Deciphers of a Subconmi

A collection of short stories, thoughts, and deciphers all written by @Decipherzzz. You can follow me on Twitter, Tumblr, or here!

The Inner Interruption

During one of my weekly ventures, I met someone. I wasn’t sure why she seemed interested but then it dawned on me “Hey stupid, you can read minds!” Because my subconscious is friendly like that. So I tapped into my special superpower and did what a reader does best: read. Only her pages were blank. I tried focusing harder than what my power requires of me; but still nothing. Then my oh so friendly subconscious whispered to me once more “Hey dumbass, you can’t read her mind!”

I could have fainted from confusion. This had never happened before, and I don’t know why, or how. I’ve always been able to read anyones mind no matter who they were, so why not her? All of this had happened mid-conversation and she noticed my confusion. “Alden, is something wrong? You look distraught.”

 “Distraught? Oh I’m only distraught at the fact we’ve made it so far into life without knowing one another!” Considering the small time in which we both reside.

 One could say things are going well. “Haha! I’m glad we’ve hit it off! My family has been nagging me about spending another holiday season alone” she said smirkingly. I must be in danger, as no one has ever been this forward with me, ever. Do I play along? Do I stray away? This would be an excellent time for my subconscious to use his powerful insight “She’s just screwing with you, numbnuts. She wouldn’t want you if you were the last man on earth!” I stand corrected. I don’t believe Ava to be the type to have her way with people then kick them to the curb, although I’ve only just met her.

That was some afternoon, I thought to myself, hoping to not hear a response from my subconscious. I’m growing tired of calling him that, so I shall rename him. “A new name huh? You should call me Sir Subconscious! Something a bit more respectful.” 

That’s not quite what I had in mind. What about the inner interruption? Something a bit more accurate. “I’ll take it, but expect more interruptions, shit for brains!”

 Whatever would I do without you? “Something stupid like fall for a woman whose mind you don’t understand, but thats understandable you being a moron and all.” 

Aren’t you just a sweet talker? 

“You should take notes.” Yeah yeah. He piped down on the ventura highway leading home.

I arrived home seemingly broken into home. My door had been pried open, but nothing looked out of place, and I hadn’t noticed anything missing. Is someone just trying to spook me? “Ahem, I think that’s my job, asswipe.” 

Shut up. Who taught you to talk like that anyways? 

“Your mother!” 

You mean OUR mother? You have an awful lot of independence for someone who lives inside of me. 

“Maybe we were supposed to be twins, but your big ass head swallowed me whole.” 

Yet I’m the one who lives miserably. Either help me find out why “we” were robbed, or shut up. “Alright dingleberry, check your bedroom. What do you have in there that would interest somebody?” Nothing that not just anyone would know to look for. 

“Exactly. So to whom have you been blabbing that ugly face hole of yours to?” No one who would know about that. 

“WRONG! Damnit, chicken-shit, you have the memory of an 80 year old. Who did you just get all lovey dovey with two hours ago?” Are you on crack? 

“Are WE on crack!”

 I never told her about that! “Interesting, turnip head. Very interesting.”

 Did you have a legitimate name in mind”? 

“I’m no longer accepting further questions. Proceed.”

 I’ve never told anyone of the inheritance. It’s not much at all, so why anyone would want to snatch it is beyond me. All it consists of is a few pictures and a few thousand I couldn’t bring myself  to spend. Besides, nothing is missing, so I’m puzzled as to what they were after. Should I report this to the cops? 

“Fuck that, barnacle brain. You get them involved now and the whole neighborhood will be on high alert. Is that what you want? Gun crazed maniacs looking for a common thief? That will get someone innocent like me, hurt! No ninny muggins, if you want justice, you’ll find it yourself.” 

Justice huh? I’m almost convinced that if you lived outside of me, YOU would be committing petty crimes and hoping a bystander took the blame. 

“Easy sport.”

 I’d just like to collect myself and prepare for work tomorrow if that’s okay with you, inner interruption. 

“You may proceed.”

 I thought he’d never shut up. Some days I wish he’d take the day off from interrupting me and my own thoughts. 

“Heard that.”

 I looked around my house to make sure nothing was really missing or out of place, nothing was. I wish inanimate objects had minds I could read, maybe they would talk to me. It bothers the hell out of me that I can’t figure out why someone would break into the house of a seemingly boring, near middle aged man. 


 Oh well. I’ll just pretend it didn’t happen and hope it doesn’t happen again. I’m glad I looked where I stored the inheritance, as I hadn’t looked at the pictures in some time. They all show me in my youth, peaceful, happy,and best of all: no inner interruption. Of course I still had the power to read minds, a nice power for a child to  possess. Teachers absolutely *loved* me. 

“I hope that was sarcasm, deer urine.”

 I thought you were finished for tonight. Let me reminisce in peace. Anyways, I was always able to determine when I, or anyone else was in trouble, or when teachers played the “I’m going to pick a number between 1-10” game. Everyone thought I was some sort of child prodigy, except my grandmother, who I’m guessing somehow survived the Salem Witch Trials. She was the only adult in my childhood who was negative to me. 

“Because I hadn’t come around yet.”


The sun is beginning to fade, but it’s only the middle of the day. I am here trapped with these other kids for the better part of today. My mother brings me here to this house, full of other kids, to stay hours and hours each and every day. But today I am lucky, as a couple of them didn’t show. How shall I entertain myself? How will this day go?

Days here always begin quiet, no matter how loud they grow to be. I’m typically the first or second here, followed by a third and fourth, then a fifth, and maybe a sixth. 

I enjoy observing the fish in the large tank to the left of the rocking chair in which I prefer to sit. With the television straight ahead and a small couch to the right, I’ve got the best seat in sight. I look out of the window behind the couch, and now the sun has risen, but it’s cloudy. Although through the clouds I can see the rain about to fall, I hear the thunder mighty in its roar, and safely assume the lightning is soon to strike. It’s a safe bet all of us will be stuck inside today. Leaving us limited to the toys kept away in the small but appropriately sized wooden box in the shape of a treasure chest in which the toys are stored, the television, and our electric imaginations. 

As for myself, I hope the rain will tire the majority of us, causing us to yearn for a nap as the television is switched to a cartoon, a rerun of a gameshow from the eighties, or maybe a movie that none of us will pay attention to after the first twenty minutes. Perhaps after that, we will all nap. I want to drift away today. With the fish swimming, with the rain dropping, or the frogs releasing a ribbit. 

I want the level of my consciousness to fall like rain. It’s really coming down now. The wind is blowing, thunder is roaring, and lighting is filling the sky like blue on a clear day.

The road is starting to pond. This area is prone to flooding, I’ve come to learn. The wind is intense now; picking up speed and shaking the trees! Something different is about to happen. 

I woke in a reality in which I did not fall asleep. I’m aged, tired, and on the run. I’m actively being chased and running. Are those? Yep. Gunshots. A new reality awaits. 

The blood is still dripping, but it is beginning to fade from my body, as is the pain. It doesn’t hurt like it did only moments ago. I think it’s finally happened. However, it isn’t an end. No, not an end at all. This is a continuation. A continuation, a second chance of what I wanted the first part of my life to be. I’ve reached the summit of my being. 

From here, I can travel. I can travel to all the places I wanted to go. Free of what was once all the types of worry. I can go anywhere here without restraint. I don’t have to run anymore. I spent quite a bit of my days running, however that is no more. I can finally walk peacefully and enjoy the scenery that I felt I did not deserve prior to this moment. There is no silly money here, nothing with the intention to harm. No negativity whatsoever. People fear this? This is life. After escaping the shell I can finally live. But before I can really start enjoying myself, I have to find my dog. He’s here somewhere I know. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to pet him, to see him play, to hear his bark. I know he knows no pain here. If I were him, where would I be? 

I turn around and there he is- running to me. I could cry a tear of joy, however, there are no tears here, for there are only smiles. This is the millionth time and the first time he’s greeted me home. Now we can explore. We can play in an open field for hours on end without tiring, eat endless amounts of food, and decide when the sun sets. I think I’m starting to wake.

A Night of Dreams

 I’m twenty years old. Why am I walking here? The playground where I acquired many scrapes and bruises as a child. My school’s playground. It looks the same as it always did: big monkey bar attraction with the slide, a deadly circle contraption that I do not know the name of, and the basketball hoops with the nearby hopscotch painted on the pavement. I’m walking through this eerie playground alone early in the morning. It’s between forty and fifty degrees, and foggy. I can almost see the wind blowing through the fog. 

There is a door leading to the cafeteria, but it takes me to the gym. Strange. The gym is crowded and I’m on crutches. Why crutches? Is this real? What’s real? Why am I trapped in a gym with teachers’ children that looked down on me for not being equivalent to their academic standards? I don’t like this, yet I do. There’s a strange satisfaction to this strangeness. I recognize the other kids, but their faces are blank. Figures. Oh my mind. It doesn’t obey when I command this dream to wrap up and unravel the next. I woke up, I think. Reality is the sun beaming directly into my eyes mercilessly. Why am I waking now? I’m partially sleep deprived and puzzled. Oh well.

 I was doing my job in an unfamiliar building. But I knew the building so well and showed people around. An old friend was with me and we spoke of old times, and we went to each of the rooms I was required to enter that day. The rooms appeared very gothic. When entering them, our outfits turned as dark as the rooms. The bosses at work then killed elevator access, attempting to keep us in one place, and boarded up the rooms containing the stairs. Stuck on the floor we were on, we decided to explore more rooms, and eventually everything vanished. 

 I don’t remember much from last night. I remember the sea, but not much else. At one point, there was a haunted house. It wanted me, but I strayed away. I walked until I woke up.

I don’t know why I dreamt of everyone else at home sneaking out early in the morning, careful not to wake me, to go and get ice cream. They also allowed an unknown little boy to wake me up. During one point of the dream, I swore I could hear Bread playing. I’m glad, for I find their music peaceful

 Wealth must be like winter, for I can see it coming. I dream of extraordinary wealth. I dreamt that I save myself and Another, from the human trap. I want my wealth to help put an end to suffering, poverty, and to help the oppressed.  

“Who are you?”

“I’m your guide. Your dream guide. I’m whoever you want me to be.”

“Where are we going?”

“That’s up to you. I’m just the guide. Although, I can feel the weight of something crushing you. What might that be?”

“I don’t know. I’ve gotten so close. Close to the end. I’m afraid that as soon as I make it, a rug will be pulled from under my feet, and on my face I will fall. I’ve gotten so close.”

“Close to what?”

“The end.”

Did High Do That?

“Whatcha watchin out here?” Marcy asked her unusually quiet husband. 

