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Post by DEWM NINJA on Tue May 08, 2018 2:04 am

Welcome Home Welcom10
Joshua “DEWM” Jones


“5E 5E 5E 5E 5E 5E, up to A, 7 8 7 5 8-, damnit.” A kid roughly around the age of 19 was playing a song on an acoustic guitar, speaking the names of the string and fret combinations while he played each note. He had long, thick hair, though it was all combed back away from his face, which a wide mustache that still had yet to grow long enough to cover the skin underneath. He looked at his thumb, which had a large callus on it at this point. He looked out of the window next to him, to spot a black car with heavily tinted windows pull up on the gravel road outside. It was an eerie place to live, there were no other houses in view when you looked outside, just trees. The town wasn’t far, but not being able to see it gave the kid goosebumps occasionally. He had almost grown used to it at this point. Three figures stepped out of the car that arrived, Two wearing large coats over nurse’s scrubs, one being male, who walked around the car to shake hands with an old woman who was being assisted by the other nurse that unfolded a wheelchair for her, which she got in.

Outside the house, the old woman heard distant, grim voices. “LOOK. THE OLD BITCH IS BACK.” “Yeah… Finally… We’ll get some… company… again...” “The attic room has been locked for far too long!” “JUST LIKE THE OLD BITCH HERSELF.” “... She’s… on time… though… why the… silly wheelchair?” “Oh! She’s pretending, as always!” “BUT SHE DOES MAKE A GOOD CUP OF TEA.” The old woman paid no mind to these voices, though she definitely heard Them. She looked up at the two nurses assisting her, neither showed any reactions to the voices, though the old woman knew they couldn’t hear “Them”.

The kid continued to play the guitar, in a much softer tune and slower pace, while he watched the woman get wheeled up. Suddenly he heard a woman’s voice from in the house, specifically down the stairs, “Oh my god, she’s here! Missy, go listen to what mommy says: you be good to grandma, and remember! She’s been away on a long vacation.” The woman upped her voice, clearly calling to the kid with her change in tone. “You too, King! And stop playing that thing and answer the door!” The kid, King, set his guitar down and stepped out of his room into a hallway, quickly racing down a set of stairs into a small living room with a fireplace as the only thing in front of the couch. King opened the door to see his grandmother there, though the two nurses he saw had already left and the car driven out without a trace left. “Grandma! You’ve been gone for far too long. Here, let me help you out of that chair.” King reached his hand out, and his grandmother grabbed it, though the instant she did so caused a warmth to wash over King suddenly, almost unpleasantly hot, though it was over in an instant, and the sudden change in temperature gave King chills. “Wait ‘till you see your room in the attic. Prepped just like you wanted it, no bed, rocking chair, and that teapot Missy found in the basement. Missy and Mother are dying to meet you… ” King said, though there was a short silence. She still had yet to say a word. He was prepared to ask her if she was alright, though didn’t out of respect, she seemed to be standing fine, and was looking at King in moderate interest. King handed her a cane that was propped next to the door and walked with her towards the kitchen. “So how was it at… whatever holiday site you went to?” His grandma finally opened her mouth, “Oh, it could’ve been worse… but with Them with me, They entertained me.” King’s face gave that of confusion. “Who are “they”, exactly?” There was more silence, longer this time. “... never mind you dirty little brat.” The words caused King to stop, while his grandmother continued to walk towards the kitchen to meet King’s sister and his mother.


King tossed and turned in his bed later that night. It was almost pitch black in the dark. Though the reason he couldn’t sleep was because of the odd amount of noise coming from the one room next to his, the attic. Grandma’s new room. He slowly got out of his bed, cringing at the amount of creaking noises coming from the slightest of movements. He opened his door and looked towards the stairs at his left down the hall, then towards the right, on the other side of the hall, at the closed door where the noise was coming from. It was incredibly muffled, but King could barely make out what seemed like laughing, very loud laughing at that, but not from just his grandmother. He walked into the hallway, then up to the door, looking through the keyhole. He saw the rocking chair swaying like normal, though it was faced away from the door at an angle, he could see her right arm in the armrest and the slightest amount of curly grey hair peeking above the top of the chair, though that was all that he could really see of her, the room was dark, not lightless, but too dark to see much. He saw a teapot sitting near the chair, with three tea cups sitting around it. Though the tea cups were then raised into the air and flipped themselves upside-down, pouring out the oddly thick tea onto the floor, his grandmother then had another tea cup of her own in her barely visible right hand, and she too dumped it on the floor. In the blink of an eye, the door was wide open and King’s grandmother was standing up in front of King, looking at him with her normal, tired eyes. “Do come in, my friend.” She said. King’s breathing got heavy, but not uncontrollably. He looked back towards the stairs, the only two rooms in the second floor was his and the attic, his sister Missy and his mother were on the other side of the house, likely sleeping. “Come in.” His grandmother repeated. As creepy as it may be, King felt almost forced to comply, and he walked in, past his grandmother. “Take a seat in my chair.” His grandmother said. King hesitated shortly, though sat down. It was incredibly comfortable, but it didn’t help him feel any less nervous. His grandmother looked down at him, “Look me deep in the eyes. You will forget what you saw here tonight.” There was a pause, and King felt lightheaded, almost as if he wasn’t even there. “I will let you in on the secrets of this house. The secret of ‘Amon’. That’s what we call this house. Now I want you to go back to sleep. Go back to sleep my dear.” His grandmother said. He felt even more light headed, then the cups lifted themselves up again, flipping themselves and pouring out more of the thick tea even though they were not filled again. King blinked again, though found himself in his last position, peeking through the keyhole of the closed door, with his grandmother back in the chair. “Now go back to sleep.” King heard his grandmother say to him through the door. He stumbled back into his room, shutting his door, and falling into his bed. Although something as creepy as that would keep King up all night, he heard “go back to sleep” echo in his mind, each time making him more and more tired, before he suddenly blacked out.


