Silence is Screaming

Close your eyes. I promise I won't move. I'll just sit here, waiting. Go to sleep, it will all be okay.

[meeplol]

What is your emergency?

“911, what is your emergency?”

“Yeah, hi, um...This is going to sound kind of strange but there's a man stumbling around in circles in my front yard.”

“...could you repeat that, sir?”

“He looks...sick, or lost, or drunk, or something. I just woke up to get a glass of water and heard snow crunching around underneath my front window so I peeked out...I'm looking at him now, he's about ten yards away from my window. Something's not right.”

“What is your address, sir?”

“1617 Quarry Lane, in Pinella Pass.”

“I'm going to send a squad car your way, but that's quite a ways out. Are you alone in your house sir?”

“Yes, I'm alone.”

“Can you confirm that all of your doors and windows are locked? Stay on the phone with me.”

“I know that my front is definitely locked, but I'll go check my back door again really quick.

…

I appreciate your help, by the way, I know this is kind of strange but I really hope that –“

...

“...Sir? Are you still there?”

“He's...he's still in the yard yard. But he's...what the fuck...he's upside down...”

“Sir? Stay on with me, what is happening?”

“He's staring right at me...but he's...he's standing on his hands now. He's perfectly still, staring straight at me. He's doing a handstand and he's smiling at me and not moving.”

“He's...he's doing a handstand, sir?”

“I...I don't know how he...yeah, he's facing me and standing on his hands and he's got this huge smile and he's perfectly still...what the FUCK...please get someone out here NOW.”

“Sir I need you to remain calm. I've put out the call and an officer is on his way.”

“His teeth are so huge...what the fuck, please help me...”

“Sir I want you to try and keep an eye on him but make sure your back door is locked again. We need to make sure all possible access points are secured. Can you talk me through and confirm that your back door is locked?”

“Okay...I'm walking backwards now and keeping him in my sight...

My hand is on the back doorknob now...it's locked. I need to check the deadbolt so I'm going to take my eyes off of him for a split second.”

“Alright sir. Help is on the way. Just stay on the phone with me, everything's going to be alright.

Sir?

…

...Sir? Are you still there?”

“He's...his face. It's up against the glass.”

“Sir, I need you to speak up. What is happening?”

“I looked away for a split second and now...his face. It's pressed up against my front window. His teeth are huge and he's still smiling...There's no color in his eyes...Jesus please help me, why won't it just fucking move...”

“Sir, I need you to go to the nearest room and lock yourself inside of it. Do you have a basement or a bedroom that you can lock yourself in?”

“He won't stop staring...he's going to hurt me...”

“Sir I need you to listen to me. Lock yourself somewhere safe until the officer arrives at your house. Can you hear me?”

“I...yes...yes, I'm going to lock myself in my room.”

“And you're positive that you're alone in your house, correct?”

“Yes, I'm alone in the house...

…wait a moment...

he's moving. He's shaking his head. He's telling me no. He can hear us.

He's telling me I'm not alone.”

…

…

…

“Sir? Sir are you still there? I heard a loud noise, is everything alright?

…

…

“Sir?”

[meeplol]

The Last Trick-or-Treaters

Every Halloween it got worse. Trick-or-treaters wore meaningless plastic costumes, or slapped-on fake blood, or just t-shirts that said "costume."

Harold gave them candy anyway, but last Halloween had been the final straw. He'd just turned off the porch light when some kids showed up, not wearing costumes at all. They looked bored, not saying anything, just expecting free candy. Little assholes.

"Here's some advice," Harold said. "Next time, wear costumes. Or at least say 'Trick-or-Treat'." He’d slammed the door. He was sweating. His heart raced. He felt furious, but also, unexpectedly, afraid. Who wouldn't be, thought Harold, with that generation in charge of the future?

The next year, his wife handed out candy. She loved seeing the cute ones. Harold shut himself in his study, plotting against costumeless trick-or-treaters.