“Shh! The kid next door is in some shit! Pipe down before he makes us!” She, as most would not be, isn’t pleased with his response and slugs him in the shoulder. “Don’t shh me, you brainless dickhead. What’d he do?” She whispered. 

“I’m still trying to piece the puzzle together, but based on his shirt, I’d say he’s done some unnecessary painting. It appears as if his father has noticed, and isn’t happy.”

Marcy investigates from her view, able to see blindspots that he is not, and notices an oddly shiny propane tank. Not the small kind you can buy from a fancy gas station, no, this was the one used for heating homes. The rental. The Big One. “The big fucking propane tank!”


“The little shit Picasso’d it! Look! Oh, and his dad looks pissed! How long have you been watching? What have you seen?”

“From inside I saw him walking around the house, so, naturally, I was curious. I stepped outside, sat, and then his dad came out looking for him, and that’s when I noticed the paint. Now we’re both here. Why would he paint that though?”

 Both dazed and confused, Marcy and her husband try making their own conclusion as to why the young boy next-door would do something so seemingly pointless. Rebellion? Boredom? “Who the hell paints a propane tank out of boredom?” Marcy wondered.

Then, another young boy appeared. They recognized him: the boy’s cousin. They didn’t know much about the cousin; only that he came over occasionally, but they never did anything too troublesome together. Nothing that would result in the recoloring of a propane tank anyways. 

“A-are they running from the one boy’s father?” The husband questioned. 

“Either that or training for a marathon.” 

They enjoyed the show. Watching the boy and his cousin running from his father was quite comical, as the father did not seem to be enjoying this unexpected exercising session. It was all worth it though; when he caught up with one of the boys. Everything was moving too fast for either of them to tell which one, due to the cartoon-like tornado happening. “And to think you wanted to sit on the beach this evening and miss this! I told you this teenage-infested neighborhood wasn’t so bad!” Again, she slugged his shoulder. Playfully, but he bruised easily. He didn’t mind though. 

After some intense and loud questioning, no, interrogating, the father learned his son and nephew were high as a kite! “Some hallucinations those must’ve been. What do you think they did?” 

“Gotta be shrooms. Shit’ll make you go nuts. More so if you’re as young and dumb as them.” Marcy continued to educate about the effects. 

“Wanna go to the beach and get stoned?” 

“Fuck yeah.” Marcy agreed. 

That night, the waves waved and the flames flamed.

Inside The Walls: Part I

Ollie finally had the house to himself! The dream of every young adult still living at home. Five days of freedom, quiet, and freedom to be noisy when the mood strikes. He wasn’t the type to throw the traditional party, but he was planning to enjoy himself. Early morning walks on the treadmill without the fear of waking some, being able to clean without being told “missed a spot!”, and no one to make him feel guilty about one too many desserts.

His parents had been planning an out of state vacation and he had been planning to stay home as soon as he heard about it. Nothing appealed less to him than sharing a tiny prison cell of a room with his family. His parents and sister drove him insanely crazy in the medium sized house they lived in already! A space such as a one-bedroom hotel room would almost cause definite madness within the mind. But when alone at home, their house might as well have been a mansion, for it is now his house. His house, his rules, his atmosphere, and his unknown consequences for making such a choice to stay alone. These are the things he of course did not consider. Seeing things from all angles, especially when it came to consequences, had never been his forte. 

He knew they would be a few states away, but did not understand the hours between them if something were to go wrong, awry, or downright disastrous. Imagine a Home Alone  scenario, but more malicious.

It was now a few short days until they’d be gone and Ollie would be alone. The occurrences weren’t much when they were home, as he had excused them for someone at home, someone he had known to be living there, not an imaginary suspect. A few bumps in the walls, things falling off counters, creaks in the floors, and whispering in the halls could all be justified by his clumsy sister only a few footsteps away from his bedroom. Then the whispers became closer, closer, and closer until they were next to his ear. These he rationalized with the vivid dreams he was prone to. They were normal, frequent, and often not scary. He was rarely frightened by his dreams. He knew when he was dreaming, so he knew not to fear. Distorted hands and faces, meant dream. 

His mother is always so clear with her instructions: “Okay, the guide I created regarding the pet’s medicines is on the counter, and it is to be followed EVERY single day!” She was as strict with them as organized. 

“I know I know,” Ollie replied. 

“And make sure you take Lily outside often. It’ll be nice this week and she likes the sunshine.”

“Got it.” 

“If anything happens, call, and we’ll be home ASAP.” 

“Everything will be under control. I can handle it,” he answered her, assuringly.

Then they were gone! He was finally free and alone! Mostly.    

Rigor and The Not So Supernatural: Part II

Rigor rushes outside making his shirt come untucked and tie crooked. “Bitty! Vorji! Lozu! How many times must I waste my breath saying it: you mustn’t cross the hedges. That’s why I put them there; to keep you three knuckleheads in bounds.” “Sorry Rigor. The itty Bitty moron got lost again.” “Lozu! That’s enough. Bitty doesn’t know any better; and once upon a time, you didn’t either! My apologies Rigor.” Vorji exclaimed. “Please get your gnomes in a row, Vorji. I have enough trouble with the young and the witless in the house; I can’t have problems out here, too. “You have my word.”

 Rigor finally gets to leave his house of horrors, and have some peace and quiet at work. 

“Lozu! I’ll have you taken away if you mistreat Bitty like that again. He is still at a vulnerable age and does not know right from wrong.” “Oh please! Bitty knows just enough, Vorji!” 

“Roll those eyes at me again and you’ll be sitting in a pile of your own ceramic, young gnome!” 

Bitty speaks up. “Ha! Lo Lo bad!” 

“Little twerp.” 

“Yeah, he’s gone. I think he’s doing another double today and won’t suspect anything as long as we end it sooner! I know, I know. But I promise he didn’t set up holy water traps. We’re safe! Cool, see you ghouls later!” 

Scooter is stunned, but not surprised to hear Sully’s plan. “Sully! Did you not get the memo earlier? Rigor doesn’t want to come home to another party!” 

“He’s not gonna! We’ll make sure everything is in tip top shape before he makes it home! I bet I could sweet talk one of those wand waving wizards into doing a little cleanup spell, and we won’t have to break our backs!” 

“You don’t have a spine! And that’s beside the point! Rigor said NO parties! He really meant it this time. Must I remind you of the gargoyle fiasco from last time?” 

“How was I supposed to know that a bunch of fruit punch wasted gargoyles would form an unbreakable conga line?” “Promise me you won’t go through with this Sully.” 

“Alrighty Scoot man. I promise,” Sully smirked unpromisingly.

Rigor has since settled into his office once again. The only place where the only beings making contact with him were human. Rigor had once dreamed of a day when he could escape humanity and the world entirely; then he moved to Dewrock. A quiet town where he moved into his home inexpensively, although he would come to figure it was costly in ways that would not bother his billfold. After learning that Scooter, Sully, and the gnomes were nothing to fear, Rigor came to the conclusion that as long as he was safe, he would remain in Dewrock, even if it meant living with roommates no one would believe existed. Despite the constant bickering among them, they found peace with one another. Rigor was happy in Dewrock. Stressed from Sully’s behavior, Scooter’s naivety, and the gnomes’ mischief? Absolutely, but he was happy. 

“I hope they’re behaving. Surely Scooter would notify me if Sully were to stir the pot of trouble he loves more than the afterlife itself. Ugh, I hope he remembers how to use the phone; and that 911 isn’t MY number. Poor Scooter. He’s a boy sentenced to be a beast.” 

Rigor’s thoughts are interrupted by his big headed, ego driven, soul sucking, crazed boss. “Rigor, my office, now!” 

“I wish Sully would mess his morning up,” he inaudibly pronounces. He follows his boss, Mr. Finn, into his office. “I don’t ask much of you, or anyone else for that matter. Eight A.M sharp, however, is one of my few requirements. Goodness, I’ll even let it slide the first few times. You’ve taken advantage of my decent nature, Rigor. This morning you were thirty minutes and five seconds late.” Rigor can’t help but release a nervous grin.

 “You timed me?” 

“As if you were running a race. 

“My apologies. I had a little, uhm, maintenance trouble this morning.”

 Don’t let it happen again. Or else.”

 Rigor left the wonderful Mr. Finn’s office of fun and joyful moments. Back in his office he sank into his chair and his eyes became once again hypnotized by reports and numbers. He thought of the gnomes’ and wondered how they’d survived every night outdoors. “If it weren’t for Sully wanting to terrorize them, as I’m sure he would, I’d invite them in at night.”

Vorji walked along the sidewalk holding Bitty’s tiny hand. “Remember Bitty, no matter what Lozu tells you, never, ever, ever, try to swim in the birdbath. How she managed a way up there I’ll never know.” 

Bitty nodded. “Lo Lo bad?” The most helpless gnome asked genuinely. “She’s not bad my dear. Just troubled. And between you and I, she is a tad bit jealous of you.” “Jealous of itty Bitty the dweeb? Ha!” 

“There you are, Lozu. Not running amuck I trust.” “Running? No. Speed walking? Perhaps.” 

“Lo Lo!” Bitty exclaimed. He adored Lozu. Lozu rolled her eyes. “Be kind, Lozu! It isn’t often us gnomes are adored. Especially in the eyes of another gnome.” 

“Yeah, yeah. When do we get to leave this place? Dewrock is losing my interest and the human in the house is bonkers! Who died and made him king?” “Hush about Rigor! He’s been kind enough not to banish us!” 

“If he assigns us chores or something, I’m leaving! With, or without you!” 

“That’s enough, little gnome! Oh my. Rigor isn’t going to like this. Vorji and the gnomes looked up and saw the trees shaking, but the wind was absent. Vorji did not know exactly what was happening, though she knew it wasn’t good. Her knowledge of other unexplained beings like Sully and Scooter was very limited, as she had not met either of them. She had only once read of their kind while locked inside a garage, hoping to be given to a kind human in exchange for paper that she did not know the name of, or understand why the humans valued it so much. Most of the humans she had been handed to weren’t very kind. Dogs and children and terrifying flying creatures always disliked them. The flying creatures were the worst! They always circled the gnomes and released a strange white substance onto their heads! 

They finally waddled away from that house one night and stumbled into Rigor’s shaded backyard; safe from the winged creatures. Rigor agreed that he would not trade them for paper if they kept out of trouble and told him gnome jokes. Rigor was becoming exhausted from human jokes. Gnomes in Dewrock are natural comedians Rigor would soon learn.

Rigor and The Not So Supernatural

“Rawrrrrr! Rawrr? Rigor, you don’t look scared. Did I do something wrong?”