King, Missy, their mom and their grandma all sat at the kitchen table, eating dinner, steak, mashed potatoes and peas. King looked over at his grandmother, who took a sip from her teacup. He nervously cleared his throat, and looked down at his food, untouched. Missy looked over at him, she was stuffing her face. “I bet I’m gonna be finished before you!” Missy taunted King, in slightly broken english. King’s mother shook her head. “It’s not a race.” “Sorry.” Missy said softly, before returning to eating more food. “I don’t think you’re wrong. I’m not hungry.” King said. His mother sighed. “Can you at least take a bite?” King nodded, and sliced a piece of the steak off, before stuffing it in his mouth. The sound of him chewing it combined with its juiciness was reminiscent of the thick tea dripping onto the floor, each time, he couldn’t get it out of his head, he reached the point where he couldn’t take it and swallowed it, almost completely whole, causing him to almost choke. He didn’t even realize how much he was sweating, his eyes wide open, it drew everyone’s attention. “Sorry, it was… surprisingly good. But I’m still not hungry...” King muttered. “Alright, seal it and put it in the fridge.” His mom said. King compiled, after putting it away, he turned to look at the table, where Missy cleared her plate and shouted “Done!” King started walking away, entering his bedroom. He grabbed his guitar, and looked at his callus, just now realizing that his hand was shaking. He attempted to play, though his shakiness prompted him to angrily put the guitar back after missing the easiest of notes. He sat on his bed, not even keeping track of time, and sat there, silently. He yawned, looked over at his calendar and saw it was a friday. Even though he didn’t have work or school tomorrow, he felt like the only thing he could do now is just sleep. He flicked the light switch, and laid down, though shortly after he heard knocking on his door. Before he could ask who it was, he heard his grandmother’s voice. “Wake up, King… Wake up my dear...” King got up and opened the door. “... How’d you know I was going to sleep?” His grandmother ignored his question. “I’m going to show you the house of Amon.” His grandmother said. King felt both frightened and curious, but didn’t show either. He nodded nervously, and his grandmother walked to the attic, with King following. As they entered, King saw an unfamiliar hand in the rocking chair while his grandmother walked towards it. King silently walked up to see who it was, immediately recognizing them as his mother, her eyes normally opened, though she didn’t make eye contact with neither King or his grandmother. “Mom?” King asked. She didn’t even make the slightest of movements. “We made her sleep in my chair.” King’s grandmother said. King looked at his grandmother, noticing that from under her dress crept a kitchen knife that floated slowly towards King’s mother, and made a tiny slice in her wrist. Seeing this made King feel surprisingly relaxed.

“It’s time for tea… it’s time again.” King heard on the other side of his shut door. He opened it, and followed his grandmother into the attic, looking down at his mother still in the chair. Though she had noticeably moved. Her wrist wound suddenly lost its scab, and melted back into blood. King’s grandmother let the blood drip into the teapot, before adding a couple more ingredient into the pot and letting it cook. King heard distant chuckles, each slightly distinguishable from the other. “A bit of this in a cup of tea is what it takes to set Them free.” King’s grandmother sang. “You will hear Them telling stories from far beyond this Earth.” King was barely able to notice that it was the next day by now, Their stories were not only incredible, but they had a feeling when hearing Them, or at least that’s what King noticed. Like being entranced without feeling need to snap out of it.

“It’s time for tea… it’s time again.” King immediately opened his door without hesitation, walking to the attic without even following his grandmother. His grandmother prepared the Tea, and as soon as it was done, King blew on it to send the steam away, and took a slight sip. As thick as it was, it was savory, and helped make those echoey voices more grounded and easier to hear. Their very presence and voices were so enticing and pleasuring, it sent King’s mind into an indescribable paradise. By the time his teacup had reached its last drop, King and his grandmother had been laughing alongside the voices, both nearly in tears. Eventually, the voices faded back into a echoey state. His grandmother pointed towards the door out of the attic, and King’s mother sluggishly got up and stumbled out of the attic and towards her bedroom. Upset that it was all over, King walked back into his room, and laid down on his bed, with “go back to sleep” being repeated in his mind, something he had grown used to.


King drove his car up the gravel road and parked it in an angle, generally out of the way of the road. It’s the best he had. He got out and walked through the front door, with a slight grin on his face out of happiness of coming back home. As he entered the house, he noticed his mother sitting on the couch, pale. She looked over at him. “Don’t you hafe to go to worg?” His mother asked, her speech slurred. King shook his head as he hung up his keys and jacket. “Nope, I took a vacation day today, wanted to spend time with Grandma.” King said. Missy walked into the living room, sniffling, as she sat down next to her mother. King looked at her, unaffected by her sadness. “Mommy’s sick...” Missy barely managed to say over her sobbing. King still showed no emotion, “I see.” King walked up the stairs. “It’s time for tea… it’s time again.” King heard his grandmother. He smiled, before walking into the attic with her.

King woke up and got out of bed quickly, before walking out into the hall. He saw his grandmother in the doorway to the attic, but more prominently, heard Missy crying loudly. King ignored the crying, and turned to his grandmother. “I don’t have work or school today. Do you have any tea?” King asked. His grandmother smiled. “I made the last batch.” “What do you mean?” King asked. “Come, enjoy it while you can.” King’s grandmother said. The two walked into the attic, with King’s grandmother pouring more tea for Them. As King was prepared to take his next sip, his grandmother rose from her chair, and opened the door to find Missy on the other side, sobbing. “King… you have to come here, please!” She shouted. King looked at her with anger, though it didn’t stop Missy from grabbing King’s hand. He carefully set the tea down on the floor so that he didn’t spill it, and Missy brought him into their mother’s bedroom. King’s mother simply laid in bed, eyes wide open, both wrists sliced open with large cuts. “You have to call somebody!” Missy shouted. She grabbed a nearby telephone and handed it to King, who looked at the phone. He sat in silence for a minute, questioning what to do. He felt himself incredibly conflicted. “Do it, please!” Missy shouted, louder than ever. It was at that moment King was pushed into his decision. He set the phone back down, and began walking away. Missy screamed at him to come back, which prompted King to grab a nearby woodcutting axe and use it to cut the phone line, causing Missy to cry and scream even more. As King walked away, he hung the axe up, and distantly heard Missy scream “I hate you!”


King walked back into the attic, and sat down with his grandmother, the door to the attic closing in the process. King took a sip of the tea, and it took him to a whole other level of consciousness, filling him with absolute ecstasy, as They started telling Their mystical stories.

