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Part 3 of The Story

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By Doreen Yuan

A Review of the Urban-Legend storytelling rules:

1. The comment section is part of the story. All comments are ordered by the number.

2. Comments that include a >> and a number (ex: >>1) are replies to the comment with that number.

3. Anonymous users in the comment section are part of the story. There are multiple anonymous accounts.

4. The main characters named No Longer Human and Curry are part of the story in the comments.

5. Readers can leave messages in the comment section but should not intentionally destroy or try to confuse the coherence of the story.

6. Readers can respond to any anonymous character interaction in the comment section–that response may change and contribute to the story.

7. Do not use inappropriate language.

8. The roles and anonymity in the comment section are created by the primary story author himself.

9. The time of all messages is based on the time of writing.

10. Have fun, and enjoy.

*This is a continuing story. The last installment was posted November 14, 2019. The story is told through the “Comments” section. Read them carefully.

Art Editor: Chelsea

Part 2 of The Story

by 37 Comments

By Doreen Yuan

A Review of the Urban-Legend storytelling rules:

1. The comment section is part of the story. All comments are ordered by the number.

2. Comments that include a >> and a number (ex: >>1) are replies to the comment with that number.

3. Anonymous users in the comment section are part of the story. There are multiple anonymous accounts.

4. The main characters named No Longer Human and Curry are part of the story in the comments.

5. Readers can leave messages in the comment section but should not intentionally destroy or try to confuse the coherence of the story.

6. Readers can respond to any anonymous character interaction in the comment section–that response may change and contribute to the story.

7. Do not use inappropriate language.

8. The roles and anonymity in the comment section are created by the primary story author himself.

9. The time of all messages is based on the time of writing.

10. Have fun, and enjoy it.

Continued from Part I, posted on October 3 . . . . Note: The story is in the comments. Read them all.

Editor: James Zheng

Part 1 of the Story

by 52 Comments

by Doreen Yuan

A Review of the Urban-Legend storytelling rules:

1. The comment section is part of the story. All comments are ordered by number.

2. Comments that include a >> and a number (ex: >>1) are replies to the comment with that number.

3. Anonymous users in the comment section are part of the story. There are multiple anonymous accounts.

4. The characters named No Longer Human and Curry are part of the story in the comments.

5. Readers can leave messages in the comment section but should not intentionally destroy or try to confuse the coherence of the story.

6. Readers can respond to any anonymous character interaction in the comment section–that response may change and contribute to the story.

7. Do not use inappropriate language.

8. The roles and anonymity in the comment section are created by the primary story author himself.

9. The time of all messages is based on the time of writing.

10. Have fun, and enjoy it.

The story begins . . .

A microblog for help

By No Longer Human 

                   Hey, so if anyone is seeing this right now, I need help~ I am on a train coming back home, and I’m lost. I’m at “Kisaragi station.” Does anyone know where that is???

The story continues in the Comments . . . .

Story Editor: Renée

How to Make the Transition to Adulthood: Using the Catcher in the Rye as an Example of What Not to Do

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By Holden Hartle, who takes his namesake from Holden Caulfield

This spring break, I took a trip to the East Coast in which I traversed Massachusetts and Rhode Island completely by myself. Everything from transportation to food was accounted for by me. It’s scary, needless to say. But I had a friend during this time, Holden Caulfield from The Catcher in the Rye.

I had never read the book before, despite it being the book I was named after, and I couldn’t have read it at a better time.

The book follows Holden, a sixteen year old who has just been kicked out of yet another prestigious school because he is unmotivated to complete his schoolwork. The angsty teen only passed one class at Pencey, his English class, and this was because he had read all of the books in previous years. His struggles in school stem from his hatred for adults. All adults with few exception are “phonies.” His teachers are no exception.

Because Holden is the narrator, and a pretty snarky one, you have to take everything he says with a grain of salt. He will state that a certain adult is a phony, but as the reader, you have to ask yourself why he would say something like that. Is a character actually a phony, or is he just a phony through the eyes of Holden? My brief background in AP Psychology tells me that Holden is displacing his fear of adulthood onto all adults, instead of accepting the transition.

The book gets it title from Holden describing his fantasy of being a “catcher in the rye” to his younger sister, Phoebe. He explains the scenario in which he is in a rye field with his back facing a cliff with a sheer drop off. In this field, children are running towards the cliff, and Holden is picking them up, and placing them further away from the edge.

