If You’re Into The Silly Yet Eerie Strange Rule Trend On R/nosleep One Of My Favorites Is This Story

Terror

Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional. It's a semi-horror story but doesn't contain any violent or graphic content. I was inspired by a Let's Player who played a horror game where someone was buried alive.

Terror: extreme fear.

His eyes open, and all he sees is black. A horrible headache is gradually becoming noticeable. He asks himself, "Where am I?" right away. The air is thick, and his surroundings are damp. He moves his hands carefully in an attempt to sense his surroundings. Immediately he realizes how narrow the space he’s in is.

His fingertips touch a wall, the contact sending a shiver down his spine. It was a strange sensation. He presses his palm flat against the surface. “Wood… that feels like wood,” he thinks. Just where exactly is he right now?

He tries to remember what happened before he woke up in this strange place…

He was in the city in the late evening, had just grabbed a coffee from Starbucks, and was heading to the park. When he went into the park, he noticed it was strangely empty. He lives in a big city, so even around 9 the park was very crowded with various people. He went to sit on a bench near the center, but then he noticed something strange. There were eyes in the bushes. He wanted to stand up and leave as he got a bad feeling about this, but suddenly he heard a loud thud behind him, and then everything was black. That’s the last thing he could remember. 

He shifts and moves again, trying to turn, but to no avail. Eventually he recognizes the shape of the space he’s in. It resembles a casket. A casket. Immediately he tries to push open the lid, but something very heavy is covering it.

As realization dawns on him, he starts to panic. Is he really underground right now? This has to be a bad dream. How did he even get here? Was he falsely declared dead? What happened after that loud thud?

Suddenly he starts screaming. He screams his lungs out, calling for help. Minutes pass, and eventually his voice is hoarse. No one heard him; he’s 1.8 meters underground. There’s no way anyone could hear him when he’s buried that deeply. 

Everything feels so surreal. Of course he heard of the scenario of being buried alive, but that was in movies, video games, or history books informing about stories like that centuries ago. He read about how there used to be bells attached to coffins because the people back then often mistook the living for the dead, and a falsely buried person could just ring the bell to signal they’re alive.

When he first read about this, he thought it was stupid and unnecessary, but oh, how he wished for one of those safety coffins with bells right now. He could just pull a string and ring a bell, and someone would get him out of here, but no. He’s completely sealed with no hopes of being dug out. He’s stuck and will either die of oxygen shortage, starvation, or dehydration.

Mentally he has already given up. There was nothing he could do. As he lies there, he notices he’s lying on something uncomfortable. The realization that he’s wearing the exact same clothes he wore before waking up dawns on him. As he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, he realizes what he’s lying on. A lighter. Whoever buried him didn’t empty his pockets. 

Something feels strange about it. Why would he be buried with all that stuff? He reaches into his jacket and sees that he even still has his cigarettes. Then he reaches into the other pocket he has on his jacket. Jackpot! His phone. Maybe he could call for help? Text someone to tell them where he is right now?

He hurries and unlocks his phone. With incredible speed he opens his calls and clicks on the first contact that shows up - in this case, his mother. He looks at his phone screen, watching as the phone tries to call his mother. It drives him crazy to see the word “connect…” repeat over and over again, just for the phone to automatically hang up after 30 seconds because it didn’t find a connection. He should’ve expected that. There’s no way he can reach anyone on the surface like this. 

Right now, however, he was desperate, and while his rational mind was telling him it wouldn’t work, he still tried to text everyone he possibly could. Even if he expected it, it was still disappointing to see that an error occurred on every single message.

With nothing else left to do, he turns on the flashlight of his phone to inspect the casket he’s lying inside. It’s nothing special, just dark wood. But then he sees something. On his left side something small was carved into the wood.

“Keep Still” 

How strange… But beneath that, something else is written. 