He could hear everything through his study door.

Doorbell. "Trick-or-Treat!" Laughing. Repeat.

The doorbell again. “Trick-or-Treat!”

"What adorable costumes!" shrieked his wife. "Get in here so I can see you in the light!"

More laughing.

Then, silence.

Harold’s heart pounded. Sweat trickled down his face. He heard the front door click shut.

"Honey?" he yelled.

A thump in the front entryway.

The previous Halloween flashed through Harold’s memory. For the first time he saw every detail of those kids—unremarkable clothes, bland faces. Completely black eyes. Christ. How had he not noticed?

Scratching outside his study door.

Harold googled "Black-Eyed Children," and protocols for when you've accidentally invited them in. Nothing. Nobody ever let them in, it seemed, nobody who’d lived to tell about it. Black-Eyed Children weren't clever enough to trick anyone into admitting them.

At least not until Harold told them how.

[meeplol]

Support Group

Look, I’ll be the first to admit I’m a complete bastard. I’m also lazy. I’m only here to find the idiot, because there’s almost always an idiot.

This support group is pretty typical. We connected online, decided on a quiet place, and now we’re all sitting cross-legged in a circle. Real Kumbaya crap. Jerome takes the lead, pouring everyone a cup of tea as he starts talking.

“I’m Jerome. You can drink your tea, but only after explaining why you’re here. I’ll start.”

Jerome tells us he’s never been loved. I can see why—the guy’s ugly as sin. He sips his tea while the mousy chick speaks next.

“Miyu,” she says. “My parents.”

Short and sweet, no blubbering. Gotta admire Miyu. She’s probably not the idiot. Next to talk are a legless veteran, a broke businessman, a needle-tracked junkie, and a diseased old crone. Then it’s my turn.

“I’m an ass. Everyone hates me.”

I take a loud, annoying slurp of oolong as the fat kid with a black eye goes next, telling his boring fat-kid sob story.

Afterwards, we’re all sitting quietly when Jerome keels over. Then Miyu’s eyes roll back and she slumps forward. Only the fat kid reacts.

“What’s happening?” he whines. “I thought this was a suicide support group!”

Found the idiot.

“It is,” I say, spitting out my mouthful of tea. “They support it. No one wants to die alone, kid.”

Oh, how ghost-white he turns, looking into his cup! I love it! These suicide meetups are a sadist’s dream, and I never have to lift a finger.

Told you I’m a lazy bastard.

[meeplol]

Deep Earth

Unit 2298 began its cycle just as it was programmed. It awoke from its charging station with the rest of the 3rd shift Deep Earth Mining Units, and made their way to the cavern elevator to begin their rotation.

Humanity had always wondered what scientific mysteries the deep earth held. Unable to stand the intense heat and pressure ourselves, we instead created the DEMUs. Beautiful marvels of scientific progress, they were to autonomously and tirelessly excavate a 15 mile deep hole into the earth's crust. The scientific community held its breath on what they would uncover about our earth’s past.

As the lift reached the lowest excavated level, the Units reviewed their programming, and set off to work. They were designed to dig, while simultaneously analyzing the material they uncovered. Simple and effective.

Unit 2298 began grinding away at a sizable wall, and continued for several hours, until its sensors picked up a heat spike on the other side of the rock in front of it. It paused for just a second before its programming decided that it was a mere anomaly. It continued digging until it broke through into a large cavern.

If it had audio sensors, it would have picked up the screams. The wailing of millions of dammed souls. If its sensors were more advanced it would have sensed thousands of disfigured, twisted bodies rushing past it to climb up the lift that took them to the surface. If its programming had allowed, it would have reported its strange findings to the research team up top.

But it was programmed to dig. It made note of the heat increase and continued on.

[meeplol]

Parent Teacher Night

Mr. Jameson straightened out his tie and cleared his throat.