Pretty weird fantasy, right? Not when you understand the consciousness of Holden.

To me, the bottom of the cliff is adulthood, and these children are conforming to what society wants; they are making the jump to become adults. Holden is desperately trying to keep these children in their current state, but he can’t save everyone. The reader learns that Holden has almost a quixotic factor to him. He has the idea that he can save everyone, but obviously this isn’t the case.

Towards the end of the book, Holden is watching Phoebe on a carousel. Holden cries happy tears as he watches Phoebe going round-and-round, stagnant in her childhood. She isn’t headed in a straight line to adulthood, she is stuck in her childhood, and that makes Holden happy.

So what does this have to do with you? Well, don’t be like Holden. The inevitable tide of adulthood is coming, and you can’t stop it, no matter how hard you or Holden try. So adjust. Humans are amazing at adapting to new social environments. Whether you are going to college or getting your first job, you can adjust to that new environment. If you completely immerse yourself, you mold yourself to match that situation. Holden couldn’t adapt; thus he clung to childhood with all of his being. This ultimately was his downfall. Don’t be like Holden.

Editor: AJ Patencio

The Monkey’s Plunge

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By Charles Schnell

Charles, no longer a Blogger-on-Staff but a consummate writer, still contributes short stories. “The Monkey’s Plunge” is his latest parable-ish fable submission.

On top of the hill in the middle of the forest the monkey meditated with his master in the master’s temple. The aged master, having two ounces of wisdom for every one wrinkle, imparted perhaps the most profound piece of wisdom he could to the monkey at the end of their meditation session. This was it: “Do not chase after the glitter, the riches, or the fame, my monkey. Those are all gold, but who needs gold when you can have God?”

The monkey replied, “Why can’t I have both?”

“If you allow your heart to fill with gold, there will be no room left for God,” said the master. “But, if you fill your heart with God, you will never need gold. You will still want it on occasion, which means you must be careful, for the second you let gold in, God gets pushed out.”

“So, what are you telling me to do? Run from the gold?”

“Run from the gold, monkey. Run to God.”

“Yes, master,” the monkey said, not completely comprehending his master’s words. With this, the monkey left the temple and returned to the city to continue on with his life.

An hour had not even gone by before the monkey forgot his master’s teachings for the day.

The week that followed had been no ordinary week, for the monkey had finally been discovered. The monkey was getting famous, as he had always wanted. Fans wanted to meet the monkey wherever he went. They asked for autographs on the most random and unexpected of objects. In addition, his earnings skyrocketed. He started buying things he had always wanted.

In fact, the monkey grew so busy that he had to cancel his weekly session with his master. This is the first time he had ever cancelled. When the monkey came to see his master to tell him, the master sighed, shook his head, and only had this to say, “Remember: Be careful, my monkey. Run from the gold. Run to God.”

This final message from his master went into the monkey’s right ear and out of the left. He hurriedly walked through the jungle back to the city; he had a dinner reservation.

Almost a whole year passed without the monkey coming back for his meditation session. He grew so involved and integrated into city society that he had forgotten about his wrinkled master. He even made a few self-righteous and conceited decisions along the way.

It was at this point when the monkey realized that his situation was changing again. The city no longer loved him. In fact, its people started to turn against him. They didn’t like the monkey anymore. They grew jealous of the monkey. They grew to hate the monkey. They wanted the monkey gone. So, as if right out of a cartoon, they grabbed their pitchforks and flaming torches. The monkey was chased from the city.

But that was not enough; they wanted him gone for good. Gone gone. They chased the monkey throughout the jungle. Taking advantage of the vines to swing on and the branches to jump to, the monkey managed to avoid his ex-fans for a fair amount of time. But, eventually, they cornered the monkey at the edge of the waterfall.

The monkey had no choice but to take the leap of faith and dive head first into the lake below the waterfall. The monkey’s plunge caused a huge splash, convincing the people he was gone gone. The people peacefully returned to the city, taking their pitchforks, torches and hatred with them.

Meanwhile, the monkey was still in the lake under the waterfall. He felt relieved. He felt safe. But, his feelings of relief and safety quickly turned into confusion as the current of the lake pushed him into the connecting rapids. The rapids tossed and turned him for many miles. The fearful monkey could not do anything but close his eyes, continue his record of involuntary summersaults, and pray that the pain would end soon.