“Not Alone”

A shiver runs down his spine. Is this some kind of joke? A mistake? Someone carved that into a casket, and that someone knew that the person that’ll be inside this casket will be alive. Nothing makes sense. Not alone? He’s not alone? And why should he keep still? Is this other person not allowed to hear him?

Everything about this feels like a dream—no, it feels like a terrible nightmare. A terrible nightmare he’ll hopefully wake up from now. He pinches himself, but he’s still in the casket. 

Hours pass of this terrible silence where he can only hear his heartbeat and own breathing. But that tiring silence eventually gets interrupted by shifting. He can hear shifting around his casket. Like something is digging around him. He shuts his eyes tightly and tries to focus on the noise. Is it a mole? But as the noise comes closer, he realizes it’s way too big to just be a mole. 

The closer it comes, the bigger it sounds. He can also hear its breathing. For some reason it sounds hungry. Very hungry. Scarily hungry. He starts to get nervous. Is that what “Not Alone” meant? Is that the thing that disrupts his solitude in this narrow and thick-aired grave? 

His thoughts are interrupted by something bumping against the casket. The next thing he can hear is intense sniffing. He starts holding his breath and stops moving completely. Whatever that thing is, he knew it definitely isn’t friendly.

The louder the sniffing gets, the more scared he gets. From nervousness to fear. From fear to terror. Terror.

He’s terrified. Terrified of whatever this hungry beast was that’s breathing so harshly and sniffing the casket. He can hear it digging around him, the force of its body causing his surroundings to vibrate. Suddenly it stops moving.

Is it… listening? 

He’s been quiet this entire time, so the risk of it hearing the poor man was low, but he’s still so utterly terrified. What if his heartbeat is too loud? He can’t hold his breath for much longer; he’ll have to take a breath soon.

At this point he’s practically shaking. He tries so hard to hold still, but it wasn’t possible. The terror he felt just got so much more intense. What if his shaking is going to make the creature know about his presence? 

The next few seconds felt like torture, but to his luck, the creature dug itself away from him. As it’s far enough away, he takes a deep breath and starts panting a little. It’s gone… whatever that was is now gone. 

There was still only one problem present - he’s still buried underground. As he tries to think of a solution to distract himself from whatever that thing was, he can suddenly hear digging again, but not from around him. It’s from above. It also sounds different - like three main motions repeating themselves over and over. Something being stuck into the earth, a part of the earth being lifted up, and then the sound of it being thrown away and landing on the surface.

This is the sound of humans digging. With a shovel. Someone was digging him out. Finally, he can get out of here! Soon he can feel the casket being lifted up and placed somewhere. He was smiling. It’s over now! This nightmare of being buried alive is over!

The casket door is being opened, and immediately he sits up and tries to get out, but something stops him. The people around him, the ones that dug him out, look surprised, shocked, and one even disappointed. His smile immediately falters as one of them opens their mouth to speak.

“You survived it?”

This is a veryyyy short story I wrote probably a decade ago that might’ve been a good contender for r/shortscarystories if it was any good.

A Ticket

When John called me in this morning, I already knew why. A new case. That's what detective's do. They solve cases. Non-detectives can't even go near the crime scene.

It was a murder case. For the average person, this is some scary stuff. But with years of experience, you get used to it.

Everybody knows what a detective gets to do. It's like owning a ticket to investigate a crimes scene. Of course, it's all for work, and no play. But there is another advantage.

No one suspects the detective.

