Writing and art blog for dnd characters, spooky stories, and fantasy creatures. Also goes as Reddit user and deviantART user thunderflight. Follow for scary stories and character art. Check #mine for my writing and art. Masterlist of Stories My Website DeviantART Reddit Instagram Twitter
this might be my final post. i dont know if im gonna make it out of this one alive. but im gonna damn well try.
in my last post, i was in a pretty tight spot. things have gotten much worse. it's so fucking bleak.
we both fell asleep.
i dont know at what point it happened. i was pretty delirious from the concoction of shitty energy drinks and lack of sleep. that godforsaken eerie music from the masters room in the palace kept drifting in and out of my head. it was at the point that my vision was swimming and blurring that everything just went dark.
it was a stupid fucking plan from the beginning. i panicked. i didnt know what else to do. but i couldnt protect him in the end. all i did was dream.
my dream was dark. it was just bleak, endless darkness. i stumbled around, but i felt lethargic. it was like i was moving through mud...no, i was definitely sloshing through something. the smell hit me all at once. it was rank and decayed, a stench strong enough to burn the hairs off your nostrils.
it was a pit of death. the squelching below me told me all i needed to know. i was wading through blood, corpses, decaying flesh, everything.
in the back of my mind, i felt a faint recognition. dread filled me inexplicably, and i shoved the thought far back where i couldnt see it anymore.
i began gagging as i panicked, stumbling over myself. it felt like i was being suffocated. suddenly, a light caught my eye, twinkling in the distance. i crawled towards it. it took an eternity as i writhed and shuddered in the refuse.
suddenly, i was at the edge of solid ground. i pulled myself onto it, shuddering as i collapsed on the dirt. hot, humid air wafted over me as the leaves overhead rustled. i was on an island of lush jungle. i peered behind me. there was a sea of god awful blood, gore, disgusting shit as far as the eye could sea, and it shimmered and shifted in the light.
i retched violently on the grass.
i was covered from head to toe in that shit. i wiped myself off, marveling at how real everything felt. i raised my head and saw a silhouette facing the jungle.
it was brent.
i called his name, relief washing over me as i struggled to stand and run after him. he didn't move, just stood in a trance as he stared at the jungle. time felt like it slowed as i ran towards him, extending my hand as i reached for his shoulder. his long black hair cascaded over his shoulders, swaying in the breeze...
my heart stopped.
it was too late. i was already grasping his shoulder. her shoulder. the master turned around and smiled at me devilishly as she stabbed me in the chest. the motion was fluid, as natural and as firm as a handshake.
i fell to the ground, clutching my chest. she stabbed me over and over on my back and my arms, slicing away my flesh. i screamed, but blood cut off my voice, gargling in my throat. i coughed hard, spitting blood.
she yanked me by my hand and started dragging me through the thick forest floor. i screamed and groaned, struggling to free myself from her vice grip, but it was of no use. as she dragged me, shapes shifted in the shadows. their eyes glowed hungrily. they followed us, staying far enough back that i couldnt see them, but close enough that i could hear them panting with desire. it was too dark to tell, but i think i left a trail of blood as my body was dragged across the floor. they followed it like bloodhounds. they could probably smell flesh blood miles away. especially after being surrounded by decay for so long.
it wasn't long before we reached a clearing. i noticed when the tree line stopped and the black night sky stretched onwards forever. there were no stars here, only an inky darkness and a red-tinted moon nestled in it like a bloody jewel.
she threw me across a stone altar. i could hear a sloshing sound from below me once more. i looked down and saw a disgusting river of dark blood and flesh oozing by. the stench overwhelmed me again as i gagged once more, trying to scramble backwards, but the master pinned me down and held me there. with my cheek against the stone, i looked across the river, and i saw a terrible creature.
a great figure loomed on the other side of the river. it was a horrifying amalgamation of all the creatures id seen in my last dream. it writhed and shuddered, its big red eyes piercing through the darkness. it was many things at once aside from this shifting thing: it was a big black goat creature, horns curling and nostrils flaring; it was a disgusting boar, bristling fur and bloodied tusks; it was a giant serpent, scales shimmering in the light as its forked tongue darted in and out of its gaping mouth. the last vision i feared the most of all.
the master spoke to it in a language i did not understand, but the faint feeling of recognition returned. i understood what i was. it responded in a screech, a roar, a bellowing undertone, a million voices grafted into one.
she lifted a knife and slit my throat. my blood rushed out and poured into the river, gushing more than i could possibly have in my body. it never ended. it just poured and poured and poured
the great figure approached us, crossing the river easily in giant strides. the creatures behind me chanted and crowed in another language, eager for the thing to arrive. it bent down and drank from the blood pouring out of me, its maddening eyes meeting mine. and i knew what it knew. the river of blood was everything that it consumed, it was me, it was man. we were all for it - we were its sacrifices.
and we had all lined up to be marked for it.
the chaos of voices rose to a crescendo, rushing towards me from all sides. everything leapt at me, digging and tugging at my flesh, consuming me. fear absolutely overwhelmed me. i felt utterly helpless, abandoned, cursed.
but defiance blazed in my heart. from somewhere deep inside me, a place so incredibly deep that it must have been my soul, i pushed back. it was an absolute defiance in the face of a power greater than i could ever understand. and it worked. i was fading away. the din of demonic noise grew fainter, but it changed in tone. it was confused and desperate. the master hissed in my ear, you cannot escape! you can never escape us!
and with a pop, my eyes flew open.
my ears popped again. my heart was pounding in my chest. i was covered in sweat and...yes, blood. i glanced around the room, realizing brent was no longer with me.
i called his name, fear gripping my heart. as i stood, though, my head spun wildly. pain shot through my back like a million knives stabbing me all at once. blood was oozing down my back.
i ran into the restroom, ripping my shirt off. the tattoo had of course changed again. i stared at my arms in the mirror, shocked. all of my tattoos were gone. my ruptured skin was almost flayed, bumpy and streaked with blood. the snake was frozen in the middle of devouring the last tattoo on my sleeve.
