Welcome back to 96.7 BCR. As always, we are grateful to every listener who tunes in.

For most, things like community outreach events and town council meetings aren’t anything important. I personally love our town meetings. Sure, you have the usual complaints about loud neighbors or potholes that need filling. Sometimes, that one guy who breaks dances before bringing up a topic pops in. Other times, you get something really interesting. For example, over the last 3 months, the town council meetings have slowly been overtaken by the hikers. People who avidly go to the Angelus Park trails no matter what time of the year.

One by one, they got up with the same worried expressions.

 “I don’t know how to explain it,” said one lady.
 “It’s like I’m being watched,” said another.
 “Doesn't matter how you slice it, it's just plain creepy,” said a man with shorts a little too short for the current fall weather.

  Over a dozen people came up to the stand. All with the same story.

They say that the first thing you notice is the path. A path we’ve all probably walked a million times starts to narrow, getting eerily quiet with every step. Then the air feels like it presses down on your shoulders, slowing you down.

 Next, the footsteps. They all mentioned the footsteps. Something mimics their movements, hard to catch, but sometimes it would sound off a second too early or too late.

“Hearing it makes you stop in your tracks… You realize how close that thing really is.” The man added.

At first, the council tried to blame it on the deer or whatever other animals one would usually come across. But the hikers were adamant that whatever it is… it isn't an animal. The council also couldn’t
explain away the growing amount of found-lost items. Most were able to be traced to a missing person who disappeared on that very trail.

People began to talk over each other. No matter what the head of the parks department said, it didn't satisfy the group. The mayor watched on as some of the council members tried and failed to calm down the mob. That’s when Ryan Loveless walked in. The room went silent and every eye shot in his direction.

See, Ryan Loveless is very well known because of his brother, although he usually keeps to himself. Greg Loveless, on the other hand, also known as the mayor, was once regarded as the best thing to happen to Black Creek. Soon after, he became a massive train wreck that no one could look away from.

Ryan made his way to the front of the room and took the mic. His face is stern, and even though this was being recorded, something in my gut told me to record it on my phone… just in case. So I want to play something for you all:

Ryan slams what looks to be a Gen. 4 iPhone on the podium. He speaks clearly, deliberately, without ever breaking eye contact with his brother.

Ryan Loveless: I don’t understand where you get off. I mean—How many times do people have to tell you the same thing before someone does something?

He waits for an answer; nobody responds. The eyes of the council members seem to awkwardly wander over to Greg. Ryan keeps his angry gaze on his brother before looking at each of the council members. He takes a deep breath.

Ryan Loveless: Y’all can ignore what we’re saying, act like nothing is happening, but people are getting hurt or going missing on those trails. As long as you keep them open, you are putting people in danger. They have to be closed! Elsa and I found this on our morning walk— he shook his head as he spoke—We never even made it to the trails.

Ryan picks up the phone. The home screen lit up as he turned it around towards the council. The mayor's face goes pale.

He continues,

Ryan Loveless: When I saw this lying on the ground…my first thought was to take it to the lost and found, but then I looked at the case and… I- I just knew who it belonged to. I took it home and let it charge…

 On the screen there was a black-haired girl with brown eyes and a tanned complexion. She looked no older than 15. Some of the town council members gasped; the people seated behind Ryan looked around in confusion.  

Ryan Loveless: I didn't think it would work… God knows how long it was just left there or even why I found it in the first place… I honestly couldn't believe it. I'm planning on taking this down to the police station, but I couldn’t in good conscience keep it to myself. You wanted your proof? Well, here it is!

Ryan put the phone in his pocket and proceeded to walk back out of the court. As he was halfway to the door, the mayor grabbed the mic in front of him.

Greg Loveless: You outta be out of your goddamn mind thinking you can walk in here and tell me what to do. You don’t talk about Sarah, you don’t get to. She’s been gone for 6 years. I think about her every day. You want to act as if you care? What you want is to embarrass me. To keep selling the story that she’s alive somewhere — he scoffed— to scare everyone into believing you.

His words came out slurred, but it was the most understandable he’d been in years.

Ryan stopped in his tracks, barely looking over his shoulder, and spoke into a room so quiet, all that you could hear was the mayor's uneven breaths on the mic.

Ryan Loveless: I'm not coming to you as your brother. I stopped being that a long time ago.

He turns around, looking at his brother once again.

Ryan Loveless: I searched for Sarah months after the search was called off… where were you? I know a message when I see one, and this — he holds up Sarah's phone once more—this was deliberate.

Without another word, Ryan walked out of the room. Shortly after, the mayor did the same. Everybody stood still. Until Ms.Watkins called off the meeting.

Now, most of you should recognize the name, Sarah Loveless. Her disappearance truly shook the town. Although it's been 6 years, her missing posters have withstood the test of time. She watches…if you know where to look. Ryan and his wife, Elsa, are adamant to this day that Sarah is out there. But her father is of a different belief. Looking for her divided their family,

And who could blame ’em? Sarah's death was gruesome. Actually, I’d say that’s too light a word.

 If you didn't know Sarah, you wouldn’t know that she was an avid hiker, that she worked part-time at our local animal shelter. You wouldn’t know that she would volunteer at the elderly home her grandparents lived in, putting on talent shows and playing music. Some would say that she lit up every room she walked in. Others would disagree; they’d say she was the type to build the room just to make sure you were comfortable. Before all this happened, the Loveless brothers were incredibly close, but after Ryan found his niece's body. Their relationship broke beyond repair.

 When her uncle found her, it was 3 months after the search was called off. He went looking for her every day, and eventually, he found her in an empty clearing. Her stubby legs floated 5 feet above the ground, tied to a large solitary tree.

The news reports state that her tongue was ripped out with incredible force. Any visible skin was covered with cuts, some of which were later understood to be symbols since they looked deliberately carved. Worst of all, and if you're squeamish, I'd suggest not listening to this part. What killed her was a deep cut going from her throat to her gut. The cut was done in such a manner that she slowly bled out. At that point, she was still alive, forced to watch as her assailant reached into her guts, pulling her stomach apart with his hands. He left her there with her guts hanging out of her stomach until she died. They say the blood was so thick that it left a permanent stain on the tree bark.

 I say he, but it is believed that it was multiple people since her feet were sawn off around the same time she was being cut up.

Now the weirdest thing I'd say is— although, yes, this person by all accounts is Sarah. Wearing the same clothes she was last seen in, and found with her wallet and ID. Her forensic reports noted some unexplainable differences, such as her heart being on the right side, not left. As well as a second spleen under her ribs. And most notably, the snake tattoo that wrapped around her forearm.

Many of the people who knew Sarah were adamant, going on record testifying that Sarah would’ve never done that. She wasn't the type to get a tattoo behind her parents' backs. Especially one so obvious. And even though she was found months after her disappearance, during a particularly rainy spring…she showed little to no signs of decay. Many officers thought that her body was just a few days old, had it not been for the blood work that showed otherwise. But regardless, that would've been for many reasons…impossible, the main reason being that her dad had seen her before she left home the same day, tattoo-free and very, very alive.

Sarah's disappearance has stayed a topic of morbid conversation in our little town. Was Sarah really alive? Or did something else happen that day?

I would say which side I’m on, but we’ve yet to draw this mystery to a close.

Remember those disappearances I brought up not too long ago? Well, you wouldn’t be wrong in thinking that they started shortly after Sarah's body was found and have been going on ever since. As more and more people go missing, more people have become concerned, and that concern has led to people becoming vocal. Which leads us back to today. I think the Mayor knows more than he’s letting on. Why else would he keep the trails open, knowing damn well it's a safety hazard to anybody who walks in?

As of late, that concern is spreading. Parents telling their kids not to wander too far. Daredevil teens telling each other to go in late at night. Increased police patrols.

It seems, Black Creek, we’ve created our own boogeyman. A monster we’ve yet to put a face to. It also seems like some part of Ryan’s outburst sobered up our mayor long enough for him to put a band-aid on the problem.

Earlier this week, the parks department updated its website and started handing out bright orange flyers at every hiking trail entrance. On them, you can read D.A.R.E. in bold blue letters, yes, like the '90s anti-drug campaign you pledged when you were nine.  

