Mary Very

“Hey slow the hell down, would ya!?” I shouted at my friend as he sprinted past the encroaching tress that surrounded us.

We’d been walking for about half an hour and I think he was starting to get impatient. He practically had to drag me and my other friend out here to show us some abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, and he knew that it was getting dark. I wasn’t about to get lost out here for the night, not with it being a Sunday. My mom would raise hell if I missed any more school, and my dad would probably beat me within an inch of my life, him being the principle and all.

“You guys just need to speed the hell up.” He replied. “I want there to be enough time to show you two everything there is to see!”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s just some old house in the woods, Scotty. I guarantee you we’ll be done looking around within five minutes of getting there.”

“Oh yeah? Well that’s not what my brother told me.” Scotty retorted, slowing down his run and breathing heavily. “He said there’s some crazy shit out here.”

“Like what?” my other friend, Zach, asked.

Scotty turned to us, his smug face barely visible in the fading daylight. “I’m not gonna tell you ‘till we’re there, so get a move on.”

The three of us continued to walk at the same pace, our shoes crunching on the dead leaves that covered the forest floor. Upstate New York didn’t have the largest woodland areas, but when it was late fall and the sun set on these dead trees, the woods were scary as all hell. I wasn’t getting scared, though. I knew that Scotty just wanted to play a prank on Zach and me. This was all a ploy to get us to crap ourselves and run home screaming. His big brother was probably out here with some of his asshole friends, ready to jump us.

“Can you just tell us why this damn house is so important?” Zach finally asked, breaking the silence that only the distant crickets had been interrupting.

“Fine, I’ll tell you the story behind this place, and we’ll probably be there by the time I’m done.” Scotty surrendered, turning to us and walking backwards. I kind of was hoping he’d trip and fall flat on his ass. “This used to be the house of Mary Very.” He informed us, an eerie tone in his voice.

“Who’s Mary Very?” Zach asked. Even I turned and looked at him in surprise. Every kid in town knew about Mary. She’d been the meanest old crow I’d ever met. All the kids knew to stay away from her, because if you got too close she’d smack you hard upside the head. No one would complain since she was so old and all.

Disregarding Zach’s ignorance, I said, “Didn’t realize she lived out here. What makes you think this is her old house?”

“Wait a minute, who’s Mary Very?” Zach demanded.

Scotty ignored him too, addressing me instead. “I know it’s her house, because my brother said it was.”

“You can’t be that stupid.” I said, unconvinced. “He could have been spouting a load of shit when he told you that.”

“Who the hell is Mary Very!?” Zach repeated, clearly getting annoyed by our lack of explanation. However, we just kept ignoring him.

“I know he was telling the truth, because right after he told me, my dad brought him into the other room and started yelling at him. I don’t think he wanted me to hear, but I could tell he was telling my big bro not to tell me about it. That’s how I know he was on the up and up.” Scotty explained.

“Yeah, that’s some solid evidence right there.” I laughed.

“Guys!” Zach shouted at the top of his lungs, sending an echo through the woods and causing a murder of crows to fly out of their perch. Their caws drowned out the crickets for a moment before they faded away with the birds.

We both turned to him. “What?”

“Who is Mary Very?” he asked a final time.

“How the hell have you never heard of her?” Scotty asked.

“I guess it was before my family moved here.” He explained. I’d forgotten he hadn’t moved to town until after the old coot bit the dust.

“Mary Very was the single most heartless bitch to ever live in this town. I once saw her kick a puppy that was walking by. She used to smack kids around with her cane for no good reason, and always threatened us to stay away from her house, even though no one knew where she lived.”

“Jesus, why’d she do all that?” Zach asked, amazed.

“Fuck if I know, the old bat didn’t need a reason. She probably just did it because she could.” Scotty replied.

“So why the hell are you dragging us to her house?” I demanded. Exploring some dead woman’s empty house was not how I wanted to spend my Sunday night.

My friend snorted. “Because now we can finally do what she always told us not to do. We can finally go on her lawn and into her house and break her windows and shit. It’s the ultimate revenge!”

I gave him a deadpan stare. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. She’s dead, you moron. Who cares what we do to her house?”

“You’re missing the bigger picture.” Scotty smiled. “There’s gotta be a reason she didn’t want us coming around here. I bet there’s some secret stash of treasure somewhere in that place. You know how old ladies don’t trust banks to keep their money safe after the Depression. She probably stuffed all her cash in her mattress or something.”

Raising an eyebrow, I asked, “Even if that were true, you don’t think the police found it already, or the real estate people, or even relatives?”

He went silent for a minute, contemplating it. “Hey, I say it’s worth a shot… Woah!”

Scotty fell backward, tripping over a small garden fence, and landed flat on his ass. Zach and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You alright?” I asked, holding a hand out. Scotty grasped it and we both pulled.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He groaned, a bit embarrassed, but otherwise uninjured. All three of us looked at the poorly kept garden. No plants grew anymore, just weeds popping up here and there in the dried up soil. We looked past the neglected garden to find an equally neglected lawn, which led up to a small, broken down old house.

“Fuckin’ eh! I told you it was out here!” Scotty beamed victoriously, running past the garden and towards the house.

“Hold on, you dumbass!” I shouted after him. “Don’t just barge in there!”

Scotty stopped and turned back to me. “Come on, man. It’s obviously empty.”

“That doesn’t mean we should start splitting up.” I warned.

A pompous grin spread over his face. Oh, how I wanted to crack him right then!

“You aren’t scared, are you?” he teased. I knew that it was gonna come out sooner or later.

“You know what, screw you Scotty! Go fall into the basement and get stranded here for all I care.”

Scotty frowned. “Fine then. I’ll go find the cash by myself, and you two won’t get a penny of it!”

With that, he ran to the front door, kicking it in and disappearing into the house.

Great… I thought to myself.

“Should we go after him?” Zach asked.

I shook my head. “That’s just what he wants us to do. You realize he brought us out here to try and scare us, right?”