utter despair racked me. i started sobbing in a bitter, clench-jawed cry. why us? why any of us?
i knew the answer was simple: we were just the unfortunate flies that had been caught in the web.
i whipped around, storming out of my bedroom and into my kitchen. i fished around for my butcher knives, grabbing two and gripping the handles tightly. i looked down at my tattoo, eyes flashing dangerously. the surface of it was hardened, like it was made of actual scales, and it was raised from my damaged skin.
i took a deep breath, steadying myself, and then stabbed at it, gritting my teeth. the surface was harder than i expected. it was like stone. my butcher knife glinted off of it with a spark. i groaned in dismay, inspecting it. part of its tail was still wrapped past my shoulder. i couldnt just cut the arm off...
thats when i heard something clang outside.
i stiffened. i turned slowly to the back door, seeing that it was slightly ajar.
i walked towards the door, fear gripping my stomach. my mouth was dry. i licked my chapped lips, my eyes wide. i slowly pushed the back door open. it creaked as it swung lazily on its hinges.
there was a long, dark shape curled on my porch. the light from inside the house illuminated it as the door opened. for the first time, i noticed that it was nighttime again. long shadows stretched out from the shifting thing on the ground, reaching into the night.
a gigantic snake was writhing slowly on the ground. it was huge, at least twenty feet long. i stared at it in shock. trembling. it reminded me of those nature documentaries of anacondas after theyd just swallowed something five times their size, after their jaws had unhinged and theyd spent hours swallowing their prey...
dumbfounded, i realized that there was a gigantic lump in the snake, too big to be normal. big enough to be human.
i let out a low cry, horrified realization dawning on me. its eyes glinted at me from the ground, hateful and proud.
i rushed at it, chopping at its head with my knife. it spasmed, but it was too weak at the moment to fight back. its scales were as hard as stone, but its underbelly was soft. after a few chops, i had partially decapitated it. dark black blood poured from its neck and its spasms grew weaker.
i cut at the underbelly where the giant lump was, slowly slicing it open. when i had finished slicing open its stomach, a figure slipped out of it.
i vaguely recalled a video i had seen of an indonesian farmer that was eaten by a giant boa constrictor. instead of an unnamed man on the other side of the world, my friend brent was the poor fuckin soul that came sliding out of the snake's belly. he was already slightly decomposed, his skin white and veiny, his mouth bloodied and raw.
i stumbled back, collapsing onto the floor. a wave of emotions hit me, but i couldnt move. brents dragon rolled a bit, but it stopped moving after a while. the awful, steaming corpse laid motionlessly in front of me. i couldnt even cry. i couldnt even think. i just stared lifelessly. i understood that this, too, would be my fate.
in that dark moment, an idea dawned on me.
i stood, turning and leaving brents body unceremoniously on the ground. i washed my hands in the kitchen, staring out into the dark night emotionlessly. i grabbed my phone and texted an old buddy of mine.
i took my car and drove. i cant remember how long it took. it didnt matter. i met up with my buddy and handed him some cash. he gave me exactly what i came for. it may have been propofol, or seroquel, or whatever. it doesnt matter. i just told him to get me something that would knock me out cold.
i parked my jeep down on some side road, laid in the back seat, and took two pills.
it completely knocked me out. i think its been a day since then.
and it worked. i didnt have a single dream, and when i awoke, the dragon hadnt moved.
i just cried and cried at first. relief and grief mixed together into an awful feeling. i feel groggy but im finally well rested. and i finally have an answer. ive bought myself some time.
when i checked my phone i saw ember had texted me. the palace was shut down. most of the masters customers are either dead or missing. the name she used, lilith, didnt register in any police system. i dont know what to tell her, so i havent texted her back yet. i may need her help though. ryan too. though he hasnt been answering texts.
i dont know what im gonna do. maybe try and cut my arm off. seems like that could kill me. but maybe ember and ryan can help with that. its still sort of on my shoulder, so i dont know if well be able to get it all off. ive thought of sleeping just enough to get it to move again. and then having them wake me up. so we can get it off of me for good.
this is so much to ask of them though. i dont know if the police are charging them with anything. i dont know if theyve found brent yet. i dont know what to tell them about brent or how to go about any of this.
so im just typing this out as i think. theres gotta be a way out of this. i dont want to die. at least ive rested now and i can try and plan my next move.
until then, i guess, if anyones reading this, stay safe. and dont get any tattoos from someone who calls themselves the master.
Bobby Dunbar was an American boy who disappeared at the age of four. After an eight-month nationwide search, investigators believed that they had found the child in Mississippi, in the hands of William Cantwell Walters of North Carolina. Dunbar’s parents claimed the boy as their missing son. However, both Walters and a woman named Julia Anderson insisted that the boy with him was Anderson’s son. Julia Anderson could not afford a lawyer. The boy lived out the remainder of his life as Bobby Dunbar. He had four children of his own and died in 1966. In 2004, DNA profiling established in retrospect that the boy was not related to the Dunbars. (Source)
Reminds me of Christine Collin’s case where her 9 year old son was kidnapped in the late 1920s and when the LAPD brought her a boy who was NOT her son, they made her say it was and refused to find her real son bc “they’d already found him”.
There is a creature that they tell stories about in the American Southwest. The creature is called a chindi. Usually when someone sees a chindi, it looks like a coyote walking on its hind legs, upright like a person.
Chindis walk out of sight along lonely roads at night, waiting for travelers. It does not matter if the travelers are on foot or in a car, the chindi will wait until the moment is right and cross the path of the traveler, just out of sight, trotting across the road on its hind legs. This is how the chindi marks its victim.
Once a chindi crosses your path, it will follow you for weeks. It stalks the victim by creeping just out of sight and circling. You would never know it was stalking you except for an occasional twig snap or a slight movement in the darkness. It is hard to know if you are being stalked by a chindi. They say that a chindi is a type of skinwalker; it can look like a normal coyote or even a person. The only way to identify a chindi is by its eyes.