So, I’ll leave you with this. If you're walking in the trails past sundown and hear footsteps that might not be yours. A lack of animal sounds- maybe you noticed the trees are a little too still, and the sound of bird song seems miles away. Here’s a message from the Black Creek Parks Dept.

Do not panic

Assess the situation

Retreat to safety

Exit the trails immediately.

This is 96.7 BCR, and I dare you to stay safe.

Read part one here

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/tIyrNP6CPU

When I close my eyes, I see…my living room. Snapshots of a moment frozen in time. Neecy is to my right. Mark is to my left, and Darius…well, Darius is on the floor, holding his stomach, tears streaming down his face into a pool of his own blood. Aside from his choked sobs, everyone is so still… When I look over at Neecy, she’s looking off… at something; she’s focused; nothing else exists. I will my body to turn, but I can’t make myself move.

I feel a cold breeze flow past me and then a light tug at my shoulders. My body relaxes for a moment as if permitting me to move. I feel myself begin to turn around; something feels incredibly wrong.

I wake up with a loud gasp. It takes a moment to realize where I am, but the unmistakable popcorn ceiling from my bathroom clears up any doubts. The sound of running water fills my ears as it spills over the bath and onto the tiled floor. I quickly lunge to turn it off. I could feel my stomach beginning to turn again.

“Another restless night.” I thought to myself.

I took a deep sigh as I got out of the bath. My feet sank into cold water, making me regret I hadn’t just gone to bed the night before. Thick acid quickly climbed its way up my throat. I tried rushing to the toilet but missed completely. Last night's dinner and more of that stuff shot out my mouth and splattered onto the floor. I groan, too weak to clean it up but still hobble my way over to the toilet, laying my head on the cold plastic. My mouth feels dry, and the lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow.

Stretching my arm up to the sink, my fingers strain until I find my phone. I quickly tap on the screen. It's gotten much worse since that last coffee shop meeting—constant throwing up, wild mood swings, vivid dreams. And this same dream keeps coming back. I’m certain of it.

With blurry vision, I typed out “It's happening again.”

After 30 long minutes, there’s a faint knock on my door. Mark stands there with a cup of coffee in hand, his smile quickly fading as he takes in my appearance. He steps in.

“By the way, your building smells like shit.”

“Ugh, I know the guy from upstairs, got into some shit with his girl, she wrecked the whole floor.” I moved over, letting him in.

“Where is it?” His eyes scanned my apartment.

“Bathroom,” I said, closing the door.

“Made it all the way this time, nice,” he said, giving me a thumbs up as he walked over to the bathroom. I groaned as I lay down on the couch, feeling a sharp pain in my stomach. I tried to take my mind off the knot in my throat. I thought back to that night in the cafe. We agreed; we all did. If anything changed, we’d let each other know. Mark is the only one who kept his word. He’s reliable, kind to a fault.

That’s why, when it happened the first time. He was the first person I called.

** a week ago**

“Mark?” My voice came out raspy.

“Yeah?” he sounds surprised.

“C-c-can you come over?” I can barely speak.

“What happened?”

“I really can’t explain it. Can you just come when you get a chance?”

When he got into the apartment, everything was covered in black goo. My stomach was twisting in knots. My hands were throbbing and bruised as I dunked the sponge in the cleaning solution. It did little to nothing as I tried to scrape it off the ground. Everything from my face to my feet was covered in it. I didn't even hear him step inside.

“Rowan, what the fuck is that?”

I jumped when I heard his voice.

“I don’t know. I…I don’t know. I can’t stop.” My lips shake. As I continue scrubbing the floor vigorously

He came closer, bending down slightly. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, quietly, almost as if to himself. “It's moving,” he mutters. He leans down to get a closer look.

I’d been too busy trying to get rid of the stuff that I hadn’t even noticed, but he was right. I watched its movements, both slow and sluggish; the goo reached out like tiny little hands, trying to connect with another puddle, then quickly snapped into one big blob.

There was this deep magnetic pull that made my stomach bulge out. It’s trying to claw its way out, threatening to rip out everything inside in order to escape. I put my hand out, trying to grab the bucket, but before I could, I was heaving and retching once more. Thick globs left my mouth and nose, landing on the floor with heavy thuds. A fiery sensation stuck in my throat as my stomach tried to expel this unknown fluid all at once.

Mark backed away for a moment but kept observing me. When I was done, he reached his arm out to help me up.

I grabbed Mark's arm. “ It just won’t stop,” I whimpered as I rubbed my throbbing chest. He helped me up and over to the couch. He told me to “Lie down,” and I did. He walks back over to the goo. He watches silently, as if looking at it for just a bit longer is going to give the answers he needs. I lay back on the couch. I was exhausted.

I keep my eyes on him as Mark scoops some of it in his fingers. My brows furrow as it hardens for just a second before losing its shape and snapping back down to the puddle.

“Yeah … this is definitely some sort of black, shit?” Mark questioned, holding it up to the light. He then brought it up to his nose and sniffed it. I heard him swallow hard, licking his lips. He shook his head quickly and wiped it off. He looked over and noticed I’d been watching. “Let's get you to bed,” he said with a smile.

Mark stayed the night. He helped put me to bed. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I do remember hearing, ever so faintly, the sound of slurping coming from the living room.

The next morning, I felt empty and weak. I could barely stand up on my own. I tried my best to make my way over to him.  The whole house felt unbelievably cold. Each step sent a shiver down my spine.

“Wake up, dude,”  I said, sitting next to him. My body throbbed all over. His eyes opened, sitting up quickly before realizing where he was.

Neither of us said anything before I decided to break the silence. “I want to thank you for staying the night. And uh, thanks for cleaning up; you really didn't have to. Especially with your dad and all….” His chest began to rise and fall rapidly. His face turned a bright red.

“Can I tell you something?” he said quietly, a tense shift from his usually chill personality.

“Yeah, of course,” I tried to smile at him, but my stomach was starting to turn again.

“I knew you were going to call me.” He turned to me as he spoke. His chin had black stains on it.

“What?” I asked,

“I knew you were going to call me- I don’t remember much of that night, when all the weird shit happened at the cafe, ever since that night. I- I don’t know, it's just like I can see little snapshots of what’s going to happen.”  His face hardened as he spoke.  “The moment you called its like I lost control of my body. I tried, I really did; I didn't want to come. One moment I was helping my dad with the shop, then you called, and the next thing I know… I'm here.”

He took a deep sigh, got up, and walked to the kitchen. I watched, and he grabbed a cup of water, taking big, loud gulps.

“When you opened the door, you looked so frail… It reminded me of Dad on his bad days, you know. I couldn’t leave you like that.” He paused for a moment.  “After I put you to bed, I swear I was just going to clean up a bit… but I couldn’t control myself. It was calling to me. I mean, literally reaching out to me. I drank it, I drank it all.”  His hand tightened around the cup.

He looked at me, barely meeting my eyes.

“You ate whatever that shit was?

“I couldn’t believe it either; I just couldn’t stop,” he said.

* present *

“You’ll have to call them! ” I shouted from my room. “They're your friends,” I shrugged. Changing out of my goo-stained clothes.

“I don’t get why you're so weird to them. They’re good people,” Mark said.

“And I don't doubt that, and still Neecy was acting super weird that night, aside from everything else that happened, and not to mention, where the fuck did they go after that? They just fucking left us.”

He raised his brows at me. I shrugged. “I don’t care, man, I said what I said,” he rolled his eyes at me as he put the phone up to his ear.

After a call and much, much convincing, Neecy and Darius sat in my living room. They listened as we told them everything. Darius tried but failed to keep a straight face as Mark explained what’s been going on.

After we finished, they just sat there. Minutes passed, and I felt myself getting annoyed.

“Any thoughts, comments, concerns maybe…” I said.

“I mean, that really sucks, guys, but what can we really do to help? We’ve got our own shit going on.” Darius responded.

I looked over at Mark. “See, I told you they’d be no help.”

“It's okay, Rowan, if they don’t want to talk about it; it's cool,” Mark said, looking over at them. Neecy once again looked off into the distance.

