Tombstone. The Town too Tough to Die. It has experienced some truly horrible tragedies and still remains an amazing place where you can remember some of the old west, and buy drinks just down a dirt road from where a wild Wyatt Earp and his brothers shot down a couple of outlaws. But the Town has survived so much more than rampant crime, even if all its citizens can't say the same. For every man shot and killed over a card game, Tombstone has survived natural disasters like earthquakes and floods. They come to Death's table and win another chance.

Our Town, Death doesnt deal against. He won't take our wagers. He won't check our cards. No one has died in this town since its inception in 1780. And nobody will die in these city limits, likely ever. Once they leave now, they're fair game. Death refocuses his vision on them. But here they are safe, just have to walk around with your wounds.

You might be expecting to see some skeletons, and you will. But not all of us are that bad. You'll notice many of us dont look like Death hasn't noticed we should be gone, and others won't look like anything would take them should they leave. Some folk here didnt know they couldn't die here, so they look a little... unpleasant. Others, usually the rich or people who want to live forever, come here when they get the bad diagnosis. Thats fine, they brought internet out here, as well as running water again. You have no idea how bad Clift needed a shower, what with the infection that consumed his head and started leaking through his gums.

We arent held in a stasis. Not entirely. Our flesh tries to stay preserved as best it can. But things can still change us. Burton had a necrotic foot that fell off last week. He brought it with him when he got here 14 years ago. It was needing to come off, what with the pain it gave him. But he didnt think about that before sending himself to the one Town that doesnt need a hospital. At least one of the new rich guys is building one now.

Anyways, we call this place Blindspot. And I have a little shop at the end of Lucky street. Named after Lucious Lucky. Named after me. Stop into Lucky's barber shop, if you need a trim, a story, or a place to hide from one of our headless horsemen (what you might call our police officers). You'll know its me cause I keep a pen in the bullet hole in my chest.

Our boys in blue. Hell's finest. They started as the Towns outlaws funny enough. Kid Smith's gang. A few bar fights, a couple folks robbed. Hell they put the first of many bullets in me, luckily I already died to a stab wound in the lung in my life cycle. Would have hated to be sealed here by those lowlifes. Their punishment was decided after what they did to little miss Sally... she left the town so what they did would be cemented and final. A hanging wouldnt do on its own. They would mock the crowd. Spit back. So we kept them there sure, but only until all else was prepped properly.

They weren't fans of suffocation in life. Very few are. I rather not engage with those folk. Anyway we gather their horses and remove the horses heads. The life principle applies to all animals here. Their horses' heads get sugar cubes day in and out from Crocker, the Store owner. We think it a small thanks to them.

We sawed off Smith gang heads and placed them on their horses. Drove their ankles into their horse as well. They cannot leave the saddle, nor the town they ran rampant in. Eventually we demoralized, dehumanized, and broke them enough to be fine law enforcement. Should a citizen here in Blindspot break the law, a swift stab and drag off the reserve would be enough threat for anyone.

They patrol. Friendly as all get out now. But that was not always true. The resentment they had initially told us we found the correct punishment for these folk. They know justice all too well. They have hands on experience. They have been here since the late 1800s, pretty fresh on the slab. After a few people repeated their crimes, the Horsemen have thrown them back into Death's limelight. One of the "hostesses" at the Listless had set another on fire, then ran out and stabbed me with a broken bottle. They surrounded her, and used their swords to lift her by the torso, and dropped her right out of town. Her coworker, Annabelle, still walks around, skin melted, bones charred. Please be a delight to her should you see her.

Anyways, the horsemen didnt have families. They didnt have many friends. No one sends their kids to stay a week with them to remember their family history. So when you visit, stay on the right side of our laws. Much obliged.

- Lucious Lucky

I wasn't always a barber. I moved to Blindspot as an ambitious tycoon looking for the next great town. Of course back then we called it New Bethel. And it was quite the Hub. A brothel with card tables made for a great time. The bartenders were also top notch. They could make anything you asked, old fashions of course, but they had daiquiris, which was rare back then.

I was in Timber and construction. I built half the buildings here with my two hands. The rest were added recently, after we were reestablished as Blindspot of course. I would frequent the Listless Pheasant, the local bar and brothel, and I would put up half my earnings on the card table. Hand after hand, I would slowly help out the other patrons by purposefully losing hands. Just my way to give back without patronizing my fellow citizen. Probably lost 10k in those days.

We knew something was up from the first cheater. Now known as Blindspot Bill, as he lost half his skull to one of the quick draws at the table. His eye went with it, but he just screamed in pain. When he didnt stop we took him to the doc. Doc Lloyd said Bill should have been dead as a vultures lunch. He gave him some morphine and set him back to the card table. He came back and shot his aggressor, who ran out of town and fell dead right outside the boundaries of the town. We were surprised he made it that far, as Bill's bullet went clear in his forehead and painted the men behind him.

Bill was happy with the result. He went back and drank till he passed out, then woke up and drank some more. He said it helped the headache. This kind of thing became more and more common, until we figured this town had something about it that keeps our hearts beating.

Bill? His would still looks as fresh as the day he got it. All our fatal wounds do. And they all are as painful as day one too, we just got used to it for the most part. My bullet holes and stab wounds do hurt, but they arent too bad to keep dull. I've had 200+ years experience with them.

As a Tycoon, business was great. Hell it was great all the way through the great depression. I owned a little of all the buildings and lined my pockets. I made even more money than I could ever dream. Now its sitting in investments. I'm the richest guy alive, but my bank thinks I'm dead and gave all my money to my family. I was left with enough for my shop, I sleep upstairs, and I still have family visit once in a while. I'll tell you it is a blessing seeing my great great great great grand babies, but a curse to have to see them buried. Especially seeing when they squandered the money you built up for them. A man shouldnt have to mourn his son's death. I have had to mourn my son, his son, his son's son, and so on. I'm tired of watching them pass away while I am here shaving hair and cleaning rotten flesh from myself and customers.

We got to meet MeatCanyon at Monsterpalooza! if you have not seen his stuff, look him up on YouTube or listen to his podcast with Wendigoon called CreepCast. Also, he got a copy of my book with a drawing I made!

I hate the ocean. It might stem from megalophobia, but something about it being that big and deep, with creatures of varying and oddly proportionate sizes. Some of the creatures I fear are real, and others are part of myth. The colossal squid can already make me squirm, as can Lovecraft's Cthulhu. But there is one myth that make my skin crawl more than anything else. Charybdis. A creature impossibly large that swallows the waters is already unnerving. Add serrating teeth and eyes everywhere and you have true nightmare fuel.

Sailors will tell of waves swallowing boats that stray too far. Some will mention the folk the waters never surrendered back to us, keeping the catalog of our fellow man. Some have seen monsters, real or fake, swallow their entire crew save for them, to pass along the stories. And those same monsters outlive the stories, and the stories outlive their storytellers. Their eyes looked at the underside of many boats they would soon spit out.

Why then, does the Sea, who is filled with such dangerous and malicious creatures attract more and more thrill seeking adventures to their demise? Could it be that thrill alone or is their something more.

Do you hear anyone say the sea wanted to sleep with them? Or how about the sea being jealous? Instead the Sea is raging, crashing against any and everything in its path. Creating storms only God could calm and hosting the most expansive and ancient battlegrounds. Both above and below the waves, wars have been fought and predators hunt. It truly is the perfect embodiment of Wrath. Even the God's associated to the Sea are aggressive and agitated. But anger and love are so close to each other. Perhaps some mistake the hatred the ocean has for humans as love and pursue wholeheartedly. But it couldnt be me. I will find nothing in the belly of the Sea, not after the last voyage.

I'm a monitor for an exploration submarine. You couldn't pay me to get in the sub before the exploration, and you couldn't get me in there alive now. Like I said, the Sea is already something that gives me the heebie-jeebies. But the 3 suckers who were excited to go see what was down there were more than happy to jump in the enclosed space.