“Yeah, I figured.” He said, kicking the grass. Instead of following Scotty into the house, we walked the circumference of the yard. It seemed like a perfect circle. There was the house in the middle, the garden to the south, and a small utility shed to the west. There wasn’t a road or even a walkway to be seen.

“How’d she get to the main road from here?” I wondered out loud.

“I was thinking the same thing. An old lady couldn’t have walked all the way to town from this place, right?” Zach asked.

“I have no idea.” I replied. It didn’t make any sense. I’d never seen Mary Very drive a car before, but she couldn’t have walked through these woods every day. Not at her age.

The sun had almost completely set, and the only light came from the soft glow of the grey clouds overhead. Suddenly, I felt a strong feeling to leave the woods. At that moment, it was the last place I wanted to be.

“We should go.”

Zach looked at me with surprise. “What about Scotty?”

I turned to the house and cupped my hands over my mouth. “Hey dickhead! We’re leaving in ten seconds, so you better get your ass out here if you don’t wanna walk through the woods alone!”

Fifteen seconds passed, and no sound came from the house. I turned and headed for the garden.

“You’re leaving?” Zach asked.

“I told him ten seconds, and then gave him an extra five. Hell yes I’m leaving.”

I’d almost made it to the garden before realizing that I couldn’t hear Zach’s footsteps behind me. I turned once again to see him walking to the front door.

“What are you doing?” I shouted.

He turned to me. “Making sure he’s okay.”

I slapped my hand to my face. “He’s just being an asshole. Let him walk home alone.”

Zach shook his head. “I’d rather find out he’s just being a prick than leave him here if he really got hurt.” Then he turned his back to me, and the darkness swallowed him as he entered the house.

Fuck! I cursed to myself. I didn’t feel like giving Scotty the satisfaction of going in there, but on the other hand, walking home by myself didn’t sound like an attractive option either. After a minute of pacing the yard, I decided to swallow my pride and enter the front door.

The inside of the house was just as welcoming as the outside had been. It was mostly empty, save a bed, couch, and a few other pieces of furniture. There was barely any light coming through the windows, the sun having already set. Remembering that I’d brought my cousin’s old police flashlight he’d given me a while back, I pulled it out and clicked the button, fully revealing the empty room. The room I was in seemed to be a living room connected to a kitchen. Nothing remained in the house except the aforementioned furnishings that must have been left behind after Mary Very’s death.

What caused unease with me was the fact that Zach wasn’t anywhere to be found. I walked in not two minutes after him, yet he still managed to hide somewhere. I was beginning to think he’d been in cahoots with Scotty the whole time.

“Come on guys, this isn’t funny!” I shouted, louder than necessary. Nothing in the house stirred in reaction to my outburst. There were only three rooms that connected to the living room, and all three were completely empty. There weren’t even any leftover items to be seen.

After looking everywhere else, I finally found a single door along the wall of the kitchen area. It was closed, but it was the only place they could have gone. I’d been in houses like this one before, and knew that there were two possibilities of what was behind the door. Either it would open up to a closet, or to the descending stairs of a basement. I tensed up, turned the knob, and opened the door, ready for the two assholes to jump out.

This didn’t happen though.

When I opened the door, only darkness greeted me. It was darkness, not merely the result of an absence of light, but as if Hell itself were sitting right beyond the threshold. Only three steps of the stairway were visible to me, the rest fading off into blackness. I pointed my flashlight downward, into the dark abyss, almost laughing when I realized it had died. It felt as if it weighed a ton in my outstretched hand, so I lowered my arm and turned, holding no illusions that I would even consider going down there without some sort of light source.

Turning away from the basement seemed like more of a mistake than going down, because when I turned away from the door, I found myself facing an even more frightening sight.

There, standing across the kitchen, was Mary Very.

Even in the lack of lighting, I could see her plain as day. She was wearing a white gown with long sleeves and some sort of bonnet that covered her head. She also wore heeled shoes with white roses on the tops.

I stood there, looking at her with eyes that bore terror and confusion. She seemed to only regard me with hatred and anger. Her brow was furrowed and her mouth contorted into a vicious sneer that gave off malicious intent. I could feel her negativity radiating, squeezing my very soul with its oppression and suffocating me with little effort. My breathing became short, sporadic, and my whole body shook violently, but I couldn’t move otherwise. She stepped closer, not cautiously but forebodingly, like a lion would stand against a threat to its den.

In this case, I was the ignorant creature who’d stumbled into the lion’s den, not realizing the danger and ultimately having my life taken by a pair of claws to the throat. That’s when I realized something that scared me far worse than the fact that I was standing in the presence of a dead woman. What truly struck my heart like a sledgehammer was the fact that she wasn’t looking at me, but past me. She wasn’t sneering at my presence, but the presence of something far more menacing. This force was behind me, just coming out of the bowels of the house. It must have climbed the steps from the basement when I had my back turned, and now it loomed over me, oppressing in its presence, but far more threatening than the ethereal woman.

Now Mary looked to me directly, and her expression changed from one of anger to one of sympathy. Her eyes began to water, and for some reason, so did mine. We both stood there in those few seconds, crying over something I had yet to even understand. I couldn’t feel my flashlight in my hand anymore. I must have lost my grip on it, but I never heard it hit the ground. I didn’t turn to face whatever monster stood behind me, but somehow, I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. First it was just a firm grip, but then it squeezed hard, causing pain to shoot through my body. The pain only lasted a second or two though, because then I felt my head shake violently before I fell to my knees. Then I felt myself falling even further, plummeting into a pit of nothingness. I no longer felt pain, or fear, or anything at all. I simply continued to fall, all the way down through the plane of existence until there was nowhere else to go.

Then my consciousness left me.

* * *

I stared out the window of Mary Very’s old home. It was raining outside, and the water droplets that landed on the window slowly travelled down the glass, using various routes to get to the bottom. Outside, there were police officers, EMTs, and reporters, all gathering around the small woodland abode. Inside, I stood with two sheriff’s deputies on either side of me.