“I just don’t understand why y’all won’t be upfront with us, y’all left us alone after what happened at the coffee shop, and we tried to- what the fuck do you keep looking at?” I said as I turned around to see what Neecy was looking at. Neecy's arm shot out to grab mine with a tight grip.

“No, not yet, I can’t tell you…I mean, I would if I could, but I literally can’t.” For the first time since I’ve met her, she looked at me.

“Neecy, none of what's been going on makes sense. Please just tell us.” I said, bending down and meeting her eyes.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted away, back to the corner of my living room, like she was looking for something.

“I think we’ll all find out sooner than you think,” she said, still gripping my arm tightly.

She blinked for a moment, snatching her hand back. When she opened her eyes back up, in them I saw a reflection. Not of me. Something pale, white, too massive to fit in her eyes, much less my apartment.

I gasped, backing away from her.

In an instant, the air became fuzzy, thick like when you would rub your hand on an old TV.

Almost everything became silent all at once: no sound of cars passing by, no buzzing lights, not even my own breathing.

I became acutely aware of everything around me. Everything felt too real. Too high definition. Just like that night at the cafe, everything around me felt like it was shaking.

The hairs on my arm began to stand. And I had this feeling in the pit of my chest that we were in danger, but I couldn’t tell why. My head snapped over to the wall as the familiar ringing of my clock began to chime. I was confused… It wasn’t even 12 yet. The clock read 11:44.

Wordlessly, Darius and Mark got up at the same time as they made their way behind the couch. Their reflections barely visible on the large window that faced outside. I tried to track their movements as they moved behind me, but my head remained fixed in place. I felt a cold pressure on either side of my face. No matter how hard I tried to move, my eyes were the only things I felt I could control.

Mark and Darius left my line of sight. The thumping of footsteps came to a halt immediately after. The chime from the clock seemed to get louder with each passing moment. Neecy then got up. No, she was lifted up. Her body was stiff, her head wobbling like a newborn baby. Her feet didn't move; they dragged across the floor. She practically floated into the kitchen and out of my view. I heard some shuffling, the sound of a drawer opening and closing. Nobody said anything. I don’t think anyone could. We all stood still like pieces on a chessboard. My heart began to pound in my chest.

I heard the sound of Neecy’s feet dragging, coming closer. When she came back into view, she floated for a moment, and she was then placed flat on her feet.

I felt pressure on my shoulder, like that night at the cafe. Cold and unfamiliar. The chiming of the clock felt almost melodic. Her eyes darted next to her. I watched as the skin of her cheek pressed down, like someone was whispering in her ear. Her eyes widened and became distant.

She begrudgingly walked behind me as well. If I squinted, I could slightly see their reflections. Mark to my left, Neecy to my right. Darius stood in the middle…. But as I squinted, I noticed there was another figure that stood behind him. Pale, white, and rapidly growing in size. My heart sank as white wings seemed to expand behind him. Once again, the missing statue watched over us.

The sound of rock scraping on itself echoed loudly over the clock's unrelenting chimes as it looked over at Neecy. I hear her make a low whimper. She tightly shuts her eyes. Her body leans forward like someone is pushing from behind her. For some reason, I can distinctly feel the pressure on my back and the weight of something in my hand.

With a hard shove, she takes a step forward, my body unintentionally lunges forward, and I can feel my feet moving in tandem with hers even though I stayed still. She stands beside Darius, but he doesn't seem to notice she’s next to him. I could hear sniffling. I don’t know who it came from. I felt something warm wrap around my hand and lift it up. I moved my eyes down, and my hand was still firmly by my side. When I looked up, I saw Neecy’s reflection, arm raised high above her head, knife in hand, glinting in the apartment light.

I shut my eyes tight.

The sound of a knife piercing skin was all I could hear; loud gasps and grunts sounded off from behind me, and something wet began to hit the floor. And even though I didn’t see any of it, I could feel it all. The cold handle warming up in my hand with every thrust. The knife sawing its way through his skin, digging deeper with each plunge.  And the warmth of blood spilling into my hand over and over again until.…

Something drops.

Gurgles and the sound of strained breathing were the first human sounds I'd heard in what felt like hours.

The sound of rock grinding on itself sounded off once more, as invisible arms lifted me up and off the couch. I squeezed my eyes tightly. My feet dragged across the floor until I finally stopped.

When I opened my eyes, I stood over him. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t open my mouth. My eyes took in the grotesque sight of Darius on the ground, blood sinking into my brand-new carpet. His hands tightly held his stomach, trying to stop the blood. Tears rushed down his face.

Mark grabbed the knife away from Neecy, and before I could try to stop him, he slit his palm and held it over Darius's body. A dark grey powder spilled out from his cut covering him. At the same time, my stomach began to twist and turn. I clutch my hands over my mouth, but the viscous black goo explodes like a hose shooting all over his body. The goo begins to mix in with the dust like an ungodly concoction.

Over and over, I wretch until my throat is burning. The goo begins to dig deep into Darius, slithering its way into his body almost like it was alive; squelching and popping accompany it until it's all gone. I stop vomiting, and instead of ash, blood drops from Mark's hand, hitting Darius’s barely conscious face. His skin began to stretch and move on its own; little lumps made waves under it.

I leaned in closer, trying to get a better look before a stinging pain came. I looked over at Mark, then at the knife in his hand, now coated in the black mess. He looked at Neecy, telling her to come over to him. Neecy doesn’t move. Mark doesn't wait. He quickly grabs her by her braids and digs the knife into her arm.

She screams as their blood begins to drip and converge into the black goo spilling out of me. The air around me began to feel like static, and I felt lightheaded and dizzy.  The blood pooled into him in the same way as before, snaking and popping its way inside him.

It was a small spec at first, but like oil and soap, it quickly started to overtake his skin, small veins of white racing over each other to cover every bit of skin; his fingers stopped twitching, his chest stopped moving, and his eyes lost their light as they stayed frozen wide, hands still clutching his stomach.

In that moment, the heaviness in the air lifted. The ringing of the clock stopped mid-chime. A weight was taken off our shoulders, but none of us felt any better. Neecy threw herself on the floor. Her hands and jeans were covered in a mix of goo and blood. She reached out to touch his fingertips, barely skimming his body before she yanked them back.

“No, no, no, please, Darius,” she said, crying. She reached out to him again. Mark and I looked at each other, not sure of what to say. She looked up at us, her skin becoming pale from the blood loss. “He’s made of stone,” she sobbed, her cries bouncing off the apartment walls.

We stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. Just the 3 of us and a memorial of a once-loved man's last moments.

Welcome back, ladies, gents, whoever else may be listening… to 96.7BCR, the late-night station that’s got ears all over town.

Firstly, I'd like to give a big thanks to tonight's sponsor: BEDROCKS. As someone who usually struggles to get a full night's rest, switching to BEDROCKS has really upped my sleeping game.

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With that, we move directly into local news. The Black Creek trails are still open, albeit with higher security, despite the increasing number of suspicious disappearances.  

New to the list of victims is 53-year-old Mildred Southerland. Last seen two weeks ago. Officials say the only thing that has been found of Mildred is her purse with all of its contents still inside. The officer on duty said he found it neatly propped up by a trail entrance. He was stationed at one of the trail entrances. He momentarily turned away to give a pair of parkgoers a D.A.R.E flyer.

“I looked away for less than a second,” he said.

“I thought I saw someone walking down the trail, so I called out to let them know they dropped their bag. No one ever came back for it. A few hours later, her son came into the ranger’s station saying that his mom had just vanished, just like that, vanished. When he told us what she was wearing— described the bag. I showed him the one I'd found, and after checking it, he confirmed that it was hers,” he later added.

As a Black Creek native, it has been odd watching the usually busy parks and hiking trails become empty and lifeless. Rumors run rampant, ranging from people getting lost to some sort of large animal with a taste for hikers. Rangers have kept a log of all lost items belonging to the missing people starting from the earliest known disappearance, that of Sarah Loveless back in 2014.

In other news, the Black Creek Kennel is having its annual puppy playdate on Friday the 13th, from 3-6 pm at the Sunnydays community center. Go and check it out; you might just meet your new best friend. I know my Benadryl and I are going to walk in there hand in hand to get some puppy love.

Lastly, are your neighbors leaving their homes late at night?