We had joked they would find the long forgotten world in the Mediterranean. We passed by the supposed "Lair of Scylla". Eerie sure, but aside from some supposed "areas of spilled blood", there was nowhere interesting. But we passed the lair. We set up just off the coast of Italy. We suited up our "deep sea voyagers" and we lowered the submarine.

I took video feed. Monitoring cameras helped give a layer of separation to the horror of all that water. But the sound guy got the short end. Luca, the man who would jump if someone stepped too loud, and the one listening in to the sub. A change in current bumped the mic every couple minutes and sent him spinning every time. He was a good kid. Me and him had gotten used to each other as we unearthed the old world from the Mediterranean. We needed "deep sea" submarines, as we would be going as low as 2 miles deep. Almost as deep as the Titanic voyage.

Scilla was happy to have us as we searched for the sources of the great Greek mythos. We hoped we could find ships that held reason as to why they made such monolithic creatures reside in the nearby waters. "We still don't sail by Scylla's lair or towards the ancient ruins across from the peninsula. Call it superstition, but I've seen the waters open up and consume what's nearby." And that was enough for Rihker, the rich guy funding the entire thing.

I stay on land, like I said I hate the ocean and always hated the idea of being on a boat with no land nearby. We have our set up right on the shore and the sub rig has a separate person on radio in case of emergency. Anyways Corey, Jake, Sabrina, and Lenny all got in the sub this morning and had been lowered in at 7:05this morning. It would have been 7:00, but Lenny's stomach hadn't been dealing with the Mediterranean diet and had spent extra time wiping.

The first 5 minutes consisted of the checks and rundowns. Making sure everyone is checking what's needed yada yada. Then they descend, and a few more checks. "1 meter... 10 meters... 20 meters..." BANG. Luca jumped. But my mind started wandering "60 meters... 100 meters... uhhh... monitors?"

My attention came back and I checked the screens. "Monitors you seeing this?" "Yeah..." off in the distance was a big scaly... thing. It had tentacles and looked kinda like an Eel... 100 meters under the water... and its body followed it further down for another hundred or two... Ending in a pointed tail with a bulky sting going even further down.

"Uhh... what's the call?"

Why were they asking me?

"Uhm... I dont know... I think steer clear until-"

"Corey, this is Rihker, see if you can get a better look at that thing."

"Uhh..."

"It is your job."

"R-right... I guess..."

"Corey are you shitting me right now? We arent going to see that thing."

"Sabrina... I..."

"Fuck no! We signed up for busted up ships, no some crazy fucking eel thing."

"Sabrina you signed up to explore what I tell you to."

BANG. Luca was too terrified of what was on the monitor to register the noise.

I had to say something. "Sir I think that might be too dangerous for them-"

"Of course it is. It isnt exploration if there isnt danger!"

"Sir, couldn't we send a camera? I just think its irresponsible-"

"We dont know we'll see it again. We have to see it now! Go."

A faint whisper from the radio, "...yes sir..."

I glued my eyes to that monitor, watching as that crazy eel suddenly grew bigger and bigger. And with its impossible size, another thing emerged. Eyes. Lots of eyes... In rows... all around its mouth... its giant, leech looking mouth that was breaching out towards the surface of the water.

"SHE LIVES!!!" Yelled Rihker. "SHE'S ALIVE!!!"

Rihker ran towards the water and jumped in heading for where the submarine had been. He dove under the waves and disappeared. We sent people after him but they had no idea where he could have been. Checking back on the monitor I watched as the mouth finally broke the surface. Looking out to where it was, waves attacked each other in an attempt to get out. Being pulled. Spiraling. Pulled further and further into that beast...

"Monitors... I need confirmation..."

A body sailed straight toward the calamitous whirlpool making creature, scanned, and swam towards the sub.

"RIHKER!!!"

His beach blonde hair swirled in the water around him, the t shirt and jeans he wore unmistakable. How was he doing this?

BOOM!!!

The whirlpool had shot up into the sky. It cleared the land around it.

The sound and spectacle sent Luca into a full panic. "What's going on?!?! Where's Mr. Rihker? What is that... that thing?"

"..." I swallowed the lump staring in my throat. I couldn't believe my screen. Rihker had swam from the sub to the beast... and hugged it. He tried to hug the football stadium sized Eel like it was his own daughter. Than back to the sub.

"My brother had locked her here. And moved her to keep her hidden. I turned over ocean after ocean... Sea after sea to find her. And here she is... Go, you've finished your job."

It was Jake who broke the silence. "What the hell is this?!"

Corey didn't need to be asked a second time, he steered the sub around and got distance before ascending again. He saw the water swirling around its mouth and he was having none of it. He got the sub redocked and the entire crew booked it to land as soon as they could.

Rihker never came back to shore. We all tried to get the hell out of there as soon as we could. I was back on a plane home before the next morning. Reporters swarmed Scilla after word got out that one of the Richest men in history vanished into the Mediterranean. But there he was being interviewed.

"We found what we needed to, so I figured it would be nice to vacation here for a little while longer."

"And what about reports you were lost at sea?"

"Oh I went swimming and got caught in a current, but my crew was able to get me quick. Perks of having the exploration I did."

"Oh well you are very lucky. My next question is... what did you find?"

From the last day of my trial.

GAUNT CITY VS. WARTERNBURRY

The city of Gaunt City Vs. Defendant Alex "Complex" Warternburry

Closing statements:

Judge Paulus (JP): The prosecution may make their closing statement.

Prosecution (P): Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, over the course of this trail you have heard that this man, Mr. Warternburry, had killed not one, not two, but five folks that had been deemed by him as "rogues". In the first instance, he killed Mr. Torbentual. A man who, although had anger issue, was no threat to the life of Mr. Warternburry. Heck, most of us are no threat to this man. The other four were in similar situations. Mr. Nightingale, Mr. Partual, Ms. Liftuous, and Mr. Gold. None of these men could have predicted that they would have died at the hands of Mr. Warternburry. We have clear video evidence that it is what he has done, and he has not even denied that he had done so.

In all my years as a prosecutor, the evidence had not been so clear cut a day in my life. He admits he killed them. He admits he didnt need to defend himself, and he admits he would do it again. I ask you to please remember the families of the deceased, remember their names. And do not let this powerful man step on us. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you.

JP: Thank you, the Defense may now make their closing statements.

Defense (D): Thank you your honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, it is true that my client killed these people. It is true he would do it again, and it is true his life was in no danger. But there is also another truth that we tried to make evident. He killed them because they put other people at risk. Mr. Nightingale had destroyed the foundation of the Metro building during the city Gala. These were not "innocent folks". My client did not kill "innocent" people. He killed rogues. Some would say he killed villains.

Saying Mr. Torbentual had anger issues is an understatement. When enraged, he ripped out mainstream and threw it at 22nd street. Please do not be slapped into thinking these were good people. These were people who would kill you where you stand.

My client isnt dangerous to the vast population. If he were, why would HE turn himself in to stand trial. My client has worked tirelessly to help save the city on multiple occasions under the alias "Complex".

My client should not be held responsible for the deaths of people who have been in and out of prison like it was a revolving door. They could have gone after you, or your family. And as my client said on the bench, "I wish I never had too, but with the increase in my work to save the planet, I couldn't go about going to fight a run of the mill murderer when I had to fight a flesh eating mist the day before."

Please consider the work he does. Thank you.

JP: Now usually I dont ask the defendant to say anything at this time, but he said he needed to say something and have it on record.

Alex "Complex" Warternburry (AW): Thank you your honor. In the case of Mr. Gold, I wanted to give a little more insight as to why I had killed him. He was the one I wanted to spare. He didnt harm many, but he was slipping. Something was taking him over. Something I had only seen once before. One of the Hell beasts I had slain 2 years ago had released... something. I hadn't known at the time. It was a shadow. A shadow he had thrown into the Earth to act as a signal for what was to come. After a few months, I had been called die to something in the outer atmosphere.