He eventually stopped moving. He was still underwater, and the rapids were still roaring by him, but he was no longer being carried down the river. Then, he realized why he had stopped moving: he felt a hand grabbing onto his arm. The hand started pulling him out of the river. Trapped underwater, he had no clue as to whom the hand belonged and prepared for the worst.

The master eventually pulled the monkey fully out of the water. The monkey was more relieved than ever to see that it was his master, not his enemy. After taking a minute to catch his breath and shake the water off his fur, the monkey looked his master in the eye, trying to muster the words “I’m sorry” but was not successful in getting them out.

Instead, the monkey said, “Now I know.” His master gave him a look of inquiry, so the monkey clarified: “Run to God?”

The master nodded, took the monkey’s hand, and escorted him back to the temple. “Run to God, monkey.”

Editor: Luke Langlois

Werewolf–One of the Best Modern Party Games

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By James Zheng, Master Game Player & Blogger

What games do you usually play for entertaining a party? Normal answers will come out: Uno, Cards Against Humanity, Mario Kart, Blackjack, etc. We’ve played those games a thousand times. All of them are really popular but common, so common they bore you as you play them over and over again. There is an amazing game which would definitely bring up the atmosphere in a party.

The Werewolf game is really similar to a classic party game called the Mafia (Werewolf is actually generated from the Mafia game). They have the exact same setting on some points; however, the Werewolf game is more fun than the Mafia! Originally, when you look up the Werewolf game online, there is only the American style, which is also the initial version of Werewolf. When it spread to China, this game became truly popular and players added more contents to it. So, please notice that all the things I show you are partially generated from the Chinese-style Werewolf game.

Required factors to play the game include six to fifteen players and role cards. Ten or twelve is the best amount. This game must have a moderator during the whole game to direct the procedure. The role cards are decided by players according to the number of participants.

Gameplay part 1–There are two teams in the Werewolf game; humans and werewolves (which also applies to the innocent and the mafia in The Mafia). The Werewolf team has to kill all the humans while all the humans need to banish the werewolves. To achieve their goal, werewolves have to pretend to be the humans to avoid being banished so that they can eliminate as many humans as they can. In the same way, the humans have to find all the werewolves based on the flaws in their statements or any other factors.

Game setting–Everyone should get a role card before they start, and the moderator must be ready, then the game will begin on the first night. There are two rounds in the game, which refer to the night and the morning. Night is always before morning; it will keep rotating until the game is finished. An essential part of the game, during the night, is that the moderator has to tell everyone to close their eyes and remain absolutely quiet. The Lord card (a card which gives players special skills) and the werewolves’ card holders will be called by the moderator to take their action. Werewolves have to decide to slay a player every night. When it comes to the morning, the player who is killed during the night will be out of the game. Then, each of the players need to speak their thoughts individually. The time limit for speaking (30 seconds, 60 seconds, etc.) should be decided before the game begins. After everyone finishes their statement, they have to vote to eliminate a player. Then the player who gets the most votes will be out of the game as well; this movement is called banish.   

Role cards

  • Villager, belongs to the human team. They do not have special abilities, but they have to listen to everyone’s words, find the werewolves, and be active in voting to banish them in the morning.
  • Werewolf, belongs to the werewolf team. They will be called by the moderator, “Werewolves, please open/close your eyes” before/after they take action. Werewolves usually have 20 seconds to point at their target. During the morning, they need to act like humans and mislead them to banish other players beside themselves.
  • Seer, the Lord card belongs to the human team. When Seer is called by the moderator, he can see one person’s role (he can only identify whether that person is a human or a werewolf, so he does not know if that person is holding a Lord card or not).
  • Witch, this Lord card belongs to the human team. Witch is holding a cure and a poison. When called by moderator, he can only take one action each night. He can use a cure to revive a player who was slain by a werewolf or use poison to kill one player. Witch only has one cure and one poison.
  • Guardian, this Lord card belongs to the human team. When called by the moderator, Guardian can protect a player (including himself) from being killed by a werewolf. But, he cannot protect the same player twice in a row. By the way, the poison used by the Witch can penetrate the Guardian’s shield.
  • Hunter, this Lord card belongs to the human team. The Hunter can eliminate one player after he is dead. The only moment he cannot use his skill is when he is eliminated by poison from the Witch. When called by the moderator, the moderator will tell him if he can use his skill or not–based on whether he was poisoned or not.

