His story

BROKEN DOWN

On a very cold and rainy October night, an Oldsmobile traveled down an old highway, somewhere in New Jersey. The driver was a white man, in his early 40's. His name was Jack Michaels. Jack had worked for several years now for a large company, making a 6 figure salary. His job was stressful at times, requiring him to travel a lot. Jack had a wife and two kids, whom he was seeing less and less due to his constant business trips. His marriage had become strained.

He and his wife had just gotten into a fight before this trip, as it was their daughter's birthday coming up, and he had promised to be there for it. Her birthday was tomorrow, and Jack was determined to get home to Pennsylvania to see her. He had taken a flight to NYC, as he always did on his business trips. However, the flight back had been cancelled due to a severe thunderstorm. He could not get another flight back home til the morning. Knowing how angry his wife would be if he wasn't home by in the morning, and knowing how upset his daughter would be, Jack had to find a way back home. Unfortunately he couldn't get a bus to take him all the way back to PA by that time of night. However, he found a mysterious man selling an old car for two hundred dollars. Jack, desperate to get home that morning, bought the car, and was now driving it all the way back to Pennsylvania.

The storm that had caused his flight to be cancelled was hitting hard. He had never seen so much lightning and rain. He had to be careful in some places about flooded roads and hydroplaning. Jack was now in the middle of nowhere, without a soul in sight. He had gotten gas at a station miles back.

"If I can just get home by in the morning," Jack kept thinking.

However he might not be that fortunate. All of a sudden, the car started to act up. The Oldsmobile violently shook and vibrated. Jack was forced to slow down and pull off the road. The car continued to vibrate until Jack turned the ignition off.

"Great" Jack said. He opened the door, got out, and popped open the hood to look at the old engine. Surprisingly, the motor seemed fine. Everything looked to be in place. Nothing looked burnt or destroyed. Jack checked the oil and found that it was almost totally empty of oil. The Oldsmobile would never start like this. Jack would have to walk, in the rain, to find a place to get oil or find help.

Jack took off on foot in the cold rain, following the lonely highway that seemed to go on and on forever, without another car in sight. Walking about five miles, Jack finally found an old convenience store still open. Jack walked in through the old creaky doors. The lights were on. Country music was playing on the speakers, but not a soul in sight.

"Hello?" Jack said, "Anyone here?"

"Hello" said a mysterious voice from behind. Jack turned around to see a very strange man. The man was short, shorter than Jack. He had black hair, and the coldest looking green eyes Jack had ever seen. The man had a very cold look on his face. It looked as if it would be painful for him to smile. "Can I help you?" the man said very seriously.

"I'm from out of state. I'm broken down a few miles down the road. The car's low on oil and won't start. Can you help me out?"

"We have motor oil for sale here," the man said dryly, "If you wish to purchase it you may."

"I don't suppose you or anyone could give me a lift back to my car, could you?"

"No, I'm the only one here. I can't leave the store. My boss would get mad."

"You can't call someone?"

"No," the man said again coldly.

"Alright." Jack purchased the motor oil, realizing he was out of cash, having spent it all on the car, had to use his debit card. He quickly swiped his card and entered his pin and then left.

Walking back toward his car, Jack thought to himself about how mad his wife would be. He didn't know which would piss her off more, the fact that he paid two hundred dollars for an old piece of junk car, or the fact that he drove all the way back home in it in a horrible storm and broke down. He didn't want to miss his daughter's birthday however. He and his wife had been in a horrible argument before he left on the trip. She had even threatened to leave him if he didn't start spending more time at home. He knew how mad she would be if he didn't come home tonight. He had to get home one way or another.

Part 2

The long highway seemed to stretch on and on forever. Icy cold rain poured down on Jack's face. Flashes of white light were followed by loud booms of thunder. As Jack continued walking on and on the rain seemed to get colder and icier. Suddenly he realized it was ice. It was hailing now. This was just the last thing he needed.

Jack began to run, hoping to get to the old car faster. The cold ice continued to hit his face. Finally he saw the shape of the old car. Jack opened the hood again and began to pour the oil. After emptying the entire container, Jack checked the oil dipstick again. This time it was completely full.

He shut the hood and stepped in the driver's side of the Oldsmobile. Jack stuck the key in the old ignition and turned it, listening to the motor spur and try to start. After a few tries, the motor started up. Suddenly, there was a flash of white light. Jack looked out in front of him as the lightning flashed, illuminating a mysterious figure in the distance.

"What was that?" Jack said to himself. He quickly flipped the car's headlights on. Light was now shining out in front of him. The thunder boomed on cue and Jack looked closely to see if he could see anything, but there was nothing. Jack put the car in drive and began to move forward, looking to see if he could find whatever it was he saw. There was nothing. Not wanting to take any chances, Jack quickly locked the doors and drove off.

"Is my mind playing tricks on me?" Jack thought, "Was it just a trick of the light?" He continued on and on for a few miles. Wanting to shake the creepy vibe he was getting from this place, Jack turned on the old radio in the car. The radio was just as old as the car itself. There was no CD player of course, or even a tape player for that matter. Jack had to change stations by turning a knob. Going through several stations of static, he looked for a station playing some good music. A couple of stations came up playing country, but Jack continued searching for something else. His eyes continued to change from the road to the radio. For a split second his eyes were fixed on the radio, and he looked up and suddenly saw the figure of what seemed to be a person standing in the road right in front of him.

Jack quickly slammed the brakes and turned the steering wheel toward the left, swerving the car into the left lane. The tires squealed on the road as rubber burned on the pavement. The car spun around in different directions until finally coming to a halt in the middle of the road.

Jack was panting heavily. Smoke was coming up from the road from where the tires had burned so badly on the road. Jack grabbed the shifter and put the old car in park, then shut it off. As he stepped out of the Oldsmobile, he looked around. It was still raining, though only lightly. Jack walked around looking for what he had seen. There was nothing. No sign of anything. Just empty road for as far as the eye can see.

"Hello?" he said, "Anyone there?" He looked around, staring at the road and moving his gaze towards the trees around him. Nothing. No one in sight. No sounds. Just trees, and a drizzle of water coming down. Jack turned around and got back in the car.

"Am I going crazy?" he thought as he started the Oldsmobile, "Am I seeing things? Hallucinating? I know I saw something. It looked like a person. Is my mind playing tricks on me? Maybe I'm just exhausted from not sleeping much."

The Oldsmobile continued down the long stretch of road. It seemed like an endless path. It wasn't much longer that Jack saw the lights from the convenience store he had bought the motor oil at. As he passed by he looked at the old store. He could see the lights on inside. The store looked completely empty. The man with the cold attitude that worked there was nowhere in sight.