As King’s heart pounded with excitement from the stories, it was all interrupted as They returned to mere echoes, and his grandmother shot up from her chair. The door opened and Missy was crying once more. “What have you done?! What have you done to my mommy?!” Missy screamed. She collapsed from how much she was crying, at this point her face was dry, she quite literally had no more tears to shed. Seeing Missy in such a state almost moved King into deciding to do something, but then he remembered everything again, especially as he locked eyes with his grandmother. His grandmother grabbed Missy by the throat with both hands until Missy was no longer sobbing, then set her down. One wack across the face led Missy back into screaming some more. King heard the voices return. “WE BETTER GET RID OF HER. SHE’S TOO YOUNG ANYWAY.” Missy continued to scream and cry, before Missy grabbed the teapot and held it over her head, ready to smash it and destroy it. King’s grandma grabbed Missy by the ear. “No, no! Please, Grandma you’re hurting me!” Missy screamed. “... Bye… Bye… Missy...” “That beautiful fireplace in the living room!” “YES. THAT WILL DO NICELY.” Missy then threw the teapot against the wall, smashing it to pieces. The voices all screamed in agony, then fury. “NO.” “No!” “No...” “SHE BROKE AMON.” “D I E D I E.” At this point, King’s grandmother let go of Missy, and King walked into the hallway where Missy stepped carefully to the top of the stairs, watching King and Missy carefully. “She broke Amon!” “You… know... what must be done… King...” “KILL HER. DIE. DIE. KILL HER. KILL HER. DO IT.” The voices all shouted at King, who was filled with unmatched fury. He rushed at her and hit her across the face, a loud “THWACK!” was emitted as a couple of her baby teeth were ripped out of her face from the force, and she fell down the stairs, screaming in pain on the way down. She was eventually lying on the ground, visibly bleeding. She attempted to get up, but one of her legs were broken, the bone and knee cap visibly sticking out of the front of her leg, with blood gushing out of the wound. King walked down the stairs, then passed her to grab the axe he used to cut the phone wire. He walked up to Missy, and swung the axe through her fingers, slicing them off with ease. Missy was screaming and coughing up blood, too young to understand that she was dying. King then chopped the axe through the middle of her palm, then again through her wrist, making small slicing through her arm, then he switched to slicing horizontally, essentially splitting her arm into cubes. At this point she had passed out from a combination of blood loss, terror and the amount of energy she was putting out from screaming and trying to get away. King switched to the other arm, then her legs, then her head, and finally with her torso, then swept Missy’s chunks into the fireplace, and setting it aflame to dispose of her. He looked up the stairs at his grandmother, who nodded in approval. At this point, the voices were completely absent, and King felt his mind slipping. He stumbled out the front door and onto the porch. He attempted to go down the steps, but passed out halfway down.


He awoke later, his mind clearer than ever. The smoke from the fireplace was filling the sky, and he immediately came to his senses. Without him in the house, without the teapot, without the voices, and knowing there was no more to be found, King snapped into reality. He looked up at the moon shining down at him. He attempted to get up, but fell back down and vomited. After several minutes of struggling to regain himself, King finally managed to get back on his feet. He took a look at the fireplace, and images of him murdering Missy flooded his mind. He was filled with disgust and anger for himself, but even more with his grandmother. King clenched his fists, and hazily walked up to the porch. Distant echoes invaded his mind. “... Remember… the tea...” “YOU’D BE A FOOL TO KILL HER.” King opened the door, and walked in, immediately falling over from dizziness. As he regained his balance, the echoes came once again. “You are nothing without the tea!” King looked up the steps at his grandmother, who began walking away. King turned back to look at the fireplace, with its flames dying down. “TURN BACK.” King started walking up the steps of the stairs, nearly collapsing on his way up. As he reached the top of the stairs, his Grandmother took her cane and hit King in the chest with the end of it, causing him to fall down the stairs, hitting his head on one of the steps, causing him to black out.


“STAY DOWN.” The words echoed in King’s mind, causing him to rise back to his feet. No longer dizzy, he ran up the stairs, and up to the door to the attic. He grabbed the doorknob, and tried to twist it, but it was locked. Suddenly, the handle started to give off a burn like no other, causing King to rip his hand away from it. The doorknob twisted itself and the door swung open, to reveal King’s grandmother sitting in her rocking chair. King walked up to her, and stared her down. She gave King a sick smile. “Are you alright?” She stared back at King, as though she was looking straight into his brain. “... You can’t… kill… her… not even if… you wanted to… not here...” King regulated his breathing. “I’m fine. Would you like to come outside, the moonlight is beautiful.” King said as he reached out his hand. “Of course, dear.” King’s grandmother said, as she grabbed King’s hand to get up, King felt that familiar gust of heat again, then returned to the normal air that gave him chills. The two walked outside, where King’s grandmother simply stood a few feet away from the porch. King clenched his fists. “Come, my dear… Bathe in the moonlight!” King’s grandmother said. King approached her, and ripped her cane out from her hands. “No way, you’re not going to escape. Now that I’ve got you… here you will pay for your deeds. Your sick mind has come to an end now!” King swung the case across her face, knocking her down. King battered her with the cane, one hit after another, spreading hints of blood across the dying grass and weeds around the area. “Stop it!” King’s grandmother shouted, though it didn’t even make King hesitate for the slightest second. Eventually, the cane snapped in half with another hit, and King took the pointed, broken end of the half he was holding, and jabbed it into his grandmother’s throat, slicing it open. King looked around, and back at the house, hearing the whispers more distant than ever. King threw the cane through one of the windows of the house, and turned to look for his car, though it was nowhere to be found. Thinking quickly, King took off into the woods. He kept running until he turned back to see a incredibly hard to see apparition, the only fully visible part of it being a pair of glowing reddish-orange eyes. The apparition began closing in on King. He looked forwards to watch where he was going, only to see another apparition coming in towards him. He stopped, causing both apparitions to stay on both of his sides. A third flew in at King’s flank. Suddenly “go back to sleep” began echoing into his mind, and he blacked out again.


King sat on his bed, playing peaceful tune on his guitar. While he played open strings, he reached down with his left hand to grab a teacup, looking into it to see normal dark tea, thinner than ever. He took a pleased sip of it, before setting it down and returning to playing his guitar. As he played faster, the acoustics in his guitar began echoing unfamiliar breathing, though King continued to play. The breathing turned into a choir that sang to the tune of his guitar. The apparitions appeared around King in his room, as everything began to turn to pitch blackness except for Their glowing eyes, King’s guitar and King himself. “King… return...” He heard from his guitar, which he still continued to play, he watched the apparitions unphased. “King...” “Come to us!” “Remember… the tea...” The sound of a music box became heard, also playing to the same tune as the guitar. “WE ARE STRONGER THAN YOU.” “... You must return...” The choir and the apparitions slowly turned to laughter, all becoming hysterical. King looked down at himself, where his body slowly started turning into a similar amorphous shape, with the same glowing eyes at Them. Everything else that could be seen was slowly reduced to blackness, as every sound faded out, except for the music box.


