Tomorrow will not come because the war has already started.

Don't you see?
Don't you see the thousands of soldiers outside your door?

Commanded by The Dragon.
Commanded by...

No.

This isn't the time.
That name can't be said.

Must go, protect yourself.
And be wise now.

I recently published Graves, the first novel in my Keller & Archibald series.
It’s a dark crime thriller set in the fictional small town of Millhaven, Iowa, where a landscaper named Ethan Graves has spent years hiding something beneath the ordinary life everyone thinks he lives.
When human remains begin surfacing, the investigation starts pointing toward a much larger pattern—and toward a man who has been quietly working toward a very specific number of victims.
The story follows investigator Sarah Keller as she gets pulled into Millhaven and a case involving missing people, black roses, a ghost orchid, and a buried history that keeps getting worse the deeper she digs.
I wanted Graves to feel like a collision between a serial-killer procedural, Midwestern noir, and small-town horror. It gets pretty dark, but the focus is as much on the investigation and the people caught inside it as it is on the killer himself.
It’s also the beginning of a larger series, with Keller carrying the consequences of what happens in Millhaven into the books that follow.
If you like bleak crime fiction, damaged investigators, rural settings, and killers who are hiding behind completely ordinary lives, Graves might be up your alley.

(Hallo, das ist mein erster Text weshalb ich nicht wirklich weiß ob er gut ist aber das wird schon. Bitte entschuldigt auch die Rechtschreibfehler falls welche drin sind)

