Estimated reading time — 22 minutes

“Why does a writer write? Because they must.” -Anton Richards

These words have been repeating in my head for the last week. They pound in my brain like a jackhammer. They prevent my mind from resting and keep me awake at night. That is why I am here at 3am. I write to stave off the madness that has consumed me, I write because they have given me no other choice. However I am getting far ahead of myself. To understand the terrors that I now endure, we must return to the start.

One might consider the beginning of all of this to be when my English teacher assigned that cursed essay. However the true origin began when I was 10 years old. I was just a boy forced to goto to the library by his mother because apparently comic books and video game manuals did not constitute “proper reading.” She demanded that I pick an actual novel but I had no interest in such things.

Reluctantly I browsed the shelves until I stopped dead in my tracks by an illustration that for better or worse would change my life forever. The image was of a young maiden cowering in terror and behind her was a cloaked creature with a long snout and serpent-like green eyes. The illustration was simple and yet sucked me in immediately. The book was called “Watcher of the night.” by Anton Richards and I knew I had to have it. 5 days, 600 pages and several nightmares later I finished the book. It was then that I fell deeply and completely in love with all things macabre. It was then that my fate became sealed.

Flash forward 7 years later to the day of the fateful final essay of grade 12 English. The essay was a simple enough topic, all we had to do was choose our real world hero and write about the effect they had on your life. For me there was absolutely no question as to who I would choose. Richards and his writing had defined my youth. I believed this essay was locked in but that was until my teacher asked me to stay behind.

The class emptied and my teacher stared at me with a stern expression. “You know that you are failing my class, correct?” I looked at him with a smirk and put on my best Ralph Wiggim voice. “Me fail English? That improbable.” My joke did nothing to change his mood. “The fact that you are joking about a matter such as this gives me great insight into why you are failing. This is serious and could have you returning here next year. I know you are a bright enough young man and that’s why I’m trying to help you. If you get an A on this essay then you can scrape by with a passing grade. Now tell me who are you writing about?”

I smiled and told him Anton Richards. I swear his responding eye roll was audible. “While I wish you would read something greater than that putrid pulp, I do admire that you chose a writer and not some internet star. Did you know that he is a local?” He asked with genuine curiosity. I nodded rapidly. “He was born and raised right here in Nova Scotia, yes.” He smiled and nodded. “Yes and he is also something of a friend of mine. He actually used to come and give a few class lectures but that was quite some time ago. He has become a bit of a recluse in recent years but I’m certain he would take a call from an old colleague. Especially if a student’s academic future was on the line.”

It took me longer than I would care to admit to understand his meaning but it hit me like a freight train. “Wait, can you get me a phone interview with him?” He smiled at me. “I’ll do you one better, I might be able to set up an in person meeting.” I thought for a moment that I was going to melt through the floor. I gave him my number and a mere two days later I was given a time and address for the interview.

The meeting was to take place at his private estate on a small island just off the coast. To say I was exhilarated is an almost sin worthy omission, I was ready to pass out. Anton Richards may not have the international fame of King or Stoker however I have never encountered another author that delved into absolute terror the way he did. It was as if he was a conduit for fear itself.

The following Saturday I was on the ferry to his island mansion. That was when I felt my first bit of unsettlement. I’ve always hated the water. Perhaps it was because of the nightmares I had about corpses pulling me under the sea and devouring me. I was also the only person on the ferry despite it being a beautiful June afternoon. Overall everything just felt too quiet and it sent an uneasy chill down my spine.

Mercifully the trip was short and I soon found myself on dry land. The captain gave me a quick reminder that the last ferry leaves at 7pm and not to be late. I gave him a simple nod and went on my way. Within minutes I arrived at the gates of Anton’s home however I found myself both shocked and disappointed. In my head I imagined him living in a large gothic manor with gargoyles and pentagrams on every window. The house that stood before me on the other hand was extremely pleasant and rather modern. It was a standard large lake house that you might see in a romance movie.