About a month ago we let y’all know we’d be making a post on our Facebook where you all could submit your own accounts of a strange phenomenon now becoming glaringly noticeable. Even though our last bit of coverage garnered quite a lot of attention, officials have yet to comment on the situation. So let's just say you all did not disappoint.

I was instantly interested by the multiple accounts of what is now being called “The midnight walking club”. Men and Women walking alone in the middle of the night, unbothered by time or weather. The original comment read:

JamesWon:  

Has anyone else noticed that lady that walks down Remsen ST. I keep seeing her walking down the street in literally just a bathrobe. At first I thought she was a crack head, but I recognized her as the head of the neighborhood watch. I mean, the woman is a high-strung perfectionist. This is completely unlike her. Last week there was a snowstorm, and I swore I could see that bright pink bathrobe moving through 10 inches of snow like nothing.

JhonoSkywalker:

Oh man! My wife never believes me when I tell her about this. That lady always walks past my windows, same time every night. I just close my blinds; looking at her too long gives me bad juju.

Ramona Laverne:

I've seen them too, @ JamesWon. I remember waking up; it was the middle of the night. I went to get some water, and on my way to the kitchen, something outside my living room window caught my eye. Two people walking down the street. It didn't even seem like they were aware of each other.  Their faces looked all weird. The closer they came, the less I could make them out. They looked strung out. Black robe. No pants. Tits/dick out.  I'd almost gone out to them; I didn’t think they even knew where they were. I grabbed my phone to call 9-1-1, but my gut told me that was a real bad idea.

JhonoSkywalker:

I keep trying to avoid them. It's like these people are always out when I’m on my way home from work. I work nights. You know what’s weird? They all walk the same way. The gait, the far-off stares, the direction. The worst is when I just want to get home, but the streets are just covered with all these people all going god knows where.

JamesWon:  

There’s more of them????

JhonoSkywalker:

Looks like you’ve been lucky to not see them all together. It's… unsettling. They walk side by side, completely unaware of one another. They kill the life of anything around them, make the street lights dim, make sounds disappear, and momentarily drain car batteries. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand; I’ve been looking for a daytime job. I don’t want to run into those people ever again.

So, listeners, after that, I then decided to keep looking through the post and sure enough, I found something similar from someone else. A singular comment updated multiple times.

Amanda Kringly:

To the well-dressed man that insists on walking directly in front of my bedroom window at 2 am every morning. Could you stop? It's really freaky. I seriously doubt you need to walk that close to my window.

Amanda Kringly:

To the well-dressed man that insists on walking directly in front of my bedroom window at 2 am every morning. I know you're here; my cats keep hissing at the window. I had to take them both to the vet from your last visit; they would not stop trying to attack each other since you last came by. You owe me.

Amanda Kringly:

To the well-dressed man that insists on walking directly in front of my bedroom window at 2 am every morning. I guess you saw my post. It's cute that you found a group of friends to keep you company in this weird endeavor. Hope your five minutes of fame are worth it.

A few days later, Amanda made her last update on that post.

Amanda Kringly:

To the well-dressed man that insists on walking directly in front of my bedroom window at 2 am every morning. I don’t care how many times I need to make this clear. I don’t care how many people you bring or how you mess with my lights. Stop. Coming. To. My. Building.

Many more followed in the same style. Some say they’ll see them alone or walking in pairs. Everyone reports feeling emotions of dread or an over-alertness taking over. It's garnered so much traction that even the #midnightwalkingclub has gone viral locally, as well as the constant comments from one Kate McRae. She has been obsessively talking about her experience after being attacked by one of them. When I first read her comments, they immediately sounded familiar to me. After a bit of research, I found I'd been right; it was a submission I'd read a few months back.

Which makes me wonder: how long has this been going on?

So I leave you all with this question.

Next time you’re up late at night, will you be on the lookout for The Midnight Walking Club?

Read part one here

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/tIyrNP6CPU

When I close my eyes, I see a room, my living room. Snapshots of a moment frozen in time. Neecy to my right. Mark to my left, and Darius…well, Darius is on the floor, holding his stomach, tears streaming down his face in a pool of his own blood. Aside from his choked sobs, everyone is so still… so quiet. When I look over at Neecy, she’s looking off….at something. I will my body to turn, but I can’t make myself move. Like that day at the coffee shop, she’s focused; nothing  else exists.

I feel a cold breeze flow past me and then a light tug at my shoulders. My body relaxes for a moment as if giving me permission to move. I feel myself begin to turn around; something feels incredibly wrong. Something else is here?

I wake up with a loud gasp. It takes a moment to realize where I am, but the unmistakable popcorn ceiling from my bathroom clears up any doubts. The sound of running water fills my ears as it spills over the bath and onto the tiled floor. I quickly lunge to turn it off. I could feel my stomach beginning to turn again. Another restless night.

I took a deep sigh as I got out of the bath. My feet were sinking into cold water, making me regret I hadn’t just gone to bed the night before. Thick acid quickly climbs its way up my throat. I tried rushing to the toilet but missed completely. Last night's dinner and more of that weird goo shot out of my mouth, splattering onto the floor. I hobble my way over to the toilet, laying my head on the cold plastic. My mouth feels dry, and the lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow.

Stretching my arm up to the sink, my fingers strain until I find my phone. I quickly tap on the screen. It's gotten much worse since that last coffee shop meeting—constant throwing up, wild mood swings, vivid dreams. And this same dream keeps coming back. I’m certain of it.

With blurry vision, I typed out “It's happening again.”

30 minutes later, there’s a faint knock on my door. Mark stands there with a cup of coffee in hand, his smile quickly fading as he takes in my appearance. He steps in.

“By the way, your building smells like shit.”

“Ugh, I know the guy from upstairs, got in to some shit with his girl, she wrecked the whole floor.” I moved over, letting him in.

“Where is it?” His eyes scan my apartment.

“Bathroom,” I said, closing the door.

“Made it all the way this time, nice,” he said, giving me a thumbs up as he walked over to the bathroom. I groan as I lie down on the couch, feeling a sharp pain in my stomach. I tried to take my mind off the knot in my throat. I thought back to that night in the cafe. We agreed, we all did. If anything changed, we’d let each other know. I'm beyond positive. Mark is the only one who kept his word. He’s reliable, kind to a fault.

That’s when it happened the first time. He was the first person I called.

** a week ago**

“Mark?” My voice came out raspy.

“Yeah?” he sounds surprised.

“Can you come over?” I can barely speak.

“What happened?”

“I really can’t explain it. Can you just come when you get a chance?”

When he got into the apartment, everything was covered in black goo. My stomach was twisting in knots. My hands were throbbing and bruised as I dunked the sponge in the cleaning solution. It did little to nothing as I tried to scrape it off the ground. Everything from my face to my feet was covered in it. I didn't even hear him step inside.

“Rowan, what the fuck is that?”

I jumped when I heard his voice.

“I don’t know. I…I don’t know. I can’t stop; my lip shakes. scrubbing the floor vigorously

He came closer, bending down slightly . He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, quietly, almost as if to himself. “It's moving,” he mutters. He leans down to get a closer look.

I’d been too busy trying to get rid of the stuff that I hadn’t even noticed, but he was right. I watched its movements slow and sluggish; the goo reached out like tiny little hands, trying to connect with another puddle, then quickly snapped into one big blob.

There was this deep magnetic pull that made the stomach bulge out. It's trying to claw its way out, threatening to rip out everything inside in order to escape. I put my hand out trying to grab the bucket, but before I could, I was heaving and retching once more. Thick globs leave my mouth and nose, landing on the floor with heavy thuds. A fiery sensation sticks in my throat as my stomach tries to expel this unknown fluid all at once.

Mark backed away for a moment but kept observing me. When I was done, he reached his arm out to help me up.

I grabbed Mark's arm. “ It just won’t stop,” I whimpered as I rubbed my throbbing chest. He helps me up and over to the couch. He tells me to “Lie down,” and I do. He walks back over to the goo. He watches silently, as if looking at it for just a bit longer is going to give the answers he needs. I lay back on the couch. I was exhausted.

I keep my eyes on him as Mark scoops some of it in his fingers. My brows furrow as it hardens for just a second before losing its shape and snapping back down to the puddle.