(here is another story I wrote a long time ago)

~~~

Imagine this: You’re just a normal, average guy, right? You take a few college classes here and there, you work a part time job—nothing special.

You work at an old convenience store late at night. It’s usually really slow at that time, so you spend your time reading superhero comic books. Every now and then, a customer might walk in and buy a pack of gum or bandaids or something.

So one night, your shift is nearing an end, and you’re almost done with your comic. You’re slumped back in your chair, feeling groggy.

You hear someone wall in thanks to the soft ring of the bell hanging over the door.

“Welcome,” you call out, eyes still glued to your book.

The stranger doesn’t respond, but many don’t, so you don’t think much of it.

Five minutes pass when the lights shut off. You curse under your breath as you set down your comic on the counter. It’s only when you look up, you realize it.

The stranger is standing right in front of you, right at the counter. How long was he there?

It’s impossible to see him clearly in the dark, even with the streetlights shining in from outside. He seems to be wrapped in a long, black trench coat, and his head is covered in a hoodie coming from under it. You can’t see his face, except for his eyes. You don’t know if you’re imagining it, but they appear to glow a sickly yellow and are lined with dark red veins.

You’re frozen. Your heart’s racing, but you can’t move. It felt like time itself had stopped.

Finally, logic enters your brain, and you jump from your chair. Stop looking at me like that! You don’t actually say it, but you almost do.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just a power outage, I’ll call someone. Sir? Are you okay?” you ask.

He doesn’t reply. You fumble for a flashlight.

So you continue. “I’m sorry about all this. This has never happened before, really. Can I borrow your phone?”

The lights flicker back on. You blink, struggling to adjust for a moment, when you realize it.

The man is gone.

Over the next few weeks, you keep seeing figures out in public that you swear is him. You catch him on a bridge up ahead, or disappearing behind a building at the corner of your eye.

You must have been tired that night, you need to keep telling yourself. So why do I keep seeing him?

You try to ignore the lingering figure. You pretend you don’t see it. But it’s getting harder and harder.

And he’s getting closer, and closer.

You become more terrified as time oasses. You scroll through the internet for hours, and flip through dozens of books. No answers..

You sleep with all the light on and a baseball bat under your bed—if you can even sleep at all.

He’s like a disease eating you. You begin to get weaker and weaker, and soon, you fall ill.

The thought of being stuck in bed scares you. You can’t run. And he knows this.

You ignore the doctor’s order to stay in bed, and one day, you pass out. You wake up in a hospital. You’re relieved to be surrounded by nurses and doctors.

You’re eating dinner one night when the power shuts off.

You press the button to call the nurse, but nothing happens. No lights, no sound, no nurse.

The room is getting colder and colder. You scream for a nurse. The feeling of alone-ness increases.

You’re relieved to head the door open. You say “Nurse! Thank you! There’s been a power outa-“

Glowing, yellow eyes.

He’s watching you, right at the foot of the bed. Towering over you.

“Who are you?l you scream. “Leave me alone!”

The figure doesn’t move. The room is getting colder, and it feels like your fingers are going to fall off. You scramble to get up out of bed, to run. Instead, you pummel right onto the ground.

The figure kneels in front of you, and you let out another blood-curdling scream. He takes off his hoodie.

And you see your own, smiling face staring right back at you.

~~~

Other stories by me:

Sort of reminds me a bit of We Came to Welcome You by Vincent Tirado and The September House by Carissa Orlando.

The walls are bleeding

My most recent short horror story.

Word count: 724

Trigger warning: Blood (who would have guessed)

It was just half an hour when it happened.

I had come to the decision that my house was in need of a rather intense cleanup.

Starting with the living room, I took out all the junk and other stuff and then started cleaning.

I glanced at the wallpaper, pained by how ugly it truly is without any of my stuff cluttering around it. This wallpaper had belonged to the previous owners, it hasn't been too long ago since I had moved in and I hadn't really taken the time to change it.

So what's a better time than now?

I walked towards one of the walls that was facing away from the windows, took a chair to stand on and placed my fingers over the paper's exterior.

It was a strange sensation, is this really paper? I thought to myself.

I hesitated.

Lowering my hands again and just stared for a moment.

Then other thoughts started to convince me to continue: This must be some kind of fancy wallpaper I don't know about. Fancy, but ugly, that explains the texture. I should remove it.

No, it needs to be removed!

Again I raised my hands and started by putting my fingers in between the wall and the wall at a place where it was already slightly loose.

Suddenly I noticed that I was touching something wet and sticky. Something of which I was certain that it couldn't be glue.