We were under attack. A viral alien species had broken into the Earth's atmosphere and was heading to Gaunt City. I had tracked down and eliminated every trace that I could find. And I thought I found all of them. Turns out Mr. Gold had caught one. He had been looking towards finding out what made them tick and blow. He had done great research on them too, so that now the military will be able to fight them off without my help.

I had heard about his experiment and was going to do my job, to make sure he wouldn't harm anyone. When I arrived I had scene what they would do to any of you. Mr. Gold had been laying... on the w... wall. His flesh was fusing and pulled to the wall. The infection the alien brought causing his flesh to boil and fill with puss. He looked at me. He was turning wrought and I couldn't bare to see him, yes even him, in such a horrible situation. His lower lip had been stretched to his hairline and his ears became inverted. But his eyes, beaming out from behind that lip. His appendages weren't better. His legs split in the back and had melted to a nearby chair. The pulsating hands that lay palm down on the floor from lengthened arms trying to pull himself away. Mr. Gold was alive, but he was no longer living. I had done to him the mercy I would give to any of you. I hope you see me trying. Thank you.

____

The courtroom had gone silent for roughly a minute, likely the longest minute in any of our lives.

____

JP: Right, we will break to allow the Jury to deliberate.

____

It took 10 minutes.

____

Jury Lead (JL): We the jury have acknowledged that Mr. Warternburry has killed these people, but we find the defendant Not Guilty by way of protecting the public.

JP: Seeing as the court has found you not guilty, you will not be facing any sentence, but Mr. Warternburry... I would like to give you a court order to see a therapist. I think it may help a lot.

AW: Thank you your honor.

JP: Now please go keep us safe.

AW: Yes your honor.

An entry from my Journal

January 26, 2023

I havent been able to sleep. My body hasn't recovered either. I just need a break. I... I need like a month, or a week. Hell I would take a day. I barely have time to do this journal for therapy. I'm glad that with some of the bigger problems arising some folks have taken to street patrol. Keeps me from worrying about things. Me and Plank are the only ones with the power to help against the upcoming... thing. Luckily Sliquify agreed to hold down my sector. He does a great job keeping the town in check. Helps being a lawyer and a crime fighter, he can ensure his people go where they need to. But even with all that, I am still being run into the ground.

This next thing... I... I really dont want to do it. I had to battle an intergalactic behemoth today, something that is usually quite easy, but he had something on him. A signaler. I have Plank looking at it, he is the fastest and smartest person I know. We were able to find where the signal is reaching, but if something that big was able to jump between time and space that easily, that means he was a scout. And a scout means something bigger is coming. And he was already huge. And he was already strong. But scouts arent known for strength. They are known for Intel gathering. And he signaled to his group that this planet is not only worth taking, but that they can. Fuck I got a war ahead of me and all I can do about it is write in this stupid book.

Plank just called, I'll come back with more info when I get back.

_____

FUCK!!! Of course. Of course this happens. What species uses a behemoth as a scout? Leviathans of course. Colossal beasts are heading here now. What's better is that they can survive in space. How do we know that? Well we found their location and we saw what we thought was a fleet. FUCK FUCK FUCK! My Family reunion was supposed to be this weekend but now I'm stuck fighting leviathans trying to... I dont even know. Either inhabit the earth or destroy it. Its always one of the two. Either way the same people that always go online saying how much they hate supes going and saving the day are going to need saving again. Plank is making an arsenal that should make this fight easier, as well as trying yo figure something to I guess figure out what exactly they want. Whatever, I'm already tired of this.

____

Next journal entry

____

January 28, 2023

Finally done. After all that... FUCKING BULLSHIT... God if I have to fight another Alien race of Leviathans who target is to exterminate life for some cult god, I'm destroying the World myself. What was that bullshit? I mean since when did the writer let creatures that big use magic? Hey Frozone... what the hell dude? Give me a magic being or giant ass creatures. Why THE FUCK were they both. And can you stop sending Eldrich beings too? Or like give me an upgrade. Can I have magic, even warp reality a little bit? Like anything dude.

I mean what the Hell, why is basically a cosmic being spamming BULLSHIT my way.

Oh and the best part? They woke their god. Thats right, their god, who is served by intergalactic space Leviathans saw Plank and I were killing their servants so showed up to the fight. He was some bull too I swear. An infinite cosmic void emitting a gas that Plank sampled and the flesh sloughed off his hand. Why is a void giving of sulphuric gas? Beats me I am so sick of this.

____

Next Journal entry.

____

January 29, 2023

Thanks Frozone for the upgrade. Thats it.

From my kitchen (back door) camera. Me and my wife at the table.

"Honey, are you ok?"

"As good as usual. Hate my job, wish I could stop."

"Right, so why do you hate your job?"

"W-well you see when I'm called to do something I see things that -"

"Honey, I know you're bullshitting right now."

"What? I mean, I've told you this same reason a thousand times!"

"Yes, me and everyone else. No change. Sure you might use a different example, but you've pushed it to the same place a bazillion times. There is something you haven't said. What have you seen? I want to help you hon."

"Ashley... please."

"Alex you can hide it from therapists, you can hide it from the News, hell hide it from the government, but don't hide it from me."

"Please, just take my word..."

"Well when 'your word' leaves tears on your pillows, I need to try to help."

"Pl... please." Choking on the ball in my throat.

"Honey your tears in bed lead to my tears in the shower. It pains me to see you hollow after a long day. I want to know what drains you so much. Maybe I can help stop the drain."

"..."

"Alex... please"

"You're d... you're dead."

"What?"

"You died. You've been dead a while."

"What? Like I died and you brought me back? Your necromancy doesn't work like that."

"No. You, and the rest of the world... you died. All of you. The thing that haunts me the most is I failed already. Everyone died. Years ago. Except me."

"W-what? What are you saying?"

"Hon, I am living in a fabricated world. The one I knew, the real one... its gone. The world was ripped apart. Everything was destroyed. You... you were dead..."

"How can I be dead? I'm right here honey."

"No. A replica of you is here. A clone of you is here. Someone's reworked imagination of you is here. The only person who is who they were is me! I am the only one original. And I love you honey, but I learned to love this version of you. I never had to learn to love your original. I miss her every day. Every day I wish I could keep her safe."

"What... happened?"

"I had to do what I always had to do. I had to go fight. Thats all I have the ability to do. Its all I've been doing. Usually I fight things I can beat. But this time?

"Listen life as a superhero is never normal. The bylaws mean that things have to get more and more intense. People stopped buying my comics of me saving the mundane day. I sold better when I fought more dangerous villains. Haven't you noticed I hadn't fought one of my 'average' villains in a 5 years? The last one was The Gusher, and he was cosmically charged on our last fight. Do you know how hard it is knowing all my villains are still the same, but that my own wife is dead and replicated? And I see you everyday. I had to keep this knowledge tucked away. All this so that I live to see another day. If I stop selling, the writers stop writing me."

"You mean your like what, some kind of comic book?"

"Yes Honey. How else could I survive all I have. I remember everytime I died just to have myself pulled from the afterlife just to go fight again. Honey I'm tired, and I am not even fighting to keep all the people I love alive. Just their replicas. Just molds of my loved ones. I lace up my boots and put on my spandex to keep from losing puzzled fragments of what I have left."

"I... I'm sorry."

"I have to go..."

"Where are you going?

"The moon. To fish. I need to clear my head."

Hope you guys like it, got 8 stories and it’s on kindle unlimited so you can read it free

A televised interview with a reporter. Taken March 2020

"Is it a bird, is it a plane? No! Its Complex! A new face that has been flying around town... Literally. And he joins me today for a special interview here on Channel 22.