“Can’t believe that psychopath was hiding out here all this time. They’d been looking for him for over two weeks after he escaped Attica with those DeMarco brothers.” One said, staring out the window.

A police cruiser took a small road out of the forest that I hadn’t seen there before. The back seat was occupied.

“Yeah, Richie Davis. He was in prison for three counts of attempted murder.” The other replied. “Looks like he was holding up in Mary’s old basement when those boys came exploring.”

“Did the investigators put it together?”

He shrugged. “More or less. Richie didn’t really keep anything to himself. He said the first boy entered the house alone when he strangled him to death and dragged him down into the basement. Apparently, he was down there cutting the first boy up when the second kid walked in. Richie snuck back upstairs and punched him in the face hard enough to knock him out cold, then quickly brought him down to the basement so he could finish up on the first boy.”

“Jesus…” the other officer commented.

“Then the third boy came in and Richie cracked his skull open with a metal flashlight. Sick fuck said he only wanted to knock him out though, so he was still living when he cut into him. They don’t make movie killers as twisted as this wacko. Can’t believe he only got forty years the first time they threw him in jail.”

“Well that’s not gonna happen this time. Two kids dead, one in the hospital, a half-mutilated corpse. They’ll give him the needle for sure, after this. Would have been even worse if those hunters hadn’t heard the screaming, stormed in on the prick, and held him at gunpoint until first responders could get here.”

“It’s weird, though, the hunters said they heard a woman screaming.” The one pointed out.

“Yeah, that is a little odd.” The other replied.

“No doubt about it.” The one nodded. “Come on, captain wants us to make a statement.”

The two officers left me by the window, and went out to address the growing crowd of reporters who’d gathered outside. I turned away from the window, once again facing Mary Very. She looked at me with sorrow, but also with slight happiness. I was surprised that no sadness had taken me. I didn’t feel much of anything.

Scotty stood next to Mary, giving me an apologetic look. He must have felt like this was all his fault.

I smiled at him reassuringly, then took one last look outside as two body bags were wheeled over to a waiting ambulance. Mary Very opened the basement door, where Scotty had met his end, but the basement was no longer there. Now it was a room of immense light; more powerful than any light I’d ever seen. Scotty immediately walked through the door, as if he knew what lay beyond, the light absorbing his figure until he was completely gone. Mary Very turned back to me, smiling, and reached her hand out. I took it, hesitantly at first, but then with conviction. She gave my hand a soft but confident squeeze, eliminating any remaining doubts I had. Whatever role she’d played while she was alive, I knew that now she was my guide, here to escort me someplace else.

I walked up to her side and returned her warm smile with one of my own. Then together, we stepped through the door, leaving this world behind and entering another.

Ohran's Eye

Legends. Such strange yet fascinating things they are. These intricate weavings of fantasy and imagination have always existed among us, usually bringing hope, caution or fear in one form or another. Some tell the tale of a brave adventurer forging his way to glory and fame through some metaphorical method or another while others recount an individual’s encounter with some awful being or monster. These legends, these stories we pass from father to son, mother to daughter, town to town, they vary quite wildly in all sorts of ways. The emotions they stir within us vary just as wildly, too. There is one thing, however, that all legends have in common: a message.

Sometimes the message is a warning; stay away from a specific place lest you be devoured by some foul beast. Simple. Other times the message comes as a lesson; adopt these morals, practice these methods and you will surely find success. Simple. A legend does not exist purely as a work of fiction. The necessity of the message, the value of the message, this is what defines a legend. Even today, in a world overflowing with tradition, culture, technology and all sorts of things that are rich with knowledge and understanding, we still cling to our legends. We must, after all, for they are the purest and most genuine form of a true message.

It is only now, after so much torment and madness, that I have come to understand the real weight behind legends. In particular, the fabled place of Ohran’s Eye.

It would not surprise me to learn that you have not heard of it, whoever you may be. It is a legend that is widely known to very specific circles. Circles in which I counted myself amongst, once upon a time. The story itself has changed much over the years, so much so that its exact origins have been lost to time. If you were to ask thirty people who knew of the place known as Ohran’s Eye, you would heard a minimum of twenty different tales. Some would only be slightly different while others would seem almost to be completely opposite. Throughout all recounting, however, a similar thread has persisted; that which truly made the legend a legend.

There is a place, one which has existed since the beginning of mankind, which contains a secret capable of changing the world. It lies within a stone tower in the shape of a diamond, which stands erect in a perfectly circular lake. No one knows quite where it is or what exactly lies within it, thus it has laid untouched for years untold, waiting for someone to find it. This place is known as Ohran’s Eye. The details revolving it are variable, as I said before, but this is the core, the backbone. Among many others, I was once obsessed with this legend. I still am to some extent, I suppose. And once I have finished saying what I need to say, recounting the events which occurred mere years ago, you too will understand the message of Ohran’s Eye.

It began late into the evening only a couple years ago. It must have been around 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning when I was suddenly disturbed by a light knocking at my door. So light and easy was it that I could barely hear those quick, hollow booms. Yet, despite this, they roused me from my sleep quite effectively. In retrospect, I find it peculiar that such a soft noise could wake me from such a deep slumber. Cursing and stumbling the whole way for being woken so late into night, I made my way to my front door. I readied a baseball bat by my side, just in case.

I opened the door in a cautious yet angry fashion, prepared for whatever awaited me. What stood before me was not something I could ever have anticipated. It was a man, taller than most, dressed in a deep gray suit with a white undershirt and a black tie. He wore a fedora, which matched his attire, and a pair of archaic-looking, articulate black sunglasses sat upon the ridge of his nose, completely concealing his eyes. He almost seemed to have stepped directly out of the 1950’s. His lips were spread wide in a smile which can, in the clarity of retrospect, only be compared to that of a wolf. His face was smooth, lacking any hair while also appearing grizzled.