Jack continued down the road past the old store. He knew he would soon need to be getting back on the interstate. He wasn't far from Pennsylvania now. As he continued driving down the road, he thought about his wife, his daughter, his job. The job paid good but he had long been thinking it might be more trouble than it was worth. It was hurting his marriage. He hardly saw his wife. He didn't have time to spend with his kids. He had been thinking about resigning for quite a while now. This whole trip was just making his decision easier and easier.

A few weeks prior, Jack had discussed things with his boss. Jack worked for a large corporation as a financial adviser for the last several months. In the last month or two, the company had been making some changes, investing into other companies. They had been meeting almost every week all across the country with other companies and businesses. Jack's job was to advise the heads of the company he worked for whether or not to invest in what they planned to invest in. He was paid by the hour, as well as having all his expenses covered, excluding the money he had payed for this car to drive back home. The company had purchased his plane ticket. Jack knew he would have to pay them back for that. The income he was getting from all the meetings he had had was enough to make over 125 grand in one year. Before this, he had been making less than 75 grand per year.

Jack knew if he quit the job that his family would not be living the lifestyle they were living now. The birthday party tomorrow for his daughter was costing over ten thousand dollars. They had all taken a family cruise that summer for three straight weeks near the Bahamas. If he lost this job, they would have to give up a lot of luxuries.

When Jack talked to his boss, he told him about how demanding the job was. He explained that he was seeing his wife and kids less and less, and that he needed more time off to be with them. His boss assured him that things were going to slow down soon, near the holidays. Jack was waiting it out to see, but now he was not so sure.

Suddenly, the car started to violently shake and vibrate, just as it had done before. Jack was unable to even pull off the road this time. The car just shut down. He turned the key and tried to start it again, but it wouldn't start.

"Son of a bitch!" Jack said. He stepped out of the Oldsmobile and pushed the back of it, hoping to get it off the road. Once it was off the road he popped open the hood again and looked at the engine. It looked the same as before. Nothing looked burnt or broken. He would have to find a phone somewhere, as he did not have a cell phone. He used to have one, but it fell in water and was ruined. His wife had been nagging him to get a new one for a while. Now Jack wished he had.

He knew he was much farther away from the convenience store than before, but as it was the only place anywhere nearby where he was sure he could use a phone, he would have to go back there. The rain continued to pour on and on, with no end in sight.

PART 4

Jack finally saw the lights of the old convenience store. It felt like he had been walking for hours. The rain was cold, ice cold on his skin. Jack thought to himself as he walked, trying to look at the bright side, but he couldn't think of ever having a trip worse than this one. It was as if anything that could go wrong, did go wrong. He had regretted even coming. He hadn't even done much in New York. The meeting only lasted 30 minutes and he hadn't even been in it. His boss had told him it was only for the bosses of the company to meet with. All he had done was look at paper work afterwards for the other company and tell them if it was worth investing in or not. He was sick of it. He had never heard of a corporation making so many investments all at once like this. Jack was beginning to wonder where they were getting the money to make all these investments.

He and his wife had just had a big fight right before he left for this trip as well. Their son had been suspended from school and she blamed it on Jack, telling him he wasn't there for his kids. Jack promised he would be around more, but she kept yelling at him. She got even angrier when Jack told him about this trip. He promised her he'd be back in time for their daughter's birthday, and she threatened to leave him if he didn't keep his promise. As soon as he got home, he was going to call his boss and quit. It wasn't worth all this.

Jack reached the convenience store. He walked up to the old doors and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked. He peered in the window and saw that the lights were on, but no one was in there.

"Locked?" Jack asked, "They can't be closed. I was just here. It wasn't even an hour ago." He knocked on the door, hoping that the man he had met earlier was still there, and would come to the door. Nothing. He looked at the sign and sure enough it said "Closed."

"Hello?" Jack called, "Hello? Anyone there?" No answer.

"Why on Earth would they close in the middle of the night like that? It must've been two in the morning when I was here earlier." He walked around the store, looking to hopefully see a pay phone somewhere. Nothing. Now he would have to go knocking on some stranger's door in the middle of the night.

Jack walked up the road, looking for a house nearby. He hadn't seen many houses on the side of the road driving through, but perhaps if he wondered away from the road a little bit he could find one. He wandered away from the road into the woods a little bit, careful not to go too far. He was right. It wasn't long before he found a gravel road. Jack followed the gravel, soon seeing a vehicle in the distance. It was someone's driveway. He could soon make out a small trailer. None of the lights were on. He knew no one was home. They were soon going to be in for a strange awakening.

Jack walked up to the front door of the trailer and, after hesitating for a moment, knocked on the door. He knew it would take more than one knock so after a few seconds loudly knocked again. Suddenly, he heard movement from behind him and turned around quickly. He looked out in the distance, trying to see what he had heard. His eyes moved around, gazing out at the vehicles, the gravel, the woods, all to see nothing.

"Hello?" Jack said, "Is someone there?"

Suddenly, he heard the door behind him open. Jack gasped as he turned around and saw an old man standing in the doorway.

"Can I help you with something son?" the man said.

"Yes, I'm really sorry to wake you in the middle of the night like this, but I'm broken down just up the road a little ways, and I-"

"Call a tow truck," the man said as he started to close the door.

"I don't have a phone," Jack said quickly to stop him, "Please, I was going to use a phone at a convenience store nearby but it's closed." The man looked at Jack suspiciously for a second.

"Fine, I'll let you use the cordless. I can give you the number to a tow truck. I've had to use em plenty of times."

"Thank you so much sir." The man closed the door as he turned around. Jack turned back around, trying to see what it was he had heard. "Maybe it was just an animal," he thought. The door opened again as the old man stepped out with the phone.

"Number's 635-5439," he said.

"Thank you," Jack said as he took the phone and dialed the number. After a few rings, a female voice answered.

"Smith towing," she said.

"Hi, I'm broken down on the side of the rode on route ten," Jack said, "I need somebody to tow my car for me."

"Where at on route ten?" the lady said.

"I'm a few miles down the road from an old convenience store. Sir, do you know what the name of that store is?"

"Rowe's Country Store."

"Rowe's Country Store ma'am. I'm from out of town and don't know the area too well."

"Okay, we'll send out a tow truck. They should be there in about half an hour."

"Thank you," Jack said as he hung up and handed the phone back to the old man, "Thank you sir. I apologize for waking you up so late. I didn't know what else to do."

