Fiction and Poetry

April 16, 9:38.

I saw the happiest moments of my life from approximately 24 different angles. I also saw my life crash and burn from approximately 24 different angles. No – that’s a lie, I saw it from 22. But the principle remains the same. To explain is difficult, to say the least, so I’ll have to take you back to the beginning. The original one.

It’s a cool autumn morning, and leaves in brilliant shades of magenta, amber and rust litter the footpath, crunching rather satisfyingly beneath our three feet. Eli has finally been released from the hospital, but he’s in crutches, so to make up for his immobilised left leg I’m crushing all the more leaves for him. We’ve been best friends since we were- what- five? 12 years of putting up with me certainly warrants maximum leaf destruction. To celebrate Eli’s partial freedom, we’ve decided to go to the yoghurt shop a block away, damn the weather. Really, things couldn’t be better: I’m managing not to fail at school, I’ve earned a prized Ministry of Time internship, and Eli is finally able to walk- well, hobble.

“Is it just me, or are there more people than usual?” He asks. I frown, my eyes sweeping our surroundings. He’s right, I didn’t notice before, but there’s a crowd about, scattered along the street and the park opposite the road. Our town is small, so seeing so many people is unsettling. Moreover, I don’t recognize most of them; there’s a small man with a pork pie hat in an oversized suit he’s drowning in, a blonde our age hysterically sobbing on a park bench, and many more odd characters.

“You’re right. They must be here to witness my magnificence.”

Eli snorts. “Get over yourself, Akari.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re all staring in awe at me.”

“What if it’s me? I’ve been told I’m enchantingly good looking.”

I open my mouth to retort, then an old woman steps in our path. At least, I think she’s old, from her hunched posture and the massive brimmed hat obscuring half her face. She takes in a breath as if to say something, but in the blink of an eye totters off. I look at Eli, bewildered, but he only shrugs his shoulders, equally flummoxed. He clears his throat.

“I think they’re looking at us.”

“Who?”

“Everyone.”

I surreptitiously look over my shoulder; and sure enough, besides the stores on our right, we are getting glances from all directions. Even though no-one’s facing our direction, I get a peculiar feeling that we’re in a movie scene- and we are the stars.

“By the way,” Eli blushes. “I got you something.” He fishes out of his pocket a bracelet with an azure moon charm, and hands it to me. My lips curve upwards in a smile, and I glance up at Eli watching me anxiously, his ink black hair falling into his eyes. We’re at the intersection, and I’m about to- I don’t know- Swear? Kiss him? Hug him? When I’m suddenly knocked backwards onto the pavement. For a moment, the air leaves my lungs, then as I start to get back up, I notice Eli sprawled on the road, wheezing in pain.

“Hang on!” I scramble to my feet. That’s when I notice the car, crimson, like the blood dribbling down my scraped shins, rocketing towards Eli.

“ELI!” I scream, stumbling towards him, but I trip over his fallen crutches and slam onto the unforgiving pavement. Everything swims in and out of focus, and I see eyes, eyes, eyes, staring, glancing, glaring, and I have a final moment of clarity; Everyone really is watching I wonder. Then everything goes black.

3 months later

Eli hasn’t woken up yet. The longer he remains in the coma, the less likely it is he will. Miraculously, he survived the crash, but suffered a traumatic head injury. My bracelet? Shattered to blue dust. I used to talk to Eli for hours at the hospital, but all I did was talk to a corpse. At some point I stopped visiting. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see him.

Everyone’s worried, I can tell, about the dark shadows under my eyes. I’ve continued school, my internship, pretending it’s all fine. I now sit cross legged on my bed, in a silent, vacant house. My parents have left on a month-long trip, opening the opportunity to take this foolish risk. Hands shaking, I examine a clear marble with a pulsing light inside. It’s a replayer, or crudely put, a time machine that I swiped from the Ministry of Time during my internship.

I’ve never used one before. They’re priceless, but I’ve been taught the theory. I know the rule; don’t change the past- I just want to see Eli again. Realizing I can’t let myself recognize- well, myself, I pull on one of Dad’s suits, the long pants puddling at my feet. I’m also wearing one of his horrible hats to cover my long hair- Dad has an abysmal taste, and I dug up a felt hat he considers makes him look ‘suave’. With a huff of annoyance, I pull the waist high up, then clench my fist around the replayer.

I get 5 minutes. 5 minutes of Eli. 5 minutes more. I squeeze the replayer, and funnily enough, it becomes soft, and yields. “April 16, 9am, 38 minutes past.” I breathe. “Replay”.