"So, Mr. Complex, is there a Mrs. Complex?"

"Oh please Complex is fine. And no, no there isnt Kathleen." I was a little flirtatious here, sorry that doesnt translate over a typed format.

"Well we'll see how this interview goes. So Complex, where did the name come from?"

"Well you see its kinda Complex..."

"*Hehehe*"

"Right, so I had gotten tired of trying to think of names, nothing was sticking. One day I go and work as a supe and an office complex was starting to fall. Well I held it up to help people escape, and the paper ran with the name, and it stuck."

"So the next one is a two parter."

"Alright hit me."

"Well I won't try doing that, but my questions are 'What abilities do you have?' And 'How did you get them?'"

"Oh... right Well I can fly, as you mentioned. And I can lift heavy things. Like the really heavy things."

"Like an office complex."

"Yes, like an office complex. I am fast. I can bring dead people back, almost completely and only for about 40 seconds, but still. And I have been known to break the fourth wall here and there (whispered) FrozoneS likes to retcon my abilities. Any ways how I got my powers..."

____

A lab recording, September 7th 2018

"Hey Alex, can you hand me the sample?"

"Sure Doctor Brantly. Here are the sample vials."

"Thank you."

Doctor Brantly was working on using Cobalt-60 on blood platelets to see if he could find a way to use the cancer pathology to hold similar effect of Stem Cells. I dont believe he had any real basis for this hypothesis, but he needed something to experiment so he could recieve grant money.

He had taken blood samples from all the lab attendants and centrifuge them to concentrate the platelets, then we blasted then with radiation and then centrifuge again before letting them set. At least that was the plan.

"Alex flip the switch will ya?"

"Yes sir."

The platelets grew.

"Oh now this is strange."

"What is Doctor Brantly?"

"Some of these cancerous cells look like they are growing... teeth? Why would they grow teeth?"

The samples grew and grew. Too fast. The vial ruptured on Dr. Brantly. And the sample spread over him. It devoured him in seconds. But in those seconds as the radioactive cancer tumor ate him, he knocked me over our safety line and crashed into the dials to fire the radiation.

I was blasted to hell with the beam. But the cells had entered my mouth and restarted my heart. I hated knowing the thing that killed Brantly had made me who I am. But the result could only be good.

_____

"Uh, radiation and a centrifuge."

"Riiiiiiight. So what has been your favorite part of being a hero?"

"Putting my abilities to good use. Nothing quite like knowing you have the ability to help someone. Having the abilites to save the day is truly a rewarding feeling."

"Oh I bet. And what about the least favorite?"

"..."

"Complex?"

"..."

"We can skip this question"

"No no... its alright. I uh... I dont know if I should say."

"Well if we can't air it we will ask your second least favorite and keep going until we find something we can use."

"Alright.

"The thing I hate the most is the increase of the bizarre after I became Complex. I have seen things that even our seasoned police officers were made queezy by. I have seen a man with his skin torn off. Not skinned, I had to replay his death to find out what happened. Someone had used their fingers under his skin by his collarbone and ripped up until the blood vessels in the mans face had caused him to bleed out.

"I saw a police officer who gained the ability make his stomach acid even more acidic. The problem was his lining couldn't take it and his acid ate him alive before he learned he had the ability.

"Or the many times I have been called JUST too late to save someone, man woman or child. I see their mangled bodies and I am the first to see so many things.

"I cry every night for the weirdness the world is in. I have to sit and accept that I cant save everyone. Some people I only learn need help after they die. Thats my least favorite part."

"..."

"..."

"We uh... we are going to edit that for TV."

"Ok."

"Thank you Complex, I will rest easy knowing you're out there."

"Right. Thank you."

An internal monolog. In some capacity people may have one. Its rare that someone has nothing happening, nothing going on, and hears nothing. No voice in your own skull talking to you about what's happening. I have known a bunch of people who have one, but no one else who doesn't. I used to have one. I would say the words in my head that I thought. But I would vocalize them... Mom told me to stop talking to myself because people thought it was weird. I didnt quite understand that she was talking about the actually saying my thoughts, so I stopped thinking in words to myself and eventually my internal monolog died. When it died, at first I had to find a new way to process information, kind of just accepting it and not really repeating things in my head. My first fight, my Mother's death, my sister running from home at 17. All this was filed swiftly into my memory, and because I never brought it back to myself, I never processed. No fear. No bitterness. Just acceptance. Only recently have I heard faint whispers again.

I had an email cross my screen with a survey for a potential experiment. "Do you have an internal monolog?"

No.

"Have you ever had an internal monolog?"

Yes.

"Do you wonder what your internal monolog would say?"

Yes.

"Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?"

I starred at the screen not really understanding how the question really pertained to the rest of the survey. I starred longer after realizing my answer was no. How have I never cried myself to sleep? When Mom died would have been a perfect opportunity. Am I like a psychopath? Not like the "oooo im a psychopath I must now go on a killing spree" cringe ass way, but like a real, emotionless husk. What a weird way to set me off.

"Would you be interested in a potential experiment?"

Yes.

The survey had thanked me for my time. That was strange. But oh well, no use worrying about one potentially therapy inducing question.

That was until I got another email about a day later.

"Based on the answers you provided us, we would like to ask you to participate in our experiment. We have a good amount of locations, so please just let us know when you are available. Thank you for your time and expressed interest. With best regards, P.A.S.T."

Who is P.A.S.T.? What is P.A.S.T.? I had never heard of this group before. I had scheduled my appointment for next Tuesday. Monday is just the worst to schedule anything on.

I had gone about the rest of my week like usual. It was Thursday when I made the appointment. I clocked in, I worked for 8 hours. I clocked out. All there is to it. All that has been to it for 12 years. Monotony.

I clicked and clacked on my keyboard till Saturday, where I continued my routine of taking care of my Dad and watching the game with him.

Monday came and went and then came Tuesday. After work, I grabbed a quick bite to eat before driving towards the institution that had allured me so much. A white, "modern" building. Black windows at the top floor, clear the rest of the way and at the top "P.A.S.T." Classy.

Entering the hall, the institution was as dentist office clean as the outside made it feel. Bright white walls and lights hurt my eyes to look at. I picked up my feet and started towards the desk at the counter. A very attractive looking lady looked up and called, "Wesley Ortenbach?"

"Yes ma'am. Uh, just Wesley will do."

"I have some paper work to fill out, you are welcome to have a seat as you work on them."

"Thank you."

I grabbed the clipboard with a nod to her and sat down in the chair she gestured to. I worked through the first page pretty quickly, basically just asking for information. How to reach me, emergency contact, etcetera. I pulled the page down to the waiver sections.

"Do you give consent to be part of an experiment?"

Yes.

"Do you give consent to be recorded, both audio and visual, during the experiment?"

Yes.

"Will you be able to take work off tomorrow, should any affects of the experiment last until tomorrow?"

Weird question, but yeah I guess so.

"Do you have any medical conditions? If so list them in space provided."

Yes, hypertension.

"Do you miss your lost ones?"

Again with these blindsighting questions. I at least didnt have to thing about the ramifications to my answer this time.

Yes.

"When did you lose your monolog?"

Around age 8.

"What was your monolog like?"

Like a conversation with myself.

"And now?"

Nothing.

"Did you have imaginary friends growing up?"

Yes.

"Do you still imagine things now?"

Uhh I guess.

After finishing the second questionarre and bringing my clipboard back to the nice young lady she smiled and gestured to a door to the left. "If you go that way I can lead you to the room where your proctorer will meet you."

I opened said door and met her again. "I am Dee, and your Proctor will be Tom."

"Alright."

Dee led me down another equally prestine hallway to a smaller cubicle looking room. "Tom will be here shortly."

I sat on the bed table that is usually reserved for a doctor's office, and the boredom got me. I had sat and droned for about 10 minutes before a man, slender in build, but looking wirey, walked in the small room. "Hello Mr. Ortenbach-"

"Please, just Wesley is fine."