Es ist ein nasser Herbsttag. Eigentlich wie jeder andere. Oder nicht? Eine Freundes Gruppe von drei Personen mit den Namen Leon, Lukas und Max sitzen in Zimmer von Leon. Alle drei sind 16 Jahre alt. Sie lieben es verlassene Gebäude zu erkunden, Rituale zu machen und auf kuriose Webseiten zu gehen. In Moment besprechen sie wie sie in das verlassene Krankenhaus in ihrer Stadt kommen können. Leon bekommt von seinem kleinen Bruder Justin eine Nachricht auf das Handy in der steht "Hey großer Bruder ich freue mich dich schon wiederzusehen wenn du morgen wieder kommst!" Leon schreibt eine kurzantwort und schaltet dann sein Handy aus. Sie sind aufgeregt und planen wie sie das machen können. Max der wenigstens ein bisschen vernünftig ist sagt zu Lukas und Leon: „Hey ich weiß nicht ob das eine gute Idee ist. Ich habe ein schlechtes Gefühl dabei vielleicht sollten wir das doch wann anders machen?“ Er hat ein komisches Gefühl dabei aber die anderen hören nicht auf ihn. Sie packen ihre Taschenlampen und Energy Drinks in ihre Rücksäcke und gehen los. Als sie durch die dunklen nassen Straßen gehen lachen sie noch und machen Witze. Was soll schon passieren? Lukas sagt zu Max mit einem leicht spöttischen Grinsen: „Komm schon Max! Du bist ein Weichei, es wird nichts schlimmes passieren.“ Lukas stimmt mit einem Lachen zu. Sie wissen noch nicht was sie erwartet. Sie erreichen das Krankenhaus und machen noch Späße. Sie holen ihre Taschenlampen raus und stellen zu aller Überraschung fest das die Tür unverschlossen ist. Sie gehen rein mit eingeschalteten Taschenlampen. Es sieht dafür das es verlassen ist noch ziemlich neu aus. Die Elektronik funktioniert zwar nicht aber es sind noch Akten, Medikamente und alles andere da. Aber es sieht so aus als hätte man es in Eile verlassen. Sie gehen zusammen durch die Gänge. Bis sie etwas bemerken.... Max ist weg. Leon und Lukas denken erst er würde sie nur veräppeln aber als sie paar mal seinen Namen rufen bemerken sie dass das kein blöder Scherz ist. Max ist weg und sie wissen nicht mal mehr wie lange eigentlich. Sie rennen panisch durch die Flure und rufen seinen Namen. Leon bleibt irgendwann in Flur stehen als ihn etwas schreckliche bewusst wird. Er hatte es erst jetzt bemerkt. Er hat seit ungefähr ein paar Minuten Lukas Stimme beim rufen nicht mehr gehört und auch keine Schritte mehr. Er ist alleine und hat keine Ahnung wo die anderen beiden sind. Er atmet schwer durch die Nase. Dann bemerkt er den Geruch. Nicht nur Desinfektionsmittel sondern auch etwas metallisches. Blut. Frisches Blut in diesem verlassenen Krankenhaus. Er schaut sich um. Alles viel zu still. Er versucht nicht zu hyperventilieren und sinkt an einer Wand herunter. Es ist ein Alptraum. Ein schrecklicher Alptraum. Er steht mit zitternden Beinen auf und geht weiter. Er bemerkt obwohl angeblich der Strom nicht funktioniert das eine Kamera oben in der Ecke mit einen roten schwach blinkenden Licht leuchtet. Er wird beobachtet. Er erstarrt. Er weiß nicht ob das gut oder schlecht ist. Dann fällt seine Taschenlampe zu Boden. Von hinten hält ihn jemand ein Chloroform getränktes Tuch vor Mund und Nase. Er wird bewusstlos. Als er wieder aufwacht wird er von grellen Licht geblendet. Er hat höllische Schmerzen. Er schaut auf seine Hände und ist entsetzt. Er sieht grüne blutige Schuppen an seinen Armen und Händen. Aber das was ihn noch mehr entsetzt ist dass er Metall Fesseln an Handgelenken und Knöcheln trägt. Er trägt auch nicht mehr seine normale Kleidung sondern ein Krankenhaus Hemd. Er setzt sich mit einem stöhnen vor Schmerzen auf, lehnt sich an die Wand und schaut sich um. Er sieht Lukas und Max. Lukas hat einen Knebel in Mund und schreit dort vor Schmerz rein. Sein Gesicht Tränen überströmt während er elektroschocke über ein Gerät bekommt was an seinem Kopf befestigt bekommen hat. Max liegt halb lebend am Boden. Er sieht aus wie ein fehlgeschlagenes Experiment. Ein Auge durch ein Adlerauge ersetzt und falsch aussehende Flügel angebracht. Ein Mann mit Laborkittel und Brille kommt rein. Er sieht aus wie ein Arzt. Er hat eine Spritze in der Hand. Max versucht sich zu wehren aber es bringt nichts. Er bekommt die Spritze. Es stellt sich heraus dass es nicht irgendein sondern ein Wissenschaftler. Lukas bekommt die elektroschocks wegen einen Experiment wo sie versuchen ihn telekinetische und telepathische Fähigkeiten zu geben. Es tut höllisch weh. Die Wissenschaftler versuchen die Jungs zu Waffen zu machen um Sie später an Terroristen zu verkaufen. Sie werden wie Laborratten behandelt. Bekommen irgendwelche Abfälle zum Essen und Wasser in Näpfen. Ein paar Tage später oder vielleicht auch Wochen oder Monate zeigt einer dieser Wissenschaftler ihnen die Nachrichten in dem er sie mit einem Beamer an die Wand produktziert. Die Nachrichten die über drei vermisste Jungen sprechen. Leons kleiner Bruder weint in den Nachrichten. Das schlimme ist dass sie nicht mal mehr wissen wer sie sind oder wer sie einmal waren. Im ersten Jahr vergessen sie ihre Namen. In dritten Jahr werden sie aggressiv verrückt. In fünften Jahr tötet Max das erste Mal und in 10 Jahr verschwinden immer mehr Kinder und Jugendliche in der Nähe des Krankenhauses. Max, Leon und Lukas sind zu Tötungsmaschinen ohne Erinnerungen und ohne eigenen Willen geworden und haben die Ärzte umgebracht. Die Jugendlichen die das Krankenhaus betreten sterben. Gerade ist ein neuer Jugendlicher das Krankenhaus eingebrochen und geht durch die Gänge. Er sieht eine alte verrostete Taschenlampe auf den Boden in einem Flur liegen. Die Taschenlampe die die drei Freunde damals hatten. Als er sie auf heben will kommt Leon auf ihn zu gestürmt. Leon will ihn gerade zerfleischen als er innehält. Der Jugendliche sieht aus wie er damals. Braune Haare, grüne Augen, gebräunte Haut, sommersprossen und der gleiche beschissene kleidungsstil. Er bekommt heftige flashbacks. Es ist irgendein Jugendlicher sondern Justin. Er versucht seine Programmierung zu wiedersprechen aber als Justin weg rennt wird sein Tötungsinstinkt geweckt. Er rennt ihn hinterher und zerfetzt ihn mit seinen scharfen Krallen. Dabei zerbricht ein Spiegel der mit Blut voll getropft wird. Leon fällt auf die knie. Als er sein entstelltes Gesicht sieht weint er. Sein Gesicht von früher scheint ihm für einen kurzen Moment zurückzublicken. Er erinnert mich an Leon und Lukas. An die Nachrichten. An seinem kleinen Bruder den er gerade nach 10 Jahren wieder gesehen hat und getötet hat. Er hat das zerstört was ihn damals am wichtigsten war. Er kann einfach nicht mehr und nimmt sich eine glasscheibe mit seinen zitternden Händen, seine Schuppen glänzen. Befleckt mit Justins Blut. Er schneidet sich mit der glasscheibe selber die Kehle durch. Leon liegt da. Seine Augen schließen sich als er noch mal auf die zerfetzte Leiche von Justin schaut. Max und Lukas sterben später als ein Polizist sie von ihren Leid erlöst. Der Fall landet wieder in den Nachrichten mit der ganzen Geschichte während Leon, Lukas und Max sich oben im Himmel obwohl sie so viele Menschen Leben genommen haben wurden ihnen Gnade gegeben weil sie es nicht freiwillig gemacht haben und Justin ist auch da und wird wieder vereint mit seinem Bruder Leon. So lernten sie ganz am Ende das wenn man zu viele Risiken eingeht und nicht vorsichtig genug an unbekannten Orten ist man sich ungewollt verändern kann aber es manchmal nur eine Person braucht dass das vergangene ich wieder zurück schauen kann.

A rural horror story told in the style of EC Comics (Tales from the Crypt, etc.). Just some pulp horror fun for you to enjoy.

It's a short story that is around 3,700 words.