“Thank you for coming to parent teacher night. Please observe the name tags on the desks. You will be sitting in the same seats that your children sit in.

Thank you.

I’d like to talk about a very serious subject. School shootings. You ever wonder why it's always students that snap and shoot up the school?

I know. It’s horrific, killing innocent kids like that. But I tell my students that a good exercise is to always put yourself in the other person’s shoes for a minute.

Maybe they just couldn’t take it anymore. They look around and are sickened by what they see. Kids these days are pieces of garbage. No respect. Promiscuous. Drug dealers and addicts. Lazy. Rude. No goals. Bullies. Assholes.

I see some of you shaking your head and looking surprised at my words. Don’t get me wrong. I assure you that I don’t blame the kids for turning out rotten.”

Mr. Jameson walks over to the door and locks it.

“I blame the parents.“

[meeplol]

Beautiful Morning

After 1 hour and 15 minutes of strenuous climbing, I had managed to drag myself to the final step. The sweat was dripping down my face which had mixed with the tears. My elbows were shredded and blood had coated my forearms. I didn't realise how difficult it would be to climb 87 stairs without functioning legs. Yes, there were 87 stairs exactly because my face had passed each one and I had kept count to remind myself that I never wanted to have to do this again. Also, it's tough to use your legs when you have a severed spinal cord with three vertebrae completely out of place, two broken tibia and a crushed ankle. The broken leg bones weren't hurting me since I had lost feeling once the paralysis had set in.

I had finally made it to the top of the bridge. Maybe someone would notice me crawling along this length of road. But no one came. It was early morning anyway. After a few more minutes of dragging myself along the rough asphalt, I stopped to catch my breath. I looked out from the bridge. I acknowledged what a beautiful morning it was, despite my physical condition. After I had rested enough to regain some strength, I hoisted myself back to my raw elbows. I could see the patch of ground way at the bottom from where I had originally crawled.

As I threw myself off again, I'd make sure that I'd land on my head this time.

[meeplol]

Jessica

My soul mate left me today. All that’s left of him now, is pairs of sock that probably fell out of his suitcase, and a note labelled “Read Me” that I found on the kitchen counter.

I picked it up and started to read.

I just can’t take it anymore. Jess, you know I love you, and I always will, but over the last few months things have gotten bad for me. Yes, it’s her. She’s following me again and I’m scared that if she found you she’d kill you. I’m sorry, I wish I could go into more detail, but you’ll be home in a few minutes, and I don’t want to have to tell you any of this to your face. It would destroy me to see you cry. – David.

Suddenly the front door creaked open. Instinctively, I grabbed a knife off of the knife rack and ran into the pantry.

“Hello?” Called a woman from the entrance way. I didn’t answer. Instead, I cracked the pantry door open just enough to see the note on the counter. “Anyone in here?” She yelled, walking closer to the kitchen. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She stepped into the kitchen. There was a small Swiss army knife in her hand.

She picked up the note and started to read. Within seconds she started crying hysterically. The woman fell to her knees and dropped the knife.

I ignored every logical thought in my brain, kicked the door open and thrust the knife into her stomach.

“Welcome home Jessica” I said, twisting the knife with a bright smile on my face.

[meeplol]

ylim3

Little Emily vanished last year. Now they’re pouring new sidewalks in my neighborhood, and I’ve found her name in the wet cement, written in remembrance. But it was written in reverse. And from below.

[meeplol]

Mister Nobody

Everyone knew Cassie. She was a friendly child, sure, but I think the neighborhood knew her because she knew us.She was the reason our block felt like a family.

“Girl’s got second sight,” Alletta Johnson would proclaim from her window perch.

I’ve never believed in such things, but I’ll admit Cassie had a gift. To her, Alletta Johnson was “Miss Grandma,” while the girl who drove the ice cream truck was “Miss Dog Doctor.” Our mailman was “Mister Painter.” She played hopscotch and jump-rope with kids she’d dubbed “Singer,” “Teacher,” and “Fireman.”