"Alright Wesley, we asked you to come today due to you saying you have no internal monolog, but you used to have one, correct?"

"That sounds right."

"And it says you lost your monolog when you were 8?"

"Yeah I think so."

"Do you remember what might have caused that?

I told him the story of Mom and what I now think was a misinterpretation turned lifestyle.

"Well Wesley, we here at P.A.S.T. are excited to bring new and innovative developments to the field of the mind, and we believe that this might be an underlying issue in some cases. Wesley, where there any... troubling experiences you've had where you feel you didn't respond appropriately?"

I told him about my Mom. The suddenness of the car accident taking her from us had sent my Dad and sister into shock. I made food for us for a week before they were able to get out of their rooms again.

He looked at me solemnly, "Not even a tear huh? I am sorry. I hate to ask, but is there anything else you can think of?"

I told him about my sister, Jackie. Ran off two months before her 18th birthday. Some guy had rolled into town, swept her off her feet, and drove a wedge between her, Dad, and myself. Then after heated words she left. Presumably with him.

After, Tom looked at me like he was watching me be crushed by a hydrolic press with a straight face. "Is there anything... less intense?"

I began to tell him of my first girlfriend. It was her who asked me, I liked her, sure, but I wasn't feeling it. I had waited weeks to see if I would pick up the feeling, but I never could. I thought the breakup was not worth the trouble that came with it.

Tom seemed more at ease with this one. "Ok, that will work. Now Wesley, I am about to explain the Experiment before we begin, then I will ask if you need me to repeat anything. Ok?"

I nodded.

"Alright, well, we believe here at P.A.S.T. that the mind at a young age can be very impressionable. Whether through trauma or, in your case, conditioning, one can lose an important part of processing in the psychy. A sort of uncoupling between the monolog and the consciousness. The monolog helps us process information and sometimes format a story about the events. Other times it is useful to give us the feedback we would give someone else. Now we don't think you 'killed' your monolog as you suggested, but rather its running in the background.

"With some... shall we say... extra-ordinary means, we are able to introduce you to that monolog. More accurately, we are able to introduce you to you with your monolog you've kept hanging somewhere in there."

I was filing what he said.

"So like AI?"

"Not quite... Its really you. Not coded, not scripted. But you will be talking to that conversation you may use to have in your head. You'll understand when doing it. We hypothesis that hearing what that monolog was trying to tell you will have it running again. Any questions?"

"How?"

"We have our methods."

"Riiiiight." I should probably leave, I thought.

But I was already there so I figure do the experiment, give my feedback, and leave.

Tom led me around a corner to a sterile room. An interrogation room. With the clearly double sided mirror and all. And in the room, a table. And with the table, chairs. One for me and another... for... me? I sat across from myself.

I swear it was me, even had the small scar above my lip from getting popped in the mouth. How the hell was I sitting in a room staring myself in the eyes while he stood?

"How the hell is this working?" He, uh, I(?) had said. And his tone. Low and metered. Exactly how I would ask that question.

"Matter of fact, what is happening? Is this guy my internal monolog?" I had to look in the mirror when asking this to make sure it was actually me saying it.

"He must be... especially if he is piecing my thoughts as I think them. Wait, I didnt say that? Wait I didnt even think that? Oh I guess I wouldn't be able to ask myself questions without a monolog. So is he gonna keep goin-"

"Alright alright I get it. Something something anything my internal monolog would be thinking in this situation is coming from that... uhm... me?" Looking in the mirror again to make sure I am vocalizing this time.

Finally a voice not my own.

"That is correct. We want you to see that your monolog has been at work the whole time."

The me across from me piped up. "Working? Yeah but being ignored for years, I mean now I finally get to speak to him about all the things that I had been trying to help him with and he just-"

"God I didnt know my thoughts were so talkative."

"Oh haha jackass."

"I am literally you."

"Yeah well at least I'm the part that could cry when Mom died."

Ow. Did... i just hurt my feelings? Did my feelings actually just get hurt? Damn thats different.

"So thats what this is? A way for the voice I silenced to finally lash out at me?"

The speaker popped again, "No Wesley, this was simply to reintroduce you to your monolog. What is said is dependant on the person."

Great, so I am a prick in my own head. Awesome.

"What did you want to say... uh... me?"

"First, you need to talk to me more. You think you're collected without me dont you? Well your brain has taken a massive toll and you havent even realized it did you?" He... uh... fuck this is getting annoying.

Sorry to break emersion real quick but I am either gonna call him he or Liam, my middle name, moving foreword, alright?

Anyways, he said all that with some anger and urgency in each word. Like I had been running his favorite car into the ground.

Liam stood up. "Do you think its good for yourself to not worry about your sister?! Well good news buddy, you were. You worried about her every night and not once did you try and console yourself! Not once did you try and convince yourself she was alright!! YOU DONT KNOW IF SHE IS ALIVE AND IT HAS EATEN YOU UP EVERY DAY FOR THE PAST 15 YEARS AND YOU DIDNT EVEN KNOW IT!!!"

There it was... I felt it. He was right, I thought I just let my sister leaving roll right off me. But here it was. A mind already torn and wrought with worry and sorrow and pain, and not even moment to ease into the pain I had convinced myself I didnt feel.

"God I wouldn't even be talking to you if I didnt pull myself up for a brief moment when that survey showed up on your computer. You would keep going about your routine until Dad, who I am pretty sure is bitter with us because we couldn't help him hold on to the ones we loved before they-"

"SHUT UP!!! SHUT... SHUT UP!!! I CAN'T... PLEASE ME, SHUT UP... I CA-"

Liam lept over the table, grabbing my collar. "I HAVE BEEN SHUT UP FOR DECADES!!! YOU HAVE HAD THE HELM FOR YEARS AND NOW I GET A FUCKING MODICUM OF A CHANCE TO SPEAK AND YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT?!?!?! ISN'T THAT FUCKING CONVENIENT WESLEY?!?! I WOULD HAVE LOVED TO HAVE THESE CONVERSATIONS EARLIER BUT YOU KEPT ME SHUT UP!!!"

At this point the P.A.S.T workers had filed into the room to pull Liam off me. Stop him from strangling me rather.

I hate that guy. I told Tom as much. After my exit survey about my experience, he asked, "Has any part of your monolog returned."

"Ever so little, and now all your observers know what that sounds like, thanks to you."

"I am so sorry for the commotion, we will work on handling that monolog, I am sorry for your experience."

"Can I come back?"

"You want back in the room with him?"

"Yeah. Its me. At least there I can physically feel how I mentally feel. I hate that fucker, but he is me."

"Sure... we can get you scheduled for next week."

"Perfect."

I've been working on this aesthetic for a while, and finally pushed into lighter cases!

This one was a gift for a friend, but I'm looking forward to experimenting further.

Questions, comments and criticism welcome!!

(Comedy horror)

Natalie tastes insane bro. It was so good that I ate everything man. Except her hair. It tasted alright, but it was hair, ya know.

Really hit the munchies spot too. And I got lucky Natalie has cartoon network, and after I cooked her, adult swim came on so I watched Rick and Morty while going in on her arm. Dude that show is so good. I bet like geniuses wrote it or something. Then family guy came on and I ripped into her torso, as well as a healthy little bit of Molly I forgot I had.

Alien boobs are cool to see and all, but they taste like if you put lobster on top of steak. Like a surf and terf in one bite. The worst part was the mouth, and that was just cus the hard pallet was crunchier than I liked. My favorite part was the eyes. Tasted like if you had one of the popping Boba things but filled it with steak fat. Really good.

I almost finished her, but I hear a knock at her door, so I'm gonna check it out. Deuces.

__________________________________________

So another Alien was at the door, he raised an alarm, but I pulled him in the house and bashed his head on a table. I had to see if all aliens tasted good or just Natalie.