I swiftly retrieved my hand only to find the tips of my fingers to be soaked crimson red.

There's no doubt about it...

It's blood.

I immediately got down from the chair and ran towards the phone.

I need to call the police! Was the only thought running through my head.

Dialling the number, it luckily didn't take long for someone to pick up. I told them about the situation and that it was making me fear for my safety. I was told to wait by the door and open it for them.

A little later the doorbell finally rang, I felt a bit underwhelmed when I saw that they had sent just a single officer to check in on me.

Had they thought me mad?

"Good morning sir, Please show me what you found." He greeted me.

I took the man into my living room and showed him the spot.

"Good God..." He murmured.

He reached for his walkie-talkie and pressed a button.

"This is officer Green... Send to the bleeding house alert. I'm in need of backup. Over."

Some white noise left the small object, but nothing audible.

"This is officer Green. Does anyone copy. Over." He seemed to be slightly panicking.

Drip...

Drip...

I heard something coming down from upstairs and it didn't sound very good.

"Sir, I got to check something real quick." I said to the officer, though I don't believe he heard me at all. He seemed to be caught up in the buzzing of his communication device.

I ran up the stairs.

The dripping seemed to come from the bathroom.

Opening the door I found something horrifying.

Instead of water, blood was dripping out of the faucet.

Slowly filling up the tub with the dark coloured liquid.

I tried closing the faucet, but it only got worse.

Blood started pouring out.

I left again quickly, closing the door thoroughly behind me, trying to forget about what I had just seen and proceeded to my bedroom.

This wasn't in any way better.

I felt cold when I stepped into a lukewarm puddle of the sticky substance.

It was coming down from the walls, dripping, colouring and messing with all the furniture in it.

Entering the small hallway again, the walls had taken a colour of dark red as well.

Careful not to slip, I made my way back downstairs again.

"Sir, have you reached your colleagues yet?" I frantically ask the officer standing facing the wall quietly.

Something is wrong though.

Something about him seems so much different than how he was before.

The air around him...

In his hands he's holding a big piece of wallpaper and he's covered in blood.

Without looking my way, he starts talking.

"Perhaps this is its way of cleansing itself."

His voice sounds different too.

"What the hell do you mean?!"

"Usually when a wound is bleeding, it is in a way cleaning itself. The bigger the wound, the less chance of infection. The dirt will be washed away by the blood itself."

I feel anger and panic boiling up in my body: "Are you trying to say that I'm the cause of this?!"

For a moment there's silence, but then he shrugs.

"Nah, I wouldn't know that."

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

Found this really awesome tale on r/shortscarystories called Forget Me Not by RustySunset. Might even be one of my favorite Reddit stories ever.

in the rain

A short horror story I wrote last year, I'm surprised to find out I hadn't posted it here before.

Word count: 1848

TW: psychological horror

The sound of the gentle tapping of the rain on my window awakens me.

Just by glancing over at the window I can see the dark autumn sky even though it must still be around noon.

Slowly I get up from the couch, I must have dozed off for a minute or so.

I walk over to my kitchen to see if there is anything to eat.

Opening all the cabinets and finally the freezer, I discover that I'm all out of food.

Damn, I forgot, it's grocery day today... and I still have to go out with this shitty weather.

Still I ready myself to go outside, I take my dark green raincoat and a bag.

I put on my shoes and finally leave, locking the door behind me, walking towards the nearest bus stop.

I know I'm being lazy, walking that distance can be done in about half an hour, but still this weather seems to only be getting worse.

As I turn around to face the weather I feel the cool breeze going through my coat and the water gliding off my face.

A greeting from the outside, a cold and wet greeting.

Quickly I make a run for the bus stop.

Each time one of my feet hit the middle of a puddle, the water flies around me, making me feel like a little kid playing in the rain.

It takes a couple of minutes for me to reach the small square hut, known locally as the bus stop.

I live in the middle of nowhere anyway.

As I finally lay eyes on it I almost dive for cover under the roof.