Regardless of the nature of the home it didn’t dampen my excitement and I gave the doorbell a firm push. I was torn between wanting to run away and wanting to burst through the door like the kool aid man. I was about to meet the cause of most of my nightmares and my greatest hero. The door slowly creaked open and my boogeyman stood on the other side. I’m not entirely sure what I expected from a horror legend but this thin, smiling man in a sweater vest and reading spectacles was definitely not it.

“You must be Justin. Michael said you would be dropping by. It is a pleasure to meet you.” He said in a calming and pleasant voice. I don’t know how long I stood there stunned in silence but clearly I wasn’t thinking about a clever response for all I could muster was “You’re Anton Richards.” He simply smirked and chuckled. “Not what you were expecting huh? Yeah I get that a lot. Please come in, I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”

I simply nodded and followed him inside. As ordinary as the outside seemed, the inside was even more benign. Beautiful polished wood floors and ivory ceilings stretched for seemingly forever in all directions. The house was grand and beautiful but completely normal. “What no coffins? No skeletons?” I asked in disbelief. He chucked again. “The only skeletons here are in the closets and I would invite you to stay out of them. Now please join me in the parlor, darkness is fast approaching and we must begin.”

The parlor was open and spacious as the hallways had been. A grand fireplace lined the center of the walls. On the mantle were a collection of his novels and each paired with a different literary award. Above the mantle hung a massive portrait of Anton with his first book in his hands. I marveled at the decor while he poured us each a cup of coffee. “You have an amazing home sir, I am truly honoured to be invited into its brilliance.” Anton smiled and waved his hand. “Come now Justin, there is no need to act so formal around me. I’m just a simple man like you. Speak to me as you would a friend. I consider all of my fans to be just that.”

I won’t lie I blushed a little bit at being referred to as a friend by my hero. His words did help me calm down and I took my cup of coffee from his offering hand. It was incredibly strong and bitter. Normally I was not a coffee drinker but how could I refuse my host? We sat down across from each other and settled in. “Michael told me that you need a strong grade on this paper so please don’t hold back. Everything but my banking information is on the table so please fire away.”

I smiled nervously. “I guess my first question is why did you choose to become a writer?” He tented his fingers and thought deeply on the question. “Why does a writer write? Because they must. It is a deep internal drive to take what lies in one’s soul and put it out for the world to see. Creativity is a gift and one that must be shared. If you don’t let it out it will consume you.”

I nodded and took notes. “But why horror? I mean I’m not complaining but it has such a narrow fan base.” He chuckled once more. “You could ask a thousand horror junkies that question and get a thousand answers. I have come to believe that the love of macabre lies deep in our blood and souls. One can look at a creature of the darkest nightmares and turn away screaming. However there are those of us who do not look away, we instead look deeper until we are so entwined with that darkness that it becomes a part of us, do you know what I mean?” I simply nodded because I knew EXACTLY what he meant.

Anton smiled at the unspoken understanding and continued on. “I also owe my love of horror to my idol Randal Carver.” I smiled in recognition of the name. “He was one of the most celebrated horror authors of his generation. He wrote Stigori Genesis. I read that in 10th grade and understood about 60% of it.” I exclaimed with glee. Anton threw his head back and issued a laugh that echoed in the cavernous house. “You know your horror history and I admire that. Yes he was an amazing author. I had the deep honor of meeting him once back in college.” Anton replied.

I was struck with disbelief at his claim. “That’s incredible, he must have been like 100 years old.” Anton chuckled. “95 and still doing lectures. I’ll admit that when I first saw him I was disappointed. He seemed so tired and run down. He spoke of horror in such a flat dialect that I could tell his passion was gone. However when I approached him after the lecture he seemed to brighten up at my presence. He said he saw great potential in me. He told me that I had a bright future ahead of me, if I didn’t mind plunging into absolute darkness to get it. I said I would do anything and he smiled at me. I won’t lie there was something in that smile that chilled my blood. It was like he knew something I didn’t. He shook my hand and left. Sadly about 6 months later he passed away. This could just be a rumor but people say he died with a smile on his face and somehow I just knew it was the same smile he gave me.”