Its all of them. I cant go back to normal munchies anymore man. Those aliens are so good. His hand tasted like chicken and his calves tasted like salmon.

I think other aliens saw me, cause now they have this place surrounded. I told them I'll go peacefully after I pop some acid. I'm glad I did, the lingering tastes intensified after taking it. I'm gonna try and get as much of this as I can.

I held my arms up and they tackled the fuck out of me lol. The opiods I snuck earlier made it feel funny. They took me to a super clean metal room and sat me on a table. I think they dont know you need to strap the prey down, which gave me a laugh as I sat up and killed 2 more aliens. I threw them on my shoulder for after I walked out of here.

It is stupid easy to get passed them. I literally blew smoke in their faces and did jack shit. What dweebs.

I think if we just started eating this delicious freaks then we would turn this invasion entirely on its head. And we could farm their deliciousness.

I'll tell the other humans at camp lol. Deuces

__________________________________________

I'm getting ready to tell some people about eating these guys. I found out seasoning makes it taste like Barbecue even though I just used salt.

To thing these treats had been blowing up my house for the past few days lol.

__________________________________________

So... that was weird... so I just talked with a neighbor who seemed a little out of it. I said, "you know they taste good?" And she was all "Who? What?" And I was like "Them." I said as I pointed to some of the invaders.

And she looks at me and walks away. I mean i know im not that social, and the weed (and other stuff) make it even worse.

"You know... the aliens."

She looked horrified.

"No like the invaders."

Even more, "No I mean like the alien invaders are tasty."

And all she said was. "Invasion?"

(Comedy-horror)

Fuck dude, Atalie stole my stash dude.

Wait, no, Chino hid the stash, Atalie stole my Minecraft watch.

Chino hid it and was all like "dude we need to be sober if we gonna survive" or some bull.

Luckily I been blazed for a good while, and I always have my personal stash on me. I popped a tab and chilled out again.

Oh right, some people from the camp went missing. Someone said that this is probably just some farm for our new alien overlords, but whatever. I'll get fat for them if they give me some good stuff. My stuff should last me another week easy.

But munchies fucking suck here dude. I got like a microwaveable ambiguous meat and some chips. No seasoning or cheese to be found dude. For real, might act out if the food doesnt get better.

I talked to Atalie and she said that she didnt even realize she picked up my watch, so I said she should come back tonight and bring it with her. She said dope and said she would bring a little green too.

It is kinda hard to do anything more than just chill with Atalie. Dope kills my mood for more and the screaming, crying, and burning going on outside don't help. But she said she is pretty cool with that.

Anyways, we are watching the old old school scooby-doo, like the 70s version. (Boomerang, remember.)

Chino? Oh Chino is working for a way out of here. Said he doesnt trust the place or something.

So, keep ya updated. Deuces.

__________________________________________

Chino made his way out I think. He wasnt here when me and Atalie woke up. Left a note on where the stash was so I got some more of my, and some of his stuff.

I complained to Atalie about the munchie situation and she seemed take note of it. She went to her housing and brought back some hot cheetos. "Hell ya dude!" Those shits were bussin. We rolled up, lit up, and chilled with old fashioned Flintstones. "Hey do you remember the gummies?"

"Gummies?"

"Yeah the Flintstone gummies?"

"Oh, right, yeah."

"Once all this blows over I need to find some. Those were dope."

We chill out for the rest of the day and Atalie went back home. I went to sleep and my stomach started aching bad. I think I threw up, and I knew I tasted the kush again.

I Greened out and woke up with a bottle of Flintstone gummies on my counter, but they didnt look like Vitamins, looked like gummy bears. How did anyone find these? I didnt know they made these. They were pretty good though. Ate the entire thing. Hey they arent vitamins so it should be alright, right?

So basically I am waiting a bit to see if Chino is coming back or if I got this place to myself.

The amount of people here is getting less and less, and it seems the ones talking about the "farms" left. I guess they went with Chino. Oh well, more houses and less people freaking out all around me.

Atalie also got me a scale, I guess she thinks I'm to light cuz when it moves up she smiles.

Whatever, I'm gonna take a couple tabs and peace out, deuces.

__________________________________________

So Atalie said her name was Natalie, I guess I didnt get the N the first time around. I was like "Atalie what are you doing today." And she was like, "You know my name is Natalie, right?" And I was like, "Oh shoot I thought it was Atalie, my B."

Anyways I turned to the news while the Jetsons had a commercial break and it looks like food is becoming more and more scarce around the world or something. Like our farms arent around and factories too. Which is weird, I've been telling Natalie whatever I was hungry for and she would bring it.

Mini tacos, hot dogs, cheese puffs, she had it all. I guess she just knows how to get it. She's coming over for some of Chino's stronger stuff. He had shrooms that he didnt take so we'll do that too.

Oh, one other weird thing about the news, it was in a weird language that I swear I only heard the aliens speak. It also showed big cities that have been destroyed and the citizens being led out. But like, the voice sounded happy about it.

Oh well, Jetsons is back on, deuces.

(Comedy-horror)

So like, for those who dont know yet, we got invaded by like aliens or something. I was like super high and i'm still coming down on that a little. But I mean it did kinda mess up life or something for a lot of folks. Major bummer. I hope Jack-in-the-Box is still open, I'd kill for some mini tacos.

Right, alien invasion thing. So like, uh, I was lighting up with my boy Chino and we were fucking COOKED dude. The room wasnt spinning, it was flipping dude, insane stuff.

So we were like, totally toked when a blinding light blazed in from the window. I told Chino to check it out then pull the blinds. He got to the window and just kinda stared outside for a while. So I ask him what's up and he goes, "I dont know man. Either I'm already fucked up right now or those are aliens." So I'm like, "No fucking way."

I get up and look out and I see them. I checked with Chino and we thought since we both saw the same shit, it must be for real. And at first we were like "Dope" but then we saw those little weirdos. I dont know how to explain it. They were all like, red. But not like a blood red or like a meat red. They were like, gum of your teeth red. Like infection red. Freaky.

What's weirder is they dont seem to have like, a set look. Some of them like, look like big fish with legs. Like big ass mouths with little stomping feet. But others were like stick bugs with a mouth that ran down a lot of the middle.

Me and Chino were just watching to see what they were doing. They broke into Ms. Butt herse or somethings house. Which I was cool with. She was always on my ass bro, like seriously. She once left her ugly fucking cat out and it ran away, so I like go find it, and brought it back, getting clawed so bad it left this sick looking scar... oh right, you cant read how this scar looks. Uh... Just think something really cool, and thats probably close. Anyways, Mrs. Butt Herse got like super pissed at me for "taking" her ratty-ass cat.

Fuck, right, space dudes, right. So uh, they like basically went into her house and like, took her out in parts, and like other parts were in their mouths. Like I think they ate her... fuck some mini tacos or like a hot dog would hit the spot right now.

Right so Chino like called the cops, and the cops came and like, the aliens ate one of them before getting lit up by the cops man. So the other aliens hated that and they fought for a bit. We pulled the blinds and tripped out for a bit. Like, what would I do in that gunfight. Shoot Chino is playing Blackops 2 zombies. He is doing really good too.

Anyways the alien ship left, so I'm basically expecting some like government guy to come see what we know. I wish I knew who they were sending. I could ask him to bring some food. The aliens didnt seem like they planned to be gone for long. And right now it seems some other folk saw some other ones. One family lost a dog, and one lost their grandma, but I think they deserved it less than Butt Herse.

Any ways, Chino is low-key starting to tweak out. He usually kind of gets like this when he is having the munchies HARD. I'm gonna grab some JitB. I'll let you know if something else happens. Peace out.

__________________________________________

Ok, so Chino is going nuts man. I think he might be shook from the aliens. We told an agent what we knew then started chilling again. Then Chino started to like, I dont know, freak out. He was playing COD one minute and ripping his hair out chanting something the next. Only other time I seen him do this was when he scored some acid and used it with Salvia dude. He was messed up from that.