The girl and boy are goofing off together, cheerfully raining chaos on the carpet of autumn leaves. I wonder if they know I’m watching. Almost as if the girl hears my thoughts, she turns. I look down, fiddling with my excessively long sleeves. If only Dad wasn’t so tall. I suddenly realize that I’m the small man I saw 3 months ago. I’ve already seen myself; I just didn’t know it. I take a chance and peek at myself. I look so… happy. Oblivious. Time rapidly slips through my twitching fingers, as I follow them making their way down the street.

I don’t remember how I spawned at the park, but that’s part of the replayer’s magic- it knows exactly where you desire to go. I pray that no one noticed my appearance out of thin air, but a quick glance confirms no one is paying attention to me. A massive hat catches my eye, and I hastily refocus to watch the old lady approach Eli and I. Once again, she totters off without saying a word. Without thinking, I trail her, curious- what did she have to say?

“Miss!” I call as loudly as I dare. She freezes, then slowly turns. “I was wondering-” I begin awkwardly, when her head tilts up, and she looks straight at me. Oh my god. It’s me. Dressed as an old lady.

“Listen carefully.” She warns. “Eli is about to be hit. The past cannot be changed! But saving the bracelet won’t affect anything, I’ve got to save the bracelet.”

I cross my arms. “Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?” Then I realize, indeed, I do know. “Never mind.” I hurriedly add. “But how on earth do you plan on snatching it out of my- our hand?”

“I tried to get it earlier.” Older me shrugs. “But I miscalculated. You better get it.”

An almighty screech of tires and chorus of screams hits my ears. I turn in horror, and from this point I cannot see the scene, yet strangely enough none of the bystanders are moving. They’re just… watching. Older me winces. “Our 5 minutes are up. Good luck.”

I come back to my bedroom, the replayer rolling across the floor. I guess it stayed behind in the present. My stomach feels like it’s where my heart is meant to be, and my heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat, choking my thoughts. I slip out of Dad’s suit then sprint to the bathroom to throw up, repulsed at the idea of returning for the bracelet. Yet- who knows if Eli’s ever going to wake up? I want to have a piece of him to carry, and I want to see him- alive again.

The next day, I’m dressed in a ridiculous outfit, complete with the monstrous straw hat I found at the bottom of Mom’s closet. My heart is beating at a million miles an hour. I’m not ready. I won’t ever be. I clench my fist. I replay.

This time, I spawn inside a store on the street I’m currently meant to be on with Eli. Frantically looking around, I search for witnesses- luckily, it’s only the cashier, who’s asleep at the counter. I take a deep breath and force myself to remain calm. I can’t mess up the timing. When I estimate enough time has passed, I exit the store, taking care to hunch my shoulders. There! There they are! I make a beeline for them, looking down to conceal my face. I glance at my younger self’s hands, but they’re empty. Damn it! The bracelet is still in Eli’s pocket. I did mess up the timing. Inwardly cursing, I move away. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Each second is a gift and a curse. Knowing what comes, I wander through my remaining minutes in a dreamlike state.

I return to the present, slick with sweat, splayed on my bed, screams echoing in my ears. No success. But a part of me is itching, desperately wanting to go back. 5 minutes more a voice whispers. I resist the urge.

I fail to resist the urge. The next day, I replay. And the day after that, and then after that. Days merge into weeks. I feel the walls closing in, but it’s a blissful suffering, so I’m not obliged to discontinue. If you asked me why I kept on returning to this particular 5 minutes of history, I really couldn’t say why. Maybe it was to see Eli animate. Maybe it was because I could escape the burdens of the present when the ticks and tocks held too much weight. Around my 5^th respawn I realized all the people watching Eli and I on that day were- me. Too terrified to count how many times I would replay, I shrouded myself in comfortable ignorance, choosing not to know how much of my life I would spend trapped in the past.

The first time I saw the actual crash, a primal shriek tore out of my lungs. I spent the next day in a panicked state, but still replayed, wearing a blonde wig to disguise myself. I spent my 5 minutes in a breakdown, achieving little else. How many times I replayed, I don’t know, yet all of these times I was content to watch, do little else but witness the disaster over, and over. Past. Present. Replay. Repeat. I stop leaving the house. I live as an empty shell of a person, only awakening for a golden 5 minutes every day. I muse if Eli is the comatose one or if I am.

Then, one day, I decide to act- I’m going to retrieve my bracelet. During my replays, I noticed a bicycle rack in the park with a silver bike unlocked. I resolve to ride past and snatch the bracelet out of my hand. After all, if Eli gets hit by a car seconds later, theft won’t be on my younger self’s mind. I obsess over the plan from the moment I concoct it, giving me purpose, something to cling to. When my sacred 5 minutes arrives, I sit on my bed, a bike helmet tucked under my arm, my entire body trembling with anticipation. This is it. A rap at my door propels me to my feet, but no, my parents aren’t meant to be home yet, it’s probably just the postman. Whoever’s at the door knocks again, sharper this time. I’m petrified at the idea of having to face someone- I’m in no fit state for any social interaction. Before the intruder can knock again, I replay.