Anton’s words sent a chill through me. He shook his head and smiled. “My apologies, horror is a gift that sometimes I can’t turn off no matter how much I wish I could.” It was my turn to shake my head. “Don’t apologise, horror is my drug. I wish I had a talent such as yours.” At that moment the whole tone of our conversation changed. Anton straighted in his chair. “Do you have a desire to be a horror novelist?” I merely shrugged. “The desire and passion, yes. Unfortunately I lack that little thing called talent. I just feel like everything has been done and I have no real ideas.”

Anton took on a sinister grin that made my blood go cold. “Oh trust me anyone can be a great horror writer, with the right inspiration.” The room suddenly grew darker as if the sun went behind a cloud. Anton continued to stare at me and I began to feel as though he could somehow see through me, see into me. “Do you really believe that I have potential?” I asked nervously. His eyes widened and he leaned towards me. “Oh yes you have enormous potential. All you need is a hand.” At that moment he began slowly stretching his hand towards me and I couldn’t stifle my recoil.

All at once he seemed to slip back into himself and he grinned. “Also your spelling and grammar needs work, if what Michael told me is true.” We shared a laugh and everything around us seemed to go back to normal as if nothing had been amiss. The sun came back out and the room felt bright and warm again. We continued the interview for hours, during which time he had drained four cups of coffee while I barely managed to get down one. The wisdom he imparted on me in that time could fill a whole book in itself but that is not why we are here. It is not his words that have affected me so much as what followed.

When the interview was done I was extremely confident in my A grade paper and I was extremely satisfied at a literal dream come true. We stood from our chairs and Anton smiled at me. “I truly appreciate you coming by today Justin. I don’t get many visitors and never have I met someone with the same passions for literature and horror as myself. I know you will go far my boy.

Anton extended his hand towards me and this time I happily took it. In the heat of the day his grip felt ice cold. I tried to break the shake but he only tightened it. I looked at his face to discover a look of shock and fear held within it. His gaze was not held on me but on the bay window. I turned my head but the only thing I could see was the setting of the sun into the lake. Was this master of horror honestly afraid of the dark?

It took me a moment to realize what the setting sun meant for myself. “Oh no, the ferry is gone! How am I going to get home?” I exclaimed. My panic seemed to have brought Anton back to reality and he let go of my hand. “Oh no this is my fault. I’m so sorry. While they say that good conversation makes time fly.” He said with a laugh. I personally did not find the situation that funny, I was more confused than anything. Getting lost in conversation is one thing but they must have been talking for over 6 hours. How did neither of us notice that?

Anton shook his hand and clapped his hands. “Oh well my boy there is no need to worry. Call your parents and tell them you are stuck here tonight. You will stay here as my personal guest.” I shook my head violently. “Oh no please I couldn’t ask that of you.” I don’t know why the idea of staying made me so uncomfortable. The idea of staying with my idol for the night should have exhilarated me and yet all I wanted to do was get out of there. “Oh no Justin I insist. You are stuck because of me and therefore are my responsibility. As I said I don’t often have guests so this is a real treat.”

I knew there was going to be no arguing with him. Besides, what real choice did I have? He prepared us a late supper and we ate in silence. I suppose we used up all our words in the afternoon and had nothing left to say. After dinner I thought we might stay up for a bit and hang out however he insisted that we both go straight to bed. I was disappointed but somewhat relieved. I simply couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that being in this house gave me. The sooner I got to sleep, the sooner I could get out of there.