I know it doesn't really matter, I'm already soaked, but still, it brings me comfort.

Immediately I notice that I'm not alone.

Someone else is standing beside me.

Most likely also waiting for the bus to come.

Their face is obscured by their coat... Their dark green coat.

Did he get it at the same store as me?

For a while we awkwardly stand next to each other, not speaking a word, or perhaps letting the rain itself do the talking.

Cold seconds pass slowly and eventually I can't take it anymore.

"So... uhh... the weather is pretty bad, éh?"

I know the question is bad, small talk is not everyone's favorite, but worse than that, I don't get a response at all.

And we are back at listening to the rain and just standing next to one another, but this one more awkwardly than before.

The person next to me didn't show any sign of even hearing me.

Finally the bus arrives and I get on.

I look back, but the person behind me doesn't seem to be moving in the slightest.

Does he even breathe? I really can't tell.

"Hey man? Didn't you need to take the bus too?" I call over to him, gesturing that he can go in, but again he doesn't move at all.

I shake my head and then turn it towards the bus driver.

Unlike the usual uniform, they seem to be wearing another dark green raincoat. Almost exactly like mine, or perhaps it's completely the same...

I show the chauffeur my ticket, but he doesn't move a muscle.

Quietly I turn around to look further inside the vehicle.

It's almost completely empty, except for a few strangers dressed with the same dark green jacket.

For a moment I hesitate.

Do I really want to be on this bus?

But then the squeaking doors behind me close, cutting off my only escape route.

Obediently I take a seat, trying not to look around me and just stare out of the window.

When the bus finally comes to a halt at my stop I get out as fast as I can.

Strangely enough this is the first stop it made, no one got on and no one got off.

As I step outside, I am greeted by more rain, falling down even heavier than before.

Quickly I race towards the store and feel a sense of relief wash over me as I finally reach the entrance and hear the familiar chime.

The bright light hurts my eyes, it's a lot brighter than outside after all.

I let out a shivering sigh from the cold. It might be less warm here than outside, or perhaps it's because of how wet my clothes have gotten.

The water has gone right through my coat after all.

I notice my breath leaving my mouth in small clouds and rub my hands together for some warmth.

I guess it must be cold here after all.

Carefully I look around, it seems that I'm the only customer inside the store.

I should probably hurry up, I'm not sure if there will be many buses leaving after I'm done with shopping.

I take a shopping cart and start to move around the store.

Taking with me things for breakfast, things for lunch, things for dinner and of course some snacks.

Eventually I find myself next to an aisle that's entirely empty.

"How strange..." I mutter to myself: "I was sure these were filled just last week..."

I take a few steps back, towards the fridges where they keep milk and stuff.

Something about it seems off.

Carefully I take a closer look.

It looks like all the cartons of milk from the highest shelf to the lowest have all been cut in half in a straight row.

No, cut isn't the word.

More like half of it has been melted off.

The contents are spilled all over the floor.

As I inspect the next row, I see that these all have half-faded packaging.

I look up to find a huge dark stain on the ceiling above it, water is slowly dripping down onto those products and the floor.

It's almost as if the rain is washing it all away.

Quickly I leave for the check-out and find another one behind the counter.

A person, dressed with the same raincoat as mine, somehow still with a faded nametag on their chest, too faded to read.

Honestly it looks a bit silly.

Their hood is up and they look down, causing me to be unable to see their face just like with the others before.

I greet the 'worker' like normal even though he doesn't move at all and I hand them the money, which they don't take either, so I place it before them.

"Keep the change." I say, trying to joke away the fear I feel inside.

That is the truth after all.

I'm scared.

I'm terrified.

I'm terrified, but I don't want to let it show.

Everything about this day has been strange.

Normally I don't fall asleep during the day, normally I don't take the bus to the store, normally I don't stand waiting for a bus with a stranger...

Then there's the fact I haven't seen a single familiar face since I woke up. Why isn't anyone here when usually this store is filled with people I know?