Spawning directly beside the bike rack, I no longer bother checking for witnesses; everyone in the vicinity is either a past or future replay. With grim determination, I fasten the helmet on my head and wheel the silver bike out, eyes scanning the pavement. Then I spot them, Eli handing me the bracelet, his cheeks flushed, worried, and sweet. I watch myself handle it like it’s the most precious thing in the universe, and for a second, I’m struck by how that’s her bracelet, not mine. I’m not who I used to be, I’m just someone driven to the brink, wrung dry of emotion.

Then the charm glints under the weak sun and steely resolve steals over my heart. I swing my leg over the bike and pedal furiously, aligning myself with the pavement. As I rapidly approach, a thought strikes me that turns my blood to ice.

What if I’m not changing history? What if I’m writing it?

Letting out a panicked sob, I try to slow down, but I’m going too fast. I’m going, going, gone. In a last-ditch attempt to veer off I make a sharp turn, but fail miserably, crashing through them, skidding across the road. I crumple in an alley behind a store, still able to see everything that’s happening. When the weight of what I’ve done settles in, hot tears sting my face, leaving burning streaks. I watch, helpless, as the car rapidly approaches Eli’s spasming body. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. I slump against the wall, and contemplate, not for the first time, if this is even worth fighting for anymore. Then through slit eyes, I see a tall figure approaching me. Suddenly, Eli’s in front of me, eyes flashing, frantically checking my bleeding limbs. He’s totally fine, without a scratch, except for a scar running across his forehead.

This is it. I’ve finally gone insane.

“I’m sorry.” My voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, rough from disuse. I throw my arms around him, even if this is only a hallucination. Then I freeze, as I see another battered and unconscious Eli lying in the middle of the road. That’s my Eli.

“Who are you?” I demand.

“Who do you think?” Eli imposter retaliates, sounding strained, yet amused. Before I can respond my 5 minutes is up.

I find myself bleeding on my bed, and Eli is staring at me.

“One would presume I’d lose my mind in a more dignified manner.” I finally manage.

“You’d think I’d receive a better ‘welcome back’,” Eli scoffs, and that’s when I know it’s really him. I launch myself forward and hold on like my life depends on it, running my fingers over and over his back, the physical warmth reassuring me, yes, he’s here.

“How did you find me?” I ask softly.

“I only woke up a week ago. Apparently, you weren’t responding to anyone’s messages, hadn’t been seen out for weeks, so I came to check on you. I heard someone, but by the time I’d found the backup key, there was no one here. I found the replayer and took a lucky guess.”

He rubs my neck soothingly, and asks quietly “Do you want to move? We should clean up these scratches.”

I nod against his shoulder, breathe in deep. “We’ll get to that. But I just need a few minutes here, now. Five minutes more.”

Pressure

Pressure

Pools around the feet

Rises

Until you are knee deep

And spreads

To your stomach

Slowly builds momentum

Pressure

You are up to the neck in it

Threatening to fold

Over your head

And

Takes control of you

Pulling you

Into the darkness

Of pressure

There is no hand

to hold on to

Silence

Silence

Is broken

Like shattered glass

On the ground

The absence

Of sound

Fire

Fire swoops

Faster than the crow flies

Unbidden

It far reaches

A spark of ember

Can lit up a forest

But it's just another fire

It’s just another fire

The aftermath

Dead bodies littered on the ground

Steam rises

The ground is parched

Infertile

Water sprayed

Mist rises

But still

Death rises faster

But it's just another fire

It’s just another fire

Lightning cracks

Above our heads

Seeking a place to hit

Another fire blooms

But it's just another fire

It’s just another fire

Fire born again

From the hands of a human

But it's just another fire

It’s just another fire

Made by man

I am a 24-year-old soldier, and after what happened to me I have had an uncontrollable fear of sirens.

Every Saturday night at camp I can hear screams that only I can hear. I wake up my friends sometimes just to see their reactions and maybe figure out a solution about it, maybe check it out or something, but they never heard a thing. Everytime I hear those screams they're either a man's, a woman's or a child's scream. But, there's something peculiar about them.

It has this quite noticeable static sound every time someone screams, or I should I say, whenever a scream plays. It sounds like it's coming out of a siren, and it wakes me up every night. I've learned to ignore it and I've thought that it's probably just me imagining things since I didn't like sirens that much as a kid either. Too loud to be enjoyable.

It wakes me up every night and it sounds very realistic, so I thought I should ask the headmaster if our sirens accidentally play those weird sounds at night.