“Greetings! A fine a night to you!” He said after a moment of examination, his accent was clearly German and he bowed slightly upon finishing his sentence. I stammered for a second, taken off guard by his cheerful demeanor. “I know, I know,” he said, “it is oh so very late in the night. I am so sorry to trouble you, Sir. What I have to-” I found my voice then, my frustration boiling to ther surface. “Do I know you?” I asked crisply. He chuckled a bit at that. “Of course you don’t! How could you?” He broke off into his crackling laugh once again. I was beginning to reach new heights of irritation.

“What do you want?!” I demanded, cutting his humor short. He looked at me straight then, still wearing his wolf-like grin. He spoke again then, his voice completely serious now. “I have something you would like to possess,” he motioned toward a briefcase sitting against his leg. “I have come to give it to you.” I had no time to react for he turned away and proceeded to walk back towards the sidewalk bordering my own house with a sudden burst of haste. “You will appreciate its contents, I feel certain.” Was all he said as he disappeared into the darkness of that cold, winter night.

At first, I was apprehensive about even touching the case. I brought it inside my home none the less, however, for I was genuinely curious. Curiosity, in general, is something I have always felt quite strongly since I was a child. I tried to resist temptation, I really did. I have always proven myself to be a victim of my own desires, however, and so it did not take long for me to finally open the case. I will forever consider that moment to be the most regrettable one in my life. Yet I know, deep down, that it was an unavoidable one.

What I found within took my breath away. To anyone else, it would have been nothing more than a pile of papers with pure nonsense written across them. I knew right then and there that this was not the case though. It was a map, instructions and evidence all pointing to the location, the true location, of Ohran’s Eye. A place of legend that was not meant to be anything more than just that: a legend. I spent the rest of that night poring over those documents, absorbing every detail like it was holy communion. Sleep was no longer a need during those hours but rather an irritable pulling that I ignored with utter commitment.

By the time morning rolled around, I knew it all. Where to find Ohran’s Eye, how to get there, what I would need for the journey, everything. It was not an adventure I could undertake alone and I would not have, even if I had a choice. My dear colleague and friend, Edward Wright, was who I turned to then. He was just as fascinated with the legend as I was. We had, in fact, spent many sleepless nights discussing the it’s potential existence. And now the time had come, we would be the first to find Ohran’s Eye in untold years.

He was, of course, more than willing. Ecstatic, even. We set to work immediately, purchasing the supplies we would need for the long hike to Ohran’s Eye. It took us a couple weeks, but we did eventually reach the point of being ready to undertake the journey. And so, during the early hours, we departed to find a place shrouded in mystery and wonder. I know now that it should have remained that way, untouched by the hands of mankind.

I will not disclose the location of Ohran’s Eye. My reasons for doing so will be revealed once you have finished reading what I have to say. I will, however, say that it was located among the great forests of North America. The trip involved a lot of driving at first. That was the easier part. We spent much of that time theorizing and chatting with one another. We were both so full of excitement then, so eager to discover the object of our obsession for so many years. After a couple days, I parked my car and we started a long hike. We were both fairly tired at the end of those days, but we still possessed an unburdened cheerfulness.

I often think back to those few days of travel, that time of eagerness. Everything was so simple, we never considered that anything could go wrong. I only wish it hadn’t gone by so fast.

Eventually we did reach that fated place, no matter how badly I wish we hadn’t. We had been following a nearly non-existent trail for a day or so when it finally led out into a large clearing. At the center sat a small lake, perfectly circular in proportion, and from its center stood a diamond shaped tower of strange, dark stone at about fifteen feet tall. It was a scene which, despite not being particularly marvelous, inspired pure awe in Edward and I. We shouted and screamed in joy, in satisfaction, for we had made it; we had made it to Ohran’s Eye. This overwhelming joy was short lived, however, for it was then that we noticed the silence.

Ironic, isn’t it? That silence would be so obviously noticeable, that silence would cut through our cheers of triumph. The complete lack of noise and life, beside our own, silenced us. We grew quiet very quickly as we began to understand. There were no birds, no wind, nothing; not even a whisper from the forest. We might as well have been on the moon. Even there we would see the stars shining though, offering some degree of hope. As we stared at that lonesome tower of faded, deep, stone, however, we felt no hope. The world was still there. Frozen in time. It was something only a curious human would dare intrude upon.

For a while we did nothing but just stand there, taking in every sight. The lake was still, much like everything else in the clearing; it was a pure blue color. Even from the edge of the clearing we could tell that it was very deep. Grass faded to dirt the closer it got to the lake and the dirt to that strange, deep, dark, stone. The stone appeared to be… Warped. Much like the texture of obsidian but with a dull brown-gray tint to it. Where we stood, vegetation stood erect and proud, living. Near the shore, however, no life could be seen. Only that stone and still water.

We managed to push ourselves into motion eventually, though it did take considerable effort. We walked across the grass, then the dirt, and finally the stone to the water’s surface. We had brought an inflatable raft just so we could cross this lake to the diamond shaped tower which brooded quietly at the center of the lake. We crossed the water rather slowly to the tower only to find that there was no way in. No door, window or orifice of any kind that would permit us entry. The surface was smooth and unclimbable. We found ourselves at an impasse.

Fortunately this obstacle proved to be short lived for as we continued to circle the diamond tower we soon found an odd looking iron chain dangling from the top of the structure on one of the faces of the tower. From where we were standing, it appeared to be tied to a D-shaped loop of some kind of metal attached to the top of the structure. We were hesitant at first, the chain appeared to be quite old and the metal seemed equally worn. After a few tests, however, we found it safe. So, our steps full of caution, we climbed the rope to the top.

I was up first. I found myself standing on a flat surface composed of the odd-colored stone. To my right, however, it became a set of stairs which went down into the dark depths of the tower, following the diamond shape of the structure. The stairs were made out of what appeared to be iron while the inner walls of the structure were composed of the same strange stone that the outside was. When Edward made it to the top beside me he gasped for he too was in awe at the oppressive looking hole which lay before us. Judging by how deep it was, we could only assume that a significant part of the tower on which we stood lay beneath the ever-still waters of that lake.

