole for conquest. Don¡¯t take the offer.¡±


    The being spoke these words, although the meaning was not lost on myself, I did struggle to comprehend what must be done as the flashes began. Lives stolen away over generations and the terror deeply contained with their puppet bodies. I have only a piece against countless others remaining of the Moraband. The Umbra¡¯s everlasting expanse began to close as Iyan disappeared without a trace. The gray walls forced their way towards me, although nothing was in their path; the movements remained slow as I searched around me for the exit, but I was not stuck here. I was only trapped in the way they existed laterally. Instead I called forth an escape, the painting I stared at once before began to advance toward me with a breeze pushed from its image. The grass began to sway and the clouds ran across the sky. I had no need to jump into it, but it felt right in the moment. The feeling against my skin made goosebumps form on my arms as I took in the grass and the low warmth of the sun streaming down from the sky. I realized after the comfort of fresh grass was replaced with chilled wet dew now soaking into my shirt, that there wasn¡¯t just one sun. they were so close that they could be barely told apart, but after a glance or two the shape was wrong. One was smaller than the other.


    ¡°Hello there.¡± A voice called from the distance, I tilted my head up to see a man waving in the distance. I placed my hand across my brow to capture the details. The realization struck me as soon as I saw that shirt. He always wore it, no matter the weather or occasion.


    ¡°Will?¡± I called back to him as I rose to my feet. The figure approached with a bead of caution in his step.


    ¡°Sorry man, Do I know you?¡±


    Finally they were face to face. This was Will, his face was unmistakable, although it wasn¡¯t the face I wanted to see, this was a surprise I welcomed.


    ¡°It¡¯s Atlas, I¡¯m Mike¡¯s roommate.¡±


    Will¡¯s face shook as I adjusted his hat to better cover his eyes from the now piercing sunlight.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about any roommates, at least none that I met. Come on, let''s get out of the sun and get something to drink. I¡¯m sure you have questions.¡±


    I was confused, but more surprised that he wasn¡¯t beating me down like he normally does. I followed him for roughly 3 miles to a little farmhouse, nothing like what I assumed it would be. We sat on the porch as I spoke to him. Trying desperately to find a single detail that would force him to remember, I got the many things about Mike right, but his expression changed when I spoke about Layla.


    ¡°What do you know about my girlfriend?¡± His tone dropped as I slowly took a sip from the glass of lemonade that waited on the porch step.


    ¡°Well she has a tattoo, super nice, and umm¡­¡± I trailed off, deciding that this was too much. Maybe my memories were false enough from my perspective, but the others were true. I didn¡¯t exist to them.


    Will eyed me carefully before speaking again.


    ¡°She is out there you know, fighting to find you. I wanted to help, I really did, but that place was just fucking creepy from the get go. I left, but killed the damn car when I tried to leave again. I walked to the closest house to get some help.¡± Will¡¯s face turned stark white as his eyes shot open.


    ¡°What happened next?¡± My senses sharply rose to nearly superhuman as the weather turned from a sunny breeze to a bitter cold overcast.


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    ¡°There were so many warnings, and I ignored them all. The family was wrong, so wrong. I should have tried hard to escape.¡± The tone of Will¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper, his chest shuttered as he held back a scream. I noticed that agony in his eyes and decided to place a hand on his arm. Memories rang like a gunshot as they flew past me. The Drive, the rundown mansion in the East Texas woodlands, and the wick smiles of the family as they held him down for the ragged man. I pulled away with such force that I collapsed only a few feet from the step and expelled bile with the disgusting citrus bitterly clinging to my lips.


    Will pulled something from behind his back and pushed it up to his chin, but for I had a chance to react; he pulled the trigger of a small pistol. Everything went black suddenly extinguishing the light of the sun eagerly pounding the clouds.


    ¡°Hello there. Can I help you?¡± I heard Will shout from behind the screen door of the farmhouse. I forced myself to sit up, but I only managed to stare with my mouth agape. I stared as Will closed the door behind him and came to offer a helping hand.


    ¡°Sorry, the heat is getting to me. Do you have any water?¡± I knew better than to press the subject, whatever was happening I knew it was to keep Will subdued for the time being.