“Scooter, you’ve been living under my bed as long as I’ve lived here and I’ve never been even the slightest bit frightened by you! Honestly, scooter, you’re too innocent to be a monster. Your name is scooter for goodness sake. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a long day ahead that I must begin preparing for.”

“Certainly, Rigor. Oh, just a heads up: Sully has locked you out of the bathroom again. He was whispering his plans in my brain all night! I hate when he does that. I’d rather be deaf than listen to his plans!” “Thank you Scooter. I’ll deal with him. Please don’t rearrange my movies while I’m gone! I don’t care that you enjoy them; just please put them back in their proper place!” 

“Sully?” Rigor knocks on his bathroom door as if his fist were a battering ram. “Sully? Come out of there this instant! I’m not playing games with you today! Sully floats through the bathroom door. “I told you to stop locking me out on days that I have to work! You know how it slows me down.” Sully is not as cooperative as Scooter. “Who ya gonna call on me? Ghostbusters?! Ha! Go shower in the sink!” Rigor makes way to get his drill he keeps nearby; as this is a common occurrence in his home. He squeezes the trigger as if he’s a racecar driver revving the engine and about to make his way to lead a hundred cars. “Ghostbusters is the least of your problems! You’re lucky I don’t have a spray bottle filled with holy water!” 

The first screw is now loose and he begins loosening the second one. “Sweet mother of Lucifer, I think you’re more mad than I am, Rigor!” “Why so surprised? If you were a human living in a house full of supernatural rejects, you’d be half crazed, too!” “Uhm, I think you’re a bit more than halfway there my friend.” 

The door is now off and set to the side. “OUT,” Rigor demands! “You give me the heebie jeebies when you look at me like that! Chillax, Rigor!” 

Sully sails to Rigor’s room to chew out Scooter for snitching on him. “You dimwit! He didn’t even question you and you still gave me away! I oughta, I oughta, why I oughta send you back to the cages for it!” “Sully, you’re an imbecile! You do that every week. It didn’t take me ratting you out for you to get caught! Be gone you slimy meat-head!” Rigor reappears. “I’m leaving. Please, please, please no monster parties today. I can’t explain another one of those to the neighbors. Uh oh, neighbors! The gnomes!” In a flash, Rigor dashed out the door.

The White Gates Part I

They approached the gates together, as one. The prize promised was unimaginable! Wealth, security of many kinds, and the privilege of keeping it unknown to others. The ten strangers find a letter for each of them at the foot of the gate reading the same message:


Welcome to our kingdom. Yes, OUR kingdom. No coincidence could bring you here, for you were meant to be here. But, there lies a problem: the others. My assistant will lead you and the nine obstacles inside and give further instructions, as well as your new form of identification. See YOU soon,

The Owner 

A well dressed individual waiting by the front entrance waited for them to look up from their letters and see them. As they approached The Gate, one man from the other side couldn’t contain his urges, nor wait for the excitement that would await the rest of them, and attempted to slam another participant’s face onto the gate. The assistant sped up, pointed a pistol into the air and fired.


Everyone took a step back. “You there, with no self control! Step forward.”

He obeyed. And the assistant tossed what appeared to be an ID necklace with a small laminated card with the number three printed on it. 

“Put this on.”

“Fuck you,” he shouted.

“Very well then,” he casually said, as if Number Three had only declined a cup of tea. The Asistant then sent a bullet through Number Three’s brain, picked up his ID, tucked it in his pocket, and calmly asked the last nine to follow him.

The White Gates Part I: The Arsenal

     Once inside the gate they were led into a building that appeared as if it served as a storage building. It looked less equipped than it was. It led into an underground room three times the size as the building disguising it. Each wall of this room seemed to have some sort of shield covering it. The Assistant pulled a small remote from his shirt pocket, pressed a sequence of buttons, and the walls turned completely around like a secret door disguised as a bookcase, but on the shelves on the other side, there were no books. Here lies weapons accompanied with with nine people that will die with them by their sides. 

erotiC: Part 1

The doorknob turned from the inside. My heart was pumping like never before. I knew what was going to happen; yet I had no clue. She gave me the run-down of do’s and don’ts . But i’m still nervous. How can her husband be okay with this? That’s the last thing I want to worry about. Angry husbands are no joke!

The door opened. There she stood, in an outfit I could only describe as marvelous; but nothing I’d ever pictured her in. As for her husband, he was there? Why?? I don’t remember Lydia mentioning his presence in our last conversation. She’s very detail oriented. How could she have left that out? He sat in a chair. Bound, gagged, blindfolded, and that’s just from what I could see at first glance. 

“Hey Arch.” I said nonchalantly as if he were greeting me inside like anyone else from their quiet neighborhood for a Sunday dinner. What the hell is wrong with me? He’s so gonna kill me. He mumbled a sentence I didn’t understand. It didn’t seem hostile, so that’s good, right? I turned my attention to Lydia. “You said he was okay with this and agreed. You didn’t say he’d be here!”

“Hey, I told him you’d be here soon, but he managed to get himself tied to a chair.” She claimed. “So he’s going to watch the whole time?”

“Not exactly. Are you blindfolded, too? Come in, come in! I have neighbors for fuck sakes!” A concern I believed to be fake. Arch kept squirming in his chair. Not in a way that suggested he wanted free, but more like he had an itch. An itch that being restrained and who knows what else would sooth. I suppose I’m safe, as he does not seem very mobile. “You have a lovely home.” Another mumble from Arch exited his vocal chords. “SHUT UP.” Lydia demanded of him. My eyes must’ve widened. “Not you. You’re allowed to speak. You’re allowed to move. You’re allowed. You. But HIM.” She marched where he sat seemingly helplessly and painted her handprint across his face “HE is only to do as instructed. There’s a reason why he’s tied. Any guess as to why?” 

I shook my head no. The speed of my heart now normal “But enlighten me.” She stepped back towards me. I never noticed them before, but there was a hint of sadism in her steps. And it satisfied her in a way that I now hoped I would. A way that I knew poor Arch didn’t. Or did he? Was his blessing in Her activities more than enough to please Her? Would She have done them without his blessing? Personally, I believe so. But I never questioned it. I’m not here to question. She whispered a whisper in my ear. Although I’m unfamiliar with her terminology, I have enough context clues here to draw my own conclusion. “Do you want to try?”

“Try what?”

“Doing what I did, silly.”

“Slapping him?

“Scared? He won’t bite. Will you, Arch?” He shook no. I guess he’s okay with this? So I did it. I slapped Arch. Lydia approached me from behind. “See, that was fun, wasn’t it?” She walked behind him and unfastened the gag that kept him limited to gibberish. “And what do we say to our kind guests, hmm?” 

Arch spoke. He thanked me. Thanked me for slapping him! I’m now more interested than cautious. What else is going to happen here today? “Aw, see! He likes being toyed with!” Her arms entangled me while she stood behind me. I liked this. I liked this more than I would imagine. And by the looks of it, so did arch. I looked down at his dick. He was hard, but trapped. Why trapped? Lydia handed me a key. Hold onto this for me will ya? He begged me to give it to you. I thought it was an excellent idea.” I’m still familiarizing myself with sex toys and such, but I knew to what She was referring. I couldn’t tell at first. He’s caged in a clear device. I pocketed the key.

Lydia then began yanking my clothes off, attempting to rip away multiple articles of clothing at a time. Part of me wanted to help her, but she seemed to be managing fine. “You’re going to keep him blindfolded the entire time?” 

“Well, that depends.”



Yelling has never been something I enjoyed. It makes me timid like a child. Despite all that, I found it as hot as a million suns when She did it. It must be something Arch enjoys. I can see why. By then my pants were at my ankles and her tongue was investigating mine, and Arch couldn’t see a thing. “Let him watch.” I whispered. She walked over to him, stood for a brief five seconds, as if She wanted him to feel Her presence. She’s a sadist at Her finest. Waiting for Her prey to sense its own demise. Why is she so good at this? Arch looked up, she giggled deviously, slapped him, then pinched his thigh to get his attention I assume. Her laser beam eyes must’ve burned a hole through his blindfold. 

I’m not entirely sure what she whispered to him as she leaned near his ear, but it definitely appeared to have made his cage tighter. “I might allow him to participate. What do you think?” “I think that’s a great idea. Has he ever been with another man before?”

“Obviously.” I asked that in a way that suggested I had, but I never have. Although, I’m open to doing so. Arch isn’t a bad looking man, so I’m still somewhat confused about their dynamic. The most simple answer that comes to mind is the possibility of the fact that he simply enjoys this. While she is strict, nothing I’ve seen during my few minutes here has felt the slightest bit forced. He’s enjoying it as much as She is, and as much as I am. I’m now pantsless in Her presence. I’m as erect as I’ve ever been. Discovering something new that “does it” for someone, is a drug that’s easy to get addicted to, but hard to obtain. It takes a very sophisticated, creative mind to keep things interesting and fresh. And this situation did just that. 

She inspected me. She circled around seeing all the angles; for content purposes I suppose. She paid extra close attention to my member, bobbing her head slowly side to side. “That’ll do. Yes, that’ll do.” Not quite the enthusiasm I had imagined, but if she wanted me in a cage, I’d be in it already. She grabbed it by the head in a possessive manner and marched with me over to Arch.

“Observe. Slave, do you know why he isn’t chastised like you?”

Arch replied with: “Uhm, he’s, he’s bigger?”

“No you imbecile! Size isn’t a factor when it comes to being caged. They make sizes for all!” She said that part while looking fiercely at me; as if she were reminding me to behave, as she has no issue tying me up, too. “He’s uncaged because I want him to be. Someone has to attempt to bring me pleasure. Although he is bigger, it’s not entirely the length that keeps him free, for now. It’s the girth, the shape, and the way the boys below the member look. Nice and swoll. Smooth to the touch. It’s more attractive to me than yours. So, that is why, for now, he remains uncaged.” But I know she did not just lead me to him by the head to give him that explanation. No, she wants an act of sorts. Something specific. The act that will take my same-sex virginity, and I want it. She can sense this, I know.

erotiC: pArt 2

And sensed it She did. Does Lydia want him to have some kind of twisted hatch? What a sadist She is and what a prey I’ll be. I’ll play Your game, Lydia. Let’s play. After Arch was made to perform various oral acts, (I was unaware there were so many!) Arch was laid across their bed; head placed in the middle; arms spread like a starfish; while his legs were dangling over the edge, almost touching the floor, as he was a rather short man. I soon found out why he was placed, no, TIED, in that awkward position on the bed. The top half was meant for me. I was propped against the headboard while the bottom half of my torso, dick included (obviously) nuzzled near Arch’s forehead. Lydia’s orders. As for Her place, Her place was wherever She desired.