"It's fine," the man said, "You have a good night. I hope you get your car fixed."

Jack returned to his Oldsmobile and waited for the tow truck. Almost as if on cue, it showed up about thirty minutes after he had called. The tow truck driver hooked up the Oldsmobile. He let Jack ride with him into town to drop off the car at a local garage.

"They won't be in til the morning," the driver said, "but we can leave the car outside and then first thing in the morning you can ask them to look at it."

"Is there anywhere nearby I could stay for the night?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, there's an old motel just up the road. I'll take ya there."

"I appreciate it sir," Jack replied. The driver drove Jack to the motel, dropping him off right outside the front door.

"Can you take a debit card?" Jack asked.

"I can't," the man said, "Come by the office in the morning. They'll take a card there."

"Okay, thank you again." Jack closed the door and the man drove off. He turned around and looked at the old motel. This certainly wasn't the most luxurious place to stay in. It looked like the kind of place people take prostitutes to, but it would have to do. Jack entered the office. There was no one at the desk.

"Hello? Anyone there?" Now he was having a feeling of deja vu, having felt like he had said that a hundred times that night.

"Hello?" he heard a voice say. A short man with big glasses on came out of a back room. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I need a room for the night."

"It's awfully late."

"I, broke down on the road. I tried to fix it myself but it didn't work. I had to get it towed to a garage, so I'm stuck for the night."

"Well then, it's 39.99 for a one bedroom room for one night."

"That's not bad. Do you take a debit card."

"Yeah." Jack handed the man the debit card. The man swiped it and gave him his key and told him which room to go to.

The room looked as Jack had imagined it would. The bed was small and ugly. The carpet did not look like it had been cleaned. The bathroom was small and had no soap in it. Dirt was all over the floor. He didn't plan to stay here for long at least. He hadn't even brought his bags with him. He just wanted to sleep here.

Jack dropped down on the bed and let out a big sigh. After resting for a minute, he grabbed the phone beside him and dialed his home number. He knew how mad his wife would be that he wasn't going to be home tomorrow, but he wanted to let her know. The phone rang several times. He doubted anyone was awake at this hour. Finally, the answering machine picked up.

"Honey, I just wanted to let you know I won't be home til late tomorrow. The flight got cancelled because of the weather and I'll get home as quickly as possible. I'll see you soon. Love you," Jack said and then hung up. He didn't want to tell her about buying the Oldsmobile yet.

Jack pulled the blankets up over him on the bed as he tried to relax for the first time in days. The bed was hard and very uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if he would ever get to sleep in it. Beside the bed a clock read four thirty. Four thirty in the morning. He was still a good five hour drive from home. If he could get the car fixed in the morning he could drive straight there and maybe make it home by two or three in the afternoon. Maybe he could still make his daughter's party, but he would have to get up and get to the garage first thing in the morning. He needed to get some sleep. He needed to fall asleep now, but this bed was so uncomfortable. This motel was so unfamiliar to him, and for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He was running, running as fast as he could, towards something. He wasn't even sure what it was, but it was important. He was on a road; an old highway that seemed to stretch on and on forever. Around him was ice falling from the sky. Literally cold and sharp icicles falling and hitting him, scratching at his skin. It was dark. Beyond the road and the ice he could see nothing, just blackness. He heard something, a voice. His wife's voice. Screaming for help

"JACK!!! JACK, PLEASE HELP ME!!!" she screamed out.

"Julie, honey, where are you?!!!" Jack screamed out.

"JACK, HEEEELP!!!"

"I'm coming Julie!!" he screamed.

"Daddy? Daddy, where are you?" this sounded like his daughter's voice.

"Jessica? Jessica is that you?"

"Daddy? DADDY?!! DADDY, HELP MOMMY!!!"

"JESSICA!!!"

"Jessica, daddy's gone. He's never coming back," this was his son's voice, "We need to get out of here."

"Daniel? Daniel, it's daddy. I'm coming for you guys."

"DADDY!!!" he heard his daughter screaming.

"Stop," he suddenly heard a mysterious and ominous voice say. Jack looked in front of him and could make out a mysterious figure. It looked like a man, a man dressed in all black.

"Julie?!! Kids?!!! WHERE ARE YOU?!!!!" Jack screamed.

"Do...not...go...on," the figure said. Jack continued running toward it. Suddenly, the figure changed. Black wings spread out from its back. Suddenly he could see its eyes, red evil eyes, looking at him, coming at him. The ice suddenly became red, as if it were frozen blood instead of frozen water. Then, the road disappeared. Jack was running off a cliff and falling into darkness. He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Jack suddenly woke up, almost jumping out of his bed. It was a dream, a nightmare. He looked at the clock; seven thirty. He had slept three hours, and they certainly hadn't been a good three hours. He was still very tired, but knew that he needed to go ahead and get up. He needed to get the car fixed and get going. He wanted to be home in time for Jessica's party. Before getting up, he reached beside him and grabbed the phone. Jack dialed his home number, thinking that Julie probably hadn't left the house yet. The phone rang and rang several times, and then the voicemail picked up.

"Hey, honey, I was just calling again. I don't know if you got my message last night. I just wanted to let you know that I won't be home til later this afternoon. My flight got cancelled and it's been a heck of a trip getting back. I'll explain it to you later. I'm gonna try to make it home in time for Jessica's party. I'll see you soon. I love you."

About half an hour later, Jack was dressed and out the door of the motel. He returned his key to the office. The garage was only a couple of miles from the motel, within walking distance. He could see that the garage was opened now. The Oldsmobile still sat in the front. Jack walked in the office. A woman sat at a desk across a window, surrounded by papers.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"Yes, I um, I'm from out of town. I bought this old Oldsmobile in New York. I've been trying to get it back home to where I live, and it broke down last night. It's parked right out in front here. I really need to get home soon. Can someone take a look at it for me please?"

"Sure, you're in luck as there's no one else in front of you. Do you have the key?"

"Yes," Jack said as he handed her the key, "It won't start though."

"They'll get it in the garage," she said. Jack turned around and walked back outside. A few minutes later, several guys in jump suits came out.

"This the broken down one?" one of the men said.

"Yes."

"Care to help us push it inside?"

"You got it," he replied. Jack and the men all got together behind the car and began to push it, trying to get it into the garage. The tires began to roll as the car moved forward little by little, until it was finally inside.

"Alright," the man that had talked to him before said, "we'll take a look at it. Hook it up to the computer. Once we know what's wrong with it, I'll tell Sheila to give ya a price."