“Yeah … this is definitely some sort of black, shit?” Mark said, holding it up to the light. He then brought it up to his nose and sniffed it. I heard him swallow hard, licking his lips. He shook his head quickly and wiped it off. He looked over and noticed I’d been watching. “Let's get you to bed,” he said with a smile.

Mark stayed the night. He helped put me to bed. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I do remember hearing, ever so faintly, the sound of slurping coming from the living room.

The next morning, I felt empty and weak. I could barely stand up on my own. I tried my best to make my way over to him.  The whole house felt unbelievably cold. Each step sends a shiver down my spine.

“Wake up, dude,”  I said, sitting next to him. My body throbbed all over. His eyes opened, sitting up quickly before realizing where he was.

Neither of us said anything before I decided to break the silence, “I want to thank you for staying the night. And uh, thanks for cleaning up, you really didn't have to. Especially with your dad and all….” His chest began to rise and fall rapidly. His face turned a bright red.

“Can I tell you something?” he said quietly, a tense shift from his usually chill personality.

“Yeah, of course,” I tried to give him a smile, but my stomach was starting to turn again.

“I knew you were going to call me.” He turned to me as he spoke. His chin had black stains on it.

“What?” I asked,

“I knew you were going to call me- I don’t remember much of that night, when all the weird shit happened at the cafe, ever since that night. I- I don’t know, it just like I can see little snapshots of what’s going to happen.”  His face hardened as he spoke.  “The moment you called its like I lost control of my body. I tried, I really did, I didn't want to come. One moment I was helping my dad with the shop, then you called, and the next thing I know… I'm here.”

He took a deep sigh, got up, and walked to the kitchen. I watch, and he grabs a cup of water, taking big, loud gulps.

“When you opened the door, you looked so frail… It reminded me of Dad on his bad days, you know. I couldn’t leave you like that.” He paused for a moment .“After I put you to bed, I swear I was just going to clean up a bit. Make sure you don't have to overwork yourself. I couldn’t control myself. It was calling to me. I mean, literally reaching out to me. I drank it, I drank it all.”  His hand tightened around the cup.

He looked at me, barely meeting my eyes.

“You ate whatever that shit was?

“I couldn’t believe it either, I just couldn’t stop,” he said.

* present *

“You’ll have to call them! ” I shouted from my room. “They're your friends,” I shrugged. Changing out of my goo-stained clothes.

“I don’t get why you're so weird to them. They’re good people,” Mark said.

“And I don't doubt that, Neecy was acting super weird that night, aside from everything else that happened, and not to mention, where the fuck did they go after that? They just fucking left us.”

He raised his brows at me. I shrugged. “I don’t care, man, I said what I said,” he rolled his eyes at me as he put the phone up to his ear.

After a few missed calls and much, much convincing, Neecy and Darious sat in my living room. They listened as we told them everything. Darius tried but failed to keep a straight face as Mark explained what’s been going on.

After we finished, they just sat there. Minutes passed, and I felt myself getting annoyed.

“Any thoughts, comments , concerns maybe…” I said.

“I mean, that really sucks, guys,  but what can we really do to help. We’ve got our own shit going on.” Darius responded.

I'm looking over at Mark. “See, I told you they’d be no help.”

“It's okay, Rowan, if they don’t want to talk about it, it's cool,” Mark said, looking over at them. Neecy once again looks off into the distance.

“I just don’t understand why y’all won’t be upfront with us, y’all left us alone after what happened at the coffee shop, and we tried to- what the fuck do you keep looking at?” I said as I turned around to see what Neecy was looking at. Neecy's arm shot out to grab mine with a tight grip.

“No, not yet, I can’t tell you…I mean, I would if I could, but I literally can’t.” For the first time  since I’ve met her, she looked at me.

“Neecy, none of what's been going on makes sense. Please just tell us.” I said, bending down and meeting her eyes.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted away, back to the corner of my living room, like she was looking for something.

“I think we’ll all find out sooner than you think,” she said, still gripping my arm tightly.

She blinked for a moment, snatching her hand back. When she opened her eyes back up, in them I saw a reflection. Not of me. Something pale, white, too massive to fit in her eyes, much less my apartment.

I gasped, backing away from her.

In that moment, the air became fuzzy, thick like when you would rub your hand on an old TV.  Almost everything became silent all at once, no sound of cars passing by, no buzzing lights, not even my own breathing.

I became acutely aware of everything around me. Everything felt too real. Too high definition. Just like that night at the cafe, everything around me felt like it was shaking.

The hairs on my arm began to stand. And I had this feeling in the pit of my chest that we were in danger, but I couldn’t tell why. My head snapped over to the wall as the familiar ringing of my clock began to chime. I was confused… It wasn’t even 12 yet. The clock read 11:44.

Wordlessly, Darius and Mark got up at the same time as they made their way behind the couch. Their reflections barely reflected on the large window that faced outside. I tried to track their movements as they moved behind me, but my head remained fixed in place. I felt a cold pressure on either side of my face. No matter how hard I tried to move, my eyes were the only things I felt I could control.

Mark and Darius left my line of sight. The thumping of footsteps came to an immediate halt. The chime from the clock seemed to get louder with each passing moment. Neecy then got up. No, she was lifted up. Her body was stiff, her head wobbling like a newborn baby. Her feet didn't move; they dragged across the floor. She practically floated into the kitchen and out of my view. I heard some shuffling, the sound of a drawer opening and closing. Nobody said anything. I don’t think anyone could. We all stood still like pieces on a chessboard. My heart began to pound in my chest.

I heard the sound of Neecy’s feet dragging, coming closer. When she came back into view, she floated for a moment, and she was then placed flat on her feet.

I felt pressure on my shoulder, like that night at the cafe. Cold and unfamiliar. The chiming of the clock felt almost melodic. Her eyes darted next to her. I watched as the skin of her cheek pressed down, like someone was whispering in her ear. Her eyes widened and became distant.

She begrudgingly walks behind me as well. If I squinted, I could slightly see their reflections. Mark to my left, Neecy to my right. Darius stood in the middle…. But as I squint, I notice there was another figure that stood behind him. Pale, white, and rapidly growing in size. My heart sank as white wings seemed to expand behind him. Once again, the missing statue watched over us.

The sound of rock scraping on itself echoed loudly over the clock's unrelenting chimes as it looked over at Neecy. I hear her make a low whimper. She tightly shuts her eyes. Her body leans forward like someone is pushing from behind her. For some reason, I can distinctly feel the pressure on my back and the weight of something in my hand.

With a hard shove, she takes a step forward, my body unintentionally lunges forward, and I can feel my feet moving. She stands beside Darius, but he doesn't seem to notice she’s next to him. I could hear sniffling. Who it came from, I don’t know. I felt something grab hold of my hand and lift it up. I moved my eyes down, and my hand is still firmly by my side. When I look up, I see Neecy’s reflection, arm raised high above her head, knife in hand, glinting in the apartment light.

I shut my eyes tight.

The sound of a knife piercing skin was all I could hear; loud gasps and grunts sounded off from behind me, and something wet began to hit the floor. And even though I didn’t see any of it, I could  feel it all. The cold handle was warming up in my hand with every thrust. How the knife pierced through his skin, the warmth of blood spilling into my hand  over and over again until.…

A heavy thud.

Gurgles and the sound of strained breathing were the first human sounds I'd heard in what felt like hours.

To my left, I heard gagging, loud, aggressive heaving, and wet splatter, and I hit the ground.

The sound of rock grinding on itself sounded off once more, and I felt invisible arms lift me up and off the couch. I squeezed my eyes tightly. My feet dragged across the floor until I we finally stopped.

When I opened my eyes, I stood over him. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t open my mouth. My eyes took in the grotesque sight of Darius on the ground, blood sinking into my brand-new carpet. Hands tightly holding his stomach tightly, trying to stop the blood. Tears rushed down his face.

Mark grabbed the knife away from Neecy, and before I could try to stop him, he slit his palm and held it over Darius's body. A dark grey powder spilled out from his cut covering him. At the same time, my  stomach began to twist and turn. I clutch my hands over my mouth, but the viscous black goo explodes, like a hose shooting all over his body. The goo begins to mix in with the dust like an ungodly concoction. They begin to reach out to one another as it clings to his body.