She stood over us before climbing on Arch like a rabid jackal: “Quite the ‘pickle’ you’ve got yourself in huh, slave? Whatever shall you do about it?” Oh, She’s good.

“My duty is to do as Temptress wishes.” Oh my, they have titles. Of course they have titles! If Lydia is Temptress, Arch is slave, then what in the kinky fuck does that make me? Something not laughable or basic. I beg. 

“Good bitch!” Lydia says to him, as if he were a dog. I suppose with his head below my crotch, that would be appropriate. She grabbed my dick in that inspection manner she perfected, then with the other free hand, scooped my balls and rested them on Arch’s forehead. Where from Hell did this woman come from? I wanna visit. She’s laughing. We both are simply for Her amusement. Her pleasure is created by Arch and I amusing Her. And I’m cool with it. I’m now positive She doesn’t give a DAMN if either of us are particularly enjoying ourselves, as long as limits are honored: She. Does. Not. Care. 

Although I can’t speak for Arch, I’m very fond of what is taking place here. Something about being saddled by a lust fueled dominatrix, while using another man’s forehead as a throne for my testicles is peculiarly satisfying, and I am HARD. I could drill into fucking dry-wall with this thing. If I die right here in their bed, whoever puts me into my body-bag will have it easy because they’ll have a handle to pick me up with. I don’t wanna die here though. There’s too many positions Lydia has screamed about, literally screamed about, doing before I’m even allowed to sleep tonight, so dying is out of the question.  

Another aspect of our session: She is making Arch sleep on the floor, naked, only allowed to use my clothes as a pillow. I’ll be in bed with Lydia. I’m not sure if that excites, or scares me, or both. Definitely both. We’ve yet to tell Arch, or so I’ve been told. That should be fun. Does he really have no breaking point? Maybe that’s my purpose: to find Arch’s breaking point.  

While in the position on the bed, we do a number of things. I think I was face-sitting Arch at one point. Lydia has instructed me to call him “slave”, which I do. Part of me doesn’t want to. I don’t view him as such. I’ve done nothing to earn his loyalty, unless they’re involved in some sort of secret society where it is considered an act of humbleness for a man to penetrate another man’s wife while the husband in the situation is trapped underneath, having to view the entire event. I’m not sure from above, but I’d bet he might be closing his eyes and picturing a water ride due to the wetness misting everywhere, because it is wet. Thunderstorm in July wet. Or maybe his eyes are wide open. Perhaps he likes this more than I’ll ever understand. I wonder what the view is like from down there. I imagine it to be as such: him being inches away from watching  my inches glide gracefully in and out of Lydia, the occasional wetness dripping down to hydrate his forehead.

  I could get used to this. It’s been hours of nearly non-stop activities, and Arch, I mean slave, acts more like a servant. Providing light snacks and the occasional bottle of water; some of which he is ordered to consume himself. Lydia has come up with lots of ways for slave to snack. I love Her mind. 

“Slave, do you have something for him?”

“Yes, Temptress. I do.”

“Very good. Fork it over.” She leaned in slave’s ear for this last part, but I could still read Her whisper: “And he might fuck you.”

“What does he have for me?” He then proceeded to reach inside their nightstand and grabbed a wad of cash. There must’ve been thousands there! “What’s this for? I don’t remember this being brought up. Believe me, I would’ve remembered that.” “Slave, tell him what it’s for.”

“It’s a small token of appreciation. I was instructed to pay you. It’s something new I asked” She lightly kicked him, reminding him: “begged Temptress to try. I’m sure you’ll put it to good use.”

“I will, slave. Thank you.”

“No, thank You.”

“That’s enough chit chat for now. Slave, you’re sleeping on the floor tonight. Cuddle with his clothes.” She looked at me with her laser-beam eyes “He won’t need them. And tomorrow, we’ll begin with the machine. 

erotiC: paRt 3

I slept. Not without doing every damn thing Lydia wanted; but I slept. I was pleased to do anything I was instructed. Uh oh. Is this Her molding me as She did slave? I won’t let that thought keep me tossing, turning, and erect tonight. I need a decent night’s sleep after all the exercise.

I dreamt. I’ve always dreamt vividly. Were the events of earlier a dream? In a sense. A dream I did not know I had came true today. In my unconsciousness, I dreamt I was walking through a bright white hall. It seemed endless at the time. Until a door with no knob opened up, and there She stood. Looking lethal as ever, there She stood. In a tight red dress slit up the side, her shoulder length hair curled, and lipstick with known, yet unexpected ability. 

She held out her hand, but I was still too far to reach. I fast walked, then jogged, then ran as if I were trying to rescue her from a predator from behind. “You can come.” she whispered. I tried going faster, but I couldn’t reach. I ran fast, then faster, then as fast as I’ve ever ran. I jumped for her hand that was still too far for reaching. Further I must go. How is it possible I hear her whisper “You can come.” from such a far distance. The white room begins to shake; helping me reach Her. “You can come. You can come. Can come.” I’m using every muscle in my to run to Her and take the hand She offers to me. The whiteness of the room turns to yellow.


I wake. “What the? Fuck am I blind?” I’m being saddled by Lydia. “No, silly.”

She rips a blindfold from my face; the sun hits her from behind, and there’s a vibrator tied to my dick and I’m throbbing. 


Oh, that come. I exploded. She laughs a laugh. A satisfied laugh, I hope.

“STAY still.” She firmly instructed. 

“Slave! Come hither” He came, but not like me.

“We have quite the mess here, slave. Whatever are we going to do?” Oh my. After ejaculation tends to be the moment when most men go soft, but not me, not right now anyways. He wants to hang around and see the encore. 

“Lucky for you, slave, I’ve an idea. Crawl up here.” I’m still tied to a now cum covered vibrartor, which she’a still gripping fearlessly as if it were a ticking time bomb, and after spending a night with her, it might very well be as such. He crawled up and she instructed.

“I don’t want all this to go to waste.” She is now holding me in one hand, and his chin in the other.

“That would be such a shame.” She moves Her grip from his chin to the back of his head and brings his head to mine, but not the one on my shoulders.


Clean indeed. He has without a doubt done this before. Fuck, he’s good.

“Relax your body now. You spilled out so much! Rest. Slave will take care of all that sticky mess.”

I laid my head back down. Slave cleaning, turned into slave sucking. It wasn’t long before I was fully erect again and my member received the encore he had hoped for. There was no need for cleanup this time, because I shot straight into him. Fuck, I need a nap. And water. 

“Mind telling him to get me a bottle of water, please?”

“Are your lips broken?” Feisty this one. I like.

“Slave, mind getting me a bottle of water?”

He nods and goes on his way. 

“Stop being such a bitch and boss him around! He’s not fragile; he can take it.”

“Sorry. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And STOP apologizing. There is no need to. You’re still learning.” Her fingertips dance across my nipples stiffening them.

“And I still have a lot of teaching to do.” 

Slave returned with my water that I gulped down almost immediately. 

“Kneel, slave!” She points Her feet towards him and he begins massaging.

“I have a lot of things planned for us today. First, wake you up with an earthquake of an orgasm. Check! Second, replenish and get massaged. Check! Third, you and I are going to spend the day out and about with slave’s credit card, the last thing on today’s agenda that comes to mind that is, involves the use of the machine. The machine is new to slave we’ve been practicing, haven’t we, slave? I know you’re excited. As for youuu, your true training will begin!

 erotiC: parT4

Quiet at last. She’s left with him and has left me to be in peace. That may sound harsh, I know, but I do love my wife, and I enjoy our endeavors, but I crave my space, my own time. The limitless credit card tends to keep her busy and happy long enough for me to do my business and chores alone. Alone, for she should not know this side of what I am.

Being the neat freak I am, I always insist on loading and unloading the dishwasher, vacuuming, followed by mopping our dark hardwood floor. I will also clean the tables, counters, and straighten up the pillows on the sofa. Lydia does not seem to realize that I have been doing these things my entire life. Not because I was instructed, or threatened to do so, but because it calms me. If it makes her happy to think I do these things because I fear her, I see no harm in not correcting her. I dress for my outing. I dress in bland clothing. I must do this to blend in. Under my jacket I’ve holstered my Beretta. I kill the connectivity to the cameras to the doors. She’ll never notice, as for these things, she never does. Then out the door I go. Due to my tracking skills, I know just where to find him. 

“M, right?” I ask knowingly.

“Do I know you?”

Pop, pop, pop.

I’ve still plenty of time. I gave subtle suggestions to activities that should keep the two of them busy on my dime while I earn a few quarters. I slide a few quarters into a payphone.

“He’s done.”

“Good. You’ll get the newspaper soon.”

erotiC Part 5

I’ve never been one to walk along the busy sidewalks before, but she wishes to walk, so we walk. It’s dreary and drizzling here, and I can feel the wind from the multiple emergency service vehicles racing beside us. “What do you think happened?” She asked, concerned. 

“I’m not sure. There were a bunch of them though. Must not be pretty wherever they’re headed.” “But what do you think happened?” “Again, I’m not sure.”

“You’ve no imagination either. You know how I get anyone to do anything I please?” Red lips with a side of latex manipulation would be my guess. “Not a clue.” “Imagination, you bozo! It’s not hard.” She says while looking up at me with a sarcastic demeanor and glossy puppy-dog eyes and a hand fondling my front. “Imagination can be found in even the simplest of things.”

We’re walking through a plethora of people, people, people, and a person. I only see the person to my right. She’s taken my hand now and I can feel her imagination placing its thoughts and desires in mine. My imagination is silent, but existent. Sometimes I hide it, because as one may discover, I am a vulnerable being. I’m as vulnerable as Lydia is smart, making Her that much more deadly. But I want Her. I want Her to want me as I do Her. Damnit Cheap Trick, get outta my head! It’s too occupied for you tonight. Back to what I was thinking: Lydia is as deadly as She is lovely. All this talk of Her caused Arch, or slave, to slip my mind. He’s very quiet. What is his imagination like? What is he like? What is he? What is? What?

I like this one. He wishes to learn, so learn he shall. But that imagination of his, it’s there. Whether he knows it or not, it’s there. No matter how repressed it may be, I want to see it. It may take time, but I’ll get in. Although I know he’ll let me in, I still have to find not only the key, but the lock that it fits inside. We are all like a complex mansion; each of us different from everyone else. But this mansion, oh this mansion, is as complex as Sarah Winchester’s mansion. I have to find the right door to the right room. What has he done? I’m in charge, yet I’m quietly begging to be let inside. Ugh, what would my Arch think of me? I know he’s always thinking of me; as he does his chores and anything else I instruct. Such a good slave he is. 