"Sounds great," Jack said, "Thank you." As he started to turn around, something caught his eye. One of the workers in the garage looked familiar. Jack turned around and looked at him. It was the man from the convenience store!

"Hey," Jack said, "Hey, I know you. You're that guy from the convenience store last night."

"I beg your pardon?" the man said.

"You, you work at that old country store. Don't you remember me last night? I was the one that came in and bought motor oil. Man, what time do you guys close? I came back last night after the car broke down again and the doors were locked."

"Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about," the man said coldly, "I've never seen you before in my life."

"What? You don't work at the convenience store?"

"This is the only job I have."

"Well do you have a brother that works there?"

"I'm an only child," the man said again coldly. Jack stared at his face. He had that same cold look as from the night before. It had to be him. Jack knew it was him. Yet, he claimed he didn't recognize him. This didn't make any sense, but then, why would the man work at both the convenience store in the middle of the night and then work in a car garage early the next morning. When would he sleep? This didn't make sense, but it looked just like him.

Jack turned around and walked back into the office. He sat there waiting for what seemed like forever. His mind kept wandering about everything. He tried to occupy it with the magazines they had laid out in the office for people to read, but it was hard not to think about it. Who was that guy? Why did he see him at the gas station the night before? His name on his jumpsuit said "Eric." Jack kept trying to remember if he was wearing a name tag the night before, and if so what it said. Finally, the lady at the desk called for him. She told him that the Oldsmobile needed new plugs and wiring. She told him how much it would cost. Jack payed for it with his debit card and waited for them to finish. After about an hour she told him it was done. They took the car out for a test drive and said it was running fine now.

Jack asked them if they knew where Smith Towing was at. They gave him directions for it, and Jack drove off. The Smith Towing yard was just a few miles down the road. This town was so small, nothing seemed very far away. After paying for their towing services the night before, Jack was off. He couldn't wait to get home. He never wanted to come back to this town ever again.

He was soon back on the same highway as the night before. All the rain from the night before was gone. Today it was sunny and beautiful. The changed leaves on the trees had almost completely fallen off from the storm. It looked like it was already winter, yet it was unusually warm.

As he continued on down the road, he soon saw a sign stating that the interstate was just five miles down the road. Finally, he would be back in Pennsylvania. He knew the border couldn't be much further once he got on the interstate. Maybe now he could finally rest. Maybe now he could turn the radio on. Jack reached down for the old radio, turning it on and tuning through static, trying to find a good station. Suddenly, all over again, Jack looked up and saw a mysterious black figure standing in the middle of the road. This time he could see it clearer than before. It was the same dark figure from his nightmare! He could see it spreading its wings, just as it had done in the dream. Jack slammed the brakes and skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. He looked up and suddenly the figure was gone. Just open road again. There was no sign of it.

"Do not go on," he heard a voice say from behind him. Jack screamed as he jumped out of the car. There was nothing there. Nothing inside the car. He looked around. Nothing. Just trees. He could hear crows cawing.

"I'm losing my freaking mind," Jack said out loud, "I have to be losing my mind. It's the stress. The stress of this damn job! Everything! It's getting to me. Now I'm having nightmares and hallucinations of some winged creature. It can't be real. I have to be losing my mind!"

Jack got back in the car and drove on, continually trying to block it out from his mind, telling himself it wasn't real. Finally he saw the exit to get on the interstate. He had never been so happy to see it in his life. He quickly got on it and hit the accelerator, going from fifty to seventy five very quickly. He wanted to get home as soon as possible. Back to his home; back to his wife, back to his kids. He wanted to get home and call his boss and quit his job immediately. He wanted to buy a cell phone as soon as possible in case this sort of thing ever happened to him again. He wanted to forget all about this awful experience, but he couldn't get mind off of it.

He started to think about the car and when he had bought it. He knew buying a car from a total stranger wasn't the best idea, especially some guy on the street. It had been too late to try to catch a bus ride all the way to Pennsylvania. He couldn't rent a car and drive it that far, and it was too late to rent a car anyways. Then he had seen a mysterious old man on the street, a homeless man, begging for spare change. Jack had told him he didn't have any money to give him. Then the man offered to sell him something. He told Jack he had an old car that still runs. He told him he hadn't had a job in months and said he needed to buy food for his kids. He offered to sell the car for two hundred dollars. Jack took the offer, in desperate need of a way home. He didn't think it was a bad idea. He was wrong.

"Maybe the car was cursed? Maybe that's why the old man wanted to get rid of it? Whatever's happening to me happened to him, and he wanted to pin it off on somebody else? What am I thinking? The car can't be cursed. Now I am thinking crazy."

As Jack continued on down the road, he saw something. He could see the same dark figure, standing on the side of the road. It looked like a hitchhiker. At this point Jack concluded that it was a hallucination and that the best thing to do was to ignore it. He passed by the mysterious figure, looking at it. All he could see was the black outline of what appeared to be a man. He couldn't see anything else. He couldn't see clothes, its face, its eyes. He just kept on going. It wasn't long before he saw it again, this time on the other side of the road. He once again passed it. A few miles further, he could see it in the grass in the medium, walking. Jack passed it again.

His attempts to ignore it seemed to only be making it worse. He turned the radio up as loud as he could, trying to distract himself from everything else. Sweet Home Alabama was playing. He tried to sing along with it. Suddenly, the song stopped. Static came on, and then he heard the ominous voice once again say, "Do not go on."

"Leave me alone!!" Jack shouted as he turned the radio off. "It's not real. It's not real," he kept telling himself over and over. He tried to think of other things, trying to distract himself from this hallucination he believed he was having. He tried to think about his wife. He tried to think about his kids. His son and his success in baseball as a kid. His daughter Jessica. He tried to think about her birthday. His mind kept coming back to all of this however. His mind was racing. Images of the dark winged figure kept flashing through his mind. The man named Eric who worked at the gas station and the car garage kept appearing in his mind. The old man he had bought the car from. His job. His boss. The endless amounts of meetings they had been having over the last several months. The numerous investments they were making. All that money they spent. Where did they even get that money? It was almost as if they were using money from other investments to make new ones, and then something finally clicked in Jack's mind.

Suddenly, there was a loud banging noise in both his ears, accompanied with a huge jolt and a flash of light. A sharp pain ran through his whole body, and then it all stopped.