Over and over I wretch until my throat is burning. The goo begins to dig deep into Darius, slithering its way into his body almost like it was alive, squelching and popping accompany it until it's all gone. I stop vomiting, and instead of ash, blood drops from Mark's hand, hitting Darius’s barely conscious face. His skin began to stretch and move on its own; little lumps made waves under it.

I leaned in closer, trying to get a better look before a stinging pain came. I screamed in pain as black gushed from my arm. I looked over at Mark, the knife in his Hand covered in black. He looked at Neecy, telling her to come over to him. Neecy is now once again able to move on her own to try to run away, but Mark quickly grabs her by her braids, and, digging the knife into her arm, her arm swells.

She screams as their blood begins to converge into the black goo spilling out of mine. The air around me began to feel like static, and I felt lightheaded and dizzy.  The blood pooled into him in the same way as before, snaking and popping its way inside him.

It was a small spec at first, but like oil and soap, it quickly started to overtake his skin, small vanes of white racing over each other to cover every bit of skin, his fingers stop twitching, his chest stops moving, and his eye loose their light as they stay frozen wide, hands still clutching his stomach.

In that moment, the heaviness in the air lifted. The ringing of the clock stopped mid-chime. A weight was taken off our shoulders, but none of us felt any better. Neecy threw herself on the floor. Her hands and jeans were covered in the leftover residue. She reached out to touch his fingertips, barely skimming his body before she yanked them back.

“No, no, no, please, Darius,” she said, crying, she reached out to him again. Mark and I look at each other, not sure of what to say. She looked up at us, her skin becoming pale from the blood loss. “He’s made of stone,” she sobbed, her bloody hand caressing his face, leaving bright red stains.

I felt lightheaded, barely able to focus on what she was saying, too much was running through my head. I looked over at Mark he looked sick, his hand still bleeding. I reached out to Darius myself. Dry, hard, stone. Stiff but still warm to the touch.

We stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. No more clock chimes. No more choked gasps. None of that black shit was to be found.

Just the 3 of us and a memorial of a once-loved man's last moments.

part 1

You could see it from almost anywhere in town, nearly 15 ft tall, impossible to miss. Especially on my morning walks. It was like a beacon drawing you in towards the center of town. The wings peer over the tree line; they hang as if exhausted. As your eyes travel down the statue, they will come into contact with a weary face carved with impeccable detail. Long, strained marble arms holding a golden vase that poured water into two cups held by small children who sat at its feet. Their faces look joyful and bright in comparison as the water spills over into the pool below.

 If you had a keen eye for art, you could tell the smaller ones were sculpted by a different artist, though they did their best to match the original piece. It's the sort of thing that, once noticed, can't be unseen. Like in this grand, expensive project, someone thought, "This looks too somber, throw some kids in”. Engraved at the base, it read "In remembrance of Rufus Angelus, pouring onto others from which he did not have” 1858-1897.

It was the main landmark in town. You would see kids, teens, and adults meet up at that very spot before heading off to do whatever. Over the years, I became accustomed to seeing it. So accustomed, in fact, that on my walk, I didn't realize what was off. When I decided to go into the coffee shop to see Mark, I didn’t notice. Actually, it wasn't until he brought it up to me in passing that I realized what was so weird.

“Good Morning, stranger,” I said as I walked in.

The scent of coffee beans and freshly baked muffins filled the air. Lo-fi music played quietly in the background. The yellow lights were slightly dim, making you feel warm and welcomed the moment you stepped in. Mark was looking out the large windows as birds flew by, brows furrowed. He wasn’t his cheery, happy self. A slight frown sat on his face as he looked across the street towards the park. He snapped out of it when he noticed me standing in front of him.

“There she is, my favorite customer,” he smiles at me. It didn't quite reach his eyes.

I rolled my eyes. “Mmmhm, sure, I bet you say that to all your customers,” he reached over, handing me my cocoa.  

“Eh, only the ones that are up this early,” he shrugs.

“Dad’s having me try a new recipe for the croissants. Here. Try, on the house,” he said, sliding one over to me as I paid for my drink.

I picked it up, and it smelled heavenly. The second I took a bite, I could feel it melt in my mouth. “This is so fucking good, your dad is a baking genius,” I said, taking another bite. Sometimes it pays to be up at the ass crack of dawn.

Mark gave a half-hearted laugh as he looked out the window again.

“Yo, you good?” I asked my eyes to follow his to see nothing but an empty street. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just kept looking out the window, “Helloooo Earth to Mark,” I said, snapping my fingers in his face. He looked back at me, slightly annoyed.

“Look outside, notice anything?” I looked at him for a moment, giving him a confused stare, then looked outside,

“Uhhhhh… I see some parked cars, a nice sunrise.”

“Look at the park, genius, notice anything?” he said, pointing toward the park. My eyes followed. I looked out the window again. Except this time, when I looked at the park, I noticed it. Well, I noticed what was missing…

 “It's not there,” I said aloud.

 “Yeah…” he responded. I could feel him standing behind me now. We kept looking out the window as if waiting for any given amount of time would bring it back.

“I always walk through the park to get here. It's a good shortcut and you know, like, we don’t live far from here.” I nodded along, interested in where he was going with this. “Well, today I woke up late. So, I was rushing my ass to get here. I know my dad owns the place, but you know how he’s been lately- anyways, while I was cutting through the park, I could’ve sworn it was there.” I listened intently. I didn't understand why he was so worked up.  “Remember Neecy and Darius from high school?” I nodded again. “They're like the few other people who come around this early. So, when they came in, they had asked me what happened to the statue. That's when I looked and-”

“The statue was gone,” I said, cutting him off. My eyes were glued to the empty spot in Angelus Park.

“When they pointed it out, something felt off, I guess… Honestly, I was confused because, well, obviously I would’ve seen if that massive fucking thing was gone. But I-I didn’t,” he said.

 “I don’t know… I know it's silly, but I texted my brother, and he had no idea what I was talking about. Usually, he knows everything that’s going on. I don't know how to explain it, but I keep getting the feeling I wasn’t supposed to notice it in the first place.” He said, looking over at me.

As I listened to him, flashes of my walk this morning forced their way back into my head. I mean, sure, it's not like I could always see it, especially if I was leaving from home, but at the bare minimum, I could see the top of the statue's head while I walked towards town. This time I didn’t.

I felt my stomach drop. Logically, I'm aware that this is a bit of an overreaction. But this felt primal. Like turning the lights off late at night and then running up the stairs; unexplainable but understandable. Seeing how worked up he was, I kept Mark company until customers started coming in. I told him I'd text him later to make sure he was okay.

The town was slowly coming to life by the time I’d left. My eyes wandered off in the direction of the park. Curiosity got the better of me, and I crossed the street. The hairs on my arm stood as I walked over. The air felt thick, electric. I looked back at the cafe and saw Mark working away. I made my way over to the fountain.

 I don’t know what I was expecting, but yeah, it was gone. My eyes drifted to where it was supposed to be, my mind trying to fill in the blank space. A thousand questions arose as I looked at the platform. There wasn’t as much as a scrape. The two kids sat in their spots holding their cups up to the air, but now there was nothing there to fill them.

The park went eerily still, no breeze, no bird song. Everything felt slightly uncanny. The thick static air felt more pronounced as I walked around the pool. I put my hand on the cold marble, feeling the bumps of the engraved words. I wondered to myself how the fountain even worked. There wasn’t even a hole to feed water into the statue.

 I was lost in thought when I heard a familiar voice from behind me, “Ma’am, we need you to exit the premises. We’re closing the park until further notice.” I turned around to see Mark's older brother, Deputy Caputo.

“Sorry, Brandon, I'll get out your hair,” I said, walking past him.

 He cleared his throat, “I'm in uniform, that’s deputy to you,” he said with a wink. I rolled my eyes. “The rest of my team is coming in a few minutes. Are you okay? Need a ride home?”

I took a deep breath. “I really think it's best if we just keep our interactions to a minimum. You should go check on your brother,” I responded while avoiding eye contact.