Glow sticks were not on the list of items we thought we would need; else we would have dropped one down to gauge the depth of the descent. We searched our bags and soon found an empty tin can which only served to take up space since its contents had been used up that morning. We dropped it and watched as it quickly disappeared into the bowels of the tower. It must have been a minute or two before we finally heard the echo of it crashing at the bottom. We looked at each other, a mix of fear and wonderment in our eyes.

We talked for a bit after that, figuring out what to do. We considered going back to shore and making the long trip home to tell our colleagues and friends that we had actually found Ohran’s Eye. We would come back and properly explore what lay at the bottom of the tower in the safety and efficiency of a real expedition. We could have turned our backs then, at that crucial moment, we could have left and returned in what could very well have been months upon months. Or we could press on. We could continue by ourselves into that gaping pit of darkness and discover what lay at the bottom right then and there.

I don’t think I need to tell you what we chose to do. We thought we knew the risks, we thought we could handle it by ourselves. I know now that no one, no matter how many people they brought along, could have managed it. No one would really know the risk of that place until it was too late to turn back. And so we descended into what I am now convinced must have been hell itself.

The flashlights we brought with us had little trouble piercing the choking dark of that silent stairwell. Edward and I barely spoke to each other as we climbed further and further into the tower. Our moods were almost directly contradictory to the way we had been over the course of the entire journey. There was no excitement, no joy, just anticipation as to what we would find when we reached the bottom. Anticipation and an ever growing fear, the source of which we could not identify. We continued our descent for a good forty-five minutes or so with a couple breaks here and there before finally reaching the bottom.

The stairs evened out into flat ground. We stood in a diamond shaped room which extended all the way to the top of the tower where we entered with the stairs obstructing any light that may have entered. We seemed to be underground. The only way forward was a tall, perfectly rectangular tunnel which spanned onwards for a bit before taking a sharp right. From around the corner emanated a very soft, yet noticeable, orange light. Edward and I exchanged nervous looks for neither of us knew what to expect or where we currently found ourselves. We were afraid. Very afraid. Fear would not stop us, however, and so we pushed on.

Cautiously, we began to move our way towards the strange tunnel and the even stranger orange glow coming from it. No words were spoken; no sounds broke the silence save our soft footsteps, as we grew nearer and nearer the bend. I cannot speak on Edwards’s behalf, but my heart was beating hard enough that I thought it audible to the darkness around me, though I am certain that this was merely a deception of the mind.

Finally, we both rounded the bend, slowly and with hesitation, but we did it. Ahead of us the tunnel continued on for a bit before widening out into a large cavern with a ceiling so far up we could not see. Strange strands of what appeared to be chains dangled from the dark above, silhouetted by the orange glow. At the far back wall of the cavern were two enormous, diamond shaped, window-like surfaces which were the source of the odd, orange glow, though we could not tell how or why. And standing tall on the flat stone ground between us and the windows was what appeared to be the silhouetted shape of a giant throne with its back facing us.

We froze at the sight before us. How could we not? Awe and fear coursed through our blood like some kind of paralyzing venom. We looked at each other in that orange glow, analyzing each other’s faces, trying to judge whether or not we truly had the courage to push forward and discover what lay in this giant cavern. To discover the source of the legend of Ohran’s Eye. We had come too far to turn back now, we knew that, yet still did we stare and wonder if we should return to the surface, even though we knew we would not. And so, with a confident first step, I moved forward, prompting Edward to follow.

We emerged from the tunnel and into the cavern only to be greeted by the sound of silence, once again. But this… This silence was unlike any I had ever experienced. It weighed on us, choking the air from our lungs and tightening our lips so that we could not speak. To disturb that silence was to wake hell itself, in our minds. Yet we pressed on, drawing closer and closer to the shaded throne that lie ahead of us.

We were about fifteen feet away when we felt it; the air became electric and the silence gave way to madness. We could hear chains rattling above us and the several thuds as things began to land behind us. We turned to see several shadowy shapes moving towards us, the sound of chains rattling all the while. In those brief moments we saw the things for what they were. They were human, or used to be, for their skin was charred black and they all appeared to be extremely emaciated. Their eyes were a milky white and their lower jaws seemed to be completely missing. From their exposed throats came chains which extended all the way up into the darkness.

At first there were only a few of them but they soon became a swarm of darkness as a symphony of chains began to emanate throughout the cavern. Edward and I were grabbed within seconds of their descent, our arms held behind our backs and our heads twisted so that they had to look at the throne. The strange… Creatures circled us, their milky white eyes burning into my friend and I. They would softly touch our skin and bring their own faces mere centimeters from ours, as if this was the first time they had ever seen a human. It may sound strange but I swear that I could almost see envy and lust in the way they examined us.

But the worst was still to come. It was then that we saw something rise from the throne. It was tall at about fifteen feet in height, also appearing to be some sort of humanoid being. And as it drew closer we began to see it more and more clearly for our flashlights, which had fallen to the ground, illuminated it in its entirety.

It dragged a cape of chains behind it, which were connected to a thick collar around its neck. Its actual body was grotesque; the skin was loose and saggy and several strange growths such as extra fingers and feet protruded from its disgusting form. All of which cringed and grasped at something only that awful… Thing could understand. Upon its head sat a large iron mask, which resembled a face stuck in a completely indifferent expression. Several large spikes stood erect from the mask, forming a sort of arc which started where its ears should have been and connecting at the top, central area on its head.

It grew closer and closer with each gigantic step of its misshapen feet, the creatures all parting way like the sea so that their master could get through to us. When he finally did reach us the rattling chains fell completely silent and every single one of those awful, tortured things stared at him as a priest would his god. The enormous being stood before us for a long while, its head tilted downward toward Edward and I. We were frozen in place by the beings awful presence. So much so that I doubt those things would have even needed to restrain us. After what must have been a short eternity, however, the silence was shattered into an infinite amount of pieces.