At a large and elegant house in Pennsylvania, everyone was busy. A mother was rushing to get everything ready for her daughter's birthday party. The daughter was excited. The children and mother were both wondering when the father would be home, as he had promised to be home for the party. The daughter was feeling disappointed. She hadn't seen her father much in the last several months. Not as much as she used to. She and her father used to be close, very close. In the last few months however, it seemed to her that he didn't have time for her anymore. As the mother was busy in the kitchen cooking and getting things ready, the doorbell rang.

"Daniel, can you get that?" she said.

"Sure mom," the son said as he rushed to the door. He opened the door to see two men standing there, both dressed officially. One of the men showed the boy a police badge.

"Hello buddy, may we speak to Mrs. Daniels?"

"Mom!" Daniel yelled.

"Who is it?" his mother said.

"It's two police officers," Daniel answered. Julie stopped what she was doing, somewhat stunned.

"Police officers? Here? Now? What could this be about?" she wondered. Julie quickly came to the door. "Can I help you officer?"

"Are you Mrs. Michaels?"

"Yes."

"We need to talk to you about your husband."

"Daniel, honey, go help your sister," she said to her son to get him to leave, "What's wrong? Is he alright?"

"Mrs. Michaels, I don't know how to tell you this, but your husband passed away this afternoon."

"What?!!!" Julie said quickly. She suddenly felt as if her heart was going to stop. Her legs were weak. She was dizzy. It was all she could do to prevent herself from passing out. Tears came to her eyes quickly, running down her face. "Oh my God!!!" she said tearfully.

"Mrs. Michaels, maybe you should sit down," the officer said as he tried to help her keep from falling.

"Oh my God!! Oh my God, Jack, no! Jack, please, how could this happen," she said crying. The officers tried to lead her back into the living room nearby where she could sit down. "Oh my God, h-how did this h-happen?" she said with her face wet with tears.

"He was in a car wreck."

"A car wreck? How, how could he have been in a car wreck. He was in New York for some meeting. He, he flew there! He was supposed to be flying back last night!"

"There was a uh, bad thunderstorm last night. Stretched from Canada to the Atlantic Ocean. All flights there were cancelled," the other officer said for the first time.

"But, but a car wreck? He didn't have a car with him. Where did he get it?"

"It was an Oldsmobile, ninety two model. Had a New York license plate. They've already run the plates, but unfortunately it was registered to a guy named Joe Dirt, living at 534 candy cane lane, New York, New York. We're already investigating into this as a possible homicide."

"Homicide?"

"Yes, Mrs. Michaels, a homicide. The car was found in New Jersey, on the interstate just near the Pennsylvania and New Jersey border."

"He, he was coming home?"

"It appears so. The car was found in flames, burning. Jack's body was found inside. His wallet was recovered and his driver's license was barely able to make out his name. It appears that it wasn't an accident. The car's wiring seemed to have been redone and traces of explosive chemicals were found in the motor oil. An explosion was imminent. The vehicle seemed rigged to blow."

"Oh my God!" Julie said. She was now sobbing heavily. Now she was not only upset and heartbroken, but also confused and scared at the thought that someone might have murdered her husband.

"Mrs. Michaels, I know this is obviously a hard time for you, but we're going to need you to do some things for us. The body is being transferred here. We're going to need you to identify it. We also need to tell us anything you can about your husband. Any enemies, any person that could possibly want to kill him or have any kind of grudge against him. We're going to be investigating this and working with the police in Jersey that came to the scene and filled out the report. It's imperative that we find out what we can as soon as we can. The first forty eight hours are crucial in homicide investigations."

"Oh my God, I-I don't know what to do. How am I going to live without him? Oh my God, Jack, Jack was just a financial adviser for a corporation. Why would anyone wanna kill him?" Julie said, her face now wet with tears. She tried to think for a minute to get her head together. She looked out the window by her front door and could make out across the street a mysterious, dark figure that seemed to be staring right at her

EPILOGUE

Two months had passed since the mysterious death of Jack Michaels. The FBI had become involved in the investigation. The Michaels family had been placed in witness protection, being relocated to another state and their names changed. However, the wife had become ill. She was placed in a mental hospital after making several claims that she was being terrorized by a black winged figure. The children were staying in a foster home, still under their assumed names in witness protection.

It was now Christmas Eve, and in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania a man was working into the afternoon getting ready to go home to his family. The man was the head of a large company, company that had in recent months been expanding greatly, making several investments into other companies across the country. The man had been very busy over the last several months, and was now happy it was Christmas time. He finally had time to do things other than work. The man was very tired, having not slept much in the last several weeks. Finishing his work made him that much more relieved. Now he could finally go home to his nice warm bed with his wife and wake up in the morning to see his kids open their Christmas presents, rather than drive to work and deal with mountains of paper work.

The man left his office and entered the elevator, punching the button for the ground floor. Down the elevator went, all the way down to the ground. As he walked out the door toward his car in the cold night, he heard a voice behind him.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Boyd?"

"Yes I am," the man said as he turned around to see a man in a suit showing him a badge. "Is there a problem?" he said.

"Mr. Boyd, you're under arrest," the cop said as he grabbed ahold of him and pushed his head down on the car, quickly handcuffing his hands behind his back.

"What's the meaning of this? Under arrest for what? I'm a businessman, not a criminal!"

"You're under arrest for investment fraud in connection with a Ponzi scheme," the man said.

"Fraud?! Ponzi scheme?! What the hell are you talking about?"

"You didn't let me finish sir. You're also under arrest for conspiracy murder."

"What?!! Conspiracy murder? of who?!!!"

"A former employee of yours, Jack Michaels."

SECOND STORY

His senses were beginning to pick up things. First sight, he could make out light beyond his closed eyelids. Then touch, as he could feel the wood of the chair he was sitting in. Sound also came back, but there was nothing to be heard. He knew he was inside, as it could only be this quiet inside. As he opened his eyes, he could see that he was inside some sort of room, perhaps underground, a basement. There were no windows. There was a table not far from him, and several chairs. He was sitting in a chair as well. After a few minutes of still waking up, he got up out of the chair.

How he had gotten in to this mess was a story all its own. His name was Jim Davis, and he was a cop in Chicago, a detective. He had been investigating a drug ring, selling a new psychedelic drug called Rozyhil. People were committing some of the most heinous crimes while on this drug. People on the drug had been reverting to cannibalism. Several victims had been found dead, with their own flesh eaten off. When suspects were arrested while high on this drug, they would ramble on and on about killer clowns, demons, and government conspiracies. Nothing they said could ever be understood. The crimes were becoming more and more common. The drug was becoming a serious problem. Jim had spent months and months investigating, attempting to get to the bottom of things. Finally he had learned about a group that was trafficking the drug. Jim had attempted to find the drug after receiving a tip about where it was being trafficked in from. However, when he arrived at the scene, he was ambushed. The gang had expected. The last thing he remembered was being hit in the back of the head with a bat.