    ¡°Yeah come on in.¡± Will pulled me up to my feet and guided me inside. The walls were littered with posters and the standard crappy art I knew Will couldn¡¯t resist.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any bottled water, but the tap is good out here. I have never seen groundwater so clear.¡± I grabbed the glass he offered, I was eager to rid myself of the taste of lemonade and the stomach acid.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± I asked as I swallowed the remarkably clear water.


    ¡°I¡¯m not too sure, I guess it¡¯s some rehab shit. I know I needed it since my drinking took a turn for the worse.¡±


    Will leaned on the counter and crossed his arms.


    ¡®This place is meant to occupy him, why make him seemingly content?¡¯ I asked myself as I finished the tall glass.


    ¡°Well I have to get to work. Make yourself at home for the time being. I¡¯ll be back in a few hours.¡± Will pulled his hat from the hook by the backdoor.


    ¡°What do you do for work?¡± I ask, only curious since there wasn¡¯t a car by the house or anything for miles around.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know yet, don¡¯t even know the pay, but compared to the other stuff I did. I¡¯ll take this over being shot at or beaten.¡± He left with a smile, I decided to watch him as he marched across the fields towards nowhere specific.


    ¡°This is weird.¡± I said to myself, already thinking of ways to get out of here just short of running to the edge of this place. ¡°There has to be another way.¡± I placed my glass on the table and began to ransack the house, pulling open everything that wasn¡¯t locked or screwed down.


    Finally I came to his room, or what I guessed was the master bedroom. The Room was filled to the brim with heavy metal posters and various different items ranging in lethality from an electric guitar hanging by the door to pocket knives and guns shoved deep into drawers or laying out in the open. Hours of searching through every drawer and box only to find nothing more than stray condom wrappers and the occasional broken MP3 player. I howled in anger and frustration throughout the house as I uncovered the contents of the last box, which turned out to be merely a pair of new shoes.


    I picked the tv up from the dresser and heaved it against the wall. The drywall didn¡¯t stand a chance as the sharp corner pierced it. I pulled everything to the floor and stomped many to pieces as I filtered my rage through destruction. Finally I collapsed to the bed panting heavy breaths as I reap the nonexistent rewards of the rampage. My hands covered my eyes as the sweat dropped from my brow and invaded my eyes. I felt the flicker, something unknown hiding in plain sight; my vision, although darkened by the salinity I desperately wiped away, fell upon me as if hinting at its own discovery. The gray of the Umbra acted as a nightlight before me. After my blurred vision was restored, my eyes searched along the sharp edges of the room until something in the periphery of my sight caught the jagged hole. A corner of a briefcase stuck out from the drywall where I had thrown the tv. I lurched forward from the bed and ripped it from the powdery remains. I recognized it vaguely as I remembered it to once be in my grandfather¡¯s study. The lock was busted beyond belief, but a simple prying with the help of one of the many pocket knives revealed an enormous stack of papers. I combed through them with little regard for their order.


    A red envelope eventually appeared as I tossed the documents from the case frantically searching beyond the hastily scribbled words and the neat font of a typewriter. I hastily ripped at the seal, but paused as the clatter of footsteps came from the front porch. I turned the envelope in my hand, waiting for Will to come bursting it. In the quiet I sat, silently willing him to think I had left, but it was pointless in the place. I thought of my words, how meek I might have sounded if this was before I escaped the cell and resided in the floating dream before. The steps were already filled with the tyranny I often associated with Will. The very moment he swung the door open I saw the fury in his eyes, burning brightly as he fought back the tears, like a child watching as his favorite toy was destroyed.


    ¡°What the hell do you think you are doing?¡±  I heard Will say before he even stepped into his room. I glanced at the writing on the folded scarlet envelope.


    ¡®You are what matters, a victory is only worth its weight in consequences if lost.¡¯ I knowingly stared at the handwriting¡­ grandpa¡¯s handwriting.


    ¡°I came here to help you I think.¡± I said without looking at Will, holding my eyes away as if a single look would be my end.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I want to be helped, Atlas. I¡¯m happy here, don¡¯t you see?¡± Will waved his hand around the room, but gestured out towards the house and the surrounding fields.


    ¡°It¡¯s all a lie.¡± I whispered beneath my breath; as if his hearing was escalated by rage alone, he tackled me to the floor and landed the first blow.


