Every day they seem to get worse. All I see is darkness and 2 red eyes peering at me from the darkness at night. I hear things, like voices calling to me, but I know that it isn’t a ghost because it is my past self. “How can I keep going like this?” My past self once questioned. It want a ghost that haunted me, it was my own horrifying mind that did. In the night when I closed my eyes I could hear my closet opening, but it was all in my head. I sometimes could imagine myself hanging from a tight rope, as my younger self when I was extremely depressed. I never got over my dads death, even after I felt a lot better, that’s when this all started. I would see fleeting shadows fluttering around the room in the shape of me. I would see my younger self in the mirror, small and afraid. The thing people don’t understand is that you shouldn’t be afraid of ghosts, what really is scary is the way your own mind makes things that aren’t there. My house is creaky and ominous as it is, but lately I’ve been becoming increasingly sleep deprived. In the day, I hear my voice, at night I see myself crying on a swivel chair. In the afternoon I see my own death… Of course it wasn’t the present me, it was what would’ve happened if I had gone through with my suicide. Somehow, when I was questioning my own existence and still contemplating my life choices, a little voice whispered to me. “You are good enough, there’s someone out there that will be devastated for the rest of their lives. Why kill your self and make others feel your pain?” A small voice said to me. The voice sounded innocent and kind. It convinced me to keep going with my life, to try again. The visions were endless and almost distant. Sometimes I would imagine myself with my friend and then I would go insane. That’s how I felt inside. True sadness and anger. The truth was, I wasn’t depressed anymore, I was just upset and angry at myself. I wanted these visions to end, but they never seemed to do it. Sometimes the voices never stopped, they just kept going until the morning, ushering me secrets and dark things my mind had once gone to. I was happy I was alive, but lately I’ve been questioning my sanity. Hallucinations only got worse. With almost a year of dealing with them, I wanted to stop them, but I didn’t know how. The only thing I could think of was facing my fears of my dads death, and feeling all the emotions until I let them all out. I looked up at the sky one night and saw a shooting star. Maybe there was a glimmer of hope deep inside my mind, deep inside that little hole of darkness, maybe there was still hope left…

Not Zombiler apartmanı Dış kapının önündesiniz. Etrafa göz gezdirdiğinizde sağınızda, solunuzda bir canlı göremiyorsunuz. Kapıyı açıp usulca içeri giriyor ve dış kapının kapanma sesiyle birden irkiliyorsunuz. Koridorda ilerlerken çıt çıkmıyor; ölüm sessizliğini iliklerinize kadar hissediyorsunuz. Yavaş yavaş merdivenlerden çıkarken, bir ses ya da bir nefes duyma umuduyla basamakları tırmanıyorsunuz. Her adımda, boş ve harabe bir yere girmiş gibi içiniz daralıyor; korkuya kapılıyorsunuz. Ruhunuzdaki kasvet çoğalıyor, kalbiniz hızla çarpıyor ve ellerinizin terlediğini fark ediyorsunuz. Umudunuz, en son basamağı çıktığınızda sona eriyor.

Hayır, bu bir korku filmi değil; burası benim 17 yıldır oturduğum "Yaşayan Ölüler Apartmanı". Evimi çok seviyorum, ancak komşuluk kelimesinin anlamını bilmeyen; otoparktaki araçları ve kedileri değer ölçüsü sayan, bireyselliği savunan ve asosyal denilebilecek kişiliklerde yöneticiler olduğu için bu sevdiğim ortamdan soğumaya başladım. Burada oturan kiracıları ve yeni taşınanları yargılayamam. Yeni bir yere taşındığınızda yabancılık çekebilirsiniz, ancak daha önce burada oturanlar yakınlık gösterirse adaptasyon sorununu kolaylıkla atlatabilirsiniz.

Bir insan olarak, beni en çok ne yaralar biliyor musunuz? Aynı jenerasyonlardan geldiğinizi düşündüğünüz ve komşuluk bilinciyle yetişmiş olduğunu zannettiğiniz insanların, yıllardır aynı apartmanda oturuyor olsa da bu bilinçte olmadıklarını fark ettiğiniz an. Ah, "Devir böyle artık." demiyorlar mı? Asosyal ve insan sevmezliklerini saklamak için bu cümleye sığınıyorlar. Bizim apartmanda kapı neredeyse hiç çalınmaz. Kapı çalındığında, kim olabilir diye heyecana kapılıyorsunuz. Anlatıklarım size abartılı gelebilir, ama maalesef durum bu.

Bir gün apartmanda bir etkinlik düzenleyip, kek ve poğaça yaparak çay eşliğinde komşularla tanışmayı teklif ettiğinizde, tasvip ediyormuş gibi görünüp, aslında sizi de kendi soğuk yalnızlık çukurlarına çekiyorlar. Bu yüzden "yaşayan ölüler" terimini kullandım. Bu şekilde daha ne kadar yaşarız, bilmiyorum. Evinizde bir kalp krizi geçirseniz ya da ses çıkarmayacak kadar rahatsızlansanız, yandınız. Evladınız, akrabanız yoksa ve kimsesizseniz, bu apartmanda ölürseniz cesediniz muhtemelen kokar.