As he walked around, looking around the room he was in, he suddenly heard a noise. An intercom was coming on. "Hello, Detective Davis," he heard a voice say, "Welcome to our, what we call, hunting area. You have been placed in here, and I must inform you that you are being watched by our 'hunters' right now. You are the prey. If you want to survive, you must either escape them or kill them. Please be advised that you have been injected with Rozyhil. You wanted to know about our product. Now you will get to see first hand how it works. It can either make it easier for yourself, or harder. It may be hard to determine what is real and what is not in this. Good luck."

"Great," he thought. Now he had the psychedelic inside him. The gangsters had placed him in some sort of game for their own amusement. It wasn't good enough to just kill him. They wanted to torture him. Jim could only hope he was prepared for what was to come. He had trained in the police academy to be prepared for a lot of things. This wasn't one of them.

First thing was first, he had to get out of this room. He looked around for a door of some kind. There was none; no doors, no windows. There had to be a way out of here. They had to have gotten him in the room somehow. He continued looking around until he could see that underneath the table was a trapdoor. A trapdoor going underneath the room he was in. Jim knew this couldn't be good. He grabbed the table and pushed it over on the side and then pulled the trapdoor up until it finally came open. He could make out a ladder, leading down into the dark. There were no lights down there, wherever it was.

Jim climbed down the ladder slowly, and then stepped down onto a cold stone floor. He appeared to be in some sort of tunnel. Other than the light from the room above it was too dark to see anything. He walked slowly forward. There were no weapons on him. No gun. No knife. He was totally defenseless besides his hands. If they wanted this to be interesting, surely they wouldn't have men armed with guns ready to kill him right here right now. As he continued to make his way down the tunnel, it got darker and darker. Soon he couldn't see anything in front of his face. It was quiet. The busy city of Chicago was always filled with noise. Jim had never known what the saying that you could hear a penny drop was like until now. This kind of quietness was something he had never experienced before.

The further in the tunnel he got, the quieter and darker it got. After what seemed like years of walking through darkness, the quiet was broken by a sound, a mysterious sound. Jim stopped in his tracks, and began to look around. As if it would do any good, he couldn't see in front of his face. He was sure he had heard something though. The faint sound of footsteps. It would had to have been hundreds of feet from him, but he was sure he had heard it. Jim waited and listened for the sound to repeat itself, but it never did, and so he moved on. His feet were moving forward, left then right, in almost perfect rhythm. There was still nothing but darkness in front of him. Suddenly, he heard another sound, a whisper, and turned around.

"Hello?" Jim said, "Anyone there?" No answer. "If you're trying to get me guys, come right on and get me. I'm right here waiting." Jim prepared himself, clenching his fists, ready for someone to jump right out and attack him.

"You're not worth it Jim," a whisper said from behind. Jim turned around quickly, throwing his fist first. There was nothing there. No one. There had been a whisper though. He knew he had heard it.

Jim continued walking down the long and dark tunnel, keeping vigilant for any sounds or sights. It seemed like hours he walked down the dark tunnel. Every few minutes he would hear something else, a creek or a crack. He couldn't tell if these sounds were near or far, above or below. After a while of walking, he suddenly heard footsteps again, starting faint and then becoming louder and louder. Someone was coming up on him from behind. Jim turned around quickly, looking to see who it was. Suddenly he felt some kind of force hitting him and knocking him backwards. The back of his head hit the tunnel wall hard as he fell down on the floor. He looked in front of him, looking for the force that had knocked him down, seeing nothing through his blurry vision, and then everything went dark.

When Jim woke up, his head was bleeding. He had been hit in the back of the head twice tonight, and he imagined that added to the psychedelic drug he had been injected with, things weren't going to get any better. Suddenly he realized he could see in front of him. The totally dark tunnel was now being lit with a mysterious red glow. Someone had turned on a light in the tunnel. Someone that was wanting him to see something now. Jim slowly got up from the floor and started to move toward the red light. It was an emergency light, and it wasn't alone. The tunnel was filled with them. They had been turned off when he first came in to the tunnel. As Jim continued moving forward, he suddenly heard a loud scream from behind him. He turned around and could make out a shadow moving away from him.

"If this is part of your sick game, I hope you know I won't last without a weapon. So are you going to provide me with one, or what?" Jim said.

"Come now Jim, we can't let the dangerous criminals have weapons," a mysterious and familiar voice said from behind him. Jim turned around, once again to see nothing behind him. That voice, it was familiar. Jim knew that voice. It took him a minute to think about it before he realized it was the voice of his old partner, Shaun. He and Shaun were partners in law enforcement years ago, before Jim was a detective, when they were rookie cops. Shaun had said those exact words to him once before, during a discussion about gun rights. Shaun had been a supporter of gun control, and one day while on duty he and Jim had discussed it. Jim had made an argument against gun control, telling Shaun it was the second amendment right for people to own guns. That was when Shaun had made the statement, "Come now Jim, we can't let the dangerous criminals have weapons."

Shaun had died years ago while on duty with him. Jim would never forget that day. They had been on patrol when they saw a car without a license plate. It was a routine traffic stop. Shaun was driving. He walked up to the driver's side, with Jim following on the passenger side. Shaun hadn't even gotten to the window yet when the driver suddenly pulled out a pistol and shot Shaun several times in the chest. Jim quickly pulled out his own gun and returned fire. The shots missed and the driver sped off. Jim chose not to pursue him and help his friend. He radioed in to dispatch about it. By the time the ambulance had arrived Shaun was already dead. He died in Jim's arms. Jim thought it was a bad joke. Shaun was killed by a criminal with a gun, the very kind of person he believed in keeping guns away from. The man that shot him was never found. The car was found a month later burned up, but there was never any other sign. This had haunted Jim for years.

Jim knew the voice he had heard was Shaun's. He could never forget that voice. He could never forget those words. It had haunted him for years. It was the drug. It had to be. Rozyhil drove the people who used it mad. It was happening to him now. The drug was affecting his brain, his subconscious mind was projecting these sounds. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. Shaun was dead.

