Where have you found yourself this time?

You assume it's a dream
as you typically don't frequent underground places.
At least, that's where you assume you've found yourself
considering the absolute darkness and absence of anything even remotely resembling light.

It's then that you realize
with the ache in your neck
that you've been looking up for some time.
And as if the taut thread that had trapped your gaze in that absolute darkness has snapped
your neck relaxes
letting your head return to a natural position once more.

You open your eyes.

Not sure if you had simply just blinked
or if your eyes had been closed for so long you'd lost track of time.

Either way, now that there is something to see
you realize you are in fact underground.
The rough-hewn wood of a fragile little boat sits beneath you
sitting motionless atop what you first assume is black glass
maybe obsidian
that stretches in all directions.

It's not until you lean over to get a better look
that its surface is disturbed
and a ripple radiates out from you across its surface.

A pit in your stomach forms instantly
and you grip the wood around you.
The disturbance was a mistake.

Rocky, shuddering groans erupt above and below as another ripple flees.

You watch as the water below becomes mottled with glinting, glowing orbs of every shape and size.
They rise from the depths and burst upwards
threatening your boat's tenuous grip on stability
and your quickly diminishing thought
that if this was a dream you'd be able to control it.

They hover around you with slow, uneven movements
like lungs only slightly out of breath,
brightening and dimming all in time with one another.

A hissing voice echoes from all around you
each consonant rattling painfully within your ribs.

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

You take the pause as an invitation to speak
hoping to explain that this isn't the first time something like this has happened.
That it's never really within your control.
That really, if you'd never stumbled upon that witch's cabin in the woods when you were twelve none of this would have ever happened-

But your words are stopped by the voice ringing out again
a note of tired resignation in it that lends your own muscles an air of exhaustion.

"No- do not speak. Your thoughts are loud enough, and you have far too many."

A cold breeze rustles the water and makes you shiver
like the sigh of a corpse.

"Whatever lesson the witch meant for you to learn here, I do not care. Leave now, before I command time itself to tear you into fissures."

In the moment it takes your mind to begin to wonder what gory details that would involve,
you again open your eyes
to the blinding white light of your computer screen.

You blink and sigh
groaning in-sync with your office chair as your stretch your arms above your head.

The clock says your shift is almost over.
Almost an hour since last you checked.
The muscles in your neck twinging in protest of your sudden movement.

You always go the strangest places when you fall asleep on shift...

I found another one today.
A spot of darkness on the wall
no more than an inch wide
pulsing silently in time with my heartbeat.

That's three now.

I think they're portals
gateways or something.
One of my pencils slid in easily
then ripped out of my hand
disappearing into the darkness.

I wasn't sure if I'd imagined it or not,
but I could've sworn after it was gone
I heard the sound of lips smacking.

I'm starting to wonder
if they all go somewhere different
or if one day they'll morph into one giant chasm into nothingness.

Who do you call to get rid of spontaneous interdimensional gateways?
Would that be under in the yellow pages under
Supernatural Removal Services?
Or maybe the Eldritch Travel Agency?

First, there was the sound.
A keening wail that tore through the air
parting the thick clouds surrounding us.

Then came the cold.
A bite that didn't come from wind or water
but crept up through the earth we clung to,
sinking through our skin.

The villagers we past had warned us of this.
They'd told us that our shoes were too thin
that the weather would not hold against the Guardians.

But we laughed at their superstitions.
Insisted we knew better.
People who'd studies the natural world for years
but had never stepped foot on their land until today.

We weren't prepared for the sight
of many-jointed fingers reaching from empty sky
or the sensation of our feet shattering into icy stumps.

We weren't prepared for the fingers
ripping us from the rockface
and tossing us back down the cliffs.

The viliagers say
it's a miracle we even survived at all.

It starts as a sinking feeling.

You can't really tell if it's in your throat
or your chest
or the very pit of your stomach.

All you know is
something's coming
rushing at you
and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You turn to look
and still
you can't see anything...
it's just a normal day.

But trust me.
Trust that feeling in your gut.

It'll come when you least expect it.
After you've forgotten this warning
and gone back to blissful ignorance.
It always does...

I'm having that nightmare again.

The one that always starts
with me standing outside an old, decaying mansion
my hand hovering over the doorbell.

There's nothing wrong, really.
Nothing to tell me it's a nightmare.
It's not a dark and stormy night with thunder crashing
there are no graves bursting with the living dead
and I'm standing their fully clothed and uninjured
like a normal day.

But for a reason I'm unable to determine,
my palms are sweaty
and dread's wrapped tightly around my lungs.

With the way I'm feeling,
you'd think the doorbell would ring with shrieks.
But when I press it
those all-too normal chimes ring out.

And when the ringing ends
the whole world goes silent.

I can't even hear air enter or leave my lungs.
Can't even tell if I'm breathing.
Not even my fingers will twitch.

And I watch frozen
as the door inches open
taking what could be days to reveal the shadows inside
inch by inch.

I don't even see your face.
Just the skin of your fingers as they wrap around the wood
stained and rough.

Then I wake up
and I still can't breathe.

I really admire how wholeheartedly you can hope.
That even after all of this,
you can still stay optimistic.

Even after spending weeks trapped in darkness
chained and manacled
listening to me sharpening my knives to their perfect point,
that fire in your eyes still hasn't gone out.

You haven't let fear and despair spoil you.
I can admire that.

It'll really make killing you that much more satisfying.

I know you can feel that coldness crawling upward.
The chill numbness
of emptiness where once there was flesh.
Don't fight it.
Look down
and watch the color drain
pooling beneath you
like sand.
Soon you'll be just like me
and I'll finally let you taste
the sweetness of eternity that you've been yearning for..

The galvanized flesh danced, shocked into
movements that no longer fit its
bloodless, empty-eyed body.
But no matter the
voltage used, no new
life presented
itself in
the dead
​flesh.

If you have to choose between Hell or high water,
I highly recommend Hell.

Yeah, it's got a bit of reputation
and the damned place gets really muggy when it storms,
but the bars are great
and they've got a killer community theater!
I'm partial to their productions of Faustus myself.

High water on the other hand...
well I've only heard stories about it.

There's no fire or brimstone,
just the deepest of darknesses
where the biting cold never turns to numbness.
It gnaws at your skin,
peeling you away little by little as it drags you deeper,
preserving and freezing your insides.

You'll start to glimpse your bones before you reach the bottom
gleaming treasures of ivory peeking out from your ruins,
ready to be buried beneath the sand.

Because that's what happens amidst the high waters.
They pick you clean
then bury you deep.
Somehow you still feel the pressure
even without skin,
taste the grit
without a tongue,
and watch as your grave is filled above you
without eyes or light.

At least, that's what I've heard.
So I'll say it again.
If you ever have to choose between Hell or high water,
do yourself a favor
​and choose Hell.

Okay, I don't usually do this, but...
I knew that teddy bear was haunted from the moment you picked it up!
I tried to warn you-
but no, you thought it was just the cutest
and the cuddliest
and could never do anything to hurt anybody.

Now the cops are banging on the door,
because that thing killed the neighbor's hamster
and used its blood to paint a giant smiley face on our windows!

I know you still think it's cute-
but seriously!
It's possessed or something,
so if we give it to the police and explain everything
maybe they'll find someone to exorcise it.
Or burn it.
Fuck- whatever we do
it needs to go!

Wait, why are you looking at me like that?
Honey...?
No- please, I'm just trying to save us-
Don't let that thing back in here!