“What do you think of the world?” I ask him, eagerly. 

“Which aspect of the world? Humans? Aliens? Earth? The ocean? I’m always in thought of the ocean. We’ve only explored a drop of it!

“Hahaha! What do you think about humans?” I asked.

“Humans. Well, we’re complex, intelligent, yet stupid creatures. We complicate things more than necessary, but we discover some cool shit along the way. Like the fact that handcuffs and tasers are a complete nightmare when held by the wrong people, but stick some pink fuzz on those cuffs, and contain the electric from the taser inside one of those little red wand-like things that you have, and you’ve just turned a nightmare into someones Saturday night sex-fest.”

“Speaking of which, I need new toys! There is a shop around the corner from here. How exciting would it be for my new toy to buy me some new toys, hmm?”

“I like that idea.” He replied, as we walked inside the adult toy store.

ErotiC: Part 6

That’s enough action for one day. I should still make it back home before them. Those SUV’s behind me don’t look friendly; and they’re approaching fast.

“He dies TODAY! I’m tired of this fucking flea-bag eliminating my guys! You twits were supposed to have been keeping eyes on him for weeks! Why didn’t you spot him before he killed Herc?” 

“We thought he left with his wife! We watched them leave together! He never gets his hands dirty around her.”

“Clearly fucking not,” Gem exclaimed as the shots began to exchange between the vehicles.

How the fuck did they find me? They should be hopelessly looking elsewhere. I hate shooting and driving. Too illegal, even for me. 

Aim for the tires.


Off of me they’ll be. Regular tires. Amateurs. 

That’ll stop them, for now. I can’t kill them all at once. Shit, I can’t even kill them all this week. I wish I could. This is why any illegal doings should be done with as few people as possible. That prick, Gim, knew the rules. You fuck around and get left behind because you’re greedy, guess what: your ass gets left behind! That’s why I did heists with people I only met the day of and had everything organized by a highly trusted 3rd party. I only know of Gem because he’s the loud type that wants to be in charge. Fucking asshole! how he found me, I’ll never know. 

I get home, straighten up a little more to work up a few beads of sweat before Lydia and Her new friend return. I see from the most recent purchases. She bought more clothes ($175.72), they had lunch ($34.20) , and a charge at the adult store ($63.50). I could use a little relaxation. It’s then when I get a text from Lydia:

Cleaning should be DONE. Prep the machine and be knelt inside by the door. Not as much as a ball of fuzz should be on your skin. Understood?

I reply: Yes, Temptress.

This should be fun. We haven’t used the machine in a while; and I’m sure She (I) purchased some new things that will be used today. I rush to prepare the machine, although it doesn’t take me too long, I prefer being prepared. I put it in the space She likes, and I strip and wait knelt by the door. Some hardcore assassin I am. If only the others knew. 

She walks in.

 I had a nice day with Lydia, but, honestly, I’d much rather nap than be a part of another one of Her multi-hour long sexual delicacies. How long has he been kneeling by the door like that? And what is? Who is? Uh oh. That’s the? Not what I imagined at all! The machine! It’s an actual fucking machine! Fuck me, a fucking machine! An actual fucking fucking MACHINE! She begins speaking to slave:

“I purchased everything today with your credit card of course, but I still expect a reimbursement, because that’s what good boys do, isn’t it? I hope I’m making myself crystal clear.”

“Yes, Temptress,” he replied. 

“Good boy! Now give us kisses!” Kisses? I was surprised; he kissed our shoes. Both pairs, four shoes. They’ve been on the streets of New York all day long and She has him kissing them. Maybe I should run while I have the chance. Or should I? As long as I stay on top, I should be okay. But will I?

“Okie dokie, male, and super duper beta male. I see the machines all set up! Good job,” She says. 

“Which of you would like to go first?” First? I have to be penetrated by that thing? Fuck me, a fucking fucking machine! How’d I get entangled in this web? In Her web? How do I get out? Where’s the water to wash this spider out? Will I be able to push out? Will I want to? Are machines more intense than humans? Slave and I exchange glances. I don’t want to go first. I want to see how it truly operates before I let it have me. Lydia speaks: “Pick! NOW,” She exclaims. Slave answers: “I’d like to go first temptress.”

“Very well then. Put a condom on the dildo, get lubed up, and assume the position! As for you, assume a similar position, directly in front of his face.” I do as I’m told. This feels so dirty, but not wrong. I’m unsure if slave was truly enjoying himself, but I had a blast, in more ways than one. Maybe it’s best I stay. Being rimmed while rimming is quite the treat! The machine still intimidates me. These vibrating rings we got at the adult store seem fun. I’ve never used one before.  “Hahah! Enjoying yourself in between things?” I mumble a brief “Mmmhmm.” I don’t stop, as I wasn’t instructed to. Is my training complete? Or has it even begun? I really, really wish to stay now. It’s then when She instructs us to switch. Slave is made to remove his condom, and properly clean the dildo. Then, I’m instructed to roll on a fresh rubber. I’m now the kaboose of this train. 

“First time with a machine?”

I nod. 

“You will address me as Temptress. Exactly how My slave does.” 

My slave. Slave, My.

“Yes, Temptress.”

She gives me the smirk, but doesn’t say it. Fuck, I need to hear it. How can I get Her to say it? The machine starts. It’s almost degrading when I think about it. It has no pulse, no mercy for me, yet I’m being penetrated by it and it can take me at whatever speed She wishes it to. Slow at first, like a human. she only allows the tip to glide inside me. After She knows I’m comfortable with a consistent speed, and it’s a little deeper inside, she smirks. Fuck, She knows how to tease. To capture. To claim. She makes the hair on my head Her’s when She pulls it towards the ass of Her other slave, as I am now one, too. Not my ideal activity, but for Her, nearly nothing is out of the question. Besides, it’s only fair, right?

After the sex settles, we all hydrate, I get smirked at AGAIN! It only makes me want to hear it more! That’s the moment I realize this is the freedom that I wanted, but was enslaved by life to search for. 

I’ve finally found it. 

I’m free at last. 

This is all I desire. 

I’ve never known such a desire prior to this. Nor will I ever again. She has never been nor will be wrong. It’s no secret that this special woman is my favorite sin, and She is a sadistic angel, who looks after Her loyal subjects. Before I knew it I was in love with the mind I failed to understand. A rarity for me, not to understand someone. One That knows, now must learn to learn. And I wish to learn.

ErotiC: Part 7 – 5 Years Earlier

I had to take it slow after the incident. Keep my head down, and stay quiet. I played it safe and just moved far enough away; so far away no one has heard of me. I know no one and have no connections. It’s better that way for now, but it’s not ideal. I’ll adjust, as I always do. I’m hoping to have left death a few doors away. When it comes for me, so be it. But leave ones I was once close to alone. They don’t deserve to pay for my actions that they had no knowledge of. Damn these lifestyles, both of them. But damn me the most for embracing them too intensely. 

I dislike being new. I dislike swimming in an unfamiliar pond. But I like that you are seemingly the leader of this sea, for the other swimmers here are simply minnows, while you are a shark. You don’t need, nor want to kill us to feed. No, you feed from toying with us, like a cat with a mouse. Still learning the cliques, I’ll play. No need to play big, bad, and stupid indestructable new guy. I’ve always hated those douchebags. I enjoy a fair game of tug-of-war. Now that I understand the cliques after my first day, I’ll play.  

“You the new guy?”

“Yes,” I reply, with a smile. A smile, not a smirk. Friendly, not creepy. She stands at the edge of my desk as I sit. She smirks at my reply. Interesting. Call me Castiel, but was that a flirtation? I do not understand humans, especially like the next one to approach. 

“Fresh meat! How are ya? Being picked on by The Don already,” he asks. Whomever he may be. I don’t really care. Why must co-workers feel the need to interact with one another when it’s not truly necessary? I’m here for paper, not people. “Fuck off, Kyle!” Of course his name is fucking Kyle. Fucking Kyle needs to fuck off. I don’t mind if you stay. I sense this is your palace. Why? I do not know. But I will find out when I’m meant to. Fucking Kyle isn’t entirely wrong referring to you as an authority figure. He understands your power on some level, but refuses to acknowledge it, because, after all, that’s not what a “man” does. I’d hate myself if I lived in a world as small as his. What fun can that actually be? C’mon, fucking Kyle. Live a little. You’re poisoning the world with all that toxic masculinity. So fuck off, fucking Kyle! I want to hear more of what she has to say. He must’ve ruined your social appetite. You walked away.

I have eyes like I have ears, and I see. I hear a jingle as you walk. I see a small keychain with a bedazzled masquerade mask. Intriguing. I haven’t seen one of those in a while. Not since him. He left me; he left this world, but you? You’ve now found me. Perhaps you’ve found me again. Could we have known one another in a past life? So far I don’t see why not; seeing how you had no hesitation when speaking to me, a complete stranger, like someone you’ve known before. You jingle away. You jingle all the way.

My phone rings. Fuck, I just got this burner. No one could have traced it, could they?

“Don’t worry about how I obtained your new number. Just now that we’re coming for you. You don’t leave Gem FUCKING Spark to rot after a job gone bad! FUCK YOU!”

“You got left behind because you got us made. You know the rules, shit spark.”


“I’ll see you soon, sparky.” Fuck. How does he not know how to play cool around 12, but gets a number to my new burner? I can’t leave NY this fast. I’ve nowhere to go and I fucking hate hotels; sleeping in my car makes me paranoid, and apartments are full. Fuck. I have to ride shit out here for a while. I need to call Gunner. My gun arms guy, obviously. 

“Would you like a two for four combo meal this evening?”

“It’s me.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Would you like to place an order?”

“Damn it, Gunner, quit fucking around! I need some hardware.”

“Arch? You’re alive?! I wasn’t sure after what I’d heard. Where are you?”

“The Big Apple. Can you meet with your equipment? I’m in need. I had to ditch all my shit. They think I’m dead. Well, all of them except Gem. After that explosion, they probably think he’s dead too. We’re both dead men walking.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I can meet. Send your coordinates. I’ve been itching for a road trip.”

I hate using them, but damn, guns are pretty. They’re loud, messy, and the pigs squeal after they hear them. But the feeling I get when I place my barrel between the eyes of another enemy is astonishing. Then bam. Lights out for the bad guy. The other bad guy. I feel safer and more accomplished when I take away the breath of another enemy who tries to stop my breathing. I’ll kill them all in due time, but I never do have enough time. Slowly but surely.