"Oh Jim, you never could take a joke," the voice suddenly said again. Jim turned around again, looking everywhere. All he could see was the walls of the tunnel, illuminated by the red emergency lights. Suddenly, he heard footsteps again. Jim quickly turned around to see a clown swinging an axe at him. He quickly jumped to the side as the clown swung the axe down, laughing hysterically, and then it disappeared. The room was now filled with the sounds of voices, whispers. Jim tried to drowned the sounds out, putting his hands over his ears and closing his eyes. The voices kept going. Jim opened his eyes to see that the tunnel was now filled with a pool of blood coming up over his ankles. Voices kept going on and on. Some things he could make out as words. Others he couldn't. None of it made any sense.

"Guns. Bullets. Drugs. Demons. Lucifer. Dreams. The children of monstrous horses. The colors of evil shapes and sins. Flesh eating worms devour the hearts of plagues and evil. Flesh, evil, demons. Dreams tell you what fear is made of drugs. Bullets fly through the hearts of evil souls. Liver poisons the floods of Satan's followers. Fire. Gods. Diamond hearts of flesh eating dreams. Die. Death is just the beginning. Death. Death is liberating. Two times the number of twins. Death. Death brings the hearts of dreams to reality. Death. Death brings the wings of angels to your eyes. Blinding lights of demonic bodies. Souls falling through the skies. Death." Mindless words and chattering continue to run through is head like wild.

"Death. Death will bring the devil's path back to the present. Liberating the angels of heaven. Dreams will fall through the veil of evil bodies. Death. Death is the beginning of Heaven's dream. Come on now, Jim, don't be afraid."

"STOP IT!!!" Jim yelled. As if obeying his commands, the voices stopped. However, they were replaced by a new sound. The sound of crying and whimpering. This sounded like a young girl crying. Jim looked around and could see, sitting in the blood in the tunnel, a young girl, dressed in a white dress, sitting with her head in her knees, crying. Jim was transfixed by the young girl. He began to walk toward her, very slowly and carefully. His feet couldn't move very quickly through the blood. It was very thick. It was almost as if the blood was thickening the air as well. Jim felt like he could hardly move through it. He reached out his hand toward the girl, getting closer and closer to her. Before he could touch her, however, she jumped up at him, letting out a huge scream. Jim could see her face. Her eyes had been gouged out of her head. As she screamed blood came pouring out of her mouth.

Jim fell down into the blood. The walls of the tunnel suddenly became larger. He felt like he was now trapped in some sort of huge prison instead of a tunnel. He looked up at the eyeless girl, blood still pouring out of her mouth, when suddenly there was a loud swiping noise, and her head fell off. Jim saw behind her the clown, still wielding the axe, laughing hysterically, having just decapitated the girl with the axe.

"Hehe-haha-AHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHAHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHEHAHAHA" the clown laughed hysterically. Suddenly, the eyeless head of the girl, now lying on the floor in the blood, began to laugh too.

"AHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!!" she let out. The clown came running toward Jim with the axe, swinging at him, laughing the whole time. Jim quickly jumped up and ran as fast as he could.

"Jiiim? Where you goin Jiim?" he could hear a female voice say.

"Oh Jim. Don't run off Jim. We're just gettin started Jim," a male voice said.

"Jim, why didn't you get him, Jim? Why didn't you get the guy who killed me?"

"STOP!!!!!" Jim screamed as he closed his eyes. Suddenly, he was no longer in the tunnel. He was outside, standing ankle deep in snow. The buildings of Chicago were empty, windowless, signless. Just tall pillars of steel and concrete. Jim looked around everywhere. It was as if he was in a dream. He could see no cars. Just snow and tall buildings, and then he felt a sharp pain hit him in the leg as he let out a scream and fell to the ground.

PART 2

The bullet had grazed his leg, skidding across his ankle. Had it just been an inch to the right, it would have went straight into his ankle. He was now lying, face down in snow. It was cold. His face felt like it was being burned. Jim knew that another bullet would surely be coming, he began to drag his body away, moving toward the wall of one of the empty dark buildings, hoping it could protect him from being shot. He continued to drag himself across the cold snow until his back was touching a cold concrete wall.

Jim was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. He looked around and could see nothing but the snow and buildings. It was surreal, as if in a dream. However, a few feet away from him he could see an odd L shape. Something that looked like metal. It was a handgun. They had given him a gun. Obviously this wouldn't be nearly as much fun for them unless Jim could somehow fight back and stay alive. He needed to get to it.

Jim crawled several feet toward the gun. It was a semi automatic, loaded with one cartridge with several more next to him. Jim quickly took the other cartridges and put them in his pockets. He turned the safety off of the gun. He was now armed. As he staggered to his feet, cold snow blew in his face. It was freezing. His face was burning as if it were on fire. Jim decided the best thing to do was make a run for it. He wouldn't be able to run very fast with his ankle grazed and bleeding, but he would have to. As he took off running as fast as he could, he fired the gun in every direction, hoping to hit someone. The bullets seemed to be redirecting back toward him, with several of them barely missing him. He continued running as fast as he could, hoping to find someone who could help him, when suddenly he came crashing through a paper wall and landed on his stomach on a cold concrete floor. As he turned his body around, he reloaded the gun, and looked back.

He hadn't been outside at all. Looking back, he could see that he had just been inside an enormous room, with black paper walls. The buildings were real, but were only about fifty feet tall. The snow was fake as well. Looking up, he could see a snow machine blowing snow down. It was a trick. Had he been in a normal state of mind he would've known, but the drug in his system was messing with his senses. It would be hard to keep it together. He needed to keep calm and alert if he wanted to survive and even hope to get out of this. He quickly stood up and looked back behind him to see where he was at now. He could see an old staircase in front of him. He looked up and could see that it seemed to go on and on for at least ten stories. Jim knew he would have to climb up these stairs, and was sure that whoever had been shooting at him before was watching and reloaded, ready to fire again.

He looked back down in front of him and could see several candles in front of him, as well as very strange symbols on the walls. They looked like cult symbols that he had seen before. He remembered during his first years as a detective he had been investigating disappearances of several young girls. They found that the girls were being kidnapped by a devil worshiping cult, who were raping them and marrying them off to their members, who worshiped and tried to summon demons. Jim would never forget it. It was his biggest investigation in his career. He worked undercover for months, and found that the cult lived and kept the young girls in a Satanic church. He remembered going in the church with the SWAT team. He remembered the hundreds of young women and girls, the hundreds of people dressed in strange clothes, the mysterious symbols on the walls, the mysterious rituals they claimed to perform.

It had made national news. Jim was praised as a hero for his investigation. He remembered the ring leader of the cult all too well. The man who was charged with rape and sexual slavery of over one hundred underage girls. Jim would never forget his evil eyes. The cold look he had on his face, and he would never forget what the man said to him the last time he saw him, when he testified against him in court, "I fear not, for the devil is my father, and Hell my home." Now he was seeing the same symbols he had seen in the church, right here, wherever he was. What did this mean? Was it the drug causing him to hallucinate? He had to stop thinking about this. The drug was messing with his mind. He had to focus on getting out of here.