    ¡°No no no no no!¡± He screamed in my face as he pummeled me endlessly, I fought to raise my arms to protect my face. My thoughts rushed with the adrenaline as each blow landed in perfect succession.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a lie, all of this I worked for tirelessly and now you show up out of the blue and try to take it all away. Fuck you man.¡± He bellowed out as he grabbed my head and slammed it down with the full force of his body. My ears rang with an intensity so furious that all sound seemed to disappear as the muffled blows continued. I felt powerless as the energy that tried to return my arms to guard was all, but dissipated. The punches slowed and were replaced with a heavy heaving of his breathing. I felt the tension of his legs and his coarse breathing reverberated through my torso as he still held me down. Through one eye, I peeked out as the other throbbed with a burning wet swelling, he was reaching for the knife I felt open on the floor. Once he closed his grip on it, I knew it was all over.


    ¡°I make the rules here¡­ I decide what livestock live and ¡­what dies.¡± He seized my head by the hair and pushed my head back to expose my throat. I felt the warm blood trickle down from my wounds and the beating of my heart fade to silence as I watch him bring the blade to my jugular. I willed my body to move with every ounce of strength I had left, but it outright refused. I closed my remaining eye and prayed for whatever power I had been given to help me. The faintly cold blade pressed into my skin, but I felt a small change of heart pulse from his body to mine. A mercy if anything.


    ¡°Any last word you little shit?¡± He grumbled out triumphantly before taking another deep breath. My mind was slowed by the wound I sustained and the beating in my chest shakily quivering in fear. A voice spoke for me once again, a little voice so quiet that I could barely hear it over the ringing still present in my ears.


    Burn¡­ Burn bright. This place listens to you, young Atlas.


    I swallowed the blood filling my mouth and choked back the tears arising from the pain as I pushed the words from the deepest void growing in my soul. Malice brooded hopefully from the darkness growing in my heart as I tongued the words before putting breath and sound behind it.


    ¡°I figured you would be a coward in the end, after all I admit I never thought you would be anything else.¡± Will spoke, smiling like an insane man.


    I, myself, hoped it didn¡¯t have to end this way, but the path of peace became an afterthought as I spoke the word echoing inside my head.


    ¡°Burn.¡± I managed to whisper, Will looked at me confused as he appeared to not have heard me.


    ¡°What did you say?¡± He asked, although his expression changed little, the tension in his body seemed to relax.


    I gathered the breathe I needed, and forced the words through my bleeding and missing teeth.


    ¡°Burn!¡± I bellowed with the full force of my breath, the words themselves were hot as they pushed out of my chest and through my lips.


    Will shrieked in terror as his body burst into flames, he leapt up from my chest as ran blindly through the room before finding the door in a hurry. I watched with one eye as he forced himself from the room and listened carefully. I heard his body as he fell down the stairs, seeming to hit every step on the way down. His screaming stopped in sync with the last step. I sighed with relief as I realized it was over. I struggled to stand, even with the aid of the bed I fell once again, before I decided that walking might be more difficult than anticipated. I crawled my way towards the bathroom at the end of the hall, I gagged at the stench of the flesh and hair I knew burned freely at the bottom of the stairs. I managed to open the door to the cool respite of the bathroom and rose to the mirror to inspect the degree of my wounds. Deep gashes streamed blood down the contours of my cheekbones and chin, as well as, a heavy bruising bubble of swelling surrounded my right eye, the pain was still there thrumming away, but the sharpest of them faded with the cool water I splashed on my face.


    I glanced down the hall and was surprised to see that the flames had not spread far from the body as the smoke died down. I expect this whole place to go up in flames after seeing the full extent that they had burned Will. I turned towards the mirror once more to inspect the deeper of my many cuts and wondered quietly to myself as I pondered what the voice was saying.


    ¡®If it¡¯s all a lie and if this place really listened to me. I assume that I can make it work to my advantage.¡¯


    I spoke the only word I could think of as I stared deep into the wounds.


    ¡°Heal.¡± I said calmly to the mirror, but nothing happened. No scabs form instantaneously nor the flesh suddenly closing on its own.


    ¡°Shit, um.¡± I thought harder for another word, imagining the wound taking the initiative and doing the work based on demand, but remained defiant.


    I began spouting words that even related to the issue, focusing deeply on it, even touching it to force my supposed command of this place.