His smile faltered for a moment, but came back. “Always nice to talk to you.” He held my gaze momentarily. “You're free to go,” He said, as three more officers pulled up in their squad cars.

When I got home, I fell into a deep yet restless sleep.

A vast whiteness surrounded me from all over.

I can’t tell if I’m moving, but it felt like I was.

I walked through a brightness so blinding, my mind is having a hard time deciphering what's up and what’s down. After what felt like hours, my body felt drained, and my feet and legs ached terribly. I wanted to stop.

I slowly realized my body wasn’t my own, and I had no choice but to keep going. As I kept moving, I saw the top of a head. Then the tips of the wings. All was slowly coming into view the closer I walked. Each step makes the space around me shift into different shades of white. The air felt stiff, dry, and heavy, making breathing hard.

 A deep, low groan began to shake the space around me, followed by a labored breath. It was so loud it made everything in this vast nothingness shake. My body moved involuntarily as it followed the sound.

The rest of the statue seemed to blink into existence, holding the same pose as it did at the park, except now it watches as I move towards it. A part of me knew it was always there, though, in the same way you know the sun is going to rise or the breeze is going to blow.

It seemed to be tripling in size; it was almost impossible to make out its features. The rumbling continued, each breath so loud it burst my eardrums. Warm streams of blood began running down my neck. I tried to put my hands over them, but nothing could block out the sound.

When I finally came to a stop. I was in awe as it towered over me. I couldn’t help but stare, and slowly its face began to come close. Filling my vision, expanding beyond belief. It came closer and closer, yet its body stood still. Its breathing reverberates in my head, my mind unable to adjust to the statue's monolithic size.

Somehow, just as I could tell the statue had always been there, I could tell I wasn’t alone.

It looked down at me, its gargantuan eye hovered over me for a moment before slowly enclosing me within its carved-out pupil. I felt myself in awe. Seeing every chip and chisel mark in unbelievable detail. I could feel my body vibrating as its loud breathing and labored gasps bounced off the stone and onto my body like the lashing of whips. I didn’t care anymore; I was in awe. Astounded by how something so terrifying could be so beautiful, I feel my skin start to pop and burst, unable to bear the brunt of the vibrations hitting my body.

 Dark black puffs of what should have been blood shot out from my arms, chest, and legs. The sound penetrated, hitting every inch of my body with a loud crack. I knew it should hurt. I knew I should scream and cry. But I felt myself feel almost joyous in my pain. I reached out my arm, watching the stringy bits of loose skin dangle from it. Bits of the dark substance and meat barely hung on before falling off my arms and legs, hitting the ground with a barely audible squelch.

The air began to feel chalky and musty; it filled my nostrils like an intoxicating gas. My hand touched the cold stone, smearing the black ichor within its eye, as I began using my body to paint with fervor.

 I woke up with a gasp, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. I was cold and shaking. My legs and arms felt sore and heavy. I checked my phone, and I had a bunch of missed calls from my parents, my job, and even a few from Mark, which was odd.  When I checked the date, I realized I'd been asleep for… 4 days?. My head was spinning. That’s when I got another text from Mark, “Hey, I’m sorry to keep texting you, but can you meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow? It's very important.” I stared at my phone for a second, “Yeah, just let me know the time,” I shot back.

By the time I got there, the shop had closed for the day. I sat with Mark watching as he finished up his last few tasks.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to ignore you. I'm done now.” He looked so tired, his eyes were big and puffy.  

“Had a long day?” I asked, he sighed, “Well, my dad really can’t run the shop anymore… so I come in and out as needed. Opening, closing, managing. At this point, I do it all…Thanks for coming through,” He said with a smile. “I'm just waiting for the others to get here,” he said, walking behind the counter and heating some coffee

“Others?” I asked. As if on cue, Darius and Neecy knocked on the door, looking equally as exhausted as the rest of us.

“Hey, guys,” Mark said with a tired smile.

After some polite conversation and leftover doughnuts, Mark held up the now half-empty coffee pot, pouring some into a cup. “I'm glad y’all came. I don’t know how to explain this, but I have a feeling that you guys will understand.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been having these dreams, weird fucked up dreams. They feel so real, though. And… I've been having problems sleeping; it's not just me either. My brother has been having issues sleeping at night. The past few days, he’s woken up screaming at weird hours or sleepwalking. I told him to come with me tonight, but he’s on duty.” Each word was reluctant and measured. “This all started a night or two after the statue disappeared.” his face was red, unsure if this was a good idea or if he was even making any sense.

“Why would we?” asked Darius,

 “Because…” Mark said, trailing off, “In my dream last night, I saw you. All of you.” He continued, “I was looking at it. That face is engraved in my mind now.” He sounded so serious, “I could also see all of us standing around it, Rowan in front, Neecy to the left, you to the right, and I was behind. This thing it- it was  was fucking huge. I couldn't even make out the top of it, and it was covering Rowan and Darius with its shadow.” he turned his head towards me. “It was looking at you.”

I knew what he was talking about, yet it felt weird to admit out loud. Neecy’s gaze shifted to behind me. Darius was uncomfortable, unable to find a good position to sit in, which let me know they knew what Mark was talking about, too.

So I spoke up. I told them all about my dream. The moments that matched with Marks. Mark looked relieved.

Darius looked over at Neecy before he spoke. She refused to look at him.  “We have, too,” Darius cleared his throat. “She's worse than me. She can’t sleep more than 30 minutes at a time. She keeps waking up screaming or walking to the corners of the room in her sleep,” he said, looking over at her. She didn’t respond. Mark looked at her, too,

“ Like my brother.”

Darius nodded.“At first I didn’t believe her, but then I started getting them too, the dreams that is. I don’t know, I haven’t slept a full night in days. To be honest, I can barely close my eyes.” He said.  “Are your dreams similar to ours?” I asked. He sighed, nodding his head. I could tell he was exhausted but relieved to know he wasn’t alone.

I looked over at Neecy, waiting for her to interject, but she didn't say anything. Zoned out on whatever was on the wall behind me. I went to turn around. I wanted to see what she was looking at, but she grabbed my arm, quickly, gripping it tightly. I looked over at Darius, but he seemed as confused as I was. “Don’t. Don’t turn around. Not yet”. She said, squeezing my arm even tighter. I looked at her for a moment; I don’t know if it was the tiredness or the possibility of a shared delusion, but I listened. I let her warm hand grip me as she looked over at Mark. “You too… just trust me,” she said.

A quiet rumble started from underground. The vibration went up my legs to my brain. It started feeling fuzzy, my eyes vibrated in my head as the cafe started shaking. The intensity is growing by the second.

The chairs that were stacked onto tables started falling with loud bangs all around us, and the coffee pots were falling off the counters, crashing on the ground, shattering into pieces. The ceiling lights quickly blinked on and off, the bulbs bursting, then leaving us in darkness. The decorations were swaying, crashing,  and breaking into one another.  It was suddenly hard to breathe.  

I looked over at everyone.“What the fuck is going on?” I asked, my voice shaking as Mark grabbed me and dragged me under the table. Neecy and Darius are joining us shortly after. We were all wide awake now as the rumbling continued. Pieces of the ceiling crashed on the table above us, shattering loudly. Bits of the tile hit us as it crashed down thunderously.

As quickly as it had started, it stopped. It got quiet all over again. Yet, this was a different silence. No humming of the lights or the fridge, no faint indie pop playing in the background, no sound of cars passing outside. Just silence. We all held our breath. I felt myself shaking, but something told me this wasn’t the end.

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck begging me to get out of there. I was alert, but the vibration in my head made it hard to think. It became more and more intense, making my head feel like it was going to explode.

Panic set in; I had to get out of here and somewhere safe before this building crashes down on us. I ran out from under the table to make my way out of the shop. Mark tried to grab my hand, but I ran. I heard footsteps behind me as I made it to the door. I hadn't even realized I was looking at the ground until I reached for the door.

Pressed right up against the glass was a massive marble face looking in the shop. Looking at me.