My Substack:

https://jdkraft.substack.com

YOUNG KAIHA
Kaiha-
[She paces the room and lets out a frustrated scream]
FLASHBACK, 1197
FADE IN:
EARLY JUNE, NOT S CLOUD IN RHE
SKY, DUN IS ALMOST
BLISTERING.)
[YOUNG KAIHA ANF KAIHAS MOTHER ARE AT ANGELS REST RIVER]
[kaihas mother pushing her into the water]
KATHAS MOTHER
"Youre doing great angel"
[kaiha splashes around and smiles]
Young KAIHA
"Mama im doing it!"
Young kaihas foot gets stuck on a rock in the creek
"MAMA HELP!"
"MAMA help!"
KAIHAS MOTHER
(SCORNFULLY) YOU KNOW KAIIHA,, THEY USED RO TEST IF WOMEN HAD THE DEVIL IN THEM BY TYING ROCKS TO THEM AND THROWING THEM IN A BODY OF WATER» YOUNG KAIHA
(Screaming terrified) MAMA!
FADE OUT.
(....)
FADE IN:

YUMI
"Kill him"
KAIHA
Backing away
youre hot 2e a no mama said
YUMI
(Curious, eerie) "not real?"
she smiles and kaiha notes that it is far to wide (She tilts her head and all of a sudden they are underwater)
KAIHA
[Gasps]
« NO! MAMA! »
YUMIS VOICE AND FACE SHIFTS INTO THAT OF KAIHAS MOTHER
FADE OUT.

The Good Help - Book 2 of the Rambling Rose Series is available NOW!!! Paperback and hard cover coming soon.. https://www.amazon.com/Good-Help-Book-Rambling-Horror-ebook/dp/B0HMYZCS2B

​

Guess what, I finally posted? In case you somehow missed the title in big, bold letters, it's my Halloween featured story for the month. Now, it's been a little while since my last upload, but I had to deal with a bunch of horse shit. Hopefully, that's all resolved. To make up for it, this story is on the really long side.

We're talking sixty-nine (heh, and yes, I am very immature) hundred words. That's the equivalent of two of my higher word count posts in one. This tale features a character readers familiar with my work will recognize. This was a lot of fun to write. I do want to get out at least one or two more stories before the month is over.

In the meantime, assuming you are a high enough tier on The Shadow Box Archives Patreon, check out my featured tale through the link below. If you want to read it for free, just wait a week. Also, assuming you don't use generative AI, check out our website. Artists and writers are welcome. Plus, we don't allow any of that machine learning garbage. That's all for now. I hope you all are having an intriguing Spooky Season.

https://www.patreon.com/posts/172678411?utm\\_campaign=postshare\\_fan&utm\\_content=android\\_share

The smoke of empires climbed into the blue, where once a quiet, silver shadow grew, but mortal hands, consumed by pride and hate, began to forge the instruments of fate.

They tore the earth to feed the iron forge, and poured their fury down the mountain gorge, until the spark of total war was struck, and fields of green turned into burning muck.

The weapons roared with terrifying sound, A thousand suns exploded on the ground, and thermal energy began to rise, In choking columns to the heavy skies.

The heat of millions dying in the night, Ignited physics with a deadly might, It pushed the atmosphere beyond its bound, And broke the seal on ancient, holy ground.

Deep in the crust where silent ages slept, Where calcified, forgotten horrors crept, A forty-foot god waited for the spark, Entombed within a deep, protected dark.

Xul-Kiri rose upon two lanky arms, Unfazed by human cannons and alarms. The thermal peak had cracked his stony shell, To release a blinding, horizontal hell.

God has awoke from mortals nuclear hell...

For as he stood, a terrifying spark Began to burn away the safe and dark. The true sun opened up its massive eye, And bleached the blue completely from the sky.

The clouds evaporated in a flash, And ancient mountain peaks turned into ash. The shadows vanished from the stone and grass, The ground became a sheet of searing glass.

Xul-Kiri radiated solar fire, A living furnace and a cosmic pyre. The surface of the earth began to run, dissolving in the fury of the sun.

The dirt and stone were melting into slime, A liquid grave at the end of time. His twenty-five-foot sphere began to glow, As rivers boiled in the plains below.

The plasma rolled in waves across the mud, And mixed the melted iron with our blood. Then from his base, the nested tentacles Unfurled like twisted golden spectacles.

They warped the gravity of earth and air and lifted up the monster sitting there. He soared into the bleached, chaotic white, q flying mountain of radioactive sunlight.

And opening his standing vertical maw, He shattered every known terrestrial law. The rows of grinding teeth began to shake, And caused the pillars of the sky to break.

He let out one loud, mind-destroying shriek, That tore the language from the brave and meek. A cosmic frequency of pure despair Ripped through the atmosphere and filled the air.

It drove the mortal race to max insanity, And brought an end to all human vanity. They clawed their bleeding eyes out in the white, And threw themselves into the burning shining light.

As Xul-Kiri soared above the floor, of a dissolving world that was no more of the mortal lore.

You're walking into the void

The fear around you and in front of you

Fear of the unknown

Do you see the wall of the house

It's still dark all around

Why do you see without light?

It feels like you're walking down a familiar street.

There's no one around, just emptiness

Do you hear the sound of the abyss

Suddenly fear sounds in your head

Do you realize that you're walking on bodies?

You're running trying to get away from them

But they're everywhere.

Fear has taken over you

Your body doesn't listen to you

You're like a cockroach trying to escape from here.

All your thoughts are telling you to save yourself

But at the same time they say that there is no way out

My ears are starting to ring.

Tears start to form in my eyes

You press your palms to your eyes.

So I don't have to see where you are

You start screaming and crying.