Sunlight shined on King’s face as he rose from the ground he collapsed on. The apparitions had disappeared. He looked back towards where he believed he came from. He actually didn’t make it that far into the woods, he could still barely see the house, but more importantly, he could hear sirens. He raced back to the house to find two ambulances and a police car. EMTs were taking a woman in a body bag away, though he knew it wasn’t his mother as shortly after another group of EMTs had her on a seperate cart, though not in a body bag. King came stumbling towards the emergency services, though collapsed on the way there, groaning from the pain he was in. A cop walked up to King, weapon in hand, though not pointing. “If you could just stay on the ground for a minute, that’d be nice, kid.” The officer said. King didn’t feel compelled to get up anyway. An EMT ran up to King, looking down at him. “This kid’s pretty badly bruised,” the medic told the officer, before looking down at King. “Do you know anything about what happened here?” King laid on the ground, half-conscious. “It was Them.” King said. The EMT looked around. “Who?” He asked, though was surprised as he looked back down at King to see he had passed out.

A doctor stood over an operating table, looking at King’s mother. “That’s the best we can do. The rest… it’s up to God.” The doctor walked out, taking his mask and gloves off, then putting his nametag back on, “Doctor Landau”. He walked into a neighboring room, where King was sitting. “So, King, is it?” King remained silent. “Look, we’ve tried for hours and you’ve said nothing. I know the death of your grandmother and the disappearance of your sister is tough on you, but I promise there are better days ahead. And they’ll come sooner if you help us catch the killer.” Landau said. “It was Them. They did it.” King said. “Who are “They”, exactly?” Landau asked. King simply put his head in his hands, with a couple of tears running down the sides of his arms afterwards. Landau opened the door, before King managed to say “Wait!” Landau came back in. “... They’re like… spirits. And if you make a special kind of tea, They talk to you… and tell you stories. They make you laugh… make you feel. They hurt my mother… They killed Missy. My grandmother helped Them. I had to kill her to stop it.” King and Landau sat in silence for a moment, before Landau broke the silence with “Are you mad or just insane?” He got up and opened the door and looked at two security guards outside. “You can take him away now, the boy has lost his mind.” The two guards entered and immediately grabbed King, dragging him away. King struggled with all his might, though he was no match, he screamed as he attempted to get away, though everyone simply ignored him.

Landau looked down at King’s mother, laying down in the hospital bed, hooked up to equipment. She slowly opened her eyes, leaving Landau surprised. King’s mother looked around at the room and the equipment. “You’ve probably got a lot of questions but I’ll answer the first one, you’re in the hospital, you lost a lot of blood, it’s amazing you survived. We had to do a little surgery and remove unnecessary organs from your body to keep the blood flow easy.” Landau said. “... Where… are my kids… ?” She asked. “Your daughter, Missy, is gone, there’s no trace of her, but we’re trying to find her. King has gone insane. He said that Missy died and that he killed his grandmother, but with all the evidence thus far the most likely of all situations is that some deranged individual took Missy, likely as a way to ransom her, and in the process lured King into the woods and hit him in the head, knocking him unconscious, while he killed your mother and slit your wrists while you slept.” “... My mother’s dead?” Landau sighed. “I’m afraid so. It was too late when we got there.”

King was thrown into a cell in a mental asylum, and sat there in silence. It wasn’t even a minute before he started losing his mind. The idea of being trapped in a place like this, all day for who knows how long. But from the distance he started hearing familiar sounds. They became louder, until the point where King could hear it well. It was the same choir from the dream he had. “... Look at him..” “HE’S RIGHT BACK WHERE THE OLD BITCH WAS.” “Hilariously ironic!” They all laughed in synchrony, but not King, he tried to ignore it. “Don’t worry kid, we don’t want you going insane!” “... you… must be preserved...” “WE WILL SING YOU A TWILIGHT SYMPHONY.” The choir got louder as the voices silenced themselves.

The door to King’s cell opened, and at that moment, the choir King had grown so used to was gone in a second. A man stood in the doorway. “Alright King. It’s all resolved. You’re free to go back home now. Just remember to take your medication.” King simply nodded his head and got up. “How long has it been since I was brought here?” King asked. “About a year. Most people would’ve gone crazy in your shoes. Don’t know how you did it.” The guard said, as he escorted King down the hall to an exit.


A black car stopped outside of King’s grandmother’s house. King got out from the backseat, looking at the house. Doctor Landau got out from the passenger seat who looked over at King, he returned a look of mild anger. “Why did you bring me here?” King asked. “Your only known next of kin is your mother. With your grandmother’s death, she gets the house out of inheritance.” Landau responded. “My mom’s alive?!” King said, as he furiously walked towards Landau, who took a couple steps back, cautious. “Yes, she is. You’re not happy to hear this?” Landau asked. “I was locked up for a year, and I didn’t hear anything! I’m gonna kill you!” King said as he grabbed Landau by the collar and hit Landau in the jaw twice before a police officer stepped out from the driver’s seat and pulled King back, off of Landau, who brushed himself off and looked at the officer, “Let the kid be. He’s right to be angry.” The officer hesitated, before pushing King back, and getting back in the car, with Landau following suit. The car drove off, and King looked around, a mix of anger and fear as he turned back to look at the house. He looked up through the attic window, and saw his grandmother. King blinked a couple times, squinting his eyes. No matter what he did, she stood there still. King still pushed himself to walking into the house, looking around. It was still mostly the same as when he left it. He looked up the stairs, where his grandmother waited at the top. At this point, King felt flooded with horror. “... G-grandma?!” King shouted. His grandmother spoke with a voice that was blown out, to a point it was almost hard to understand her. “Yes… I saw you from the window… It’s good to see you again, despite what you did to my throat. They are waiting upstairs. Missy is there, too, she’s sitting on grandpa’s lap… I bet your dying for a cup of tea.” King backed away, next to the fireplace, where he grabbed the stoker to it, prepared to use it as a weapon, though at that point he had blinked, and she was gone in an instant. King leaned against the fireplace, wiping sweat from his brow. He felt fatigued at that moment, and continued to lean against the fireplace. His eyelids felt heavy, and he barely kept himself from staying awake, but he fought it with what little strength he had.