I asked her about all the nicknames once, and from what I could understand they came from how she saw people—as potential. She didn’t exactly see our futures, she just saw us at our ideal.

“Everybody glows, Mister Writer,” she told me. “Everybody’s good.”

I’d never told anyone I wanted to write. It was a secret dream, not one I’d let myself take seriously. Yet somehow, she saw it in me. That’s how she saw all of us.

One afternoon I was cooling off on my front stoop when she skipped down the sidewalk with a stranger at her side. She had obviously enchanted him, just like everyone else. We smiled and waved, and as they passed I asked, “Who’s your friend, Cassie?”

She paused, tilting her head in confusion before exclaiming, “Oh! You’re being writery, Mister Writer!”

I should’ve paid more attention as she laughed and twirled off down the street, followed by the stranger. I should’ve realized.

Cassie always saw the good in people.

Cassie could only see the good in people.

But not everybody is good.

[meeplol]

First Day of School

Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. It's a day full of potential and hope, before all the dreary depressions of reality show up to ruin all the fun.

I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can...sense a sort of aura around them. A colored outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left.

A fair amount of them have a yellow-orangish tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a car crash or some other tragedy. Anything that takes people "before their time" as they say.

The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I'll see someone who's basically a walking stoplight. Those are the ones who get murdered or kill themselves. It's such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered.

With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates' fates. The first kid who walked in was basically radiating red. I chuckled to myself. Too damn bad, bro. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my rose-tinted reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green.

[meeplol]

Fallers

People started falling from the sky by the close of the decade. They were never clothed, always naked, always a petrifying grin on their faces.

It had been just a few at first, but then hundreds and thousands would fall at a time, destroying cars, homes, blocking off highways.

Strange discoveries were made upon research; they were human, but lacked any blood, intestines, even a heart. No one could explain the hideous grins they had, or even where they came from.

It was a woman in Costa Rica who made the latest and most disturbing discovery. She recognized one of the fallen bodies as a long dead relative, one who died back when she had been a teenager. Then more and more identifications were made.

Soon people were picking out their long dead loved ones amongst the video feeds, cadaver piles, and crematoriums. No one could explain why they were coming back, falling from the sky.

Even more distressing, after disposing of the bodies, it wouldn't be long until that same body came plummeting from the sky again. You could not get rid of them, no matter what. People were getting killed by the higher volume of falling bodies, and soon after burial, they too, began to fall.

My mother was killed when a body landed on her car, crushing her. The next week, the news reported on a body that had gotten lodged in an airplane windshield. I saw my mother’s grinning face, the happiest I had ever seen her.

They say when hell is full; the dead shall walk the earth. What about heaven?

[meeplol]

Peculiar

In all of the time that I've lived alone in this house, I swear I've closed more doors than I've opened.

[meeplol]

Crying Won't Help

I pointed the gun at the sick bastard who killed my wife. He sobbed as he feared for what was to come. I pulled the trigger.

If only he spoke and tried to reason with me then maybe he could've lived. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was born just a few minutes ago.

[meeplol]

Grandfather Tim

Grandpa Tim was a bit of a recluse, as my family liked to say. He lived out in the middle of nowhere in an old, dilapidated house. But when he came around, everyone listened. No one argues or disobeys his commands, as strange as they were.

For example, the time Tim convinced my Aunt Betty to purchase a life insurance policy on my Uncle Bill. Betty argued but gave in to Grandpa who insisted on paying for the policy. Two years later, Uncle Bill passed away from a sudden heart attack. Aunt Betty received a huge payout that helped Uncle Bill’s wife with the funeral costs.

Sometimes his advice would be to get checked at the doctor, even if you weren’t sick, and they would find a life threatening tumor inside you. Other times, it would be to stay home from work on a certain day and then you’d see a twenty car pile up on the highway in the news. Grandpa Tim always knew exactly when to call.