A chindi’s eyes always look the same, dull and deep. They won’t always reflect light like a normal animal’s eyes. Anyone who stares directly into the eyes of a chindi becomes entranced. The person will stare into the eyes of a chindi, slack-jawed until the chindi decides to look away, but by then it is too late.
A chindi does not maul or eat its victim. After days or weeks of stalking it will lay in wait somewhere until the victim looks into its eyes. Chindis are very patient, they will wait in a location for hours until the victim glances right into its dull empty eyes. Something happens then, the victim’s spirit is totally consumed, and something else is left behind.
A wise person might notice the small clues that he is being stalked by a chindi; twigs snapping or a bit of movement just outside the shine of car headlights. Unfortunately, it is not a fate easily avoided. If someone tries to escape the chindi by staying indoors at night, the chindi will just stare in through a window until the victim happens to look out. In fact, this is the preferred method of the chindi. It will wait outside the window at night, covered in just enough shadow that it won’t be noticed until someone is looking directly at it.
Most people won’t remember to avoid looking out the window when they wake up in the middle of the night. Even if you do remember to beware of the chindi, it’s difficult to resist the impulse to peek when there could be something just outside the window. Just to make sure nothing’s there.
oh my god. fuck. what am I gonna do. what the fuck am I gonna do…
i don’t have a lot of time. im so tired. people keep saying my last post was too long so I’ll try to keep this short and to the point I guess but no fuckin promises because oh boy this shit just keeps getting worse
some of you had some good questions and information for me but it didn't lead anywhere. Well, I definitely got some answers today.
Right after my last post I had to go in to work, right? My shifts are uneven and don’t always flow well. My sleep schedule’s been fucked for a while though so I just roll with it. I was supposed to come in from 1pm-2am, the closing shift, and since it was Thirsty Thursday, we were pretty slammed. My coworkers were pissed that I was late, but it was too busy to complain for long.I was so busy I even forgot about the fuckin’ tattoo. Food business is a hell all of its own.
That’s why I didn’t see all the missed calls at first.
The work phone was going off all day, and sometimes we’d have a free hand to pick it up. We were mostly too busy to answer though. We get a lotta complaints about that. But uh, fuck, that doesn’t matter. Point is, one of my waitresses, Brenda, came running up to me to tell me Ember was on the phone and was very angry.
My heart skipped a beat as I remembered the whole, you know, cursed ass dragon thing on my back. My back throbbed in response. I ran over to the phone. When I picked up the receiver, I was met with a very angry Ember.
“Eric, why the fuck haven’t you answered my calls?” she asked, swearing at me. I tried to calm her down, but she kept interrupting me, ranting. “Brent is fucking missing. Nobody knows where he’s at. He didn’t show up for work today and he’s not answering calls. But that’s not even the fucking weirdest part. That fuckin witch bitch is gone too.”
My heart stopped and my voice caught in my throat.
“She just up and left- took all her shitty drawings and left all the equipment. And we’ve been- we’ve been getting calls from people who got tattoos from her, saying that they’re itchy as all hell and they can’t get it to stop. People are fucking saying the tattoos are moving, Eric, that’s not possible but that’s what everyone’s saying.”
My palms were sweaty. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and there was an awful pit in my stomach.
“It’s gotta be some kind of prank, I don’t fucking know. The tattoos didn’t look like they were moving to me. I do know that the itching isn’t made up, one of her customers came in and showed me and holy hell it is disgusting, it was peeling and blotchy - she must’ve given everyone a virus or some shit. I knew she was bad news. Do you know Brent didn’t even run that background check on her? After she started raking in that cash, he just forgot about it, even though I fucking reminded him, but he was thinking too much with his dick-”
“Brent,” I echoed, straightening up a little. “Nobody’s heard from him at all?”
“No, and we can’t go check on him, we’re all busy with appointments and Scott’s trying to deal with the upset customers coming in, though he’s the leather guy and can’t really help them anyway. Ryan’s busy with a customer but he’s gonna deal with it once they’re done. We’re slammed here.”
“Same here,” I muttered. “Ember, Brent was texting me last night. It was really fuckin weird. He didn’t respond when I called him or texted back.”
“-he what?! When was that?” she asked, worry creeping into her voice. “Like, 3 AM,” I responded. “I didn’t see it til 5. My tattoo fucking hurts, too. It’s all itchy.”
“That’s your own fuckin fault,” she said sharply. “I told you she was bad news. All of you. Nobody fucking listened to me. And now we have a real big problem on our hands. If she infected everyone with some virus with her dirty needle, we probably got a lotta lawsuits coming. We didn’t even run a background check on her. What the fuck was Brent thinking, goddammit! Now we’re all in hot water! They-they might shut down the shop over this. I don’t know what I’ll do if they shut down the shop, i-it’s all I have. There’s no other tattoo shop in town, I’ll have to start over, this will probably be on my record, what the fuck am I gonna do…!!”
I’d never heard Ember this visibly upset. She always tried to come off as a hard ass, a stone cold bitch. It made me nervous. I steeled myself, trying to sound as calm as possible.
“Em, calm down, for fuck’s sake. You were right. I’m sorry. But you have to help keep the place running for now, OK? We’ll find Brent and get this all sorted. I’m pretty slammed here too, but I get off work in a few hours, and I’ll go straight to Brent’s, OK? Everything will be alright.”
I spoke firmly, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. I had a sick, heavy pit in my stomach. Ember composed herself, agreeing and sniffling a bit, but definitely calmed down.
“Uhm...thanks. Yeah. I’m sorry about your back. I hope you didn’t get it too. I gotta go.”