I acquire my chrome and head home for the day. I’ve never understood 9-5ers. Cubicles are fucking boring and there’s no action, especially if you’re fucking-Kyle. He’s definitely the office douchebag and given a good reason, I will kill him. But tonight isn’t his night. No, tonight is for one of Gem’s pricks who I believe to be stalking me. He found my phone, so I’ve no doubt he can find my home. Now that he’s found my home, my bullet can make a home inside his brain. I can do him quickly, quietly, and cleanly. Damn, I wish I had a contact here that could dismember him for me. I don’t like getting my hands too dirty.

There he goes for his semi-nightly stroll around my block. Gem, it’s time for your minion to meet my rock. 


Unconsciously, I woke him up.

“How many of you are working for that scumbag?”

“Eat shit, bitch.”


“Don’t fucking play games with me. I will rip your fingernails out by the centimeter and dig your eyes out with them.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll talk!”

“You sure? I really wanted to inflict pain. I still might. Fucking speak!”

“There are four of us left. But he’s working on getting more guys. After the heist, Gem went batshit! Fucking kill me already!”

I stab once into each thigh, then into the heart, or lack thereof. Then I dispose of this shit-bag. I need a fucking drink.

erotiC: pArt 8

I think tonight is a night I finally dream. I wish I did so more often, but my lifestyle isn’t very accepting of sleep or dreams. In fact, neither is my brain. It always gives me nightmares; some lucid, some horrifying, and some hopeless. When I sleep, I reflect upon easier times. Times before I became what I’ve become. Believe it or not, I wasn’t always Satan’s little helper. I did not always have a quench for blood, violence, and death. Shit, becoming Lydia’s slave is the most normal thing to have happened to me in a long ass time. I wish I could enjoy Her Sins a little longer, for I fear my time with Her may be limited.

“There You are, my Temptation.” I think to myself

“Shh. Be silent. Be still,” she responds telepathically.

She’s straddled on top of me and because Her brain knows my body, my weaknesses, my brain knows not what is real. But I will enjoy it for as long as it may last. She whispers me to be silent as she constricts my neck. I never know if this is how I will end but if it’s my will to go from the pressure of Her hand, I’ll drift away happily. I squeeze out a smile, as She squeezes my neck, giving her the sign to be harder, not too gentle, I tell Her with my look. 

She takes Her hand away because She is in charge, and reminds me that a smile doesn’t command Her to go harder. What is she doing now? She has slithered to my waist, and what’s that? A key? Lucky me. I’m being let out. I’m flaccid, my shaft feels the breeze of the ceiling fan that it did not know from inside the cage. She slaps it.

Wake up.”

I stiffen. I am unable to speak, but I know now that this is a dream. Fine by me. 

She makes Her way back on top of me and does what She used to before introducing me to my role as Her caged cuckold. My eyes shut, I think my lip quivers, and the world around me shakes like a 6.9 quake. Although my eyes are closed, I can still see, and I begin to hear bits from various songs.

Flying high, am I going to die?

I see the world in red, but people made of dark figures with illuminating eyes. Her eyes being the only ones that see me. She sees me, yet stays.

She tied you to a kitchen chair. She broke your throne, and She cut your hair. 

She’s as clueless as she is fearless when it comes to knowing me. But she stays. I’d wanted to leave before, however I can run no longer. 

She held me spellbound in the night, dancing shadows and firelight. 

This is the most red of rooms. Are the walls bloodstained? She blindfolds me in this dream and starts restricting my airway once more. I can feel my heart pulse through me and into Her. I’m vibrating from Her powerful currents; she’s riding me to no end like before, and before, there was no end. I would be choked until climax and straddled until She was done with me. I miss those days, but now I’m locked. Maybe it’s for the best to be kept and caged. She cages my inner demon by caging my outer weakness. Her way, Her way is best. She slows the war waging inside of me without knowing by simply assigning me chores and such. And with my fucking OCD, I must complete them. Plus, the little shock collar she has around my balls isn’t as fun as those fucking conventions and dungeons made it seem. I think I’m starting to wake. 


The fuck?


I groan. 

She comes in close and takes a bite out of my ear. Why is it always the ear? 

Time to play.

Didn’t you get enough from our dream? I only thought that. I know better than to speak an unfiltered thought. She digs Her dagger-like nails into my scrotum, possibly drawing blood, if so, I don’t care. Knowing She is causing the pain Herself, as opposed to a device or toy, is a fucking pleasure and it’ll make me embarrassingly hard each and every time.

What game might she have in mind this morning? She commands me to put on the dog mask, as She’s always loved a good pet. And what might that be She’s reaching for? A little vibrator? Oh, I know this game. She taught me this game. A race that I don’t want to win. She presses it against Her sweet spot while instructing me to do the same. But my result is never as sweet, nor should it be. I’m happy to be allowed. Allowed to breathe, see, and feel the stimulation uncaged. A rare pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless. 

She finishes; I’m denied no fair, but I’m satisfied. Satisfied by denial. This tells me She wants to keep toying with me. What’s a dead mouse to a Killer Cat? Would she kill me? Could she? I’m without a doubt. With my ‘profession’, I’d be lucky to go out by Her hand. Take my breath from me and into the land where no one breathes, and see that I won’t struggle when You take it away from me. Please, take me into peace. I was not made to survive in this world for long, and you obviously do not need my protection. I pity anyone who attempts to try you. I remember the time soon after we met and began seeing each other, some asshole made eyes at you and called, you flashed your Halloween-like fangs and snarled. Poor bastard thought he was gonna die that night. He was right. I ended him during our beginning. He deserved to go, and I’d do it a hundred times over! No telling how many others he would bring displeasure to intentionally had I not showed the monster, my monster that inhabits me. My monster isn’t as destructive as he once was. He was the menace and I am forever the maintenance. Quickly, quietly, and with the cover of night.

erotiC: paRt 9 

Candles have always enticed me. The small flame sends a scent throughout the entire room; a hot liquid that will dry almost immediately after sticking my finger in it. I love the effects of fire. The feel, the light, the fright that makes my skin shiver seconds before the wax drips onto my chest, making You laugh. You find my squirm satisfactory. You’re an evil one, Mrs. Heathen, but loving You for it I shall do. Is it wrong of me to wish that it was only us? No slave, or his pesky nose getting in our business while we’re conducting the vilest of activities ever known to the world of kink. He should go. Go for good. Would you do that for us? For me? For You?

“Whatcha lookin’ at,” you ask. My eyes shift from your wax staff with a wick on top. 

“What’s that for?”

“Oh that. That is a special candle that has wax specifically meant for dripping on one’s skin.” The way You say skin must’ve made my jaw drop. “Wanna try?” 

“Yes please,” I said please. She must say what I want Her to say now. This is not fair. Or is it a part of Her game? She doesn’t want to say it yet. She wants me to earn it, and is making it hard to get. I’ll play Your Game, Temptress. 

“There is also something else I wanted to ask You about.” 

“You may.” You really know how to make me clench. “I was wondering since You know, the slave is always present if we could try something alone?”

“Alone?” You step closer to me. What have I done? Why are You approaching me as such? “You want me… alone? No cuck to toy with? Only Me?” “Would that be okay? If not I totally-”

“I think you should leave for now. A break would be healthy.” 

“I’m sorry I meant no offense to him it’s just- he’s always-”


I gathered my things and left. 

I haven’t been in my own house in at least a week. It’s been five weeks since I’ve been in Yours. I couldn’t go home immediately without having thoughts of placing my head inside the oven. Whatever have You done to little ‘ole me? I journeyed from hotel to motel, and even passed a Holiday Inn, hoping You would come cracking Your whip and ordering me to bend over to take your Xenomorph dildo. Anywho, when I finally stumbled back onto my doorstep, I remembered which key glided into the lock ever so gracefully, allowing my smooth entrance. Fuck, what has become of this mind of mine? Is it mine anymore? Was it ever? I entered, looked around, accounted for my furniture, and declared everything in order. I cleaned my small house although it was just as I left it. 

I’m the mess today, not my house. Now She may never say those two words. Keeping myself distracted from Her silence is as easy as herding a cat. What did I do before Her? I especially had no plans for after her. It was never supposed to end. We were never supposed to end. I know it sounds soon to say, but fuck, the feelings exist. 

I didn’t mind Arch at first, but then he became, or I suppose always was: slave, cuck, or whatever else we wanted him to be. I’m sorry, Temptress, but he gives me bad vibes. Something isn’t right and my gut says to get You away from him. Being in the position he’s in I can imagine how he might have some rage built up. My hope is that You never see it. My wish is to prevent it. But that’s hard to do when I can’t see You. I’ve not even heard from You. This is more painful than having Your heel pressed into my back. I miss Your devious ways. Although You’re a sexual deviant like myself, you’re human. Humans do things they often regret. I can only hope that You, banishing me back to my oblivion, is a regret. Regrets are normal, Temptress. Not all of them are doomed to be irreversible. We can learn from this. I can learn from this. I yearn for Your lessons. 


I’ve never done a session without Arch being present. I’m not sure I want to. Part of My kink is to see him squirm and squeal when I’m with another, and how shall that be fulfilled if he’s absent? When a partner asks for him to be somewhere else, I see that as a sign of bad intention. Am I stupid for thinking that I don’t believe Him to be malicious? Maybe it’s time to try something fresh. I’ll think about it with the time I’ve decided we’re staying apart. A month, two tops. 

It’s late one night, the curtains are closed, and my pants are off for the night. Never could sleep wearing such restrictions. I give a *snap* to my husband; a cuck call if you will. When I snap, he knows how to respond. 

“Yes, Temptress?”

“Present yourself to me,” I commanded him. I already make him sleep naked, so it’s quite simple. He kneels, spreads his legs, and shows me that his cage is still there. I know it would never leave without the twist of my key, he knows the same, but I find satisfaction from this commandment. It makes me chuckle. “Up,” I commanded. He rises; except the one place he wishes could do so. “You have permission to speak freely when I ask what I’m about to ask. I want honesty.”

“Yes, Temptress.”

“Imagine me, with Him, but without you. How does that make you feel? I will not make that choice without your consent. I want to know your thoughts,” the one aspect of my dear cuck I fear I’ve never truly known, “your feelings, and I’m giving you permission to speak freely. I’m asking as your Wife tonight. I’m not commanding as your Temptress.” I can tell this conversation blindsided him.

“ I think- I think that could work, but how could it work? Part of Your pleasure is seeing me denied and made to watch, right?”

And like that, My smile has been cracked. “That’s right, my pet. But I may know a way around that. It’s a simple solution really.” 

“Oh yeah? What might it be?”

“A live stream. You can set a camera up at the foot of our bed: your normal view; and see me get devoured right before your eyes, but beyond your reach.” I could see his cage twitching. 