When Tim died, I inherited all his possessions including his house. The lawyer instructed me to check his mailbox for a letter Tim left me.

I found myself opening a door in the basement and then almost fainting when I saw the endless cavern of hourglasses as far as the eye could see. The closest hourglasses to the door had the names of my family members etched on their bases. That’s when I saw the sand in my parent’s hourglasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane heading to Tim’s funeral. The sand in their hourglasses refilled.

[meeplol]

It is There

The first time I saw one of them was almost twenty years ago, as I walked into a patients room with Catherine, the nurse assigned to train me. The patient lay in bed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly. Coiled around his neck and draped over his left shoulder was a writhing, black, snake-like creature that appeared to be composed of shadows that had somehow gained substance.

I tensed up immediately, nearly dropping the medication cup in my hand. It took everything in me not to scream. The only thing that stopped me was Catherine's calm hand on my shoulder. When I turned to her, the look on her face said more to me than any expression I have seen before or since. 'If I had warned you beforehand,' that look said, 'you wouldn't have believed me. It's there... But you better act like it's not.'

Since that day I have seen more of them than I can count. Always in the rooms of terminal patients. And always three days before that patient dies. They start in the dark corners, slowly moving closer as the hour approaches.

Over the years I have come to accept these creatures as a fact of life, never questioning their purpose or origin. Mostly out of fear. But now, these are questions I must ask. Because as I write this, I am watching one of them move from the space under my dresser to the nightstand near my bed.

I don't understand.

I don't even feel sick.

[meeplol]

Icarus

I had been blind from birth, and by God, I was bitter about it.

From the moment I could carry one of those hefty Braille books, I studied. The optic nerve, light diffraction, pharmacology. The autobiographies of anyone who'd suffered as I had. I knew that someday, someone would be able to fix me.

I jumped at the chance to participate in the human trials.

The drug worked overnight. I was speechless at the blurry black and white world that sat before me. I had been given such an incredible gift. Enough vision to recognize faces, even enough to read! But I wanted color.

And so I lied. I cried crocodile tears about how the doctors could never understand my pain. About the cruelty of the false hope that they'd given me.

And they upped the dosage.

My eyes opened and I smiled at what could only have been 20/20. But I still envied all of those naturally sighted. Children who talked about their shapes and colors. Men and women who could drive. I wanted better than perfect.

They upped the dosage once more and I could see like no person had ever seen. Through walls, the nurses' uniforms. My mind raced at the possibilities. I was superhuman. I couldn't resist the temptation. I begged the doctors to give me more. Promised that if it didn't work this time, I’d leave the trials.

It's two days later and I'd do anything to be 20/20 again. Blind again, even. Because now I see far too much. I seeThem.

And believe me, they do not like being seen.

[meeplol]

I fell, I fell, I fell

It's been a year since I lost everything. My house, my car, my life.. all for the few hours of joy the needle in my arm brings. On the first night, disoriented from the high bought by my last cents, I got lost. A strange man tapped me on my shoulder. Because of the darkness, I couldn't make out his face, but I knew he was smiling. He told me “Move forward.” and so I did. I walked forward right across the street. Without realizing it, I walked into a rehab center. I got in, I got better, I got out.

My first day sober in the outside, among a crowd of moving people, I saw the man. Dressed in black, with his face covered in shadows, even though it was noon. He told me “Move forward.” and so I did. I walked and walked until I reached an office building with a sign out front “Now hiring”. I got in, I got the job, I got promoted.

They threw a party for me. Everyone was there: my boss, my coworkers, the man in the shadows. He told me “Move forward” and so I did. I walked right into the men's bathroom and found a single needle on the sink. I lost everything, I lost everything, I lost everything.

I found myself on the rooftop, standing on the edge of the 40 story drop. The man was standing behind me. I didn't need to see him, I just knew. He told me “Move forward.” and so I did.