The giant reached one massive hand outwards so quickly that I hardly saw it. It grabbed Edward by the neck, lifting him up at arm’s length. The frozen terror was gone then, having given way to frantic screaming and struggling. I watched him writhe and twist in an attempt to free himself while that grotesque giants mutant limbs wriggled and twitched in what I can only assume to have been anticipation. The creatures began to shake their heads wildly at the roof of darkness that loomed above us, rattling their chains in a second awful symphony of torment.

The giant then took his free hand and stabbed two of its fingers into Edwards’s mouth, yanking them down and completely severing his lower jaw. My friend… My poor friend… He cried and shouted so loudly and savagely that I could almost feel the pain radiating from him. The giant grabbed one of the many chains in his cloak of iron and brought it to Edwards’s mouth. I watched as it slithered its way into him like a snake, as if it had a mind of it’s own. Edward continued to struggle and resist for a few minutes more before finally going still.

He was not dead though, much as he would have wished it. I could see life in his eyes; however corrupted it may have been, just as I could see it in all the strange creatures that surrounded me. I do not know how much time passed before the giant stopped the chain, yanking it free of his collar and tossing its exposed end directly up into the shadows. With a disgusting, bone breaking crack, Edward was jerked and dragged up into that dark abyss. The other creatures followed him almost immediately after in a similar way, though I cannot say why. And so I was left alone with that demonic giant, that King of Chains.

He turned his massive, helmed head towards me then, but did not otherwise move. I had been released by the creature which had restrained me, yet I did not move. What madman would dare to flee in the presence of such unstoppable and abhorrent evil? I had no option other than to stay and wait for whatever fate this… Monster had in store for me.

More time passed as we simply stared at one another. It kneeled sometime between the silence, making his head level with mine. The being leaned it’s iron mask in close to my face, bringing itself mere inches from mine. “Know me”, a deep, ethereal, genderless voice boomed through the cavern, “Know what I am.” I could do nothing but be motionless. The last thing I remember is that orange glow and that awful iron face staring through me. I can’t say what exactly happened, but merciful unconsciousness found me then.

I awoke sometime near midnight lying in the middle of a road, the same in which Edward and I had parked my car before embarking on the trails and mountains that concealed Ohran’s Eye. I did not try to find my way back to that pit of fear and misery, no. I got in my car and drove home.

This is the truth of Ohran’s Eye, regardless of what you may or may not have heard. It’s message has been corrupted, you see. Made to appear as if treasure or scientific significance lies in wait, as if what sleeps there will benefit mankind. The message, I believe, has always been the opposite of an invitation; it is a warning.

For years I have carried the weight of what I experienced in that place. Nightmares plague me like death when I sleep while my memories torment me constantly during my waking hours. I told Edward’s family and the police that he perished while climbing a mountain and that we never found Ohran’s Eye. To this day I tell people that it does not exist, that it’s not worth the trouble or thought. I tell them of my quest to find it and how my friend fell to his death. I tell them how I found nothing in the end. I lie.

I am dishonest, yes. Of course I am. Sometimes a merciful lie is better than a mortal truth. They would understand if they knew, just as you would.

To this day, I do not know who exactly the man with the wolf like grin and german accent was. He disappeard as quickly as he arrived and left no trace in his wake. Similarily, I have found no answers as to what it is that lies within the depths of Ohran’s Eye. It is a mystery which should remain unsolved, I believe. Which is why I will not disclose the location of that awful place. It is for your own benefit, trust me.

I do not care if you believe me or not, I really don’t. You can keep your opinions and judgements to yourselves. I know what happened, I know my mind. And I know that Edward’s fate was much worse than anyone will ever know. I accept full responsibility for what happened to him. Sometimes when I close my eyes I swear I can almost see him, suspended in the darkness, existing as another one of those awful creatures, doomed to an eternity of torment. I do not like to dwell on this.

So listen to me when I say that Ohran’s Eye is a place to be avoided, heed the message of the legend.

No Body,No Crime:A Cheery Holiday Tale

The neighborhood always was a tight-knit community. The gatehouse kept out all the wrong people, and the rotation of retiree guards provided a second filter for the riff-raff.

Most homes went for over half a million, but a few sold in the quarter-mil range. All of those, they were in the back, all on one cul de sac.

They all used the community pool.

It came as a bit of a scandal, then, when it wasn’t one of those houses that went into foreclosure.

It came as a bit of a scandal, then, when it wasn’t one of those houses that had the owners go missing.

They vanished.

They didn’t just disappear into thin air, though, oh, no. That would have been preferred.

They let the grass go, first. Neighborhood association letters and fines and summons piled up. It was quite scandalous when they actually lit a little fire in their driveway, burning all the notices.

In a further act of defiance, they stopped taking their trash to the curb.

So it was a relief when the young family of three who lived there just…left.

All their possessions, except a suitcase each and one of their cars, poof. Gone.

“Internet money,” the whispers went. “They never really belonged here at all,” people said. “I heard they found their minivan in long term parking at the airport,” they claimed.

That part was true. They did. And nothing else.

Meanwhile, the bank foreclosed. The yard was tended to by the neighborhood association, the house went on the market.

More new money moved in, but they seemed a respectable sort, so they were welcomed to Mallard Street. As it happened, they settled in right around Halloween, just in time for the kids to trick-or-treat and the parents to mingle at a couple of parties.

The first time the Jones met the Emersons, right next door, everyone was enjoying drinks, hilarious costumes, and the most delicious barbeque ever tasted, served from what was probably the largest, most complex smoker anyone had ever seen.

The Jones family were the newcomers, and they raved about the dinner and hospitality, and Mr. Jones asked about the smoker. James Emerson, proprietor of the region’s largest packinghouse, explained that he competed in barbeque cook-offs for fun, and he nicknamed his smoker the “Long Pig.” He liked to share his talents with friends, family, and neighbors at all major holidays and excuses to throw a party. “Everyone likes to come over for my dinners. Good fences don’t make good neighbors,” he’d joke, “good sauces do!”