I hung up the phone, feeling worse than before, but I was damn determined to push through the day. I had to find Brent. I checked my phone, frowning at all the missed calls from Ember. Brent still hadn’t responded to me. I threw myself back into work and sure enough, time slipped by. The tattoo throbbed every time I thought about it. When I finally clocked out after mopping up the store, locking up the safe, and finishing up receipts, I locked all the doors and booked it for my car. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. Fear and worry made me feel wide awake.
I sped down to Brent’s place, gripping the wheel as my car blasted my metal CDs. My thoughts raced as my heart pounded in my chest. It felt like it took forever and a day. Finally, I screeched to a stop in front of his house.
His car was still in the driveway. I stepped out of my car, slamming the door closed, and ran up to his doorway. I knocked loudly, shouting his name. “Brent, where the fuck are you dude! We’ve been worried sick!” But there was no response. I tried the doorknob. Locked. I frowned and looked around. It was eerily quiet. It made me self conscious of how loud I’d been just then. Nobody was out...it was the middle of the night, I guess, so that made sense. I waited a bit to see if anyone would come outside, but they didn’t. The silence made me uneasy, so I ran around to the side of his house and jumped the fence, skidding to a stop in front of his open back door.
the open back door
Fear exploded in my chest like a rocket
I ran inside the house, calling his name in a panic. It was messy, which wasn’t unusual, but…
...there were spots of blood trailing through the room.
I gripped my head, digging my fingers into my hair as I panted. I followed the trail to his bedroom, stumbling over his twisted bedsheets. When I opened the bathroom door, my breath caught in my throat. Flakes of skin littered the counter and part of the floor. There was big, dark red splotches of blood, like he’d dug into his own skin and ripped it out all over the counters. I was frozen for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Brent!” I screamed.
Now at this point, I just started falling apart. It was nearly 3 in the morning, I was exhausted, and my friend was missing and clearly injured. I started crying and shaking and shit.
There are a lot of things I should have done, logically, but that wasn’t the fuckin state of mind I was at, okay?
Instead of calling Ember, or the police, or anyone, I ran out of his back door calling his name, following the trail back outside. It let me to a pair of black basketball shorts sitting in front of his backyard fence.
I picked them up in a daze, looking up and seeing that the trail of blood went over the fence.
I followed it.
Landing on my feet with a thud, I stared ahead. There was less light on this side of the fence because there was nothing but forest behind his house. My heart was racing. I just wanted to find him. I pulled out my phone and turned the flashlight on, hands shaking. I walked forward, feeling like I was in a trance. I called his name over and over and over.
Suddenly, I tripped over something strewn on the ground that was hidden under foliage. I fell on my side, swearing as pain exploded in my hip.
But then I saw what it was.
Brent was lying in a fetal position, his eyes squeezed shut. He was covered head to toe in sweat. He was also butt ass naked. I waved my phone’s flashlight over to him and stared, my mouth gaping open in shock and horror because
his fucking dragon was MOVING
as it moved it was like he was being carved by knives slices of skin just started peeling off of him and he was bleeding thick clumps of blood the sound was so god awful it was this sickening squelching and hissing and fuck it just
the fucking thing just glistened, its scales looked real as they shimmered in the light and it’s hyper-realistic eyes glared at me maliciously he was muttering something in a language i didnt know as it was twining around his body, it smelled like decay and - smoke?? - it was on his torso now, it was snaking up to his throat, opening its jaws as if lunging-
“BRENT!!!!” i screamed at the top of my lungs grabbing him and shaking him as hard as i could
his bloodshot eyes flew open and he gasped as if he had been drowning and he shook terribly, moaning as he looked around with wild confusion
“Ungh w-w-what the fuck wh-where the f-f-fuck am I” he chattered, shaking. he was as cold as death
i just grabbed him and practically dragged him out of the forest as we both scrambled for my scar, brent was sobbing and shaking and bleeding fucking everywhere
i leapt in and we just tore up the road all the way to my house
and i swear to god i saw lilith, whatever she is, master or devil or demon in my rearview mirror standing in the woods smiling wide
when we got to my house i dragged him to my bathroom and rinsed all the mud and dirt and leaves and blood off and he cried because it was like knives but i had to get him clean
i just covered him in aquaphor, and he almost passed out from the relief but i had to take him with me to the store and i just grabbed a bunch of aquaphor and energy drinks and snacks while he waited in the car and when i got back he was starting to sleep again and the dragon started shimmering and shfiting so i shouted at him and blasted the music all the way home and
fuck
this is already too much im sorry but i dont know what else to do and i dont know what to say or how to write it out but we’ve been up since then. we got home at like 4am and we havent slept since. its been nearly twelve hours now.
cuz its sleep you know sleep is what fucking does it. i called into work because i cant leave him alone. we cant go to a hospital or to the police. ive been trying to get him to talk but he just stares off, mumbling and shaking and crying
i called ember and ryan but nobodys answering their phones and i dont know why.
im at my wits end. i dont know what else to do. i didnt even realize this much time had passed. the energy drinks keep us jittery but somehow we’ve lost track of time
i think i fell asleep just briefly because my back started bleeding again and i cant tell but i think my dragon shifted
his dragon is still curled around his torso and neck, its jaws open near his throat
and all of his tattoos are gone. why are all of his tattoos gone
there’s just jagged scars and peeled skin covering him now and his dragon doesn’t look like a dragon anymore its this god awful snake thing with teeth and glowing eyes and it eyes me like its waiting for me to fall asleep and stop guarding him
im sorry i guess if anyone is reading this please tell me how to kill this thing can we even kill it? someone in the comments on my last post said something about scps but i dont know what that is and the website looked fake but its really similar to whats happening and i just want answers. I dont want to see my friend die.
anybody, please, can anybody help us i cant stay awake much longer
I don’t really know what else to do or where else to go...something’s really wrong. I don’t think a hospital or a doctor could help me at this point. This shit is just too weird. I’m scared out of my fucking mind, and I gotta go to work, but I need to put this somewhere. I don’t usually believe in the paranormal, but I can’t explain what’s been happening to me any other way. I figured someone here could help me out given the nature of my problem.