Something grabs your leg

Have you seen what it is

Your legs think faster than you do

There's nowhere to run

But they know they need it.

You wake up.

Your whole body is trembling with fear.

What did you see?

Your thoughts start to mix up.

But only one remains.

Maybe this is death?

You take a knife.

And you start cutting your hands.

You feel cold.

But you’re sure of your actions.

You drive the knife into your chest.

It doesn’t hurt.

You feel like you want to sleep.

You’ll find out the truth.

But you’re still alone.

i'm currently writing a gothic horror novel set in a mansion in newcastle, england in the 1830s. the story centers around a female main character with her husband playing an important but supporting role.

basically, the fmc has this final confrontation with a humanoid monster. it is set in a hothouse/conservatory that is an important location to the monster in the book. in one of the earlier scenes, i established the monster using a pair of garden shears to make flower arrangements in that conservatory. i had planned to use the same shears to give my fmc a weapon to stab the monster in the final fight.

the problem is, i just wrote another fight scene between the fmc's husband and the monster's minion in which he defeated the minion by setting him on fire using a candleabra. now i feel like there are just too many convinient weapons in my book. but also, these are normal people in a very normal setting, so other than with everyday items, i don't know how to arm them to fight against supernatural forces.

advice?

Chapter 1: The First Knock
It was the night of October 8.
The next day was a holiday, so five of us were staying up late in our hostel room, doing what we usually did on weekends: watching short films, switching between comedy and horror, and making fun of characters who made stupid decisions.
We had watched horror movies together countless times. We would watch something terrifying, laugh about it afterwards, and eventually fall asleep.
Nothing had ever happened to us before.
That night, we were watching a horror film about a woman who visited houses late at night, knocked on doors, and asked people for onions.
The rules were simple: never open the door, and never answer her questions.
We found the premise creepy but entertaining. We weren’t particularly frightened. After all, it was just another horror movie.
Then the speaker volume became too loud.
And through the noise, we heard something.
Knock. Knock.
Someone had knocked on our main door.
Only my friend V and I noticed it. The other three were too engrossed in the film.
We paused the video and looked at each other.
“Did you hear that?”
We walked towards the door and opened it.
Nobody.
The corridor was empty. There wasn’t a single person standing outside.
We looked around, wondering whether someone had played a prank on us. Perhaps another hostel student had knocked and run away before we could catch them.
We laughed it off, closed the door, and returned to the film.
About twenty minutes passed.
Then we heard another sound.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
This time, it came from our balcony window.
All five of us heard it.
We lived on the ground floor, and people occasionally came around our balcony, so I assumed someone was standing outside. I got up and opened the balcony window.
There was nobody there.
No person. No shadow disappearing around the corner. No footsteps moving away.
Just an empty balcony.
We stood there for a moment, looking around, trying to understand what had happened.
Perhaps someone was playing a prank. Perhaps they had run away before we could see them.
We had no explanation, but we didn’t think too much of it.
We returned to the film.
Yet something had changed.
The first knock had been strange. The second was harder to dismiss because all five of us had heard it.
Still, we found ways to rationalise it.
Someone must have been outside.
Someone must have run away.
There had to be an explanation.
We had no idea that, by the end of the night, we would be staring at our own balcony, wondering what we had just witnessed.
Chapter 2: The Nightmare Before the Knock
On the morning of October 9, around eleven, V told us about something that had happened earlier that day.
V had always struggled with sleep. He usually couldn’t sleep for more than five hours at a stretch.
But that morning, something unusual had happened.
He had slept for nine or ten hours straight.
During that sleep, he had experienced a horrifying nightmare.
In his dream, a witch was hunting him.
She wanted to steal his belongings—his hair, his clothes, and other personal things that she intended to use to possess him.
He was desperately trying to save himself.
He fought back against the witch and, in the dream, even killed her accomplices with a dagger.
Then, suddenly, he woke up.
And heard a knock at our door.
It was around eleven in the morning.
Our room’s door was usually left open, so V assumed that whoever was outside could simply enter.
Still half-asleep, he shouted towards the door, telling the person to come in.
Nobody entered.
He waited for a moment, confused.
Then he shouted again.
Still, nobody came in.
Nobody answered him.
Nobody opened the door from outside.
That was when he turned towards me and shouted, asking whether I had called for room-cleaning services.
I was barely awake myself. Half-asleep, I denied calling anyone.
I had no idea what he was talking about.
V insisted that someone had knocked, but nobody had entered the room, nobody had answered, and nobody had even opened the door from outside.
Eventually, the moment passed.
We went about our day without thinking too much about it.
At the time, it seemed like an odd but ordinary incident. Perhaps someone had knocked and left. Perhaps V had been confused because he had just woken up.
But that night, when V told us about the nightmare and the knock, we listened more carefully.
He was visibly shaken as he recounted the dream.
We tried to reassure him. Dreams could be strange, and waking up could leave people disoriented. There was probably a perfectly ordinary explanation.
We were just beginning to settle down when—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The balcony window again.
Chapter 3: Nobody Was There
We rushed towards the balcony and opened the window as quickly as we could.
Nothing.
No person.
No shadow disappearing around the corner.
No footsteps.
Nothing that could explain what all five of us had just heard.
We stood there, looking at one another.
This time, nobody tried to laugh it off.
All five of us were genuinely frightened.
We began wondering whether someone was deliberately trying to scare us. Perhaps someone knew our room and was playing an elaborate prank.
But who would go to such lengths?
And how could we keep hearing the knocks without ever finding anyone outside?
We decided to stop watching the movie.
The story about the woman asking for onions suddenly felt a little too close to home.
We tried to change the subject, but the knocks had already done their damage.
Every little sound made us turn towards the door.
Every movement outside caught our attention.
We decided to remove the curtains from the balcony window and keep watch.
If someone came to the balcony, we would see them.
We sat together, staring at the glass.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then thirty.
Nothing happened.
Gradually, we began to relax.
Perhaps the person had stopped.
Perhaps we had been frightening ourselves over nothing.
Then we saw something outside.
Something that none of us could immediately explain.
Chapter 4: The Light Across the Glass
A huge light appeared across our balcony glass.
At first, we thought it might be a reflection from a passing vehicle.
But then it started moving.
The strangest part was how it appeared to move across the glass itself, almost as though it were part of the glass rather than something shining through it.
It moved quickly.
We all watched it.
Five people, standing together, staring at the same thing.
The light travelled across the glass in a way that none of us could make sense of. We tried to follow it with our eyes, attempting to understand what we were seeing.
Then, suddenly, the movement stopped.
And something appeared.
A white circle.
Right in the middle of the balcony glass.
The circle appeared after the light had settled. It remained visible for four or five seconds.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
We simply stared.
Even A, the friend who had been denying everything from the beginning, was now terrified.
Until that moment, he had insisted that we were imagining things or frightening ourselves over nothing.
But now he was just as scared as the rest of us.
We urged him to open the balcony window.
He hesitated.
We pushed him to do it.
He became so frightened that he started clapping loudly at the door, trying to scare whatever was outside away.
Then he opened the balcony door and ran out.
There was nothing there.
Nothing immediately outside that could explain what we had seen.
There was, however, a garbage truck standing approximately ten metres ahead of our balcony.