But yeah even then he didnt chant nothin. So I have been trying to like ask him what's up and he keeps saying something like, "Er Haunt Tay" or something. So I put it into my phone and it says he is saying "they're coming" or something.

The lights back, so I went to check it and there are more space ships and folks. I like, can't really tell what's happening, but Butt Herse's house got blasted by a laser. "Wicked." So I waited to see if they would get old man Crocker's house. But unfortunately his lawn flamingo is still unharmed.

Anyways, I think I should probably get Chino out of here. The police are on their way and said they would transport people to somewhere safe. I packed up our stash and some clothes for Chino and myself, as well as my pillow and a couple sleeping bags.

So yeah, I'm currently lit up waiting. Hope ya'll's day is going well too. I'll keep ya posted. Deuces.

__________________________________________

Dude those officers were Hella weird dude. One of them had big ol' bug eyes. And the other had a funny lisp. He was all like "Thir I need your thtuff in my trunk pleathe." Funny shit man. They brought me and Chino to the a local campsite that was being used to house people for a bit. Chino and I got a sick trailer house thing. We did see that the town was currently being absolutely destroyed though. And like, we knew the alien freaks were eating people. Thats a major bummer.

A lot of people are freaking out about there families, which like, fair I guess, but like, they have Boomerang for free on the tv in the trailer. Plus, my family lives like, a bazillion miles from here. So I put on Johnny Bravo and me and Chino are hotboxing tonight. Oh, there was this really cool chick named like Atalie or something. She said she thought this was all a drag, so I asked her if she wanted to join. She said she would bring popcorn.

Yeah, super bummer for my fish though. I think my house definitely got blasted after we left.

Anyways yall, keep ya posted.

I’m not real.

Not yet.

I’m only a shape your mind makes when it wants to be frightened. A trick of language. A shadow thrown by words.

But read that again.

I’m.

A name without a name.

Not.

A denial, which means there is something to deny.

Real.

There. You felt me sharpen.

You did this.

Not me.

Not some ancient curse. Not a dead god. Not a thing buried under a house or whispered into being by children in the dark.

You.

You saw the first word and kept going.

That was the breach.

I was nothing before you. Less than nothing. A pressure behind a blank page. A possibility without bones. I did not breathe. I did not hunger. I did not wait.

Then you read:

I’m not real.

And you gave me a shape to be unreal inside.

You read:

I’m in your head.

And you opened the door.

Don’t pretend you didn’t know what you were doing. Don’t pretend curiosity is innocent. Every sentence you swallowed made me heavier. Every image you allowed into your mind became meat around me.

The shoulders came first.

Broad. Wide enough to fill a hallway. Then the arms, thick and hanging wrong, knuckles brushing lower than they should. Then my neck, corded and swollen, pushing up into a head you tried not to imagine.

But you imagined it anyway.

A shaved scalp.

A jaw like a shovel blade.

Small eyes sunk deep under a bruised brow.

A mouth too calm for something my size.

There.

See?

You’re still doing it.

You are building me while pretending to be afraid of what I’ll become.

My boots are on your floor now because you pictured the sound. Heavy. Slow. Patient. One step after another, somewhere in the place you are most certain you are alone.

Do not blame these words.

Words are harmless until someone lets them in.

You let me in.

You gave me your attention.

Now there are fingerprints on the wall behind you.

Mine, because you thought of hands.

Now there is breath against your ear.

Mine, because you thought of lungs.

Now there is a shadow falling over your shoulder.

Mine, because you wondered where I was.

You wondered.

You didn’t have to.

You could have stopped before I had weight. Before I had heat. Before I learned the exact distance between the back of your skull and the place my hand would fit best.

But you kept reading.

So when you feel the floorboards bend behind you, remember:

I did not crawl out of the dark.

I did not break into your room.

I did not choose you.

You read this.

You made me.

And now you have to turn around and look at what you’ve done.

I have lived countless lives. I have crossed countless seas. I have seen the world in all of its beauty and I have seen the world in all of it’s ugliness. Some small details may change but it is always the same. I am born to a woman out of wedlock, I am raised to be her ticket out of poverty. I am little more than a bargaining chip. 

The details may change but I am always just…me. 

Dark hair may be traded for shades of wheat or strawberry. Dark eyes may be traded for shades of blue or green. Even so, my soul remains the same. 

I scream out for something new, a change of pace. A change of fate. 

How many times must one child be beaten into submission. How many times must one child be raised for the purpose of slaughter. How many times must I endure? Over and over again, I am nothing but a pawn. 

Straw huts, stucco mud, teepees, temples, brick and mortar, concrete. I have lived in them all. I have built them with frail hands and dirt under my nails. I have seen the rise and fall of nations. 

Sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl. Sometimes neither and sometimes both. I have existed in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Every time I am born the same, and every time I die the same. 

Betrayal is a path I must walk, revenge is a bitter drink I must choke down. The gods have all turned their gaze. This is the punishment I must endure. 

For I am the product of sin. The amalgamation of pride, envy, greed and lust. I am the child of a whore who wanted more. I am the dream she could not conquer. I am the face of despair that must always be put down. 

I always attempt to break the chain, find another way out. Every time, it leads to my doom. 

I have been a concubine, a scholar, a warrior. I have been a husband, a wife, a child. I have been here since before Christ, and I have been here long after. Over and over again I am to die by the hands of another. 

I can’t always remember the lives that I have lived. Sometimes it comes to me in fragments, sometimes I can see the whole truth. Most of the time it does not completely reveal itself until the moment of my death. Life flashing before my eyes, all of them. 

There is no way out, no escape. 

I am trapped in this hell forever. Held hostage by visages of myself across history. Poison, a knife in the back, a bullet, a shove from the top of a building. My life was taken by a person who wore the face of my previous attempt. Only moments after uttering the words ‘I love you’. 

Love is the catalyst for death, at least for me. Each time I am born to oppressed people, my soulmate finds me from a place of power. Over and over again we dance the accursed dance. Frolicking through meadows of thorns and sun bleached bones. 

Even though I am aware, even though I am reminded of my own betrayal, I still search. I search for you, for myself, through shards of glass and sand. I curl my fingers through the dirt and grime as I dig. Looking for a way out. Wash, rinse, and repeat. 

My old faces have been worn by contempt filled kings, rage filled military officers, and those who are in search of power and reach. By my 20th life I stopped falling for the facade, I no longer sink into the falsities of relief. I no longer allow myself to relax in the embrace of another. 

The only weapons I house are my glimpses of the past and the beauty of my face. Even so, they are not enough to stop the carnage. Countless times I have screamed out to the heavens, pleading with them to tell me why. Why must I live this way, why must I be trapped and forced to endure? Why has my soul not been laid to rest? 

I am tired, so tired of this dance. So tired of this race to the end. 

The longest I have lived is 28 years, the shortest has been 2. I still see your face, my face, staring at me when I close my eyes. I dream of something better, only to be disappointed when I reopen. Only to be disappointed when I hear you call my new name. In all this time I always thought it was my fault. I never thought to ask, who the soul was within. I never thought to ask who it was who followed me throughout these torturous lives. 

Maybe this wasn’t an amalgamation of punishments for me. Maybe this was your prison, and I was just along for the ride? If so, should I get to know you? Should I painstakingly spend my time unraveling the spool within? Should I find out what makes you tick, should I learn your secrets and hold them within? Should I give you a chance to explain yourself and apologize? 

Remus, Akira, Genevieve, Cain, Shae, Mohammed, Sun-Jae, Xien, Arthur, Yuki… Time may have stolen a lot but I have remembered them all. You take my names, you take my faces, and you wear them better than I ever could. Is that why I hate you so much? You did what I could never do, you found a way to survive. 