Further tips and details

  • The player who is banished or out of the game in the first night will still have a chance to speak.
  • Only the werewolves know who their teammates are. Humans don’t know who their teammates are. And werewolves can say that they are human, and normally mask as villagers (since there are at least two or four villagers, it is hard to know which one is fraud).
  • To find the werewolf or to suspect someone, try to treat this game as a psychological game. If you find someone too nervous or too feeble, they might hold a werewolf card. Or, if you find someone who is speaking too much or too little, they will be questionable. You can always take a guess at everyone’s card according to their statement.
  • The core of this game is the Seer because nobody knows who other players are except the Seer. Only the Seer and werewolves have the ability to lead the teams. And the Seer has to share his or her information on the first day.
  • Each player has to be brave to speak out their opinion and tell others their identity, and be active in voting.

The Werewolf game is my best recommendation ever. It’s a very social game because you have to speak and communicate with each other to collaborate during the whole game. It’s also a really casual game to play with friends!

Editor: Makena Behnke

The Puppet Cuts Free

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A Fable by Guest Blogger Charles Schnell

At the top of a grassy hill almost untouched by humankind, his house stood basking almost too closely to the sun. He was the proud owner of the house on the hill. He was the one who made the dolls. And, he was a puppet.

Everyday, the puppet had to wake up, find himself at the desk in his study with his strings still attached, and get to work again. His life consisted of being hunched over his wooden desk, delicately weaving and stitching dolls together. Eighty dolls a day, to be exact. Six days a week–this would be the puppet’s routine: wake up; make eighty dolls; go to sleep.

Then, on the seventh day, the puppet would have to make his way to the village and deliver the dolls to the market. The strings attached to the hands of the heavens led the puppet’s way.

Walking back to his workshop on the hill, the puppet would have to hear the same comments from the villagers.

“Yeah, the dolls are nice. But what else do you do?”

“Wow, how do you come up with so many new designs? Every week you have something new!”

“Where do you see yourself in four years?”

In the beginning, the puppet tried answering these questions, but he always found himself at a loss for words, and the strings of the heavens do not stop for their puppets. So, he gave up and returned to his house on the hill in silence.

This all continued long enough for millions of dolls to have come spilling out of the puppet’s soul. Until one day, the doll stopped. He dropped his roll of yarn and did not pick it up again. The heavens tugged and pulled on the strings, but the puppet did not concede. In fact, that day, the puppet took his yarn cutting scissors, raised them up while resisting the tugging of the heavens, and cut his strings.

Freed, he could no longer sense the heavens. All contact was cut. And for once, he left his house on a day that was not the seventh day.

At first, he liked the town. He liked being able to roam without the strings. And, for the first time, the villagers saw a smile on the puppet’s face.

Freedom did not come without its drawbacks, however. His newly found freedom caused newly found anxiety. Without his strings, the puppet had nowhere to go.

No, he had too many places to go, too many choices. That led to the puppet’s insecurity and anxiety. Pretty soon, the smile disappeared from his face.

The puppet continued on for a long time like this: anxious and insecure. But, one day he faced what he knew he had to do.

He returned to his old house on the hill, his desk, his workshop, his yarn, his scissors he cut himself free with.

He took a deep breath. He realized what he was about to do was for the best. He took the remnants of his strings to the heavens. He proceed with great care as he slowly and reluctantly stitched and spliced the strings together again. The heavens, seeing they had control once more, worked their magic, and the puppet fell asleep.

The next morning, the puppet awoke to his familiar life. The hill was untouched; the house was close to the sun; and the puppet made eighty more dolls.

Editor: Luke Langlois

The Three Best Villains in Anime

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By James Zheng, Blog Anime Correspondent

Most anime reviewers or watchers hardly ever talk about villains. Speaking of villains, the majority of us are under the impression that they deserve the audience’s hatred all the time. But, we never get to know them deeply or even analyze them from several aspects. You might ask the question, “Why do we need to know these villains?” Well, to make a great heroic figure or a whole anime that earns popularity, a villain actually plays an indispensable role.

No.1 “Akatsuki (Dawn)” from Naruto: The ten dreams of human beings

Akatsuki is not a single character. It’s one of the most powerful organizations in Naruto. Each member in Akatsuki represents a dream of humanity (peace, friendship, love, power, etc.). However, the Akatsuki didn’t start out representing peace, friendship, love, etc. In the beginning of the anime, every single character had a goal to destroy every independent country. There were so many fans that hated them at the beginning because fans bought into the concept that any villain would be the “bad guy” forever. When the Naruto Company dedicated episodes to introducing the Akatsuki background, the Akatsuki gradually gained sympathy and popularity from the audience. However, plenty of fans said that “their Naruto” had finished after the antagonistic Akatsuki was gone. Undoubtedly, those characters had a huge impact on the storyline. Villains are as important as heroes, especially if they’re well “shaped.”