King awoke in the same place. He swore under his breath as he realized he passed out anyway. Though he looked outside, noticing the sun was still in the same place. He likely only slept for minutes. He got up immediately, preparing his weapon, though his grandmother was nowhere to be found. He heard noises coming from the kitchen. He went into the kitchen, investigating it, only to find his mother putting on a jacket and putting on a pair of sunglasses. “Mom?” King asked. His mother looked over to him, surprised. “King!” His mother shouted, though seemed more surprised than joyful, which was eerie to King. “Where’s grandma?” King asked. “Oh… she’s… gone… in a better place.” “I saw her, upstairs.” King said. “Oh… Doctor Landau said we’d be likely to have such episodes. It’s just our minds trying to cope with the grief. I know it’s probably hard for you.” King immediately decided there were better answers, but he didn’t say anything, there was a brief silence. “Anyway, I need to go to work now. I know you probably really want to talk, but, we can’t. Not now. I can’t afford anymore off time. I’ll be home later tonight, OK?” King’s mother said, King nodded, slowly, in response. His mother walked away, towards the door, before turning back and looking at King. “... I love you.” King nodded, “Yeah… I know...” His mother walked out of the door, and King immediately looked at the stoker in his hand, and walked up the stairs cautiously. He opened the attic door, and looked around. No one was in the old rocking chair, there was no trace of anyone or anything. As a matter of fact, it looked like the attic was completely cleaned out. King leaned against the wall, before dropping down into a sitting position, breathing heavily. He looked around, and could see himself again, being seduced by the power of the strange tea and the voices. From the other side of the house, distantly, he heard a phone begin to ring.


King walked up to the phone, looking at it. He picked it up, and spoke into it, “Hello?” There was a brief silence, before he heard his grandmother’s voice. “Hello, King. We didn’t get to finish our conversation last time.” KIng’s breathing got heavy. “You… you-, you’re dead!” “In a way… yes. Now, listen...” there was a silence between them. “Are you still there?” King’s grandmother asked. “I-I’m still here, grandma.” “Make the tea… They want to speak to you… you need to speak to Them.” King’s fear turned to anger. “Stop it!” King slammed the phone down. “You bitch!” King turned back, and walked into his room, it was practically untouched, like the rest of the house. He opened his closet to find everything still in the same place. He reached far into the back of it, pulling out a baseball bat. He kept it in his hands while he sat down on his bed. He watched every square inch of his room, before a pair of glowing eyes appeared in front of King, who immediately got up and swung his bat, only causing the apparition to shimmer a little, before returning to normal. “... Stop… please… I come with… a message...” “Fuck you, get out of here!” King shouted. “... You cannot control… me… in my own domain… you know… Amon… it’s not yours...” King dropped the bat onto the ground and watched the apparition carefully. “An old friend… is still around… go to… the graveyard… at night only… I will give you… a power… unlike anything… you will need it… I am… not an enemy...” The apparition faded. King stood in silence for a moment, confused.


King looked up at the full moon in the sky, designating it as midnight. He looked around in the local graveyard, isles of the deceased all around him, as usual. He turned back as he felt a presence, and saw one of Them. “... Be still… be calm...” Their eyes began moving forward, and the amorphous mist around the eyes enveloped around King’s body, covering him in almost painful heat. “... I… will show you the way...” King turned around to look back at all the graves around him, though one was swirling with bright yellow energy. The heat soon dissipated as They left King’s body, and thus, the energy around the one grave went invisible. Though King still looked over at it. He walked up to it, it was a small grave. He knelt down to look at whose it was. “Melissa “Missy” King, 1981-1988”. King felt uneasy, like he had just fallen for bait, in a conspiracy of vengeance. King turned back, to find Their presence was gone. King looked at the grave again. “Hello, King.” King heard a female voice from around him, similar to Their voices, but much more calm. Though he didn’t recognize it. “What do want?” King whispered back. “I don’t want anything, not from you. I just figured you wanted to see me again.” “Who are you?” There was a silence between Them. “Missy.” The response sent chills up King’s spine. “That’s not true… She’s dead, you don’t even sound like her.” King said. “Surely you of all people, King, know that the dead are more than simply gone. I sound different for the sake of being easier to understand. I am more than just a little girl… I understand everything now.” King was silent. “Then why are we here?” King asked. “I forgive you. I understand all that had happened. I know you had no control. So I forgive you. You don’t need to feel guilty anymore.” “How could I not feel guilty? I can barely remember it… But it still happened. I can’t say if it was or wasn’t me.” “It was not you… please, take comfort in knowing that… And be cautious of Them, King. They will try and manipulate you. Do not give in to the temptation. No matter how friendly They seem.”


King sat down in a recliner in a small, dimly lit room. He looked across the room at Doctor Landau, who held a piece of paper in his hand, looking at it occasionally, before looking up at King. “So… How are your nightmares?” King shook his head. “No, I’ve been able to sleep well lately.” “Excellent. And, are you still hallucinating the dead?” Landau asked. “No, I haven’t heard any spirits or seen any apparitions since I left the asylum.” King responded. There was a silence between the two, and Landau cleared his throat. “Well, after an hour of therapy, I’ve come to a conclusion on this. No trace of insanity. Maybe the time is right. But before I completely rid you of suspicion, I would like to talk to your mother about recent behavior to see if you’re really telling the truth.” King took a deep breath, controlling his anger. “Alright.” King said.

King stepped into the attic of his grandmother’s house. It was still almost completely empty. He searched the few cardboard boxes that were left, and looked in every corner. He left the attic and ran down the stairs. He looked around the same area the axe was left. Nothing. There was no trace of anything that pointed towards the evidence that They existed, nothing that related to his memories of the tea. He walked back up to his room, and looked out his window, seeing the sun slowly starting to rise. He yawned, and fell into his bed, falling asleep.