The truck had already been there. It hadn’t suddenly appeared after we opened the door.
We stared at it, then at the balcony, then at one another.
Could the truck have caused the light?
Possibly.
We couldn’t rule it out.
But the light we had seen looked nothing like anything we could imagine a garbage truck producing. We couldn’t understand how the truck could have created that particular movement across the glass, followed by a white circle that remained in the middle of it for several seconds.
We had no proof that the truck was responsible.
We also had no proof that it wasn’t.
That uncertainty was almost worse than having no explanation at all.
We had all watched the light move.
We had all seen it settle.
We had all seen the circle.
And when we opened the balcony door, there was nothing directly outside to explain what we had witnessed.
We were terrified.
For the first time, none of us had an explanation we could confidently believe.
Chapter 5: The Days We Tried to Forget
For the next two or three days, we talked about what had happened.
We replayed every detail.
The first knock at the main door.
The second knock at the balcony.
The empty corridor.
The empty balcony.
V’s nightmare.
The strange light.
The white circle.
The garbage truck standing ten metres away.
We tried to come up with explanations.
Maybe someone had been playing a prank.
Maybe the light was a reflection.
Maybe the glass had created an optical illusion.
Maybe the truck had been responsible, even if we couldn’t understand how.
We discussed it repeatedly, trying to find something that made sense.
Eventually, the conversations began to fade.
We returned to our routines.
We stopped discussing the incident.
Life went back to normal.
And after a while, the whole thing became a strange memory that we occasionally brought up.
We thought it was over.
We had no evidence of anything supernatural. We had no recording of the light. We had no way of identifying whoever had knocked, assuming there had been someone outside at all.
All we had were our memories of what had happened.
And memories, we told ourselves, were not a reason to remain frightened forever.
Days passed.
Then came October 16.
And the room began to feel strange again.
Chapter 6: The Power Cut That Never Happened
It was around eleven at night on October 16.
My friend P was in my room while V and I went out to get some food. After that, we visited another friend’s dorm to celebrate his birthday.
When we returned, the main tube lights in our room were off.
Every one of them.
P was still there, sitting and reading something on his phone.
He told us there had been a power cut and that the lights had been off for around ten minutes.
At first, that seemed perfectly normal.
Then I noticed something outside.
The exterior lights were on.
I switched on the room lights.
P looked at me and explained that the lights had been on earlier, before they went off. He had assumed there was a power cut when the tube lights switched off.
But there had been no power cut.
The exterior lights were still working.
And the tube lights in our room had simply gone off.
We stood there, trying to understand what had happened.
It might have been an ordinary electrical problem. A loose connection, a faulty tube light, or some other issue with the electrical circuit.
There were several possible explanations.
But we had no confirmed reason for why the lights had gone off.
And the timing brought back memories of that horrible weekend.
The knocks.
The empty balcony.
The moving light.
The white circle.
We had spent days trying to forget those things.
Now, we were discussing them again.
We decided to go for a walk outside.
Perhaps we needed some fresh air. Perhaps we needed to get away from the room and stop thinking about it.
When we returned, we did something we hadn’t done during the first incident.
We started recording.
We pointed our phones towards the doorway, hoping to capture anything unusual.
We wanted proof that everything was normal.
Or perhaps, somewhere in the back of our minds, we wanted proof that it wasn’t.
We entered the room.
Everything looked ordinary.
Nothing appeared out of place.
No strange lights.
No movement.
No unexplained sounds.
We settled down.
For a while, nothing happened.
Then came the final incident.
The one that left all five of us awake at half past three in the morning.
Chapter 7: The Blink
The tube lights were off when we entered the room.
But their switch was on.
V immediately remembered something.
He claimed that he had deliberately switched off the light earlier that evening because it had been blinking then, too.
It had been behaving strangely, so he had turned it off.
Now, the light was off again.
But the switch was on.
We were inside the room when it happened.
The light blinked.
Once.
Just once.
It flashed briefly and then went dark again.
Nobody touched the switch.
Nobody deliberately turned it on.
The switch was already in the ON position, yet the light had blinked despite being off.
V immediately shouted that this was the same light he had switched off earlier because it had been blinking.
He was certain that he had left it off deliberately.
But now it had blinked again.
We stared at the tube light.
Waiting.
Perhaps it would blink a second time.
Perhaps it would turn on.
Perhaps it was just a faulty light, and we were frightening ourselves because of everything that had happened earlier.
But nothing else happened.
The light remained off.
The switch remained on.
And the room fell silent.
The recording we had started showed nothing unusual.
There was no evidence of anything inexplicable on the video.
We had wanted proof.
We had wanted to capture something that would settle the matter once and for all.
Instead, we were left with the same problem we had faced on October 9.
Something had happened.
We had witnessed it.
And we had no confirmed explanation.
The light had blinked exactly once.
That was all.
No second blink followed.
Nothing else happened.
But sometimes, one unexplained moment is enough to make an ordinary room feel unfamiliar.
And at that moment, none of us wanted to be alone.
Chapter 8: 3:30 A.M.
It was around half past three in the morning.
All five of us were awake.
Nobody wanted to sleep.
We had no footage proving anything unusual had happened. We had no clear explanation for the light on the balcony. We had no way of identifying whoever had knocked on the doors, if anyone had been there.
We couldn’t even explain the tube lights.
On October 16, they had gone off despite there being no power cut.
Later, when we returned to the room, the switch was on, but the lights were off.
Then one of them blinked exactly once.
V insisted that he had switched it off earlier that evening because it had been blinking then, too.
But we didn’t know why it had blinked again.
We tried to connect the incidents.
Were they connected at all?
Or had we experienced a series of unrelated events that had become frightening because of the memory of that first night?
We didn’t know.
Maybe the first knocks had been caused by someone outside who ran away before we could see them.
Maybe the light had been a reflection from the garbage truck, even if we couldn’t understand how it had looked the way it did.
Maybe the tube lights had an electrical fault.
Those explanations were possible.
But none had been established.
And so, we remained awake.
Five friends in a hostel room.
No evidence.
No answers.
Just a collection of strange events that had begun in the early hours of October 9 and returned to haunt our thoughts on October 16.
The recording showed nothing.
The lights were off.
The switch was on.
And the room was silent.
For now.
We had no reason to conclude that anything supernatural had happened.
But we also couldn’t explain everything we had witnessed.
The knocks remained unanswered.
The light remained unexplained.
The tube lights remained a mystery.
And the single blink was the last thing that had happened.
We didn’t know whether the incidents were connected.
We didn’t know whether anything would happen again.
We didn’t even know what, exactly, we were afraid of.
All we knew was that we had started the week watching a horror movie for entertainment.
Now, eight days later, we were sitting awake in our own hostel room, remembering every detail of what had happened and wondering whether the story had really ended.
October 9. October 16. Eight days between the first incident and the last.
Five people.
Several unexplained events.
No conclusive evidence.
No answers.
And one ordinary room that no longer felt quite as ordinary as it had before.
The last thing that happened was a single blink of light.
No second blink followed.
No knock came after it.
Nothing else happened.
But at 3:30 a.m., none of us was willing to be the first person to close his eyes.
Because the frightening part wasn’t that we had seen something supernatural.
We hadn’t established that.
The frightening part was that we had experienced things we couldn’t explain, and every time we thought the story was over, we found ourselves remembering it all over again.
And somewhere in the silence, the same question remained.
If there was an ordinary explanation for everything, why hadn’t we been able to find it?