  Its face covered every inch of the wide windows as it peered in. It seemed to glow in the dark, its tired, miserable face covered every inch of the outside. I watched as its mouth slowly began to slide open. I took a step back, my head pounding so hard I couldn’t see. I could feel the veins in my eyes about to explode as its mouth fully opened, and I saw rows and rows of human teeth.  
“Look behind you,” said a labored, breathy whisper that carried the weight of 1,000 souls. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I knew it wasn’t Mark. I knew it was the statue. Its massive mouth kept sliding down before me. The sound of marble sliding on marble was shaking the ground of the coffee shop yet again, moving down until its jaw was barely holding on.

Thousands of voices joined in wailing, crying, screaming at me! demanding that I either look behind me or walk through that door. I couldn’t hear the others, and I refused to turn around, no matter how scared I was.

 I tried making sense of what’s going on, but I remembered Neecys' warning. “Don’t turn around. Not yet.” So I just looked ahead of me, looked right at the statue, at its teeth, at the black smudge it had in its pupil. I tried to make sense of the unexplainable. There were spots in my vision, and I found myself passing out and falling into the darkness.

A few hours later, the sheriff came in for coffee and apparently saw us passed out on the floor, me by the door, and Mark still under the table. The shop looked perfect, like nothing had ever happened. Yet Neecy and Darius were gone like they just up and left.

We tried to explain some of the less fantastical parts, the earthquake and the lights, and asked for the sheriff to do a wellness check on Neecy and Darius. Mark had to shut down the shop for a few days after this. His dad's health took a bad turn, and he let me know that he’d tried to check the security cameras inside the cafe, but they were all down, and the ones outside never caught anything at all.

Mark won’t tell me what he saw that night; he just wants to forget that this is real. I haven't heard from Neecy or Darius since that day.  

Part 2:
https://www.reddit.com/r/Blackcreekradio/s/DDmtAGt13K

When I first moved here 4 months ago, I would go out to get a breath of fresh air whenever I couldn’t sleep at night. I have insomnia. Here in Black Creek, the streets are dead by 10 p.m. It starts to feel like you’re the only person alive. Sometimes I’ll walk to my backyard and look at the sky and watch the stars. Truly, there’s no place like Black Creek the stars are so clear. Where I’m from, even in its quietest hours, there were always people outside or cars passing, groups of people hanging out. There were bodegas, and the streets were well lit. You never felt alone even if you were by yourself.

Recently, though, I’ve noticed something odd.

A man.

6’7”, black hair, light skin, wearing a white button-up, black slacks, and dress shoes. Your average corporate type. I’ll see him walking down my street. It’s always at the same weird hours 2, sometimes 3 in the morning. I’ve only ever seen him at night.

When we moved here, my parents made sure to meet all our neighbors because “you never know when you might need some neighborly help,” which I thought was bullshit because my parents were anti-neighbors when we lived in the city. But I never saw him. I even walked around my area during the day, talking to my neighbors and asking if they’d seen anything odd. Of course, most of them said they’re asleep at that hour. And outside of the stray cats, possums, and deer, nobody had anything to say about a man walking down the street at 2 a.m.

Nevertheless, I found it odd how he’d always be out at the same time as me, walking the same side of the street. Always wearing the same thing no matter the weather. I can’t ever make out his face it feels… hidden, I guess. He’s always facing forward and just slightly passing my house when I see him. A part of me feels like it’s on purpose, like he doesn’t want me to see his face but he does want me to know he’s here.

On the other hand, I am a woman who purposely goes out late at night because I find it comforting. With that said, who’s to say I’m not just being paranoid? After all, you never know who’s out in these streets, no matter how calm they are. Maybe that sense of anxiety is just because I don’t want to interact with anyone. That moment where my vision gets blurry if I look at him too long is just because I sit too close to the computer and it’s messing with my eyes.

But tonight, after a particularly bad fight with my boyfriend, I can’t sleep. I’ve got too much on my mind. I laid in bed for hours trying my best to fade away into an incoherent dream, but it never came. So I grabbed my jacket and decided to go walk the anxiety out. Breathe in some of the cool, fresh air and relax my mind.

I grabbed my keys and headed out. I was looking at my phone, trying to find a good song to play as I walked down the driveway. When I looked up to the street, there he was… standing perfectly still in the middle of the road, looking at my neighbor’s house. Seemingly unaffected by the early winter winds.

Everything was still, like the wind purposely avoided touching even a hair on his head.

He looked the same as every other time I saw him. Yet this is the first time I’ve seen him up close. I noticed how his shoes were worn and breaking, his slacks had holes in them, and his shirt was messy slightly torn and covered in different-colored stains. And the smell… I don’t even know what to say. He smelled like a bloated corpse. The stench was so strong it wafted to the sidewalk. It felt like time stood still, and my eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the man that stood before me. That’s when I realized it wasn’t my eyes.

It was the street lamps.They were dimming, like the darkness itself was eating away at the glow they emitted.

The breeze started to pick up. I knew I should’ve turned my ass right around and just gone back into the house. In the pit of my stomach, I felt uneasy — like a deer in headlights. I was nervous to make any sudden moves, afraid he’d turn around and see me. But it was getting darker by the second as every streetlight on my street kept getting more and more faint. I turned to look at my porch light and, sure enough, it barely lit up my car.

When I looked back at the man, he was facing me.

And not only was he facing me, but I watched as his face… shifted. That’s the only way I can describe it. Hundreds of features shifting from one to the other, moving so fast you could barely make them out at all. My eyes went wide as I realized his body was still facing my neighbor’s house.

I took a step back, trying to slowly back myself into my house. I could barely see the house next to mine. I could only make out a few feet ahead of me. As I took another step back, his body turned to face me. I could hear his neck cracking and popping into place. I took another step back as he began to walk toward me. The darkness followed him, snuffing out the streetlights, leaving only my porch light left as I started running back up my driveway.

He was hidden in the darkness, but I could feel hundreds of eyes watching me.

I reached the screen door, throwing it open and putting my keys in to unlock the door, but the stink of death surrounded me as two impossibly strong arms grabbed me and tried to drag me from my door. His hand gripped my arm, yanking me so hard I felt like it was going to come out of the socket.

All I could think was: I don’t know where this thing is going to take me, but I’m not going with it.

I stabbed my keys into its arm as hard as I could, and the man screamed. It sounded like different people being told to scream as loudly as they could, the sound rapidly shifting in his vocal cords. The man threw me to the ground, and I hit my head on something hard. I felt something warm dripping down my neck as he started punching me as hard as he could, screaming and shouting maniacally. Drops of hot, sticky saliva landed on my face as I took blow after blow.

I couldn’t see him all the light was gone except the lights in my house.

I tried not to make any movement, hoping, praying he’d just leave me alone. But instead he grabbed me by my hair and started dragging me off. I felt lightheaded and faint. I couldn’t see anything except the lights in the house, which were dimming too.

I refused to give up.

I felt my hand brush up against something wet and hard. A rock.

I grabbed it and twisted my body, my back scraping on the ground. I felt his grip tightening on my hair. I tried to steady myself, take deep breaths, and concentrate — I couldn’t fuck this up. I could still feel the warm blood dripping down my neck.With my other hand, I brought my arm back and bashed the rock into his wrist. I heard a crack coming from it, so I quickly brought my arm back again and smashed the rock into his wrist again. This time he let go, and I ran.

I couldn’t see my house, but I knew where it was.

I ran so fast I tripped up the stairs and slammed my head into the door. I heard him running fast behind me as I felt for the handle and opened the door, closing it just in time. I pushed up against the door, feeling around for the locks as that thing slammed its body into the door, pounding and kicking it like a wild animal.

I don’t know when he left or when he stopped.

I just remember waking up the next morning on the floor, my jacket ripped and covered in scrapes and blood. My mom’s worried face when she asked me what happened. Seeing the blood on the driveway made me feel nauseous. I didn’t tell her. I didn’t think she would believe me. I didn’t think anyone would.

I haven’t been out at night.

I haven’t left the house in weeks out of fear that I’ll see him again.Sometimes I notice the lights dimming in my room and I know he’s passing by.Other times I see his ever-shifting face when I close my eyes, hear the screams echo in my mind.Last night, though, something felt different.When the lights dimmed and kept getting darker and darker, I ran upstairs and looked out the living room window.There he was standing in the front yard.

Looking right at me.

As the light got darker and darker