I’m shaking still. And the fucking itching...it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.
Okay. Fuck. I’ll just breathe. Writing helps me focus. I guess I should start from the beginning.
I’m a huge fan of tattoos. I’ve been building a sick sleeve on my right arm, and I had plans to start one on my left arm too. I work as a manager at a restaurant, which has been a pretty good gig, but between bills and random life shit, I’m not exactly rich. And tattoos can be pretty damn expensive. So I figured I’d just get each tattoo piece by piece. Cool shit like skulls and snakes, knives and stuff. Some of them have meaning, some of them don’t. I just wanted it to look badass when it was done.
There’s a local tattoo parlor that’s just called “The Tattoo Palace”. Simple name, but it’s a decently sized space. Locals like to refer to it simply as the Palace. They offer piercings, tattoos, and they have a pretty cool leatherworking guy that can make custom bags and shit.
I go to the Palace for their tattoo artists, though. I grew up with two of them - Ember and Ryan - and it’s cool to see them followin their dreams. They’ve always been creative, so it wasn’t surprising to see them do well as tattoo artists. Both of them are responsible for building my sleeve. It’s an extra bonus to getting a badass sleeve - having your friends’ art displayed on your arm is free advertisement for their business. They do great work. Plus, we’re all friends with the manager of the place, Brent. We go drinking when the Palace closes, or whenever they’re free. They’re all good people and I love em to death.
The Palace is successful enough around here. Our town is right next to a major interstate highway, so we get a lot of travelers passing through. The local community is pretty tight knit, so they’ve got a lot of loyal customers, but they also get a lot of walk-ins from people off the highway.
Over the years, Ember and Ryan built up a bit of a rapport. Some people drive in from other states just to get tattoos from them. They like to give discounts and special deals to repeat customers, so that probably helps. They’re both pretty proud of it; they worked hard for their customer base. They both get pretty competitive too - Ember is beating out Ryan by a small margin. Ryan thinks it’s just because she’s a hot girl, which isn’t really wrong, but Ember is incredibly talented in her own right. They like to bicker a lot, but in reality they’re pretty close. Everyone has expected them to get together for a while now, but Ember’s held out for some reason. Ryan’s pretty sensitive about so people don’t really bring it up.
I’ll often swing by the Palace just to see what they were up to. Like I said, I’ve known them both since we were young. None of us ended up leavin this place, though a lot of our friends and family have. It’s not for a specific reason, really. There’s just something comforting about sticking close to home. I like to watch them work, too. Ember furrows her brow and sometimes sticks her tongue out when she works. Ryan’s moustache quivers when he licks his lips as he stares fixated on his craft. They’re both such shitheads, but they’re my shitheads. I’d try to make them laugh as they tatted someone up, and they would laugh, but always stay perfectly still, their eyes shining as they chuckled, retorting crude responses as the tattoo pen moved...and I’d have a shit-eating grin on my face, hoping one day I’d trip them up in front of their nervous clients, but they were always too good for that...
Fuck. I think I’m crying a little. Talking about my friends like how things used to be is choking me up. But I gotta tell the whole story.
I don’t know how else to explain how it started. She just showed up one day.
The Palace doesn’t hire new artists often. They’ve got a good batch of folk there already. Not that many people have asked, anyhow. So imagine Brent’s surprise when a petite little asian woman slipped into the Parlor one day, her large black portfolio tucked under her arm, her long black hair swishing around her hips, and asked if they were hiring.
“No,” he told her, “we’re happy with the artist we got.”
“Do you make any exceptions?” she asked, her dark eyes sparkling as she opened the portfolio.
I wasn’t there to see it, but according to Brent, her drawings were fucking phenomenal.
There was something about the detail in the linework that stood out. Her drawings seemed to breathe life into the pages. There were dragons, naked women, odd beasts blowing smoke and fire, all in that oriental style. Brent was mesmerized. And he was caught off guard.
“Well, shit, lady,” he said, stuttering. “I...I ain’t seen work like that as long as I’ve lived. How long have you been making tattoos again?”
“Long time,” she said, smiling primly. Her accent was thick, but her English was good. “When can I start?”
Brent struggled to tear his eyes away from the paper. He frowned. “We’d - have to make room. ‘N run a full background check on you. Wait - where’d ya say you’re from?”
“I did not say,” she said curtly. “I’m traveling through. Wanna find a place to settle down. Seems like a good town, cheap apartments, good restaurants, near the highway. I am very good at what I do.”
Apparently, at this point, she lowered her voice and leaned in. He said he couldn’t place the perfume she was wearing, but it was intoxicating either way. “Your customers - they will want my tattoos. They will want it very bad. It will be good for business. I promise you this with all my heart.”
With her enticing smell and devious twinkling eyes, Brent was rendered defenseless. He always had a soft spot for women as it was. They shook hands on it.
Ember was furious. She paced angrily, her boots clicking on the tile floor in front of me. “She just fucking waltz in, shows him her shitty art, and gets a job, just like that!” she crowed, her eyes flashing daggers. “Who does she think she is?” “I don’t know, Em,” I responded helplessly. I shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to see what her customers think,” Ryan mused. “Fuckin bullshit,” she hissed, storming out. “Isn’t anyone a LITTLE fuckin suspicious?” Ryan and I glanced at each other, shrugging again.
The stranger’s name was Lilith, but pretty soon, she told people to start calling her the Master. Ember almost exploded on the spot when she heard, her face turning bright red. Unfortunately for Ember, the Master did not fail at her job, and the name caught on. In fact, the Master was a wild success.
The Master offered her first tattoo for free. She made a big sign on her own, pasting it up on the Palace’s glass front. It was a drawing of some wood nymph type thing, pointed ears and devious eyes, flowers cascading over its naked form and down its breasts. It was looking over its shoulder at the viewer. The eyes really seemed to like...follow you. It was a little unsettling, but mesmerizing nonetheless. The flowers were incredibly detailed, as was the creature’s hair and facial features.