No.2 “Yagami Light” from Death Note: How supremacy could change an ordinary person

Some of the people may not recognize Yagami Light as a villain because he is the hero in the entire story of “Death Note,” but I personally think that he played both hero and villain. In the story, the Death Note gives any kind of person the power to execute anyone; you just need to write down their name to do so. Light, who considers that his life is too boring, accidentally obtains this dreaded notebook. Then he starts to use this notebook to execute the criminals to achieve his “justice.” But, soon, he was obsessed with this power, with the result that he had the ambition to be the God of the world. This path is like an abyss to him; the Death Note entirely changed him. Everything he regards as obstacles he eliminates, including his family and friends and investigative authorities.

No.3 “Aizen Sosuke” from Bleach: The fanatic pursuit of perfection

Aizen is the biggest boss in the world of Bleach ever. His behavior and thoughts interpret the extreme concept of “perfection.” Because he believes that he is too successful as a scientist, there is nearly nothing that could satisfy him except for the innovation that has never been done before, except for creating something that has never been created before. So, he starts to engage in projects which are essentially inhumane.

Editor: Holden Hartle

3rd Place Short Story Winner

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By Harlow Berny

Hello! Here, finally, is the 3rd-place winner of the Halloween Short Horror Story Competition written by Erik Bearman! It was a tough choice, but ultimately the Masked Rabbit and his story “The Darkness” won 1st place, and Marianne Capetz came in 2nd place with her story “The Child.” Enjoy!

Cobwebs

By Erik Bearman

My grandmother always gave me one rule, “Don’t touch the cobwebs!” If she asked me to clean out garage, she’d say, “Don’t touch the cobwebs!” If she asked me to fetch something from the attic, she’d say, “Don’t touch the cobwebs!” Even if I was washing the dishes after dinner, she’d always say, “Don’t touch the cobwebs!” even though there was no chance of cobwebs being in the dishwasher, she’d still warn me. I never questioned my grandmother’s preoccupation with cobwebs because she was always there for me. Ever since my parents died, she was always there for me. When I was being bullied in middle school, she was there to scream at the principal until they were expelled. When I struggled in math class, she was there to make sure the teacher tutored me after school. I figured that since she was always there for me, being paranoid of a couple house spiders wasn’t a big deal.

Two months after my 15th birthday, my grandmother died in her sleep on the 31st of October. Once I had finished grieving (or at least summoned the ability to be able to walk through the front door without bursting into tears), I went to clean out her house. It was Christmas, and the snowfall was heavy. My girlfriend, Juniper, was kind enough to help me clean out my grandmother’s house. Funny thing is I never asked her to help; she just showed up and started helping. Without my grandmother to keep them at bay with her “holy duster” (a feather duster with a handle specially carved in the shape of a religious cross, as she called it), the cobwebs had spread all across the house. We started cleaning in the dining room. As I was stacking the chairs against the wall, Juniper walked straight into a cobweb! I laughed as she picked spider silk out of her mouth. It was the first time I felt joy in a while; and I figured that since my grandmother was gone, touching the cobwebs wouldn’t be a big deal. I was wrong.

That night me and Juniper were sitting on the sofa watching some of my grandmother’s old movies. Juniper sat on my lap as I braided her hair. Halfway through Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Juniper and I fell asleep on the couch. The last thing I remember hearing before I closed my eyes was the basement door creak open. I woke to the sound of Juniper whimpering as she held me tight. “Damien,” she said, “Damien, please wake up!”

“What? What is it?”
“Look at the floor!”

When I did look at the floor my skeleton nearly leapt out of my body. The floor was thickly covered in giant cobwebs as far as we could see.

“Wha-What happened?”
“I-I don’t know! I woke up and the floor was covered in the stuff!”
“Okay, let’s just remain calm and–”

I was interrupted by a loud squeaking noise. We looked at the top of the cable box and saw a raccoon had managed to break through one of the windows while we were sleeping. It sniffed around the room searching for a meal. It turned its head towards the hallway which led straight to the kitchen. As it descended the box, its large, bushy, tail got caught in the webbing. As soon as it tried to tug itself free, we heard the basement door slam open! And a large, black blur shot across the floor before puncturing the raccoon’s flesh with its sharp fangs. Strangely, there was no blood, there was no gore of any kind. The raccoon didn’t squeal or even flinch. It just went limp, with a minor twitch here and there. Paralysis, I thought. Whatever had paralyzed the rodent turned and dashed out of the room back into the basement, but not before I got a good look at it.