King woke up, and looked around. At the foot of the bed, he spotted another one of Their shapes. King sat up, and slowly pushed himself away from Them. “Do not be afraid, King. It’s only me, Missy.” King got up from his bed, and looked at her, or what little he could see of her. “What is it?” King asked. “Something bad is coming your way… Just beware.” “What? C’mon, there has to be more you can tell me. What do I have to look out for?” “I will send you a dream. Now, go back to sleep, and beware.” The apparition disappeared, and King laid back down. What Missy told him only kept him awake at this point. He tossed and turned for a few minute, before focusing his mind, back on an old memory. He thought to himself the memory of his grandmother saying “go back to sleep”, repeating it in his mind, over and over, until he finally passed out.


King sat at the far back row of a church, with the same axe he had used before on Missy. He kept it in his grip, the blade polished. There were many others in the church with him, though none were concerned with the axe, nor did they even seem to notice him. He sat silently, as he watched a tall male figure on the other side of the church, though he was too far away to be identified, he even refrained from looking at the crowd, likely due to anxiety. Suddenly, the traditional Wedding March music began playing, and King turned back to see the bride. Once in the church, the bride continued to walk towards the groom. the bride had her face covered with her veil, which kept King from identifying her. The groom turned back to see the bride making her way. Though there was something that caught King’s eye, the bride’s stomach was bulged out. She was pregnant. As the bridge reached the groom, the two looked at one another, and the priest began to speak to the church, prepared to wed the two. The groom removed the bride’s veil, and in that instant, King’s blood began to boil. The bride was King’s mother. Even worse, the Groom was Landau. At that instant, King got up from his seat, axe in hand. He rushed his way to the two, axe at the ready, as he reached Landau, he swung the axe at the doctor’s neck, the blade cutting through completely and severing his head. The force from the axe managed to also slice open his mother’s throat, and she collapsed bleeding out. King looked down at his mother, dying. As horrible as it may have seemed, King felt no regret, only relief. He turned back to look at the rest of the people in the church, to his surprise, they weren’t panicking, but they all sat silently. And from behind him, he heard an ocean of laughing, incredibly similar to Their laughter.


“King!” King’s eyes shot open to see his mother, waking him up. King pushed himself up almost instantly more awake than ever. King didn’t have time to speak as his mother seemed to be in a rush and answered before he could ask. “I’m going to church.” King returned an expression of confusion. “Since when do you go to church?” “It doesn’t matter. I need to go, now. I just wanted to let you know.” King’s mother responded. King’s breathing was heavy, but he controlled himself. “Alright… I’ll see you later.” King said as calmly as he could. His mother left the room without saying anything. King took one last good look at his mother, inspecting her stomach. She wasn’t pregnant. As she left, King wiped some of the sweat off his brow, and as he heard the front door close, he got out of his bed, quickly walking up to his window. He looked out, and spotted his mother getting into a car that was ready to leave. King barely made out Landau’s shape behind the wheel of the car. With what he saw, King knew that his mother wasn’t leaving for the wedding that is expected to happen, though it seemed like he didn’t have much time, anyway. King walked down to the living room, and watched the front door. “… King..” a voice echoed to him. “... Your time is far too short… Missy did not explain enough to you… now we would like to make a deal… when you die, you can become one of Us… and revenge will be guaranteed...” King looked up at the ceiling, unsure of where to look when speaking to the Them. King thought for a moment. “What’s the catch?” King asked. “... Your body may die… but your mind cannot… you will live forever… as one of Us… ” King was silent. “No, I can handle my problems on my own.” King responded. They made a few dissatisfied grunts, before fading back into silence. King fell to his knees on the floor, tired and angry.

As the crowd began leaving the church, Landau got the attention of King’s mother. “If you could stay here, I would like to speak to the priest in private.” “Confession? Go ahead, I can wait.” Landau nodded. “Thank you.” He began walking to catch the priest before he left the atrium of the Church. “Excuse me!” Landau shouted at the priest, causing him to stop and turn back. Landau caught up to the priest, who immediately recognized Landau. “Ah, doctor, good to see you.” The priest said. “And you as well, Father Sammael. Is it possible to talk again? Like we did a few months ago?” Landau asked. The priest nodded. “Of course.”
Landau sat down in a confession booth with Sammael. “Go on, speak and I shall tell you the word of the lord.” Landau cleared his throat. “So, Father, do you remember King? The loony one, who thought he killed his grandma up on the hill?” “Yes, I do.” Sammael responded. “Now he’s back. I allowed him freedom from the asylum and I’ve watched him carefully. He says he hasn’t heard any demons nor has he been having any other mental problems from what he said. And I believed him. But something tells me he was lying, and that I made a mistake. What is the Lord’s take on this?” There was a pause. “From what you tell me we cannot save him. It could be some kind of demon possession, or even Satan himself. Let us not waste any time, the demon might twist our minds, so we must go and do what must be done.” Landau, at first, thought the priest was being overly zealous, though had no objections as it was just the excuse Landau needed. The two stepped out, and Sammael looked over at Landau. “I must gather my tools, we will solve the problem and cure your house of any demons, I owe it to you.” Landau nodded, then walked up to King’s mother, who was sitting at the end of a row of chairs in the church. “I have spoken to Father Sammael. He said King has become possessed with a demon, possibly even the Devil himself.” She looked up at Landau. “How do you know?” “I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t believe this was urgent.” There was a pause. “But have no fears, my dear. Soon the house will belong to us… it will be heaven!”


King watched outside of his window at the dark night, rain pouring so loudly it was disrupting the normal dead silence of night. Suddenly, from all around him he heard hysterical laughing, as though a thousand people had heard the greatest joke of their lives. “IT’S THE BLIND ONES.” “How great, finally we will show them their greatest fear again!” “... The time must last...”

Sammael had a torch in his hand, marching valiantly towards Amon, ever aware. A necklace of christ bound to the cross was hung around his neck as he turned back to look at Landau and his significant other carrying a poorly made wooden coffin far behind him. “You make take your time! You will not want to see what may happen once I begin my work!” Sammael shouted. He received no response, though didn’t expect one. He continued to make his way towards the house, occasionally looking back to see the others’ progress. Once he couldn’t see them through the fog and rain, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin sheet of white cloth folded up. He pulled it out into its normal shape, revealing it to be a hood. He put it on, then continued walking towards the house, reaching the porch in no time. From the distance, he heard voices laughing.