Her first customer was a trucker on his way down the interstate. He had come to get a tattoo of a naked woman with heels on or some shit, but when he saw the poster, he was sold. He asked for the nymph on the poster itself.
When the Master was done, the nymph was nestled sensually in the man’s shoulder blades on his back. Brent took a photo with his digital camera, pleased. It was a very good tattoo. It was even more alive on the man’s skin, glistening in the light. The trucker’s back was wrapped in that plastic shit they give you, and he left the Palace satisfied, a spring in his step as he whistled. The Master smiled.
Word spread fast.
The Master put up a new poster featuring various types of work she did. The poster had the words “THE MASTER” displayed in big black letters. All of the drawings seemed to glitter, eyes staring down anyone who looked. They looked like they demanded respect from anyone who dared to view them, let alone get them on their body. Her prices started climbing as demand grew, but the detail was worth the cost.
It was actually kind of startling how fast word spread. Most of her initial customers weren’t locals, but she drew them in just the same in time. She’d only been there a couple days, but she’d done at least a dozen tattoos. Her methods were odd too- she took her customers to her own room, an old office space they had to convert to a working tattoo station for her. She lit incense and played this odd, haunting music. It helped her focus, she said. Her customers always praised the smells, saying they were relaxing. Ember complained that it smelled like shit and she could smell the incense all the way out in the main tattoo lobby, but she was the only one complaining, so Brent did nothing about it.
I’d swung by the Palace a few time after hours, mostly to comfort an increasingly infuriated Ember, but one day I swung by during the daytime after pulling an opening shift and leaving early. Ember was sitting at her station, grumbling as she doodled on a sheet of paper. The faint scent of a rich incense wafted through the room.
Brent greeted me as I entered. His grin was wide and excited, like a young schoolboy’s. “Dude, check it out!” he exclaimed. “I got a Master tattoo.” He thrust his left arm forward. It was wrapped in plastic, covering the beautifully detailed dragon wrapping around his forearm. The dragon’s head was thrown back in a roar, its’ eyes flashing dangerously. “Dude...that’s fucking awesome,” I responded, inspecting the detail. I was impressed.
I could feel Ember glaring at us. She stood up and stomped out, heading to the back of the store.
“I feel bad,” Brent admitted sheepishly. “Master stole a few of her regulars already. Word spreads fast. Three of her appointments cancelled to reschedule with Master. But look at this shit man! It’s so worth it.”
I scratched my head self-consciously. I’d been wanting one of the beautiful tattoos. I was saving up for an addition to my sleeve from Ember, but the Master’s work was extremely enticing. Plus, I loved the badass dragon tattoo Brent had. “How much did this cost you dude?”
When he told me the price, my face blanched white, and I swallowed hard. But...I could scrounge up the cash. I had already been saving up for a tattoo, plus I could pull from the emergency savings I put aside...the more I stared at the dragon, the more I wanted it. It looked like it was looking back at me, radiating strength and nobility. Calling to me. I shivered.
“Where’s the Master?” I asked.
The Master had just finished with another customer. The woman was admiring her new stomach tattoo, a demon-looking tiger thing that was crouched on all fours and baring its teeth at the viewer. “Fucking awesome,” she crooned, stroking the skin around it.
The Master looked up at me and smiled. Her long hair was frizzy, and she had bags under her eyes. She looked exhausted. Except...her eyes were still lively, sparking with mischief. I nodded to her, feeling suddenly bashful. The other woman picked up her purse and walked out of the room.
“Hey, uh...you look pretty tired. Long day?” I asked shyly. She smiled again, chuckling. “I have had much work to do. Much work. You are kind to ask.” “So are you done for the day then? When are you free for another appointment?” I asked, scratching my head. The Master looked me up and down. “You are a friend of Ember, yes?” she asked in a curious voice. “Uh, yeah,” I responded.
She grinned mischievously. “I can take you now. I need just one more. And I will give you a discount for it because I like you. Do you agree?” Startled, I asked how much. “$150 off,” she said, inspecting a nail. “Decide now. Take it or leave it.” “Sure yeah, that would be awesome,” I said lamely. “But uh, I haven’t told you what I wanted yet.”
She eyed me for a moment, smirking. “You look like a dragon man.”
The incense, the low music, the look in her dark eyes...it was overwhelming. I withdrew cash and paid her in full.
“Let us begin,” she said solemnly, her expression changing to a much more serious look.
She massaged my back, the chosen place for my dragon, after lighting more incense. I relaxed, feeling a mix of emotions swirl inside of me. Fear, excitement, even lust, melting together as the odd chorus of voices in her CD player crested. Her hair was soft, and it brushed against my skin a few times. Her body was petite and slender, graceful. It was almost maddening. Her room was small, with maroon red walls and mysterious drawings hung from everywhere. What I assumed was chinese - maybe japanese? - characters littered the drawings, notes or comments or something of the sort under the drawings. Strange symbols were scattered throughout the drawings. It vaguely reminded me of the pentagrams I was familiar with, but I didn’t see any pentagrams among them. Still, the sight of the symbols made me nervous.
She prepared me for the pen, having me lay out on her table. She wiped down my back and murmured something under her breath. “What did you say?” I asked from the table, but she did not respond to me, just continued her muttering. I began to grow uneasy. “Hey, I didn’t pick the dragon I wanted,” I tried to remind her, glancing nervously at the drawings up on the wall. They seemed to glare down at me. She ignored me, fussing with something to my side. I clenched my jaw, frowning, but protested no more.
When the needle made contact with my skin, I felt my head start to hurt. I was dizzy all at once. It was extremely fuckin odd. I’ve gotten several tattoos in my time, and none of them ever made me feel like I did laying down in that small room of hers. I tried to speak, but it felt like cotton was in my mouth. I groaned softly, but she remained silent.