The moonlight that shone through the broken window had revealed a giant, black, spider the size of a Saint Bernard. Its spiny legs were as thin and sharp as a sewing needle, glistening fangs the size of butcher knives, and eight red eyes the size of baseballs. But the eyes were the strangest part; they were deformed and detached from the spider’s head. They dangled and swung like loose buttons on an old doll’s head.

Out of fear, Juniper squeezed my arm tightly and whispered, “Damien, please tell me this is a nightmare! Please tell me this is just a figment of my imagination!”
“I wish I could; I really wish I could!”
“What is that thing!”
“It looked like a black widow spider! But they don’t usually get larger than 1.5 inches.”
“How-how do you kill one?”
“Normal ones? Step on them. This one? Use a machine gun!”
“Damien, we have to get out of this house! Let’s just drive as far away from here as we can!”
“How do we get out? The broken window is too small, and if we touch these webs … well you saw what happened to that raccoon!”

I looked for a way out of the room, but it looked like the spider had us in the perfect trap. The only objects not covered in webbing were the couch, T.V., and the various boxes we had stacked across the house.

The boxes!

I turned to Juniper, “I have an idea! You know the game, ‘The Floor is Lava’?” Juniper replied, “Yeah, what about it?”

—

Slowly we hopped from pieces of furniture to stacked boxes to-and-fro as we tried to exit the house. We could hear the scattering of giant spiders coming from the basement. “Keep calm, Juniper. We’re almost to the door.” Since black widows prefer warmer temperatures, we thought the odds were good that we’d make it to the car. I hopped onto the table by the door. I slowly turned the knob–

“Damien.”
“Yes, Juniper?”

When I turned around my heart nearly dropped! Juniper had slipped and her foot had gotten caught in the webs. I could hear one of the spiders getting closer. A dark blur turned the corner of the entryway and charged at Juniper. Within a split second the beast was on top of her, her body going limp with paralysis. The worst part was her eyes; her eyes stared blankly at me. She was trapped in her own body, and there was nothing either of us could do. The creature, almost as if it was taunting me, slowly dragged her body back to the basement. And while it could’ve just been my head playing tricks on me, I could swear its dangling eyes were staring right at me. I cried into the darkness. The only person left in my life who I loved had just been taken. First my parents, then my grandmother, and now Juniper; one by one they’d all been ripped out of my life. I gathered myself and slowly made my way to the kitchen. I wasn’t just going to let her die down there, not without a fight. If there was even a slight chance Juniper was still alive, I was going to save her. I grabbed a knife and headed towards the basement. I figured that anything stabbed in the face would likely die. I could hear the creatures skittering across the floor, their faint outlines barely visible in the darkness. I held my breath, determined to kill them all, if not to save Juniper, then at least to avenge her death. I bent down and touched the webbing on the floor and in an instant a spider lunged out of the basement and threw me down the stairs. Even in my daze I could hear the spiders swarm around me. They bared their fangs and–

—

“And what Dad? How did you save Mom? How’d you kill the spiders?” Damien’s son Devon asked. Damien sat in his chair trying to remember how he saved his wife–except he couldn’t. He couldn’t remember a thing. The last thing he remembered was being thrown down those steps as the spiders closed in on him. Had his memory blacked out the events? He had to find out. “Hold on.” He told his son as he headed towards the kitchen. His wife, Juniper, was making her famous Shepherd’s Pie. Damien approached her, “What were you and Devon talking about?” asked Juniper. “I was just telling him about the time I rescued you from my grandmother’s house all those Christmases ago.” Juniper replied, “Oh, my little knight in shining armor. You dashed right into that room and killed them all! I knew in that moment that you were the man I wanted to marry,” she said as she hugged him.

“It’s really weird, honey, but I can’t remember a thing!”
“Oh always such the jokester, Damien. C’mon, you remember!”
“Honey, I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I don’t remember anything after the spider threw me into the basement!”
“Oh sure you do, it’s in your brain somewhere. We simply need to pry it out!”