King stood on the other side of the door, heart pounding and adrenaline filling his body. “YOU WERE A FOOL TO DENY OUR OFFER.” “... We… shall not… let them… take Amon… not again...” The door to the cellar opened, and the axe used on Missy dragged itself out into the living room, floating on its own. King took a couple steps back, letting the axe remain in front of him to do the fighting. King looked around for escape routes, before opening up the door to the backyard, though the door slammed and locked itself. “We’re not quite finished with you, either, yet!” King turned to the front door as he heard Sammael scream in pain.

“YOU DARE BRING A CRUCIFIX TO THE HOUSE OF SATAN?” “Satan! Satan!” Voices began chanting in a mocking tone. Sammael grabbed the handle of the door, only to scream in pain as the door handle was burning at unimaginable levels. He looked at his hand to see a pentagram branded into it. With the mark already on his hand, Sammael grabbed the handle again, quickly twisting it and pushing the door open to get it over with. He locked eyes with King, though his attention was immediately stolen by the floating axe nearby. “FATHER SAMMAEL, NICE OF YOU TO JOIN US. GLAD YOU GAVE UP MOLESTING CHILDREN FOR A MINUTE.” Voices laughed at the remark. “Have you perhaps thought of carbonating the blood of Christ to give the kids something fizzy to drink before they wake up later!” The voices laughed louder, clearly trying to the priest into anger. “... Do your work… priest… he’s… all yours...” The axe moved out of the way between Sammael and King. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I banish thee to the depths of Hell where you have come from!” Sammael shouted as he threw his torch back outside and took out a golden Crucifix with a sharp bottom and pointed it at King, who was in a mix of confusion and anger. King considered taking the axe, though knowing it was under control of Them, and he didn’t want to take any risks of allying himself with those who are still his enemies. Instead, he grabbed a pair of scissors from a nearby and table and prepared to use them as a weapon. Sammael and King rushed towards each other, with King tackling Sammael, who immediately retaliated by hitting King in the face twice, until King backed off from Sammael. King swung the scissors at Sammael, though missed each strike. Sammael grabbed King by the shoulder, and twisted his arm, subduing King. Sammael took the sharp end of the crucifix against King’s neck, prepared to slice it, though King pushed Sammael away, then charged into Sammael, pushing him against the wall, and elbowing him in the throat. Sammael reached out his hand to try and choke King, who was able to stop his attack, biting his teeth into Sammael’s fingers until he cut through them, and ripped them off entirely. King spit the fingers he bit off at Sammael. King prepared to stab Sammael in the head, though Sammael was quicker with his attack, stabbing King in the groin with the crucifix. King yelled in pain, then collapsed. Sammael got on top of King, then stabbed the crucifix into King’s chest. Causing King to scream more, though King spat blood into Sammael’s eyes in the middle of the scream, throwing Sammael off guard. With what little he could see, Sammael continued stabbing King in the chest with the crucifix, though King also stabbed back, both of them trading blows to the point where neither of them were likely to survive regardless of who won. Eventually, Sammael regained his vision, mostly, then slashed the blade of the crucifix across King’s throat, causing his blood to cover Sammael’s hood. Sammael stumbled outside into the rain, and took off his hood, letting it fly into the wind. He fell down while walking down the steps, and remained in a sitting position, his back supported by the wall. “DO NOT FEAR KING. WE WILL END YOUR PAIN.” The axe floated above King’s head, using its pointed end to fly down and stab itself through King’s forehead, putting an end to his struggling. Sammael turned to look at the event, before he lifted his Crucifix into the sky. “In the name of the Lord, I release you spirits! Return to your domain, judged fairly by god, and accept your fate! Evil will never infect our world, not while it remains in God’s loving grace!” Sammael shouted. From the gravel road, Landau and King’s mother came running. Landau knelt down to inspect Sammael’s wounds. “Don’t worry, Father, I can help you, can you walk?” Landau asked. “Be calm, my son. I must finish releasing the evil from this house. Your son has been released of his spirits, but you must do the rest! Take his body, put it in the coffin, set it aflame, and bury the ashes in his sister’s grave! Free him of his evil and pray that his soul will be separated from the Devil’s, and be forgiven by God! Quickly! It must be done now! If God wills it, I will not survive, but that’s not a part of your choice, Doctor! Go!” Sammael continued rambling on, while Landau hesitated, but he eventually ran into the house to pick up King’s corpse, and carried it down the road to the coffin, putting the torn-up body into the coffin, and covering it. King’s mother ran up behind Landau, wiping a mix of tears and rain from her face. “You heard Father Sammael, we must do this, it’s our responsibility!” Landau shouted over the rain and wind. “I know… I’ll get the car ready.” King’s mother walked back up the gravel road, then into the car, starting it up. Landau carried the coffin to the car, and slid it into the backseat, then he got into the passenger’s seat, and the car took off. Sammael watched this all, pleased with himself. Just as he closed his eyes, he heard laughter from afar. “THAT WAS A NICE HOOD YOU HAD, SHAME YOU TOSSED IT.” “Since you’re unable to feel it yourself, allow us to give you sympathy for the wrongs you committed, with a bit of vengeance as well!” Sammael felt himself being dragged by a powerful force back into the house, before he was lifted back onto his feet. The axe lifted itself off the ground, then threw itself through Sammael’s legs, slicing them off with perfect precision. Sammael fell to the floor, screaming in pain and fear. “... You… dropped this...” the crucifix Sammael was using floated towards him, upside down, covered in mud and blood. “WE’LL CLEAN THAT UP FOR YOU. NOT JUST THE STAINS. THE SHAPE.” “But we’ll save that for the main course!” Sammael was dragged up the stairs, light headed from his lack of blood. He was dragged into King’s room, with a rope hanging from the ceiling fan. Sammael was lifted up, and hung in the rope, causing him to struggle and choke. In the room next to King’s, the attic, a teapot with cracks all around it was pulled out from one of the few boxes, and set up on the stove in the kitchen, filled only with water, and the Crucifix. Sammael grabbed the rope, and barely managed to push himself out, falling to the floor, and cracking one of his ribs. He rolled around, in pain. “DON’T THINK THAT WILL SAVE YOU.” The teapot began steaming, and it was lifted off of the stove and brought into King’s rome. Sammael’s mouth was pulled open, and the teapot began pouring the melted Crucifix and water into Sammael’s mouth, before They lifted him back up into his noose. Sammael was set aflame at that instant, writhing around in his tortured state in horrible, agonizing pain.