“Just wait until Thanksgiving,” he winked. “We won’t be doing turkey. I have something special planned.”

Everyone got on famously.

Thanksgiving arrived.

The Emersons invited all of Mallard street, and quite a few folks from other places in the gated community (but no one from that cul de sac) for a Black Friday Night Party.

The smoker could be smelled all the way up at the guard shack starting Wednesday night.

As promised, the barbeque was amazing; Mr. Emerson had saved the youngest, tenderest of quality meats for the holiday season.

“What are you thankful for?” Mr. Jones asked as he enjoyed a plate, savoring each bite because he took the last available serving.

“New, respectable neighbors,” Mr. Emerson responded, stealing a glance at his wife and seeing her smirk where the Jones family couldn’t see. “I’m incredibly thankful that we’ve run out of the terrible ones.”

“Now that the freezer is empty, dear, I think we’ll switch to beef for the Christmas party,” Mrs. Emerson commented, offhandedly.

Everyone chatted and dined as the Long Pig ticked and popped, cooling in the November chill.

Survival of the Fittest

Ever get that feeling like something or someone is watching you?

It’s a human instinct, built from various evolutionary mechanisms. This first began to adapt to more primal humans whilst living in forests or other areas with a high volume of predators. Being able to sense that hunter, aside from using vision, sight or smell, became important over the years. I personally don’t believe in the five senses, I believe it’s a childish way of looking at and explaining something otherwise so complex. I believe that we have many more, including this perceptive sense of being hunted, or being watched.

Now that we are generally far more domesticated as a species, this ability no longer has quite the same useful application in detecting predators (though given a situation where we are stranded in some dangerous woods for example, we still do have it in us).

But this sense now generally applies to other things on an average, day to day basis for us. Perhaps for example, if someone, another human is hunting you, stalking you or is watching you. That can happen and it does happen plenty all around our dangerous, sometimes demented world, every day.

However, perhaps more commonly, whether we know it or not, we also have a sense for feeling other presences that the naked eye cannot detect. And this has also been the case in older, more primal civilizations; where shaman existed to give one example. This ability, or sense, has also evolved over the years and whether people want to admit that or not, it’s irrelevant, it’s just how things work. For example, many of us no longer need rituals to stimulate these sensory perceptions, we simply feel it and many people feel it all the time.

This sense also seems to be stronger in the next, upcoming generations on average. The younger you are as you read this, the better these senses likely are for you, if even just a little. Many people also shut these feelings out, depending on their mindsets and personality traits.

If you are above average in the traits of sensitivity, empathy or are highly observant, then chances are you can better tune-in to these senses. You have a large advantage, if you want to call it that.

That thing watching you as you sleep, staring at you as you are on your computer, as you eat your dinner alone, as you watch TV late at night… its presence, even if momentarily felt, is felt for a reason. It’s never purely imaginary, quit telling yourself that. We have these senses for a reason. That evolutionary trait is working as intended if you feel that sense run down your spine, through your body.

Your body understands that you’re not alone, your mind is then given an option in what to do with that information.

When we turn the lights out, this sense becomes stronger, just as all the other senses do. It’s not make believe. For example, the very primal, common fear of something standing over your bed as you sleep does not stem from nothing, it’s based on many, many generations of humans feeling that sense occur whilst in bed. It’s not a
coincidence.

Try and put it all together, have some wits about it.

There is a very good probability that there is something else with you there right now, looking at you, or at least sharing common space with you. I’m just saying this in a statistical sense, we all know that this sense goes off quite often, perhaps depending on how busy our day, who else is with us, where we are, how we feel and things of that nature. Many factors to it all, really, but at the end of the day anyone can tune into it to some degree.

If you’re alone right now, there is a much higher probability that this sense will trigger for you, just because of your mindset and because of how we are when we’re isolated–we’re so different, aren’t we? It is then up to your mind how to process that sensory input. You can choose these things to be as you want them to be.

Dependent on who you are, your mind may slip. And that is where we begin to see problems. The things watching us become dark and hostile in our minds. The bodies become misshapen and deformed, the intentions become disgusting. We are watched with malice now, through a spiraling, mocking, hateful gaze. They now emerge from the darkest, most satanic bowels of our minds, in where we all undoubtedly have some real estate. The entities watching us, whatever they may be, become one thing. Our greatest fears.

We let them become that.

The weak let them become that. Don’t be weak.

Eight ball

Vincent Cox turned off the lights in his hardware store. He zipped up his black, fleece jacket and walked out into the cold, lonely night. He fumbled for the keys in the pocket of his jeans shivering slightly. He finally fished a rusted, copper key and locked the front entrance door. He sighed and started to walk home.

As he was walking down the sidewalk something in the sidewalk glinted dully catching his eye. Next to a sewage drainage was a small black ball. He curiously shuffled over to the ball, knelt down and touched the ball. There was gust of cold wind and Vincent shivered and glanced nervously behind him. He felt like he was being watched. Quickly he picked up the ball and examined it. It was an eight ball.