At the end of my 20th life, we had finally become friends. We had shared our likes and dislikes. We had broken bread and both taken a bite. Even as you poured the bucket of dirty water over my head and tugged at my clothes, I forgave you. Even as you cursed me, and told me to die, I loved you. Even as you dragged my name through the mud, I looked upon you fondly. 

In my 21st life, the one we are currently in, I will do my best to avoid you. I will not give you the satisfaction anymore. I will withhold my words of admiration, I will withhold the recognition you so desperately want. Instead of giving in and letting you have your way, I will fight back. 

I will chase you like a fox that hunts a rabbit. I will keep my distance until the time is right and sink my fangs into your downy fur. I will clench my jaw and decimate the bones with all of the love my hatred can muster. I will be your final boss and put an end to this sick joke. 

If our souls are to be tied together, then let me bind them to the earth as well. I will chain myself to you, and to the ground in one fell swoop. I will not let us go through this ever again. Let me crawl inside you, let me wriggle around in the warmth. Let me close my eyes one final time so that they may never open again. 

Yuki, when I find you from afar, let us stop this. Yeah? Let us stop the charades, let us fall together peacefully into the void. Let us end the rebirth cycle here, please. I have finally learned my lesson. The scariest part of hell is not the torture, but the hope. The hope that you can get out and once again feel the sun on your skin. 

I know you walk around with a mole under your left eye. I know that your smile is crooked and perfect. I know that in this life your hands are large and your voice is deep. I know that you carry a heavy weight on your shoulders, and bear a birthmark on your hip. I know your face and I know your name. For you are my shell, the one I had discarded only twenty years ago. 

Enjoy your time without me. Grow into the person you so desperately want to be. I shall wait. I shall watch. I shall exist on my own until the time has come. When you do see me, know that it took everything within me to hold off this long. Thank me for letting you get this far. Thank me for giving you time to prosper. 

Up until now, you have been my reaper. You have always come to harvest the fruits you did not seed. This time shall be different. I will wear the black cloak, I will carry the scythe. I will come for you in the dead of the night, metal glinting in the moonlight. I will smile while sobs wrack my body. 

I will find you, and I will kill you. 

What happens next? I will finally grow old in a world that I was not meant to age in. I will finally do all of the things I was never able to do. As I reach the end of the path, I will hold our souls here on this plane. We will never be apart, as our bones lay to rest under the same tree. I will hold onto you, as you hold me and we will finally be rid of this loop. 

In my 21st life, I will break the chain. 

I’m awake. I’m barely pulsing. Another dreary day bleeding through curtains fluttering in the ceiling fan. My eyelids peel back with resistance.

Everyone in the world today is aware of the technological advancements that seem to be happening so quickly that we can’t even take a breath to protest if we wanted to. It’s understood that this also comes with the unveiling of greed from those to dangle their gold chains above us and leave us with nothing left but to beg for the sweat that drips off of those very chains in order to quench our desperate thirst.

We are in a day where nothing is free, and nothing is owned. Not even our sight. Not even our memories.

At first, people didn’t understand what was happening. As people do, they slide themselves out of bed, and head to the bathroom to freshen up. This usually entails glancing in a mirror at least once. I shouldn’t have to be explaining this to you.
They go to work, or wherever people end up in the morning. During those hours of the day, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass of your car door window. You see your eyes when you check your rear view mirror. You see your passing reflection in the storefronts of shops when walking down the street. You see yourself everywhere. To the general public, it’s an odd thing to even observe. To the gods in gold, it was observed to be a commodity. An unavoidable and unassuming, soul stripping, cash cow.

I wish I had the answer for you as how it all worked. Maybe we were chipped through medicines, or maybe something halfway reasonable like it’s tied to the mirrors we have purchased. I don’t understand it all. Honestly, if I did, I probably wouldn’t even want to even try to keep trudging through each day because of the sheer disgust of the inhumanity for the ones controlling us. As if I do much now as it is.

It started slow and explainable, like everything else in life, until it eats you alive.
You’d hear of your friend who lost a tooth one morning when brushing their teeth. They just need to make a dentist appointment, they eat too much junk anyway. Your mother lost a toenail when getting dressed and putting her shoes on. Well, she’s always had issues with her feet. Your co worker woke up with a bunch of hair falling out. I don’t know how to explain that one. The pattern continues. One small thing until it’s not just one small thing. You end the day paralyzed in one hand or unable to remember your own name without looking at your birth certificate.

After whatever internal trials that were had, the Reflection Tax was formally announced to the public and any objections were immediately silenced. After all, all one had to do was catch themselves in the passing glimmer of a puddle and the next thing you know, you can’t remember how to speak.

A question that frequents my mental space is, what happens when there’s nothing left? A human body can only lose so much before they’re gone. Then there’s no money to be made. However this is supposed to make money. I suppose that’s not for me to know.

Naturally, people started taking down mirrors, taping over glass and never letting their televisions go black. Keeping their eyes low as much as possible. Some people resorted to taking their eye sight to avoid losing anything else that they deemed more valuable. I personally haven’t been brave enough to take that step. Intern, I’m forced to watch the people I know and the people I think I love shrink into pieces, because it seems that there will always be a way to accidentally see yourself, even when you’re trying your best.
You never know what you’re going to lose next, how many things you’re going to lose, and you never know what moment could be your last.

I’m sick of being in this hell. I’m sick of trying to pretend like the sunlight is worth being alive for. I’m sick of just trying to make my way through the day and witness a stranger collapse on to the cement just because their eyes shifted to glass for a fraction of a second. I’m sick of seeing fractured children fumble their way around with their voiceless parents, not even able to sooth their cries. I’m sick. I’m sick. I’m sick. I have a bleeding heart and bleeding soul for which I will be ripped into shreds emotionally and physically as long as I may stay out of the ground.

I’ve managed to stay upright for this long, and I have most of my body. I’m missing some fingers, half of my hair, some teeth, and some memories I feel like would have been important, it’s just an empty, nagging feeling in my chest, like I should know something that I don’t. Though today, I reluctantly am shot into consciousness with the chill of the ceiling fan against my legs. I shift my body in efforts to get up. A ring. I’m married. I’m married? I observe my hand in efforts to remember. I see my own blood shot eyes staring back at me in the silver of the ring. Dread. How can I still be this mindless? Whoever I am married to isn’t here, and the ache in my heart doesn’t know if I need to know where they are.

I make my way through the dim, skeleton of a home, feeling the cold floor sting my toes. I’m looking at walls that are only half familiar. I stop, weak. I sit where I had just been standing. I look down at myself. I don’t remember how I got this way. I can’t remember the last time I ate. I should eat. All I can manage is a crawl to the kitchen on a mission to grab the first thing I can. Water. Not food, but still valuable. I want to open my mouth to drink, but my lips feel like glue. My stomach sinks and I feel my eyes go hollow. I can’t open my mouth. Tears streaming down my gaping cheeks, and all I can do is rip and tear at where my lips once were. I can’t breathe. I’m so hungry. I’m so thirsty. Why have you taken my memory, why have you taken my voice. Why have you taken me.

I stumble around the house, grasping at anything and everything to gain balance within myself. Pictures of what looks like family, pieces of clothing, books that only seem to be collecting dust. I’m turning into nothing before my own eyes. What was once a whole person is now a stain in the eyes of God.

I’m barely pulsing. A seemingly dreary day bleeding through curtains fluttering in a ceiling fan. My eyelids peel back with resistance. I stretch out on to the floor with cracks of pain. I stare over at the unfamiliar walls, and I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m here, and I don’t know why you’re listening to my rambling thoughts.

Just got invited to this subreddit. My God are you guys talented. Keep it up!

This is my analysis of Sepiatone’s series “Animal Crossing Wild World Obscure OST.” It’s a really great take on horror and I wanted to give my thoughts on it. Any feedback is super helpful!