The scent of rot and decay hit Damien’s nose like a train. He looked over at Juniper’s pie, and it had been replaced by a mass of a grey, mucus-like substance. Protruding from this substance was a raccoon’s tail, a broken feather duster, and a large lock of Juniper’s hair. “Juniper, what’s going on? Why can’t I remember anything? Marrying you? Having a son? Any of it?” Damien asked frantically. The last thing Damien saw was Juniper’s sinister smile.

—

Damien awoke wrapped in a cocoon of spider silk, only his head was exposed. He could feel where the spider had bit him. While the wound had miraculously cauterized, the spider’s hallucinogenic venom was just starting to wear off. He turned his head as far as he could to the left where he saw one of the spiders crawl on top of a screaming Juniper. It almost seemed to be laughing as it prepared to feast. He felt another spider slowly crawl up his body. As their eyes locked and it opened its gaping maw, Damien heard one last thing. “Don’t touch the cobwebs!”

—

As the spiders feasted on their latest victims in the basement, one of the creatures had managed to squeeze through the raccoon-sized hole in the window. As it landed on the ground, the snow evaporated into thin air. The arachnid dashed off into the night as its kin followed suit. It was going to be a red Christmas this year!



For Fun: Discover the mystery behind these creatures. Translate the binary, and the answer will be revealed.

https://www.rapidtables.com/convert/number/ascii-to-binary.html

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Editor: Leo Milmet

2nd-Place Short-Story Winner

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By Harlow Berny

Hello! Here is the 2nd-place winner of the Halloween Short Horror Story Competition written by Marianne Capetz! It was a tough choice, but ultimately the Masked Rabbit and his story “The Darkness” won 1st place, and Erik Bearman came in 3rd place with his story “Cobwebs.” Enjoy!

The Child

By Marianne Capetz

Miss Alice Wittlebee was a very normal woman; in fact, she was possibly the most normal person in her apartment complex. Everyday she got up at 5:30 on the dot and had a cup of tea with one sugar. She would then sit by her window and read until it was too dark to see the pages. Everyday without fail she followed her routine, until one afternoon she heard a sharp knock on the door. Miss Alice slowly got up and walked to the door. When she opened it, a small face was peering up at her
“I don’t want to buy anything,” Miss Alice snapped at the wide eyed child. The child continued to silently stare at her. Something about this child perturbed her; perhaps it was the odd way the child’s eyes seemed to dilate. Miss Alice quickly dismissed this absurd idea. This child was nothing but a small disruption in her day. She turned to ask the child if it was lost, but before she could say anything the child began to speak.
“Hello Alice. Did you miss me?” the child’s head tilted slightly and its eyes seemed to widen.

Rather taken back by the child’s words Miss Alice responded, “Miss you? Child, I’ve never seen you in my life.” She watched the child’s mesmerizing eyes continue to expand.
“Did you miss me?” The child asked again. Miss Alice rubbed her eyes as the child’s eyes had grown even more.
“Please leave, I have much to do today and cannot be bothered.” Miss Alice said with a slight waver in her voice. She went to leave, but stopped. Her feet suddenly felt very heavy and sat like cinder blocks on the ground. She turned once more to glance at the strange child. She quickly found that she could not move her eyes away from the child. Miss Alice was trapped by the unwavering gaze of the peculiar child.
Miss Alice had never had such a bizarre experience. Nor did she expect to be caught by the stare of this child. As the child’s eyes grew, the room began to change. The walls became white and plush and the floor began to soften. Her arms were encased by something warm and secure. Miss Alice slowly sank to the cushioned floor. She looked around the room and saw that the child had disappeared. She tried to free her ams from the strange item pinning them to her body, but found she was stuck. Her escape efforts began to become more and more frantic. She was so focused on her attempt to free her arms that she didn’t notice the woman enter the room. She didn’t even feel the needle prick her skin, until she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
The nurse carefully removed the needle from Patient #48 and set it on the metal tray that she had rolled in earlier. She picked up the large folder sitting on the table and quickly jotted down some notes. She looked at Alice and sighed; Patient #48 seemed to be getting better. She was so close to being released back into society. The nurse shook her head and walked out. All the patients on her floor had been complaining about an encounter with a strange child before they would relapse into insanity again. She told the other nurses about these complaints, but no one had believed her. Lost in thought she turned down the hall and was shocked to see a small child standing by the door.
“Hello Jane. Did you miss me?”

Editor: Luke Langlois