    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± I said aloud. I turned to shower with an old fashioned faucet at the end of the bathroom.


    ¡°Turn on, rotate, water.¡± saying one after another. Water seemed to do the trick, but not the way I thought as the bath filled with water, but coming from the drain instead of the spout. The bath began to overflow.


    ¡°Stop.¡± I commanded, luckily enough it obeyed. An Idea emerged as I suddenly thought of the word that might work. I took a deep breath.


    ¡°Reverse.¡± I slipped across the word, as if it were the first time I had used it.


    I heard a crash outside of the bathroom and turned swiftly to investigate.


    ¡°No no no no no!¡± A scream emanated from Will¡¯s room. I approached slowly. There he was, alive once again over a body. I recognized the feet, most specifically the shoes that body wore as I looked down at my own.


    ¡°Stop.¡± I whispered quietly, but the response I expected had not happened, the beating continued. It dawned on me; I was powerless, not because of the word, but because I did not have the mantel. I saw what I needed to do and slipped into the room without a sound and cautiously lifted the electric guitar from the pegs on the wall. I held by the neck as if it were a mighty axe and approached  Will from behind, knowing full well of what I had to do. I brought the guitar down to the side of his skull with as much force as I could manage and heard a sickening thud as his body went limp and fell to my feet. The body I recognized had such fear in his eyes I almost didn¡¯t realize how shocking this might be to him. I dropped the guitar and reached a hand out towards him.


    ¡°Hey there, good looking.¡± I cringed at the cliche I had only seen in movies.


    ¡°Is this another trick, another fucking trial or what?¡± My doppelganger asked.


    ¡°From my guess, this is a test drive. I don¡¯t see the trouble in it, seeing that this place is nothing more than a trick with some strings.¡± I surprised even myself as I spewed the word out as if I even knew what it meant.


    The Atlas stared at me unblinking as he probably didn¡¯t know what it meant either.


    ¡°Is he dead?¡± He asked as he reached down for the envelope.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, not this time anyway.¡± I shrugged off the implication.


    ¡°What do you mean this time?¡± Doppelganger Atlas spoke as he fingered the envelope with anticipation.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to explain it, but we need to be sure. As much as we don¡¯t want to do this. I don¡¯t like the idea of there being two of us. Give me your hand.¡± I said, he followed my instructions.


    ¡°You heard the voices, but I¡¯m going to tell you what to do and you are going to do it.¡± I demanded as I looked into his eyes, my eyes. The blues and greens blended perfectly like the waves of a calming sea with an imperfection of an early autumn hazel near the center of the iris. It was both beautiful and unsettling looking to them.


    ¡°Focus and point your anger towards him.¡± I said, pointing both of our hands towards Will as the example demanded.


    ¡®I admit I''m guessing at this, but this has to work.¡¯ I thought as I gave my next prompt.


    ¡°Burn.¡± I called forth from my lips. Nothing happened.


    ¡°What, we¡¯re going to burn him¡±¡± His voice was filled with uncertainty as he turned to face me again.


    ¡°Do it, say the word.¡± I repeated as if the instructions were unclear before.


    I saw the hesitation, but I knew he would do it.


    ¡°Burn.¡± He said in a defeated voice, but unlike for the body burst into huge devouring flames, but the torching of his flesh was nearly instantaneous with no smoke or scent of burning flesh. The body was reduced to cinder and ash in a matter of seconds.


    I felt my own body begin to fade as the realization struck like lightning in my doppelganger''s eyes.


    ¡°I was nothing more than an outcome, changed with a single choice. Don¡¯t worry about it, at least you don¡¯t have all the cuts and bruises.¡± I assured him as I felt the last of my image fade.


    I awoke as if I dozed off with nothing more than a headache pounding away in my head. I watched myself disappear without a trace, but I still kept his memory.


    I touched my eye where the cuts once were and couldn¡¯t help, but to speak aloud.


    ¡°Wow that hurt, goddamn it.¡± Although nothing truly hurt at the moment, the memory alone seemed to permeate across my face as if it were there for a moment. I looked down at the charred corpse.


    ¡°You were going to fucking kill me?¡± I knew it wouldn¡¯t answer, but still I left the room and the house altogether envelope in hand. I felt power and a certain calmness as I marched towards the brooding dark on the horizon.