I pick up the pace, too scared to look behind me.

What if they did move?

What if they did move, but only if I wasn't facing them.

What if they were right behind me, staring at me from underneath those hoods?

What if they wanted to do something to me?

I shake my head and enter the rainy and windy outside world again.

The rainfall has gotten even heavier.

I can barely keep my eyes open from all the water pouring down, only able to open them again as I blindly enter the bus stop.

This time I'm alone.

Though I doubt if that really is the case.

I mean, what if they're watching?

While waiting for the bus to come I look at my sleeve.

The dark green fabric has been completely soaked.

Why is it that we all wear the same? I think to myself.

Where and when did I even buy such an ugly thing?

I have another one, a blue one... right?

No, now that I think about it I'm not so sure.

This rain... it's making it difficult to remember.

The bus finally arrives for me to go home again.

Trying to avoid the spats coming from the sky, but failing, I enter the vehicle.

It's cold here too.

Like in the store small clouds leave my shivering mouth.

I look at the driver.

It's one of them again.

Or am I supposed to be one of them?

My coat shows our resemblance.

My hood is still up too.

I take it off and smile at the driver.

"Good afternoon sir, bad weather we're having, don't we?"

Suddenly I hear something moving in the back of the bus.

Multiple people dressed like me are sitting there, more than before.

All of them seem to stare at me from underneath their dark hoods.

I smile at them too, but now that I'm looking at them too they have stopped moving again completely.

The door behind me closes and I take a seat.

Everything feels so unwelcoming, it makes me feel a bit sad.

Looking outside of the window I appreciate the beautifully dreary scenery from my home.

It looks like the water levels have been rising far.

Much further than it normally would.

Almost like the water is trying to swallow it all up.

I'm glad I live up high.

We drive past a small cliff.

I look down at the water through the window.

The rain is still relentlessly hitting the windows, coming down unforgivingly at the windows, making me scared that it could shatter them any moment.

It has become a droning noise overtaking any thought I might have had as suddenly, I feel light.

Everything starts feels like going in hyper speed.

The bus has made a turn.

A turn off the cliff.

And we hit the water before I even realized what was going on.

It's all going so fast and yet, none of them moved even an inch.

All of the other 'passengers' keep sitting the way they sat before, not even trembling because of the fall. Making it look like they were plastic figures glued to their respective benches.

Windows break and water starts to pour in even faster than the rain.

Loudly I curse and get up from my seat in a daze.

My head is pounding terribly, did I hit something?

I'm not sure.

It just hurts.

The vehicle starts to sink and I start to panic.

A heavy tree branch falls through one of the small windows in the ceiling.

I jump back, but then see that it has shattered the entire window and created a way for me to get out.

The water is rising higher and higher and I reach for the window.

Now the people in the bus do start to move.

In a strange and shocking way.

Moving like they have never used a limb before.

Crawling around, stumbling around, a strange form of swimming.

Shit!

They're coming for me!

They're coming for me!!

They get closer and closer with their strange movements.

Trying to wrap their arms around me.

As I feel their freezing cold fingers touch me I kick around me as hard as I can.

"Stay away!" I yell: "Stay the Hell away!!"

Desperately I hold on to the branch.

The first few already have their hands wrapped around my ankles.

"Let me go!!!" I yell, kicking and screaming.

More hands.

And then they start to grip and pull.

The gray light from the sky starts to grow distant, my head is getting closer to the water.

The heavy rain has started pushing me down now too.

Pushing back my hands, letting me slide back down.

I've never seen or even felt a rain storm this heavy, it feels like it's trying to get rid of me.

Trying to clean this place by getting rid of me.

Like a ghost town being washed away by the rain...

No story today, appreciate this artwork

Art by Vincenzo Lamolinara

Our dairy farm still prints photos of missing children on all our milk cartons.

It’s educational for consumers to know what each dairy cow was fed.

CLOWN IN A CORNFIELD COMES OUT TOMORROW