It becomes a haze after this. I came in at midday, and by the time she was finished, the sun had long since left the sky. I don’t remember much of the process, but it had to have been hours upon hours. How could I not remember? All I can remember is that it felt like a haze, with those eyes looking at me and making me nervous. And it was hot. I think. I was covered in sweat when, all at once, everything became clear again. It felt like no time at all had passed. It felt like it had been years.
I moaned, wiping my forehead. “Do you - have any - water?” I gasped, blinking. It felt like the air pressure in the room had suddenly lifted. My ears popped and crackled. It felt like electricity was coursing through my body from my back. My stomach lurched as I sat up.
She handed me a bottle of water, turning back to grab some plastic to protect my back. “Would you like to see?” she asked, patting the plastic down gently.
She handed me a handheld mirror and put me in front of a body mirror. I grunted in surprise. The dragon was long, curling and twisting up my back. It looked something like this, but way more detailed. “It’s...it’s beautiful,” I breathed, fascinated.
“Of course it is,” she said crisply. “It is the last of its kind. And the strongest of all. Get your shirt and go. I need to clean.”
I furrowed my brow, confused about her comment on the dragon, but that was it. I grabbed my stuff and left the room, dazed. Ember was cleaning up her station outside. She didn’t look up when I walked out.
“Hey,” I said. She didn’t respond. “Hey, Em-”
“Don’t talk to me,” she hissed, glaring. “I don’t consider anyone a friend who would give that witch the time of day. She’s bad news.”
I tried to apologize and talk to her, but she wouldn’t have it. Finally, I asked her where Brad was. “He went home early,” she said venemously. “His stupid fuckin dragon tattoo was bothering him. Itched like crazy. Suits him right. Bitch probably doesn’t clean her tools right.”
Worry flashed through me for a moment, but I shook it off. Ryan strolled by, nodding. “I gotta close shop for Brent, so I’m gonna be late tonight. You should just go home.” He nodded towards Em and shrugged, as if to say ‘She definitely won’t be waiting up on you, dude. Just go.’
I sighed and left, feeling like I had betrayed Em more than I had thought. My back throbbed, but I was pretty happy. The tattoo was better than anything I’d gotten so far, and that was a fact. I didn’t know if Em could ever forgive me, but I felt like I just needed one Master tattoo. I could still get sleeves from Em and Ryan. Though...I had an odd feeling like the dragon was more than enough, more than anything I could have asked for. Nothing would compare to it, really. What was the point in getting anything else?
The thought startled me. That...wasn’t what I meant, right? I shivered again. I still felt uneasy about everything. I’d never wanted to be home in my bed more than that night. I’d have to sleep on my stomach, but that was fine.
When I finally flopped in bed, I thought I would pass out easily, but troubled thoughts kept me up. Some things the Master said had bothered me. “I need one more...it is the last of its kind...and the strongest of all.” Her words echoed like a song. I could smell the incense again and I felt sick. My eyes rolled suddenly, and...fuck, actually, I think my eyes had been rolling when I was getting the tattoo, now that I think about it. God, it keeps coming back, piece by piece. Like a fucking nightmare.
I kept feeling worried about Brent. Something in my gut felt wrong. I sent a text, asking, Hey, buddy, how you doing? Ember said your tattoo was botherin you. You OK?
He didn’t respond.
I drifted off into sleep at some point, and that’s when the nightmare started.
I was back in the Master’s room, splayed out on my stomach on her table. She was tattooing my back again, muttering something in a foreign language. It was rhythmic and steady, kind of like...chanting. The handheld mirror sat near me, and I saw her reflection in it. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, staring down at her work as she bent over me. Her lips moved quickly as she murmured. Every once in a while she would smile a smile too wide to be normal. Fear rose in my chest. Suddenly, her eyes flicked over to the mirror and met mine. She grinned with sharp, pointed teeth.
Hastily, I looked away, swallowing hard. The needle dug into my back painfully. The atonal chorus of voices and awful incense made me sick. When I opened my eyes and looked up at the wall, I screamed.
The drawings were moving, stretching down from the paper. There was a horrible look on their faces. Terrible demon-like figures stepped onto the floor, shrieking, calling out to me. I tried to move, but my hands and feet were strapped down to the table. The Master - Lilith - began stabbing me, ripping my back up and cackling. I screamed again, desperately.
The monsters reached me, clawing at my arms and breathing hot breath on me as they snarled. I screamed for help, sobbing, struggling.
They chanted something in unison in a language I didn’t understand, their jowels drooling as they looked down at me hungrily. They lunged at me, sinking their fangs into my skin and howling with triumph.
I jumped awake, shouting, before realizing I was safe in my bed. I was drenched in sweat.
My heart was jumping out of my chest as my ears rang. I tried breathing exercises to calm myself down as I trembled. I’d never regretted living alone more than in that moment, feeling so small and vulnerable. I glanced at the clock and gasped. 2:30 PM! Fuck! I was supposed to go in at 1!
All at once, a sharp pain stung my back. I shuddered and stood, walking into my bathroom. I turned around, expecting sharp scars from where I was stabbed in the dream. That was a stupid thing to expect, but a part of me did. Though...what I did see made me stare dumbly at the mirror.
The dragon has moved.
I swear to god, it had been cresting towards my left shoulder when I got it, but now it had turned around and its snout was pointing up to my right shoulder. And the skin fucking itched. Like I’ve said, I’ve gotten tattoos before, but I’d never dealt with an itch this maddening.
I reached my left arm up and scratched the skin around it with my knuckles. I felt relief, but it made the skin where the tattoo was itch even more. I groaned.
I spent a few minutes itching madly around the tattoo, but it was a paradox of relief and increased itchiness. My skin was peeling. I whimpered. I dug through my bathroom cupboard for the aquaphor bottle I had. I spread the cream on the tattoo, shivering as cool relief swept over me. My skin was red and swollen, and my whole back hurt.