Does the name sound absurd and illogical?

Absa-fucking lootly.

But what FMF is truly is a parallel universe of Monster Fighters where absurd comedy, over dramatic sequences, and OVER-BARING VILLAINS - BRO THEY FUCKING SUCK.

Examples:

Future Guy > Guy From The Future Maybe
The Dragon > Tyga The Dryer Dragon
Slithers > Shitters
Doctor Henderson > Nicest Guy you'll literally ever meet, Doctor HANDerson

Lots of characters are parody versions but some characters only belong to the verse. 🌒⚡️

Thursday - 9:55 P.M.

"John, come check this out."

His coworker turned his phone around. A local news article filled the screen.

Three more murders were reported overnight.

John stepped closer.

One victim had been strangled.

Another had died from multiple gunshot wounds.

The last had been stabbed.

His eyes lingered on the final report.

He slipped his own phone from his pocket and searched for the article himself. As he scrolled through similar reports, a pattern emerged.

Five stabbing deaths.

Just this month.

The comment section was already flooded with theories.

'There's no way these aren't connected.'

'Didn't something similar happen last year?'

'Police are covering something up.'

John read a few more before locking his phone.

"Hello? Earth to John."

He looked up.

"Hand over your register. I already locked the doors. I'm trying to get home."

John gave a small nod and slid the register across the counter.