I went into the bathroom to wash up and went looking for a razor to get rid of some stubble but what I found instead shocked me. Inside the sink drawer were several containers of different makeup concealers. He lived alone and wasn’t married so who did that belong to? Surely it wasn’t for himself. I shrugged and closed the drawer feeling guilty for more or less snooping.

Anton led me to one of his guest rooms and gave me a smile. “Sleep well my boy and in the morning we will get you home. You will be quite comfortable there but I must ask that once you go in that you stay inside. It can be very dangerous to walk the halls at night.” He chuckled and walked off and yet something in my gut told me that he didn’t truly mean it as a joke. The room was a little dusty from disuse but otherwise quite lovely and the bed was very comfortable. I found myself drifting within minutes of hitting the pillow.

Despite the ease of entering sleep, my rest was anything but peaceful. I dreamt that I was in this strange world. My surroundings were almost pitch black. The only light in the sky was this strange red mood that provided almost no illumination. I was knee deep in dark black water that felt so real despite obviously being a dream. I was left with no option but to trudge through the murky depths. There was a strange silence to the dream, even the water made no noise as I walked through it.

I began to get the sensation that I was being watched and I peered into those shadows that surrounded me. They seemed to swirl like mist but no matter how much I tried I couldn’t see through them. Suddenly there was a feeling of something moving next to my leg. I froze instantly and refused to even look down. I focused my gaze to the sky instead. As if on cue the strange red moon disappeared and I was left in complete darkness.

I couldn’t stop staring at the black sky above. It was as if I knew that something was going to happen and unfortunately I was correct. Blazing into life like a flame came two enormous luminescent gold-amber eyes. They scanned around the endless shadows clearly looking for something. Then the eyes fell on me and they grew brighter.

The added illumination revealed a horrible face in the sky, not of a man but of a beast. It bore a large mane of black hair with what looked like fresh blood dripping from its tips. Two large brown horns adorned its head. Its flesh was almost pure obsidian but with a few dark green scales scattered about. Its mouth was almost pure fangs and from within a long red split tongue. The great beast stared at me and gave a sinister grin that made me shiver.

Before I could even react a colossal hand emerged from the shadows and wrapped around me. The fiend in the sky began hysterically laughing and the hand began lowering me beneath the deepening water. I screamed and struggled in vain only causing the demon to laugh louder. Finally I was submerged completely and I know this is supposed to be impossible for a nightmare but I could feel myself drowning. My body spasmed as the water flooded my nose and mouth. My eyes drifted closed and the last thing I saw was that horrible laughing face.

I awoke screaming and drenched in sweat. I do not know how long I sat there panting but I checked my phone to discover I had only been asleep for about 20 minutes. After my heart rate began to settle I tried to go back to sleep but it was no good. Everytime I closed my eyes I would see those horrible amber eyes starting to form. I tried to just lay there and relax but every shadow began to look like a claw reaching for me. After almost half an hour I simply gave up on sleep and decided to go downstairs. I thought maybe some quiet television might have soothed me. Looking back, I should have just stayed in the room.

As I walked through the unfamiliar hallways I couldn’t help but feel as though everything about this house had changed. Upon my arrival the house seemed completely benign and boring. Now wooden walls looked as black as the fiend in my dreams. The white ceilings looked like the bones of some long dead creature. Despite the moderness of the house, the floorboards still creaked with every step. I feared that creaks would wake something and I wasn’t sure if I meant Anton.

I finally made my way downstairs only to find a strange orange light coming from the parlor. I tiptoed inside and found Anton standing with his back to me in front of a roaring fireplace. Cupped in his hand was yet another cup of coffee and I couldn’t help but notice the way his hands shook. I was about to exit when he spoke without turning. “Trouble sleeping?” I turned back into the room and nodded. “Yes. I am sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you, I was having bad..” “Nightmares.” He filled in for me. “I wish I could tell you that they were over my boy but alas you have barely scratched the surface.” He said with very real sorrow in his voice.