Televizyonlardan duyarız ya, apartmanda kötü bir koku yayıldığında polis çağırılır ve kapıyı açtırdıklarında anlaşılır ki komşunuz ölmüş. İşte bu şekilde televizyonlarda ya da sosyal medyada "Komşularıyla ilgilenmeyen insansı yaratıklar" olarak meşhur olabilirsiniz. Reklamın iyisi kötüsü olmaz, değil mi? Bu düşüncedeki insanların sayısı azımsanmayacak kadar fazla; ne yazık ki amip gibi, bakteri gibi, kanser hücresi gibi hızla ve geri dönüşsüz bir şekilde çoğalıyorlar. Son olarak, şunu söylemeliyim: Yalnız kalmış, yalnızlığın kapısını çalmayanlar, umarım bir gün yalnızlığın sancısıyla karşılaşmazlar.

“I’ve told you a million times already! How many more times do I have to retell the TRUTH?!” Ian yelled as he hit the metal table in the interrogation room. The female officer in the corner grabbed her gun in the holster on her hip, putting the other hand up. “Sir, I need you to calm down!” She yelled.

The detective in front of Ian looked at her, “step out Officer Danali.” She looked at him confused. “But-“ she started, “Not another word. Out.” The detective said sternly. Looking back to Ian, his face darkened. “Look, if you can’t give me the answers I’m looking for; I will have to lock you up.”

Ian put his head in his hands, “I’ve been telling you the truth, this entire time. My name is Ian Williams, I am 27 years old, I’m from Wako, Texas. I went to college at Texas University but dropped out after two years because I decided I wanted to do something better with my life. I got married five years ago to my wife Melody Chambers, and we have two kids together. I work as a renovator; fixing up houses for those who need the work done. The man in the other room? He isn’t me! I have every single bank statement, every ticket I received from speeding and parking in a no parking zone, and I have every one of my medical records since I was ten years old. I even have a scar from when I flew off my mountain bike on my leg when I was 13! My mom can attest to that!” The detective nodded his head, then when Ian finished his story, he asked: “then why does he look like, sound like, and even share the same scar as you?”

Ian leaned forward, “I don’t know! All I know is that HE isn’t ME. He’s taking over my life! He… he SLEPT with MY WIFE, then committed a bunch of wire fraud under MY NAME! I don’t know why, or how this is even possible!” The detective scratched his face, then sighed.

“I want to help you, but you’re not helping yourself. Your ‘wife’ as you call her has even identified that man in the other room as her husband. Your ‘mom’ confirmed that it wasn’t a mountain bike accident where you got that scar on your leg, but falling down the stairs and landing on a glass table in the living room when you were 7. You’re story doesn’t line up with any of the witnesses we have interviewed. Why is that?”

Ian’s eyes welled up with tears, “I don’t know, man!” His voice broke, “Maybe he paid them? Maybe they decided that he’s better? I don’t know! What I do know is that he isn’t me. I’m the real Ian!”

The detective nodded, standing up he gestured to the one way mirror, “take him. We’re finished here.”

“Wait! No! You-You can’t lock me up!” Ian yelled, standing up as two officers came into the room. Ian tried to convince them that he was the real Ian, but that didn’t react.

As they hauled him to the mental hospital car he seen the man who had taken control of his life standing in a window grinning at him. He was the perfect mirror image of Ian. From his brown hair, to the beauty mark on the palm of his hand. “No, no, no, no! NO! NO!” Ian screamed as he tried to get away.

They got him outside then placed him in the vehicle. He felt buzzing in his pocket when they closed the door. Ian opened the message:

“See you in the next life, brother. You’ve been replaced.”

Ian looked up to see the man who took over his life, breaking a burner phone and putting it in his pocket inconspicuously. Ian yelled but no one heard him.

As the car drove away he watched as his wife, and his children cling to a man they didn’t know. A man who looked like him, but wasn’t on every level.

The telly crackles as he takes to the stage.

Even if the people has spoken, my anger rages.

His glow and his smirk implicates that it’s time for revenge.

I can’t help but dreading that I’m no longer safe.

The telly goes black and I stare at my reflection.

Black, curly hair and a more liberal stance on life.

That makes me a target for the next four years.

I can feel the cold sweat dripping on the back of my neck as she stares us down from the front center of the room. Her face is pale and cold, graying blonde hair pulled tight into a severe bun, pointed finger ready to press the dreaded button. My heart rate builds and my face scrunches in a fierce panic. God, all I wanted was to have a fun Halloween. How is it that I ended up here?

People around me begin praying, looking up to the heavens in terror and down in desperation. Their heavy breathing is the only sound I hear. I close my eyes, thinking, reviewing, recalling. I try imagine the necessary bolded words, the haphazard sentences I strung together last night. It proves pointless; my mind remains blank and horrifically inarticulate. I want to cry and scream but I can’t. I’m stuck here, in this wretched, uncomfortable chair that stabs at my back.