"I'm good to go then?" John asked as he gathered his belongings.

His coworker gave a quick nod. "Yep. Get the hell outta here."

John let out a small laugh. "Yeah, whatever. See you Tuesday."

"Later."

John pushed through the front doors and stepped into the cool night air, letting them close behind him as he headed toward home.

John made his way across the parking lot toward the bus stop. The recent murders weren't really on his mind. His job was only a two-minute walk from the stop, and once he got off the bus, it was another five-minute walk home. He'd made the trip countless times before without a problem.

He finally made it home.

Stopping just outside the front door, John glanced down the hallway before looking in both directions. Satisfied that no one was around-and more importantly, that no one had followed him-he reached for the doorknob and quietly stepped inside.

He made his way down the hallway and noticed the bedroom door was slightly open.

He peeked inside.

A man sat at his gaming setup, completely absorbed in the match. John figured he had the day off. Whenever he wasn't working, there was a good chance he'd be in his room trying to grind a few more levels.

The volume in his headset was loud enough that John could faintly hear bursts of gunfire, followed by the all-too-familiar sound of the character dying.

He never once looked away from the screen, responding only with the occasional groan of frustration whenever he died.

Leaving the bedroom door as it was, John continued down the hallway to the bathroom.

He shut the door behind him, slipped out of his work shirt, and stuffed it into his bag. After a moment of rummaging through the next compartment, he finally found what he was looking for.

He found it.

John carefully pulled it from the bag.

A mask.

It was pale, almost completely featureless at first glance, with dark eye sockets and a smooth, expressionless mouth. There was something unsettling about how ordinary it looked. No elaborate markings. No exaggerated grin. Just a blank face staring back at him.

This would be perfect...

He knew this would be great.

John turned it over in his hands before slipping it on.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

The mask was eerily odd. There was nothing particularly special about it, yet the eyes were exactly how he wanted them. He couldn't even see his own eyes staring back at him.

From the outside, the mask appeared completely opaque, almost like a simple two-way mirror. But from the inside, a thin, dark fabric covered the eye holes, dark enough to hide his eyes while still being clear enough for him to see through easily.

But it wasn't time to admire it.

John exited the bathroom and made his way toward the kitchen. His hand gently slid across the countertop as he walked, eventually stopping beside the silverware drawer.

He paused for a moment before pulling it open.

The action works, especially because this is where the "he isn't used to the mask yet" idea finally pays off. I'd make the sequence a little more chaotic and physical. The door hitting him should feel like a genuine surprise, and the chest kick should immediately put him on the defensive.

I'd also keep the knife disposal clear: he's deliberately removing the knives from the kitchen, but doesn't take one for himself. That makes the scissors choice feel intentional rather than accidental at this point.

He noticed the knives and carefully grabbed each one, tossing them into the garbage along with the forks. Finally, his hand stopped on a pair of scissors.

He picked them up.

His footsteps were almost silent as he made his way back down the hallway. He stopped outside the man's cracked bedroom door.

He peeked inside.

The chair was empty.

John raised a brow beneath the mask.

He leaned closer, trying to get a better angle.

Pain suddenly shot across his face.

The door slammed into him without warning.

John stumbled backward, one hand immediately flying to his mask. Before he could recover, a sharp pain struck his chest.

He hadn't even realized the door had been thrown open.

The man had kicked him square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward toward the wall. His back slammed against it, and his hand instinctively reached out to catch himself.

Then he saw the bat.

The man stepped out of the bedroom and swung with everything he had.

John ducked.

The bat cut through the air where his head had been only a moment before.

He quickly backed away, scissors still clenched in his hand.

Apparently, the man had caught on.

The choreography is solid. The important thing here is that John is the one who initiates the attack, but the victim's bat gives him a significant advantage. That makes John's eventual injury feel earned rather than convenient.

I'd tighten the movement so each action leads naturally into the next:

The man and John stood facing each other in the hallway, both gripping their weapons.

John moved first.

He dashed forward, scissors raised, aiming for the man's torso. But the bat gave the man a clear advantage. He lifted it over his head and brought it down with a forceful swing.

John narrowly sidestepped it.

Before he could counter, the man drove his shoulder into him, tackling him backward and sending both of them into the kitchen.

John stumbled, barely keeping his footing.

The man raised the bat again.

John waited.

As the swing came, he ducked underneath it and slipped behind him.

The scissors drove into the man's shoulder, breaking through the skin and stopping halfway in.

The man let out a sharp groan and twisted around.

He still had enough strength to swing.

The bat slammed into John's midsection.

The air left his lungs as he dropped to his knees.

I think this is the right moment for the first Axicia kill to become **messy and improvised**. In particular, the victim almost winning makes John's eventual escape feel much more believable.

I'd tighten the sequence and make the police interruption abrupt. Also, I wouldn't have John simply "punch" the window unless the story establishes that it's something he can realistically do; the important thing is that he's desperate enough to escape through it.

The bat came down again.

This time, it struck the back of John's head.

His body went limp and collapsed onto the floor.

"Dumbass..." the man muttered, breathing heavily. "That's what you get."

He reached for the scissors lodged in his shoulder.

His fingers wrapped around the handle.

Then his leg buckled.

John had driven his fist into his shin with everything he had left.

The man stumbled backward, losing his balance.

John surged to his feet and tackled him to the ground.

He ripped the scissors from the man's shoulder.