He brought his shaking hand to his mouth and drained the last of his steaming coffee. “Uh Mr. Richards? Are you alright?” I asked timidly. He gave a forced chuckle and simply stated “No I am far from alright. But I’m in a lot better shape than you will be soon.” Fear, genuine fear for my life spread through me like water. Anton must have sensed my unease for he turned towards me and I let out a small gasp.

Standing before me was a completely different man than the one from just a mere few hours ago, at least figuratively. Anton has been slim before but the face of the man before me was emaciated. Skin hung limply off the bones and was covered in wrinkles. His complexion was extremely pale and ashen. Underneath his eyes were large dark circles that gave the impression that he hadn’t slept in weeks. Even his hair seemed to have greyed considerably since this afternoon. I no longer wondered who the makeup in the drawer belonged to, the answer was now clear.

He simply gazed at me with a strange mixture of relief, sadness but most of all guilt. He shook his head and I could see tears in his eyes. “No matter what happens tonight my boy please know that I am sorry.” I was about to ask him what he meant when suddenly a grandfather clock in the corner began an unnaturally loud series of chimes. That clock had not gone off in all the hours we spent here, of that I was certain. Each chime grew louder and more booming. I thrust my hands against my ears with fear that they would start bleeding if the chimes didn’t stop.

After the 12th chime the room fell completely silent. For a moment I feared that I had gone temporarily deaf but then Anton broke the silence. “The midnight hour is now at hand. The glass has turned, dumping its sand. One side empties and the other side fills. For madness is released. Let it do as it wills.” I turned to face him in confusion but to my shock he was gone and I was alone.

I turned about the room in dismay. He could not have vanished. Before I was unsettled but now I was in a full blown panic attack. “Anton, are you out there? Is this some type of sick joke? If it is then please end it! I want to go home!” I screamed into the void and to my shock and horror something responded. The reply was a loud, hoarse yell that almost shook the house. My body shook in terror for whatever made that yell was not happy, it was not Anton and it was not human.

A loud bang erupted from the floor above me as if something heavy was dropping from the ceiling to the floor. A series of crashing footsteps followed accompanied by more angry grunts. The steps began making their way to the stairs and I knew that whatever was up there was now coming for me. I did the only thing I could think of and ran.

I dashed across the cold and unfamiliar floors simply praying that I would not slip. The creature was stomping down the stairs and I could hear the wood crunching beneath its feet. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just large, it was colossal. My mind tried to conjure a form for the beast but I knew whatever it truly looked like was beyond what minor horrors my child-like brain could imagine.

I could feel the beast gaining on me when I saw a small open doorway leading to the basement. The stairs were very steep and narrow. There was no way this massive creature could possibly squeeze through the passage so I ran for it slamming the door behind me. I crept down the stairs and stayed silent as humanly possible. I could hear my purser upstairs. Its heavy footsteps reached the den. There was silence for a moment and I allowed myself the briefest hope that it disappeared as soon as it came. These hopes were quickly dashed as a loud banshee-like scream rang from above. The creature went into a frenzy and began thrashing about the living room. It was clearly angry that it was denied its meal.

I didn’t know what else to do so I jammed my hands against my ears and repeated “it’s just a dream.” over and over. When I removed my hands the sounds were gone. Perhaps it was all a dream but if so then how did I end up in this cold basement? I have never sleep walked before but perhaps the new environment caused the phenomenon. After a few minutes calm resumed over me and I was ready to go back upstairs. I was about to grab the banister when I heard another sound, one of deep breathing. My whole body froze and the cold sensation told me one thing for certain, I was not dreaming.

I turned as slow as I dared and the wheezing breaths continued. My mind ran into overdrive bringing forth every nightmare I’ve ever had, however in my panic I had forgotten about my host. “Anton is that you? You scared me half to death.” I turned on my phone’s flashlight and shone it down the hall. It lit up some cans and tools around me but could not pierce the far side of the room from here. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, what I saw will be etched into my brain for eternity.