I crawled back into bed, gritting my teeth. That’s when I noticed my phone had several new messages. I picked it up and unlocked it.
i think im going crazy, Brent had said at 3:43 AM.
i dont remember falling asleep but i slept for too long
the tattoo itches more than antyhing
i dont know what to do
eric i think its moved i dont have proof but you remember it was on my arm and ended at my shoulder well now its over my shoulder and on my chest
you remember right please tell me you do
i didnt take a picture when i first got it but im going to now look at this ( the image he sent looked like this )
My heart sank. The dragon had definitely moved. It was on his chest now. It had just been a sleeve earlier today.
I was willing to believe I had just seen the tattoo wrong when the Master had showed me. But the fact that the exact thing was happening to Brent...it unsettled me.
i dont really know how but the same thing is happening to me, I responded. this is crazy lol fuck. did you try putting like aquaphor on it? shits fuckin magical
The minutes ticked by. No response.
Brent how are you feeling now dude.
Time was slow. There was no response.
I tried calling him, but nobody answered. I left a message, begging him to call me back when he woke up. I called him two, five, ten more times, but he never answered.
I’m sitting here wrenching my hands and pacing. I forgot I gotta open today. I can’t skip work, today’s a Thursday and we’re gonna be slammed. We have a lot of specials on Thursday, especially with our stuff on tap. Thirsty Thursdays. Fuck. My coworker’s already called me a bunch of times.
But this doesn’t sit right in my stomach. The terrible nightmare, the fact that I can’t remember shit and somehow lost hours laying on her table, and Brent’s silence is really putting me on edge. And the dragon moved. I’ve never felt this much fear in my life. And I’m not a fucking pussy, I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit. But nothing like this. This is just unnerving. That dream really got to me, like those monsters were really going to eat me alive as I screamed and screamed…
Just, the fact that my buddy is going through the same thing kills me. Maybe I’m delusional, but how do you explain it happening to two people? That makes this shit real. Too real.
I gotta get ready for work. If anyone’s ever heard of this before, please let me know. I don’t know how I’m gonna make it through today. I hope Brent calls me back.
If you get a chance to visit, its amazing. Been here several times, and enjoy it immensely. I will say its not as fun walking back up. Also as dusk they have shows that let you see the bats emerge from the caves. First time I went a sparrow pooped on my pants.
Poltergeist Activity Recorded at the Bassa Villa Pub?
CCTV cameras at a Shropshire pub captured what looks to be actual poltergeist activity. Nick Bevon, owner of the Bassa Villa pub in Bridgenorth, came into work one morning to find numerous glasses shattered across the floor. Curious, he went to check the security footage and discovered this bizarre video of and invisible force knocking glasses off of the shelf.
“I just turned up for work on Saturday (August 15th, 2015) and opened up as usual with the assistant manager when I noticed the smashed glasses on the floor.” Nick said when speaking with the Mirror. “I thought ‘How did that happen?’ because I knew the place would have been left tidy the night before. I wondered had someone maybe been in the bar so I reviewed the CCTV cameras and there it was a 1:43 a.m.”
“There was no-one in sight. The place was empty. And they just fall without explanation. Both of the glasses just go. I checked out cameras from different angles to see if I could find a reason for it but they all showed the same thing.”
It’ been speculated that the activity was caused by the spirits of two young children who died in the basement hundreds of years ago. Legends states that while their mother was out, the children went down into the basement to play. There they became trapped when the basement began to flood.
This isn’t the first time something unexplainable has occurred at the pub. Nick claims that he’s felt something grab his wrist on multiple occasions throughout the past few years.
While the footage is quite intriguing, many are not convinced this is the work of a spirit(s). One popular theory suggests that the glasses could’ve been knocked off of the shelf by the vibrations from an air conditioning unit. Personally, I’m not quite sure if that theory is the answer to this mystery. While it’s certainly one worth considering, I can’t help but think this video could indeed show something supernatural.
I’m interested to hear your thoughts on this video. Does it show actual poltergeist activity? Or is there a more conventional explanation for this strange incident?
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This video, which was captured in August 2015, shows a dark figure believed to be a Sasquatch peeking through someone’s window. The person who captured the video explains that every year, the fruit growing on their apple and pear trees mysterious vanishes over night. Not only that, but the birdseed feeder would also disappear as well.
Wanting to get to the bottom on the mystery, the homeowner decided to set up a camera by the window in hopes of catching the annual thief in action. Thinking the culprit was something along the lines of a Raccoon, the homeowner would later be shocked when they discovered just what had been captured on film.
A dark, hair creature could be seen peeking through the homeowner’s window. The creature can be seen looking around the room, almost as if it’s making sure nobody is around. The creature eventually walks away from the window, never to be seen again.
Some people believe the footage is genuine, and even hail it as one of the best Bigfoot videos captured to date. Others are skeptical, believing the figure to be a person in a costume.
Personally, I have to agree that this looks a lot like a person in a costume. The fact that the creature has no discernible facial features other than it’s eyes is a bit strange. That being said, I’m only going off of my gut feeling, and in no way can I definitively prove this was indeed a costumed person.
I’m interested to hear your thoughts on this footage. Do you think this homeowner captured video of an actual Sasquatch? Or was the creature simply a person dressed in a costume?
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In October 1979, Roy Fulton left his local pub and accidentally wandered into a horror story. Driving home that night, he allegedly stopped to give a lift to a random hitchhiker, somewhere on the cold and lonely roads outside Dunstable.
The guy got into his car without a word and the two sped off into the night. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Fulton awkwardly tried to make small talk. When that failed, he lit a cigarette and turned around to offer his passenger one. The guy was gone.
At no point had Fulton slowed down. At no point had the hitchhiker had any chance to leap from the vehicle. And yet there was no one there. Fulton’s story may match many other tales of ghostly hitchhikers, but it was so convincing that the national papers covered it. In the years since, the story has resurfaced across the UK in various forms, but never in such a simple and chilling way as the Dunstable tale.
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