The man barely had time to react before John's head slammed into his skull, dazing him.

Then the scissors came down.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Until-

**BANG!**

The front door flew open.

"Police!"

John froze.

His head snapped toward the hallway.

He must have called them before the fight.

John looked down at the body beneath him.

Then at the front door.

There was no time.

He scrambled to his feet and ran for the nearest window. His fist smashed through the glass, sending shards scattering across the floor.

Two officers rushed into the apartment just as John climbed through.

For a split second, they caught sight of the pale mask.

Then he disappeared into the night.

The officers rushed to the window and looked down.

Nothing.

He was gone.

One officer turned back toward the apartment.

His eyes fell on the body lying motionless on the floor.

The room went silent.

The following morning...

A news reporter stood outside the apartment building, several police vehicles visible behind her.

"Police have confirmed that last night's break-in was anything but random."

"The victim, a man in his mid-twenties, was found inside his apartment after officers responded to reports of a disturbance. Investigators say the victim suffered multiple stab wounds, several of which caused extensive damage to his internal organs."

The reporter paused before continuing.

"Authorities now believe the attack may be connected to at least seven other murders reported across the area this year."

A picture appeared on the screen beside her.

"The suspect is believed to be the same individual responsible for those attacks. Witness accounts and evidence recovered from previous crime scenes have led investigators to believe the killer uses a pair of scissors as their primary weapon."

The image changed.

A crude recreation of a pale mask appeared on screen.

"And perhaps most notably, the suspect has been seen wearing a distinctive mask during the attacks."

The reporter looked directly into the camera.

"Police have yet to identify the individual behind the mask. However, investigators are already referring to the suspect by a name that has begun circulating among the public."

Axicia

Jimothy Dyck was working overtime at the office – again. He was covering for Jerry, who hadn’t been seen since Monday. The birthday card for Linda that Jimothy left on Jerry’s desk was still lying there, unsigned.

“Where the hell is Jerry?” Jimothy complained to his boss, Cheryl. “He still owes me five dollars for Linda’s gift.”

“He never called in,” Cheryl replied without looking up from her computer.

“He’s probably dead,” Jimothy concluded. “Got his face eaten off by a zombie.”

“We don’t know that,” Cheryl replied matter-of-factly.

Jimothy looked awkwardly at Cheryl, trying to think of an excuse to go home early.

“Did you sign the card?” Cheryl finally asked.

Jimothy sighed, pushed up his dark-rimmed glasses, held together with a strip of white tape, and went back to his cubicle. On the way there, he stopped at Jerry’s desk and stole his stapler.

Jerry’s job was to make the PowerPoint slides for Jimothy’s quarterly sales report. Now it was Jimothy’s problem – and he couldn’t get the damn video to play.

Jimothy was just about ready to lose it, so he reached out to the IT department for help.

A few minutes later, Suzi from IT shuffled into Jimothy’s office with an assault rifle slung over her shoulder.

The government’s solution to the zombie apocalypse was to arm the citizenry with more guns, thinking the problem would eventually go away.

Suzi leaned the rifle against Jimothy’s desk and greeted him with a nervous smile.

“Hey, Jimothy.”

Suzi’s smile lingered as she ran a hand through her long blonde hair.

“Hey, Suzi,” Jimothy mumbled, “I can’t get this video to play.”

“Hmmm. Lemme see.”

Suzi leaned in close. She opened the video of @_hernameismswhiskers the cat hanging from a tree. The caption read Hang in there!

“Ha!” Suzi giggled, holding Jimothy’s arm. Her hand felt cold and clammy against his skin. “Did you watch Mystery Cat last night?”

“Yes!” Jimothy grinned. He loved the hit television series, Mystery Cat, starring @_hernameismswhiskers as the crime-solving cat, Kitty Holmes, and her partner, Detective Rachel “Purronica” Miau, played by Bexley Zarakaiza.

“@_hernameismswhiskers is totally a zombie!” Jimothy claimed. “The studio never even replaced her!”

“I know, right!?!” Suzi laughed out loud, leaning in closer. “They’re not even trying to hide it!”

“That’s Hollywood – drag out a show until it’s way past dead.”

Suzi blushed and made eyes at Jimothy.

“What are you doing after work?” she asked, smiling coyly. “We should grab a bite together.”

That’s when Jimothy noticed the bite mark under Suzi’s arm. The flesh around Suzi’s wound was already starting to rot. Within hours, Suzi would become deathly ill with the zombie fever.

Jimothy glanced up. Suzi was licking her lips at him, and not in a sexy way. Her wanting eyes hungered for a hunk of Jimothy’s man-meat.

“Suzi – you’re infected!” Jimothy exclaimed, loud enough for the entire office to hear.

Suzi quickly stood up and yanked her sleeve down. “No, I’m not!”

The next few moments in the office descended into pandemonium as news of Suzi’s infection spread.

Ted from Accounting spilled hot coffee on his shirt as he reached for his revolver.

Sherry from Public Relations shrieked, “It’s not an outbreak! It’s an unexpected health challenge!”

Devin took one look at the clock and said, “Fuck this!”

He sprinted down the stairs, out the door, and around the corner where he ran headfirst into a zombie horde.

The entire office watched from the third floor as Devin got his face eaten off by zombies.

It was another goddamn fucking Wednesday at the office.

“Not bad,” Jimothy thought as he eyed Devin’s new office chair.