All that was visible was blackness. Though it didn’t mean there was an absence of anything to see. It wasn’t all over, to King’s surprise. He expected some tunnel of light to appear, or even at least maybe even a pit of fire. Certainly something. Anything. And King was suddenly rewarded with words, familiar, and more clear than ever. “DID YOU REALLY THINK WE NEEDED SOME SORT OF VERBAL CONTRACT TO BRING YOU INTO OUR WORLD?” King recognized the tone, though it wasn’t like an echo, nor was it distorted, or altered in anyway. They were speaking to him in the most natural voices he heard them in. “... You... will learn to... forgive us... King.” One of Them said. “Now, see the world in our eyes!” Lights flooded into King’s head, though there was no color, it was all in a mix of black and white. Thousands of amorphous beings swirled around Amon, Though three in particular stood out. “Amon is finally ours again!” “FINALLY.” “... Finally...” “WE KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING KING.” “Frankly, it’s kind of offensive!” “... It is… no longer… Them_…” Then, all three of Them spoke collectively. “It’s Us.” “There is no need for questions anymore!” “LET US SHOW YOU THE TRUE POWER OF AMON.” A flood of information invaded King’s mind all at once, though it wasn’t truly disturbing or painful to him. It was comforting. “No secrets can be held from Us!” “NOW YOU KNOW THE NEXT STEP. TO PAY HER A VISIT.” There was a pause. “Alright.” King said.


King’s mother pulled up in the Graveyard, and she got out with Landau, the latter taking with him a shovel. The two carried the coffin over to the grave marked Melissa King. The mother began to tear up. “Don’t worry, my dear. I will do all the work. You don’t need to see this.” Landau said, prompting his spouse to walk back to the car in tears. Landau looked down at the coffin. He took an umbrella and propped it up against Missy’s gravestone to keep the rain from getting in. He took the shovel, and began to dig up Missy’s grave. One strike into the soil gave Landau more and more relief. Eventually, he struck Missy’s coffin, and digged it up. Out of curiosity, he opened the coffin, to find absolutely nothing. He shut it again, then pushed King’s coffin into the grave above Missy’s coffin, where it fell in, fitting perfectly. He reached into his pocket to grab a small bottle of whisky, then threw it into the grave, covering King’s coffin in alcohol, before tossing down a match into the grave. The grave was filled with flames, though it turned into smoke by the time it reached the surface, which quickly dissipated from the rain. Landau took a deep breath, as he finally finished it. He had never felt more accomplished than now.

King watched from beyond the mortal plane as his body was disposed of in fire. “Few people are as lucky as you to have such a big send off, even if it is out of pure spite!” “IT’S NOT SPITE. THE ONLY REASON HE BOTHERED WAS BECAUSE HE BELIEVED THERE TO BE SOME KIND OF HIGHER EXISTENCE.” “... He’s… not wrong...” “YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.” King remained silent as they bickered “Remember the stories of graveyard decapitations?!” “... Yes...” “OF COURSE.” “We should give this fool a fate worse than death!” “GREAT IDEA.” “... What do… you… think… King?” King remained silent for a moment, though he responded “Not now. I want it to be a message. To her.” The other three laughed.

Landau finished pouring the dirt back into the grave, before picking the umbrella up and walking away from the grave filled only with ash. Landau stopped for a moment, feeling as though he was being watched, though ignored it and continued to walk away. The rain cleared up afterwards, and the receding of the clouds revealed a full moon.


Landau stepped out of an apartment, and walked down to the street and got into a car. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror to see if he looked good, and afterwards, started the car. He drove off to the hospital, where he parked his car and walked in. A nurse stopped him as he walked down one of the hallways. “Doctor Landau! Someone left a letter for you. Said it was important.” The nurse handed him an envelope, clearly made with sincere care, even containing a wax seal. “Thank you.” Landau said, before he opened the envelope and pulled out a letter. “Dear Doctor Landau, you may not remember, but one of your patients you helped recently has passed. We, his family, are hosting an open funeral as he had many friends that we didn’t know all of, we wish to invite you as he mentioned you by name how good of a doctor you were for him. We do hope you come. Sincerely, the LaRocque family. PS, in case you can’t find us, the grave will be in the second to last row on the right side of the entrance, on the far left of its row.” Landau reread the letter, contemplating his decision. He put the letter back in the envelope, and slid it into his back pocket, before moving on.

As the sun was setting, Landau drove his car to the entrance of the graveyard, then quickly got out. He looked around, though saw no one around. He pulled out the letter to remind himself where it was. He followed the instructions to find a small gravestone designating a grave that had been clearly recently covered. He must’ve missed it. Out of curiosity, he knelt down to read the name on the gravestone. “Melissa “Missy” King, 1981-1988” Landau got up and looked around. He was terrified, but he refused to show it. “Damn you King!” Landau shouted. Suddenly, the axe went through Landau’s neck, splattering his blood around the area. His body collapsed, and his head landed on the ground nearby. His eyes continued to dart around, and he repetitively opened and closed his mouth, confused as to what happened. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t move or feel anything other than his face, and the blood had drained almost completely, leaving an agitating numbed feeling to what was left of his body. Voices laughed all around him. The freshly covered soil on Missy’s grave lifted itself up to reveal the ashes inside, before Landau’s still-living head was placed in the grave, and the soil was dropped back down, burying Landau. His body, however, was dragged back to his car, and into the trunk, before the car beeped twice, designating itself as locked.

King’s mother sat alone in the living room, in grief, but still faithful for the future. She kept looking out of the window, expecting an arrival, though nothing happened, there was no movement outside. She then heard subtle movement coming from the attic. Curious and frightened, she grabbed a nearby kitchen knife, and slowly walked up into the attic. She opened the door, and her eyes widened as she saw her mother and father, with Missy sitting in her grandfather’s lap, and most importantly, between them all, King, playing his acoustic guitar calmly for the others to listen. They all looked up at her, and greeted her each in their own silent but welcoming was. With the blink of her eyes, they were gone, and she was in such shock that she dropped the knife on the floor. She suspected at first that it was hallucinated, as she was told by Landau that grief would bring such hallucinations for her to cope, though suddenly her suspicions were gone as she hear from the distance, King’s echoed words. “Whenever the dark is near, I will return from the grave to haunt you, you god-forsaken whore.”

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