“I’ll go camera shopping tomorrow,” he offered. “Good boy. How long has-”

We all know glass can make a mess quickly, but we never expect it to.


Glass breaking, tires screeching, FUCK! Gem, it has to be. Or one of his goons. At the sound of my Wife’s scream, I instantaneously reach for the .45 I keep holstered under my nightstand, but of fucking course I don’t have time, or even the urge, to grab a damn robe at minimum. So what does this fuckwad get to see? An ass-naked, caged Arch shooting at his minion who is running back to the vehicle. This is why I picked this side of the house to make our bedroom: no one sees the window without trying. 

I hit him twice, once in each leg. I rarely miss. I wanted him alive for now. Bitch better believe I got some questions. 


“Your tailor.”

I pistol-whip him. He’s collapsed on the ground, wounded, he’s not going anywhere. I REALLY wish I had my knife right now. Fuck, Lydia. I hope she stays put. 


“Are you Naked? The hell is on your dick? Is that one of those? Oh, you’ve got to be bullshitting me! Arch, the assassin is a shrimp-dick?” Well, I have to kill him now. I put one in his now “two-eyed ‘wonder’”

“You have 3 seconds…”

“HAHAHA!” Where the hell did Gem get these guys? Arkham fucking Asylum? I put a round in each eye. Shit. 

I ran to Her. It was silenced so neighbors couldn’t have heard more than a crash if anything at all. He didn’t make it to the front side of the house. I step through the window like a crazed cuck with a gun. She’s hugging Her knees in the corner, so vulnerable I hardly recognize Her through the tears streaming down. I realize she was never scared of a rock in a window, or even a stranger approaching our home at night. She’s terrified of me: Her harmless husband. Her harmless, caged, gun-wielding husband. 

“Hey,” I say quietly, with trembling lips. 

“What’s that?” she asks. She asked. A rarity. 

“It’s just in case, my love. I have to deal with the guy outside.”

“Sounded like you already did.” She’s too smart, That One. But the best ones are. “I think you know what I mean. It won’t take long.” I find my phone and make a call. 

“Thanks for getting a cleanup crew so late on such short notice, Gunner. I owe you one.”

“Try ten, you madman! You have nothing to worry about my friend. Lay low for fucksakes.” After the crew left, I stripped once more. She dangled my key in front of my face. Consider my interest piqued. Tonight, there is no denial.


The Tales of Lockwood University

 Zoe’s Whisper

“Zoe, are you ready? We mustn’t be late. Ah, there you are.” Zoe looked at her father with a ‘let’s hurry and get this over with’ face. She didn’t like the fact that she had to accompany her father to work. It was boring. He paced between multiple computers each day, pressing an infinite amount of keys that led him to whatever conclusion he was hoping to reach. At eight years old, Zoe did not understand, nor care. Serving as both professor and the head of the IT department, Aarick Redwood was a busy man. This was the third time she had to sit in her father’s empty classroom, the third time she had to beg her father to let her roam the empty building to explore. “Just to explore! Nothing more.” She was a bright child, although no amount of wit would convince her father. 

The only part about the days as such that Zoe only somewhat enjoyed was the car ride to and from. There was the scenery. Yes, the scenery was an exquisite sight to see. Birds, trees, leaves, and a baby blue sky. Zoe loved it. It reminded her of paintings she had seen in her grandmother’s home. Thankfully, her father’s classroom had an amazing view, despite the fact that it was on the first floor. The college sat on top of what looked like Mount Everest to Zoe. She knew the mountain from another of her grandmother’s paintings. Nature and art resided in Zoe’s heart. She would attempt to occupy herself with boring drawings and by filling her mind with the words of various authors. Sometimes a story would steal her attention and run with it; others might not come within a hundred miles of where her attention sat. She knew that a story that didn’t grab her attention wasn’t a bad story per se. She knew her taste. She had an unusually dark taste for an eight-year-old. Zoe had an interest similar to her father’s. When he was in his study, away from the basement where the library lived, she would sneak downstairs to read Edgar Allan Poe, Harlan Ellison, Mary Shelley, and her favorite: Shirley Jackson. The first book she’d ever read to keep her up at night was Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House”. To establish reality from the tricks the mind plays, especially in the case of Hill House, was a specialty of hers, although she hadn’t stumbled upon the fact. Professor Redwood and his daughter walked into the building on campus where he worked; a medium-sized building; consisting of four floors. The present staff greeted him, some questioned his seemingly early timing. “Mornin’, Professor Redwood.” A security guard greeted him and he gave him the good morning nod. “Good morning, Gale.” “Professor Redwood, you’re here early! We weren’t expecting you so soon..” “Oh, I’m not here that early. It’s only nine o’clock!” He exclaimed. He received many confused compliments about his early arrival, and he, like his co-workers, was a little unclear. Why were they all so caught by his time of arrival? While there weren’t any students arriving for his classes for a few more hours, they all knew of his double duties, and that he could work all day had his desk-sore body prohibited it. He and Zoe trailed along to his classroom. And their day began.

His classroom was in an odd section of the building. It was isolated from the other classrooms, staff, and signs of life altogether. Zoe enjoyed, yet feared, this place of exclusion. There wasn’t a lot of staff in the building during this time anyway, so it was as if they had had their own building. Again, Mr. Redwood never let his daughter explore. “I won’t go far, dad! I promise!” “I can’t watch you if you’re wandering off, dear. I can have a movie play on one of the computers if you wish, but there will be no wandering off. I’m sorry.” Zoe pondered on his word choices, and choices he made regarding what she did. The building was empty, so why no exploring? And why did he end his sentences in apologies? To Zoe, to apologize meant someone had done wrong. Although she wasn’t particularly happy with her father’s choice to keep her kept in his classroom, he had no true reason to apologize. And why must he watch her so intensely? No, he wasn’t quite burning a hole through her head with his glossy eyes, but he never let her out of her sight. When she would mention needing a bathroom break, he would take her to the one-person restrooms that the staff used, and they would have lunch in the cafeteria. He was (too?) protective. 

Concerned whispers filled the outside of his classroom. Strange considering the other professors had rooms far from his. “What on earth could they possibly be whispering about?” He silently gained Zoe’s attention and motioned for her to eavesdrop, as she wouldn’t be as noticeable due to her small size. She listened for a few seconds. Listened, listened, listened. Now she was concerned. Slightly frightened. That was unlike Zoe. She was a brave girl. Mr. Redwood was proud of the strong woman she would have grown to become. “Well? What are they saying?” He lowered an ear near her mouth, and although she didn’t speak, he heard. Oh, he heard. He heard her whispers and what they consisted of could’ve made him collapse. They were the last thing he would remember hearing before his trip. An unexpected trip. He didn’t want another trip. He’d just come home from the first. “I need to get my classroom prepped! The class will begin in a few hours and I’ll have to get Zoe to my mother’s house before then. I don’t have a lot of time, Gale! I can’t go with you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Zoe needs me to take her there.” “I know Professor Redwood. I know. The other staff and I think you should just take a break ya know? Step outside get some fresh air. That’s all, Professor. Just some fresh air.” “I know she’s a brave girl but she needs me, Gale! She NEEDS me! She told me when you and the others were standing outside! She told me what you and the others said! Hey! Don’t do that! Stop painting my classroom!” He began to drag his feet and stumble. No one was painting his classroom. But strangely, it was turning a different color than it had been before. What was happening? Zoe was now out of his sight. His worst nightmare. “Where is she? Where’s my baby? What have you monsters done with my only child?” Mr. Redwood was sedated and laid down safely. 

“Shame what happened to him. Poor man. Lost his little girl at the mall. They didn’t find her body until a month after she’d gone missing. He goes through this weekly now.” Gale explained to a new orderly in the ward.

Room 3420

I’m lost, trapped, and I don’t expect to be seen by anyone else alive ever again. What is this place?

3 Hours Earlier: 7:00 A.M

I’ve quickly adjusted to what seems to be the routine of this new job rather quickly. I don’t want to get too comfortable; not yet. The other staff seems friendly. I wasn’t used to that at my old job. Ugh, that place. People were terrible there. Lazy co-workers, lazier managers, and the one-person department, consisting of only myself, somehow was deemed to complete all the slack left behind by the others. I was bound by the unjust ways of that place, but here, I’m free. I don’t have to ask permission to leave (something that was an infinite battle at the last job), I’m free to set my own schedules and hours, and best of all: I get to work alone. I hated working for the general public. They’re loud, gross, and disrespectful. Here I can be left to work in peace. Although the quiet is nice, it is eerily quiet in the mornings. One might even be a bit spooked by the fatally quiet environment. The floor that creaks, the table that shakes, the pen that drops, it’s tall enough to make my heart drop. Drop lower than the rats beneath the building. The last two days were enjoyable but odd. Odd but not eerie. I had not thought anything to be harmful. I arrived for day three to be tangled into a nightmare. 

I walked into the campus building as usual, asked the security guard if I could get into a different room, as I’d finished the computers in the previous room the day before. The fourth floor is different from the first three. The shape isn’t the same and there are far more twists and turns. Enough for a newbie like me to get consumed in. Terrifying it was and into the belly of this beast, I will be. This college is meant for some, but not me. As we walked into the room that would become my newly found hell for the next eight hours, the guard warned me to watch the direction I take if I choose to go through the door, leading to a destination unknown. “Best to watch your way if you open that door! The place is a labyrinth after opening that door. It leads to other classrooms and can be a confusing path to those who don’t know it, Just be careful, yeah?” He asked demandingly. There is no way I’m passing through that door. Although there are only three computers here, I’m sure I can keep them busy all day, as I’m not supervised at all. Who’d truly know, or care, how many computers I’d made it to all day? I’ll stay here all day.

The sound of silence once he exited and closed the portal to the outside world behind him made me deaf. Why was it so much spookier when alone here? I need to get out of my head. Okay, so, the teacher’s computer. Usually, they have a decent view, overseeing the rest of the room and having eyes on the door where students’ backs face. The seat is nice as usual. As I wait for it to wake up and cycle through the acceptance of my credentials, I do the same to the other machines. The second computer doesn’t have the same view as the other seats, but I have eyes on the door. A view I’d prefer over the view of empty students’ seats anyway. See, not so bad. And for the last one, the worst one. A view of neither the students’ seats nor the door. This is truly terrifying, but I’ll be quick about it. Nearly an hour killed. Excellent. The time is flying wonderfully. 