I glance around at my friends, my peers, and I see the same frozen fear on their faces. None of us are prepared for this rapidly approaching horror show, and there’s nothing we can do about it now. Our terrible fates are all settled and sealed.

I take a nervous breath and look up at my instructor, eyes brimming with hopeless tears. She merely purses her lips, gives a ruthless smile, and stamps her finger down to start the timer.

“Your exam begins now.”

I sigh, and turn the page. So much for Halloween.

Peter awoke in a long hallway. It stretched as far as his eye could see, and the end of it was shrouded by shadows. The walls were pure white; the air smelled crisp and clean; the floor beneath his feet was smooth, perfect.

It unnerved him.

He couldn’t seem to move, either, so he was stuck there, staring at the hallway, waiting for something to launch at him from the darkness.

But it never came. Instead, he heard a voice. Neither male nor female.

It said, “Congratulations, Peter Green! You have been chosen, along with 19 other contestants below and near your age, to participate in Lord Hans’ contest.”

Peter tried to move his jaw to ask a question, but found that he couldn’t. He was left wondering what the voice meant by “contest”.

It continued, the end of the hallway becoming brighter which each word, “You will be going through the levels the Lord himself designed. In total, there are ten, and at the end, the last person standing will be crowned winner and brought back to your original world.

“You may want to partner with some of the other contestants, but it is not forced. You may travel alone if you wish to. Throughout every level, there will be food and supplies to aid you and others during the competition. There are no rules except one—“

Peter started to scream in his mind, body still useless, as the light blinded him and overwhelmed his senses which a fiery glare.

“Stay alive.”

——

_(Okay, this has been on my mine for over a year now, but it’s so damn dark—you’ll see if I ever get the guts to write it. Like, it’s worse than Judges of Man. Mostly because it has to deal with kids and their mental health during this whole thing. _💀

If you think this is a cool idea, tell me! Imma have to brainstorm another 19 characters from the Earth world for this thing to work out. Everyone is 18-5 —yes, there are 5 year olds. You’ll figure out why the Lord does this later, if I do this thing.

As always, thanks for reading and have a great day—or night, I’ve forgotten to always say that.)

I don’t know how long I’ve been here.

It’s dark. That’s all I can say about it.

No windows. No light. No sound.

The room is damp. Always is.

I don’t know how long I’ve been in here.

My mind swirls and flares.

The wet smell holds my nose.

How would the world look without eyelids?

I think I already know.

I don’t know how long I’ve been in here.

My mind calls me.

“Lora.. Lora…. LORA…”

I don’t really know how to answer.

I think there used to be someone else.

I don’t know what he looks like.

How could I? It’s dark.

He called out me everyday.

“Lora..? Lora..?”

I would answer.

“M#z#l#…?”

Why can’t I remember his name..?

He calls for me.

“Lora… Lora…”

I don’t know how long I’ve been in here.

It’s dark.

He calls… but it’s not him I know it’s not.

He stopped calling a while ago.

He calls again.

“Lora..? Lora…?”

I don’t answer. Why should I?

It’s all in my head.

“Lora? Lora?!”

In my head…

“Lora..! Lora..!”

IN MY HEAD. IN MY HEAD. IN MY HEAD.

I don’t know how much more I can take.

My body sprawled out on the cold, cement floor.

They crawl all over me and prickle at my skin.

Spiders, worms, fleas..!

I don’t know. It’s to dark.

I don’t know how long I’ve been in here…

It’s to dark to tell.

Please let me out.

IN MY HEAD. IN MY HEAD. IN MY HEAD…

The story is about a man the lives in the deep forests by himself for a long time. He was just tired of city and people interaction so 8 years ago he came to this forest. His day to day live was spent by hanging cutting woods collecting herbs and preparing for the winter. However this winter was special, too cold snow were falling almost everyday, wind was very strong, strong anough to even brake the branch of trees and trees themselves. The kind of conditions were very hard to handle for that man. By the end of December his saving woods that were made for fire and warm were almost run out of.

just being a fake justin beiber fan is enough to make me scared through the grapevine

I woke up to flashing lights, which was odd, because I don’t wake easily. There were blurry shapes of firefighters, fully clad in fire gear, milling about on the street below. I rushed to my brothers room, flinging his door open. “I think there’s a fire, let’s go!” He, still quite groggy, grabbed his to-go bag, and I ran upstairs to warn my parents, too. I shook them awake and pulled back the curtains. There was a wall of flame in the not-so-far distance with smoke billowing upwards. We all went upstairs, donned our smoke/COVID masks, got our dog, and anything else we could grab. Then, outside we went, shivering in the midnight air. Alarmingly, the only cars we saw were going back up the hill, instead of leaving! One neighbor was kind enough to tell us what was going on. He rolled down his window. “The fire engines are blocking the road… we have to evacuate on foot.” We lived on a narrow, windy, deathtrap of a street, right next to open space, so I should have expected this, really. It was a 30 minute walk to town. Panic would have flooded through me, but I was high on adrenaline. a sense of grave calmness. Would this be the next big wildfire? My heartbeat quickened a bit at the thought. Would we end up as little more than numbers on a death toll?