Sitting in the middle of the floor was something that I can only classify as a monster. It was human in shape but extremely tall and gangly. Its skin was a dark red and covered with thick black ooze. It bore long clawed fingers and had multiple rows of razor sharp teeth. However these features were not what disturbed me the most. This creature, this thing was inside out. A massive rib cage covered in blood protruded from its chest. I could see its lungs pumping out air producing that horrible breathing sound. Its bones were visible in its hands, piercing the rotting flesh.

The creature sat there panting and I failed to stifle the small scream that escaped my mouth. At the small sound the creature sprung forward and brought itself to its massive full height. It swiped around and I could tell it couldn’t see me. I dared to point my light at its eyes and could see the empty white orbs. It stopped for a moment and began scenting the air with its horrible misshapen nose. Its head slowly turned towards me and his eyes began to roll in their sockets. The creature was trying to see me.

Sheer panic rushed through me however to the side I could see a small staircase leading outside. I had no idea if it was locked or unlocked but it didn’t matter. I had to move. I used every ounce of my strength and pelted up the stairs. I reached the door and burst through it like a bulldozer. By the grace of god it was unlocked and I found myself in the warm summer air. I did not have time to admire how good the open air felt, I could not stop now. I ran as fast as I could towards the lake. I didn’t dare look behind me, I only had one goal and that was escape. I didn’t care how far off land was, all I wanted was to be free of this island.

I reached the shore line but was stopped dead in my tracks at what was waiting. A cold grey hand reached out of the water and began pulling a body behind it. The body was rotting with large chunks of flesh missing. Grimey brown hair hung from its head like a mop. The corpse moved it out of the way and tears rolled down my eyes at the sight of its face. It was horribly bloated and water logged. It had horrible yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight. As it beheld me in its gaze a twisted smile and it began to lurch forwards. The corpses in my nightmares were cartoonish in comparison to the fiend that skulked towards me.

Once again I found no other option but to run. I did not know where I was going. It seemed like every direction meant death and all that was left was to decide which horror I wanted to meet my end by. The forest surrounding the property erupted into a symphony of life. Horrible howls and roars echoed through the night and began to converge on me. I cried and shook my head at the cruelty of it all. I had never been faced with such a certain death.

I rushed by a shed when the doors opened suddenly revealing a set of gangly white hands. I was in such a rush that there was no way to stop those hands from enveloping me and pulling me inside. There was no escape so I merely turned to see what fiend would act as my reaper. However what met my gaze was the shrunken but entirely human face of Anton. A rush of relief and rage pumped through my system. I didn’t know if I wanted to kiss or kill him. He pulled me into an embrace and I could feel the tears all over his face.

“Oh my boy I’m so sorry. I never wanted to put you through all of this.” He panted through tears. I got a grip on myself and pushed him off of me. “Anton, what the hell is going on here?” I snapped. He put a finger to his lips and I simply nodded and tried to ring in my anger. “What are those things?” I whispered. He seemed to think to himself for a long moment then he simply shrugged.

“Their name is long forgotten by humanity but I’ve simply taken to calling them Nightmares. That is the simplest way I can put it.” I shook my head in anger. “Where did they come from?” I asked in panic. He was once again silent for a moment and his eyes glazed over. I suddenly felt as though he wasn’t looking at me but through me. He spoke again, this time in an almost monotone. “There are dark places in the universe where even imagination fears to tread. Perhaps you have glimpsed it, in a dream too terrifying to remember. There beyond the light of the stars they linger. They are hungry, they are waiting and they are patient. They feed off the fear of men.”