The whole ball was smooth like it had never been used before. He looked into the small triangle glass and was intrigued when he noticed that the word “Yes” behind the glass were glowing brightly in the dark. He decided to ask the ball a simple yes or no question.
“Am I wearing a black jacket?”
Vincent shook the ball and looked into the glass.
“Definitely” was what came up. Vincent smiled. It was just one of those coincidences, so he decided to ask another one.
“Am I in a relationship with anyone”
Vincent knew he wasn’t in a relationship with anyone. He wasn’t much of a social man.
“I don’t know” the ball replied.
Vincent asked another question on whether he supported Obama. Again the ball answered “I don’t know”. Vincent asked more questions about his personal life and no matter how hard or fast he shook the ball again and again it came up as “I don’t know”. Finally Vincent sighed and decided to ask different questions.
“Am I boy?”
“Certainly”
Vincent paused for a while. “Weird” he thought. Vincent asked another.
“Am I listening to my IPod?”
“No”
“Is it nighttime”
“Definitely”
Vincent shivered.
“Am I holding an eight ball?”
“Of course”
Vincent was feeling colder now and he thought he heard a rustling sound just in front of him. He couldn’t see anything much in the darkness except for a house surrounded by small bushes and trees. He flipped out his cellphone and turned it on “lantern”. But still there was nothing he could see. He instinctively looked back to where his store was and tried to see anything strange. Nothing. Shakily he started to walk back to his house. Vincent asked one more question
“Am I walking to my house?”
“Yes”
Vincent started to walk faster.

As he was walking to his house he would occasionally glance behind him feeling like someone was watching him, trying to catch up to him. When he reached his front door he impatiently jabbed his key into the keyhole missing a few times before putting it perfectly into the hole. When he unlocked the door, he swung it open and quickly shut it behind him. Locking the door, Vincent ran into the kitchen and grabbed a kitchen knife. He felt stupid, but he pushed out this thought. Slowly he slid the knife into its case and then put the knife securely in his pocket. He swore he heard scraping and bumping out in his front door but he resisted the temptation to go check. Instead he walked into his bathroom, turned on the lights and closed the door, locking it. He decided to ask a question.
“Am I at home right now?”
“Yes”
Vincent tapped his thumbs tensely.
“Am I eating anything?”
“I don’t know”
“Am I in the living room?”
“I don’t know”
Then suddenly he heard the front door burst open and footsteps coming through the entrance. Vincent held his breath, his face going pale. He slammed off the lights in the bathroom and hid himself behind the sink waiting, clutching his kitchen knife. He heard the footsteps passing his bathroom. The footsteps entered into the living room, and then they stopped. He felt the ball in his hand move slightly. Vincent took a look at the ball and his heart almost skipped a beat.
“Definitely Not”

He heard footsteps again, walking up the stairs. Vincent made his escape. He ran out the bathroom and out the front door. He ran out onto the streets and back to where the stores were.
“Are you still trying to find me?”
“Of course”

When he reached his store he looked around him. Across from his hardware store was an old magic shop. The door was slightly ajar.
“Are you still at my house?” Vincent asked
“Haha no”
“Are you coming to get me?”
“Yes”
“Do you know where I am”
“Most likely”
“Should I be afraid?”
“Of course”

He pushed his way into the store and flipped on the light switch. The lights failed to turn on so Vincent flashed out his cellphone and turned on “Lantern” mode. Breathing heavily he scanned the large store looking in shock. The whole store was trashed. Vincent then jumped back in horror as he saw the dead body of the manager. He walked over to the body and saw a piece of paper in one hand and a transparent blade of a knife in the other. Vincent hastily snatched the blade and rubbed, with his pointer finger, along the flat side of the blade. For a second all fear vanished inside of him. The blade glowed suddenly with a low hum. A beautiful white light shined into Vincent’s eyes making him close them tightly. When his eyes readjusted he marveled at the beauty of the light.
It was a light of hope, the absence of darkness. Just then Vincent was startled by the noise of footsteps entering the store. There was low, terrifying grunt. Fear took over Vincent again causing the blade to lose its light, leaving him with only his cellphone. He flipped it off and slowly backed into the very back of the store.
“Are you going to try to kill me now?”
“Very good chance”

He pocketed the eight ball in his jacket. His left hand slowly slid out the kitchen knife in its case while clutching the transparent blade with his right. He slowly paced around randomly along the shelves and messes. He didn’t know whether to sneak out or try stabbing the creature from behind. The footsteps and the grunts were coming closer and closer. Vincent prepared himself. He waited patiently behind an old shelf of cards. Cautiously, Vincent leaned his head out of the left catching a glimpse of the creature from the side. It looked like a huge ragdoll. Its mouth was wide open; its jaws hanging low. That’s all that Vincent could make out it the dark. Quickly, Vincent pulled his head back behind the shelf. His breathing grew more rapid. He was on breaking point.

“3…2…1…” Vincent jumped out behind the creature lunging the knife into the creature’s head.

The beast stumbled backwards howling. It slammed against the wall. Regaining its balance, Vincent watched frozen in dread as the creature sluggishly pulled the knife of its head. The creature started to laugh madly. It tossed the knife at Vincent who ducked to the right just in the nick of time. The knife wound on the creature slowly stitched back up and the creature pounced onto Vincent while he screamed. Vincent was knocked back, bumping into a shelf. The shelf rocked a little causing a bucket to drop onto the creature’s head

The creature’s grasp loosened and Vincent broke free. He grabbed the shelf and pushed it over onto the creature. It moved furiously as it deliberately tried to free himself form the shelf. Vincent felt a twinge of bravery and suddenly the blade shined a gorgeous beam of white light.
Taking out the eight ball Vincent said triumphantly,
“Do you think you’re still going to kill me?”
“I don’t know”

Vincent held the blade high in the air throwing light on the ceiling and slammed it down on the creature’s “neck” just as it struggled to get out. The blade of the knife sunk into the creature’s neck filling his whole body with light. The creature shrieked and bellowed as he flopped around like a fish on land before disappearing completely. It was over. Vincent sighed and nervously chuckled.
Then he remembered that there was piece of paper on the dead manager. He made his way towards the body, feeling sorry for the man before curiously picking up the paper. Anxiously he read it aloud “I didn’t know it would turn out like this. What have I done? It’s going to eat my soul and it’s going to eat yours. Please do something” Vincent’s head was filled with questions but he decided that bliss was ignorance. He slowly put the paper into his pocket.

Vincent quickly took out the eight ball. Standing completely still Vincent asked it a final question.
“Am I doing jumping jacks while singing All You Need is Love by the Beatles?”
Vincent shook the ball nervously and it answered the question in one word:
“Of course”