8:00 A.M

I’m back in the teacher’s chair after beginning the updates on each computer. What a slow process it is. Slow, but steady. I enjoy steady. It’s why I wanted this job. Unlike my last job, the scheduling is consistent, I pick my own days and hours, and there is little to no supervision. This is my peaceful easy feeling, and like the Eagles, I’m free to fly. My wings could get lost in the peacefulness of this wind. I could fly blind better than I could with sight. They’ll see. My former employer and co-workers never understood that I wasn’t meant for the way of life they chose, for it wasn’t my path. My wings weren’t meant to soar there. No, I needed more space. Here there was plenty of it, and at times, too much of it. What would become of it? Will my wings cause me more mischief? The sky knows it wouldn’t be the first time. May the sun have mercy on me. 

The lights. Yes, the lights. Unpredictable creations at times. Will they glow? Be a no-show? Or cling to life as the light leaves them? In this room, they shut off automatically. That’s normal of course being on a motion-sensing timer of some sort I assume. Only I’m up walking, spreading my wings. Why are they taunting me? And these cabinets; why am I intimidated by them? Some are locked, but I’m worried they’ll pop open, releasing human remains. I’m not normally this vulgar. What’s wrong with me today? I wish I could see. These lights won’t stay lit and I’m unsure what to do. So I pace occasionally, worriedly wandering around, as if it would help the lights to stay on. I’m unsuccessful in that attempt, as they flicker for most of my time here. Maybe I will have a look behind that dreaded door. It keeps staring at me. What does it want? Why is it drawing me closer? Why am I succumbing? Why? Fine then: I’ll have a look. A quick look. 

9:00 A.M

 The walk from the teacher’s desk and the door leading to an unknown universe seems miles long, although it’s only a few yards. Maybe 10. I begin making my way. Here I am: at the doorknob. Turning it, begging what it keeps closed to not consume me.  Now I’m in. In a room that isn’t a room, but a path. A path to rooms that for a reason unknown, give me chills. Perhaps it’s just the emptiness that is causing my unease. I slowly explore the start of this path. It’s smaller than I imagined. A lot smaller. There are doors on either side of the room; one is stuck with a note that reads “3420”. Like most buildings, this one has rooms named after the floor they reside on; so I know it doesn’t mean “Room 3420” So what then? I’m still unsure. Oh well. I’ll continue on, exploring the other door, this one unmarked. It leads to another empty room, this one bigger than the one I came from. I don’t enter entirely, as the fake, half-skinned human torso staring at me as I entered was enough to scare Satan. I turned back. Back to room 3420. 

I seemed more cautious of this room. Oddly cautious. Did just the numbering of the room alone frighten me? Damn the tracks of my mind, but bless it for giving me this stupidly brave curiosity. I approached this door, as I had the one before. But my mind was going in one-hundred more directions. Besides the obvious questions, I questioned why I had even been told of this path. Was it all part of some elaborate scheme to get rid of me, and possibly others? They did seem eager to hire me. Is this why? What do they gain from losing me? I didn’t assume it would be impossible for me to be the center of a mystery someday, but not like this. I don’t desire to die here. If I disappear, I want it to be far from here. I wanna grow old by the beach sipping something stiff until I’m weak. With the sand closely underneath. But not here! Never! I won’t allow it. So, whatever is on the other side of that door, has me to face. I open the door and see a sight that makes me blind. 

10:00 A.M

There are people here. Huh? People? I expected death and clouds of fear to reign over me. No, this isn’t that at all. This is, this is: peace. What the hell is wrong with me? Do I really overthink to the point when something as harmless as a numbered door sends me into a frenzy? There’s nothing to fear here. I mean people can be scary, but today they’re a relief. Now I must explain my flushed expression. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware there was a class here today. I’ll come back later.

“Please join us! We have proper accommodations.”

“But I’m not enrolled.”

“Don’t worry about that. All student workers are welcome in my classes; even if only to observe.

“That’s okay. I should really check on my other classrooms. I’ll come back later.” Now I’m beginning to become frightened. This man and his ‘students’ are clearly deranged. I must get out of here. “You will stay here. With us. Guard the door, NOW.” I panic. I ran, but unsuccessfully. I was brought to the ground by a giant of what I would have guessed to be a normal human. I suppose no humans are ‘normal’. I wake up alone, bound, and never expecting to be found. Will I forever remain here, waiting to be found? Dead or alive. I should have listened to the others, for they warned me of this fatal place known as Lockwood University.  

The Library

“You be careful at that school all alone! You saw the story on the news. I don’t want you to end up there, too.”

“I will, mom. I promise.” 

She worries too much. I know the things said to happen at that school, but I’m not going to put myself in any danger. My only destination is the library. Nothing eventful ever happens there. Usually. I’ve never seen more than three students there at a time. It’s a quiet building considering all the madness that is said to maintain there. I find it peaceful, actually. It’s a strange thing to think, but it’s true. 

I make my way inside. Through the door, past the guards, and there I am: standing satisfied inside a sensational world of storytellers and teachers. I prefer the storytellers, although the teachers’ are needed on occasion. I appreciate them both. They’ve both assisted me in my ventures. Both good and bad. I’ve never had anyone else that stood in the same form as myself. I’ve always relied on those who lived in the pages, as they’ve been best. The librarian here always looks agitated. “You again? Well, be quick about it. I don’t like leaving you kids here unsupervised.” As if we aren’t all in our twenties and able to supervise ourselves. “Yes ma’am.”

Thankfully that’s the last I hear from her today. Now I’m ready to be talked to from the pages. Yes, speak to me. In a language unknown to most of humanity. Cure my lone with your sweet tone. What words will I awake today? Or will they wake me? I pick a book; a happy book. A romance without sadness. Rare, like me. 

I began to become peculiarly invested in this story. Somewhat as I had others before, but not quite. It wasn’t long before the woman from the pages started reaching out to me. She held out her hand from beyond the book and took mine. “Have you seen him?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You know what I mean.”

“I haven’t seen him. I’m sorry.” 

“Very well then. You’ll do. Give me your hands.”

“My hands? Why?”

“Oh, don’t be so spooked! You’ve been reading about me for two hours. Did you take me for the dangerous type? No? I didn’t think so! Now, hands!” I slowly extend my hands into hers; she takes them; feels them; anyone watching might’ve said she was examining them. But there were no witnesses. “No one will see us. Not as long as I have your hands. Fear not.” I’m never the quickly trusting type or one to dance with a book character that seems to have come to life, but I feel as if I’d spend the rest of my days. In this library, slow dancing with a stranger, may or may not be real. 

“Come back to me, Henry.”

“Who is Henry? I don’t remember a ‘Henry’ from the story.”

“He goes by many names, and sometimes doesn’t remember when in mid-cycle.”


“Stay here with me. You don’t need to leave to survive this world. You’ll live a life of happiness with me. Here. Forever.”

“Okay, Eliza.” 

Wilbur’s Whispers

“Just step outside. It’s okay! I can make it back to my room with no issue, as there is nothing out there. “ Were the words young Wilbur thought to himself in the dark of the night during that heavy, loud storm.  

Wilbur had always had a subtle fear of the dark and its entities, not knowing what they contained. But as he grew, so did It. The Fear of the blindness given to him by the loss of electricity during a hard storm. There hadn’t been this bad a storm in quite some time. This time, Mother’s Destruction had led to fallen trees, power and telephone lines, misplaced patio furniture (perhaps misplaced isn’t as accurate a word as mangled), and what appeared to be toys forgotten by children that had been far too distracted by their mothers ringing their bell calling their kids to lunch to bring them inside where they belonged. Wilbur stood trapped in his bathroom, both relived and anxious. Why can’t he leave? Why can’t he wash up, creep outside the door and mosey himself back into bed? Both questions he had asked himself prior. Both questions left unanswered time and time again.

More often than not, Wilbur’s mother found him asleep in the bathroom later in the night or early the next morning. Not understanding of His Fear in its entirety, she did understand that it would be of no help to scold him for being unable to return to his room. But she was unsure of how to help him. That night, like many others, she carried him back to his bed, tucked him in, and made sure his door was cracked just a tad. 

The next night the same scenario played out: Wilbur leaving his room to relieve himself of all the juice, water, and whatever other liquids he insisted on consuming only hours before bedtime, never remembering Their Consequences. Those questions flashed through this thoughts once more, still unable to answer. But tonight, oh tonight, he challenged The Fear. He was fed up with It, whatever It was. He worked up the courage to slowly twist the knob leading back into the outside world that was his home. Telling himself that there was no darkness awaiting him on the outside, and that helped him to leave this hell. Specifically, he told himself that there was one of those big family gatherings happening on the other side of the door that his parents often had. He enjoyed those. They made him feel less alone. Being surrounded by other humans made him feel safe and secure. So yes, he told himself there was one happening outside the door of which he finally encouraged himself to step out of. 

When Wilbur stepped foot into the hallway outside the bathroom, he gazed upon the walls and saw them as distorted. “This isn’t how things are supposed to look,” he attempted to convince himself. He couldn’t believe what he had stepped back into. What did he step back into? Had he stepped out of the bathroom at all? Was this a dream? Had he actually left the room and entered another dimension? He wasn’t sure. He never was. His memory erased each time he stepped foot in the bathroom. He could only regain memory by leaving it himself, by his own means and with his own willpower. So when he stepped out for the number of times only known by the universe, he remembered. 

The house no longer looked the way it did when he walked inside. The walls were distorted, floors damaged, and windows shattered. The roof was beginning to cave. He could hear whispers from afar. He hadn’t known whose they were, considering he did not recognize them. There seemed to be more whispers than individuals who lived with him, and as he stepped slowly, the whispers turned to shrieks of fear ranging from far and near. What had happened here? This wasn’t his home, no. This was his nightmare. Where was his mother? He wondered with more hope than he had. He could’ve sworn to seeing her only a few hours ago. Why would his little mind conjure up something so big and frightening? Hell, how could it? He was only a boy. He had no knowledge of earthly fear this extravagant. 

He now remembered seeing this sight a time or a thousand before, but he hadn’t known why. That was the question that remained unanswered. He wasn’t wrong about the gathering, as there were people there. But not his parents, not his friends, nor anyone he actually knew. This house was a gathering of lost souls and spirits. They differed from all stages of understanding. Some sobbed, some screamed. Some flew while others stumbled. Some knew and some didn’t. When he would remember, Wilbur would understand the what, but never the why, and that was enough for him. He never once conflicted with his “reality”. He knew what he was but knew nothing beyond that. More details would be nice, however those he had were more than most did, so he decided they’d suffice. 

All types of different energies compacted into one “house”. To mortals, it would be considered abandoned. However it was very much full of life (or death). After reaching his unfortunate realization once again, Wilbur went back to his bed to await the next storm.