I was so confused and yet somehow I knew he was telling the truth. “How do you know all of this?” I asked. He once again shrugged. “Knowledge comes with the curse.” I was taken aback. “Curse! What curse?” He began shaking and looked at me like a child that had just broken their parents’ priceless vase. “At some point in history someone was foolish enough to make a deal with an entity that they didn’t understand. They were gifted with the ability to craft the most horrifying tales imaginable, granting them fame and fortune. What they didn’t know was that these tales would come at the price of being a slave to these nightmares. They will torment the bearer of the curse and force them to craft their tomes. The fear instilled by the listener or reader fuels them and grants them the power to cross over to our world. Fear gives them life.”

I shook my head and paced around the room. “Can the curse be broken?” I asked. He lowered his head. “No, it can only be transferred. Just as Carver transferred it to me the day of the lecture. Just as I…..” His voice broke off. I turned in a fury, my eyes blazing with hate. “Me, you transferred it to me!” Tears streamed down his face. “You had the passion, you met the criteria. I am so sorry my boy but I have endured these demons for over 20 years. I could not handle another.” I was about to levy all my rage at him when I happened to glance out the window and saw that horrible face from my nightmare staring back at me, and he was smiling.

Before either of us could react the walls of the shed blew apart leaving us out in the open. Sudden and unnatural thunderheads burst through the sky revealing monstrous faces in the clouds. Spread around us in a circle were a series of shadowy nightmares. They ranged in size and form. There were creatures with dozens of legs skulking through the branches, humanoid figures darting between the trees and a colassial shadow creature with burning red eyes in the distance. Some were pure shadows and others seemed to have more defined features as if they were gaining a foothold in our world. At the center of them all was the horned demon.

He danced around in front of us with a sinister grin. His forked tongue darted in and out of his mouth and his excitement was apparent. He glared at me and began panting. He tiptoed towards me on hoofed feet and I felt myself begin to tremble. To my utter surprise Anton moved and stood between us. The demon stopped in his tracks.

“I won’t let you hurt him. I reclaim the curse. I promise I will write and spread your sacred tomes until my dying breath. Just let the boy go.” The demon stalked forward slowly until he was right before Anton. He gripped the man in an unsettling embrace. His head hooked around his neck like a lover but his gaze was focused on me. The beast pushed his hands through Anton’s hair and smiled while looking me in the eyes.

“Too late” The beast roared without having to open its mouth. It grabbed Anton’s head and twisted it right around so it faced me. Anton’s dead face simply stared at me and then it started to move. It took an expression exactly like the demon’s and then began to cackle uncontrollably. Black blood oozed from Anton’s mouth and he still cackled. This was more than my mind could handle and I began to slip from consciousness with the words “Too late.” echoing through my mind.

I awoke to what I assumed was the beast’s cackling and I began to panic. I thrashed about only to discover that I was in a hospital bed and the cackle sound was the beeping of a heart monitor. The doctors and my parents rushed in to aid me. When I calmed down they explained what happened and how I got there. In the morning the ferryman came to the island and found me in the woods. He called the police and they searched the house to find it ransacked and destroyed. Apparently there had been some disappearances in the surrounding area and Anton’s house was at the center of it. They believe that he lured me to the island to make me his next victim.

I simply let the police believe what they wanted for they would never believe me anyway. They say they searched the whole island but could not find any trace of Anton. While I do not know what happened to his body I assumed that I would be seeing it the next time I fell asleep. I told the police that I simply fell asleep after dinner and awoke here in the hospital. They seemed satisfied with that answer and left me be for now.

In the days that have passed since then I have felt numerous changes within myself. I can feel my intellect transcending any previous limitations. As Anton said, the curse comes with certain knowledge. I know things that would seem impossible to know, secrets that mankind is not yet aware of. My dreams have been haunted by strange shadows and dark realms. I have reached 7 cups of black coffee a day in an attempt to combat sleep but to no avail. At all hours of the day I can hear different voices in unknown dialects whispering one demand, “write.” I know I cannot ignore these whispers much longer. A writer writes because they must, this is my new certainty. I can only hope that the world is ready for the nightmares that are to come.

Credit: Tenac