Jim took off running up the stairs. Just past the first flight a bullet missed him. The second he began to hear voices again. The third his vision became blurry. The fourth the stairs became red. The fifth he could see blood pouring down the stairs. The voices kept whispering and screaming in his head. It wouldn't stop. The same babbling from before about demons, angels, and dreams. It wouldn't stop. It kept going on and on, and then he heard footsteps again. It was coming up the stairs behind him. He turned around just in time to see the axe swinging down at him. Jim attempted to dodge it and fell down. The clown was standing over him, laughing. Jim fired his gun at it, aiming right for its head. The bullet seemed to hit the clown's head, and it exploded. Blood came rushing out everywhere. Yet the body stayed there, standing. Then he could see what appeared to be a giant centipede crawling out of the clown's body, from its neck. Suddenly another bullet flew right by Jim's head. He fired his gun more and jumped up and ran. He climbed the stairs, trying to get away, hearing the voices and laughter all around him.

"The flesh of the necrophiliacs. The blood of Satan. Death follows its maker."

"Angels. Angels falling from the sky."

"Dreams keep coming."

"I don't know what to do."

"Hell awaits those who consume the bodies of Satan's children."

"Have you tried taking sleeping pills?"

"Lucifer, I give you my soul."

"Take this away from me."

"Die"

"Kill."

"Eat the flesh."

"Bleed it out."

"Heaven's soldiers rape the fruits of mankind."

"Jim, don't be afraid."

The blood coming down the staircase was getting thicker and thicker. His legs could hardly move through it. The air was becoming thicker and thicker. Jim continued running up the stairs, firing bullets in every direction, not even looking, just hoping to get to the top. It seemed like he had been running forever when he finally reached the top and burst through the door. He was now running through a dark hallway. He could tell he was at the surface now. If he could just find the exit.

As Jim continued running through the hallway, he could hear a strange chant. It sounded familiar. He knew it was a Satanic ritual. He had witnessed one before, while investigating the cult. He couldn't tell if this was real or if it was a hallucination. He ran past several doors, and tried opening each of them, but they were locked. Finally Jim came to one that opened, and he suddenly found himself in a room full of monitors. He could see where the cameras were in the building. He could see one of the room he had been locked in. One showing the dark tunnel. Several inside the big room with the fake snow and buildings. One showing the staircase. And one showing himself looking at the monitors.

"A camera inside the security room?" he thought. As he looked closer at the monitor, he could make out the shape of a person behind him. Jim quickly turned around with his gun, ready to fire. Standing in front of him, with a smile on his face, was his old friend Shaun.

"Hello Jim," Shaun said, "why don't you put that gun down?"

"S-Shaun?" Jim said, "is that you?"

"Of course it's me Jim. Who else could it be?"

"Y-you're dead?"

"Well just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can't be here, does it?"

"What? What the hell's going on here?!!" Jim said. He was starting to feel hot. The temperature inside seemed to be rising quickly.

"Liberation, Jim," Shaun replied.

"What are you talking about?"

"Death, Jim. Death is what I'm talking about. You're going to die."

"Not if I have anything to do with it."

"Oh but you don't, Jim. You can't save yourself. Not anymore than you could've saved me."

"I-I didn't see the gun. If I could've saved you I would've." It was getting hotter and hotter in the room as they talked.

"Exactly, you couldn't see it. What you can't see is the more dangerous than what you can see. For instance, you can't see the fire engulfing this entire building as we speak." As he said this, Jim looked around. He looked at the monitors again and could see fire engulfing the staircase he had just run up. "You can't see the spirits of dead people like me, running around you every second. You can't see the angels dragging off these spirits."

"Shut up! Get out of my head!" Jim shouted.

"You can't see that you're being hunted by them right now, about to be drug to Hell!!!" Shaun shouted, as he suddenly changed. His eyes became red. His skin became black, as if burnt. Jim fired his gun and ran right into him, not stopping as he ran through the hallway, trying to get as far away as possible. He could smell the smoke now. He could feel the heat around him. As he ran, he could hear voices all around him. He heard screaming. He looked around and could see dead people screaming. He saw a woman without legs and blood coming down her mouth screaming at him. A young boy with his flesh being eaten by a cannibal. He saw the cannibal rip the boy's eye out of his head and eat it. He could see the clown with the axe again, chopping up a young girl into pieces. Feet chopped off first, so she couldn't run. Then her hands. Then the clown cut her face off with a knife.

Jim finally saw a double door with an exit sign above it. He ran as fast as he could until he was through the doors and safely outside. He was never so happy to see snow in his life. The cold air was so much better than the thick burning air he had just been in. As he looked back, he could see that he had been in an old condemned building. He could see smoke coming from the roof. The building was being engulfed.

By the time the fire department had arrived, the entire building was in flames. Jim was taken in an ambulance to the hospital, while fire fighters tried to control the fire and cops surrounded the area. There was no sign of any person. The people who had put him in the building were nowhere to be found. As Jim arrived at the hospital, he was taken out of the ambulance on a stretcher and brought into a room. Half awake, Jim opened his eyes to see on the wall one of the same cult symbols he had seen before in the building. A nurse walked inside the room.

"Alright now, Jim, we're gonna have to get the Rozyhil out of your system, or else you're going to die. No one wants a dead famous detective, now do we?" Jim looked at the nurse to see Shaun smiling at him.

Brians ?

what is this i'm too lazy to read it
who's story is it?

IM TOO LAZY TO READ THE SECOND STORY BUT THAT IS SOOO SCARY

Yeah it's Brian's

LOL

He's so weird.

I'm surprised he didn't write about molesting children

★Some_Nights★ wrote:

He's so weird.

I'm surprised he didn't write about molesting children

Are you saying he wrote this story?
Damn I sound reallyyyyy dumb

Yeah he wrote it

WAIT WHAT'S PA?

KAMI ITS PENNSYLVANIA
AND OMG WTF WHEN DID HE WRITE THIS

Idk I got off our4tnz.

I logged on my Harry account when no one was on, copied and pasted it, then deleted the account so he won't know I was back

I DO THAT WITH MY KATNISS ACCOUNT SOMETIMES

-___- The topic was for scary stories, I am even attempting to write one.

Yeah but you're not a sick person who threatens little girls to get what you want.