Next morning I talked to him about it, and he said that it may have been an error but even if it was the sirens were turned off at night, only the alarm ones were on. I tried to get him to look deeper into this thing because I doubt it was just an error and I was sure it was coming from a siren, but he said he thinks I'm talking nonsense and sent me to do some exercises with the other soldiers. He might've been right, I maybe was just a bit paranoid.

This night the sounds weren't that loud, it sounded as if it was playing from somewhere inside the forest. I couldn't take it anymore, I had to check it out. I grabbed a flashlight, a shotgun and sneaked out of camp to go into the forests and investigate.

I know I may sound like a dumbass for doing this, like going out of the camp to go check it out, but those screams were making my sanity fall apart. I kept walking and walking, nothing was found but I could hear the sounds getting louder. I'm sure I was approaching it.

I ended up in a straight dirt road, and then I saw something. It was too dark to see, but I could see something really freaky in the dark. It was in the middle of the road, so I pointed my flashlight at it.

And there it was.

A slim monster that was about as tall as a tree, having long arms that could reach its toes and for a head two sirens connected into one tube. It looked very skinny as if it was only bones, but you could clearly see some flesh on it and it had metallic wires going through its body.

I was terrified, but without any second thoughts, I immediately held my gun and shot it. It didn't die, the bullet marks were clear and I could see some blood running down but instead of showing signs of pain, it started walking towards me. Without any second thoughts, I ran the opposite direction from where I was facing.

The siren mimicked my scream and played it again. This static sound always gave me a fucked up feeling in my stomach, but from close up, it was more terrifying. It then started to play some other weird sounds coming from it's sirens, such as tornado warnings, amber alert announcements and generally announcers speaking about scary things such as murders, criminal escapes and other messed up stuff.

I could run really fast, but even though it was walking it wasn't that far away from me. Let's say I was far enough for it to not catch me. I grabbed my gun again, stopped and shot a siren. The sounds it was playing we're glitching out. I managed to outrun it but it started approaching me pretty quick. I was far enough, but I could still see it in the dark.

I was running for about half an hour, felt more like an eternity. Our distance didn't even change by a centimetre, it felt like I was running on an infinite road. Luckily I could see a car, though someone was there. Whoever it was, I needed them to get me away from that thing. But to my disappointment, it was locked. Big mistake stopping, the monster was now a bit closer and the road got really muddy so it slowed me down.

I got out of the road and got inside the forest. It didn't come in, I could see it facing at me but it stopped moving. I saw my camp, I was relieved but still scared to stop and relax. I asked the guards to let me in, and since they knew me they obviously opened the door.

They asked me what I was doing outside this late and how I got out. I apologised and asked them to keep it a secret, but I later explained to them what I saw and how I left. They probably felt sorry for me and thought that I was being paranoid, so they told me to go get some rest. I SWORE to them I didn't lie for what I had seen. They still didn't believe me. I shrugged it off and went back to my bed.

That night I was so terrified. It was the scariest experience I've ever had.

Around 5-6 AM, I woke up to sounds of screams and a subtle smell of smoke. I came outside to see what woke me up. Everything was on fire, towers were torn apart and I could see piles of dead bodies. The thing that caught my eye though was what I had seen some hours ago.

That tall, skinny, siren headed monster. It was responsible for everything.

Soldiers begged me to help them, but I could not do anything about it, they were literally torn in half. The monster saw me and reached out to grab me. It missed me. The whole camp was on fire, I even wondered if I was in hell.

I ran and ran, it chased me but I never stopped running. After running for so long I came to the end of a cliff, and now that there was light, I saw the monster more clearly and now it was more terrifying than before. It stopped walking.

I could hear a crispy yet soothing voice coming out of the siren.

"Do you like heights, Mark?"

How could this monster know my name? This had to be a never-ending nightmare, but it was reality.

"Come to me"

I begged the monster not to kill me. I cried and asked it to leave me alone.

To my surprise it left, not sure if it regretted it's a decision or just wanted to get revenge later. As I watched it turn around and disappear into the woods, I felt relieved that I escaped out of this situation. I went back to camp just to see all those dead bodies and broken buildings, but I had to call someone or I wasn't leaving this place.

I'm always carrying my cell phone, so I called 911 and told them to come to the camp’s address. When they arrived, they told me to explain what happened and how I survived it. I described everything by detail but they thought I was joking and told me to "act serious". I told them I was, and they finally took it seriously. Sort of.

They said they'd investigate this. I packed my stuff and they brought me back to my city. I went back home and was happy to see my wife and kids. They were surprised I came so early, I was supposed to come 5 months later.

I explained to my wife what had happened and she just wouldn't believe me. She said I probably needed some rest and got all this shit out of my crazy imagination.

All this makes me curious. Am I living in a nightmare? Was I actually paranoid? Whatever it was, it's done. For now. I pushed the curtains aside and opened the window to get some fresh air. I looked outside. It felt good to be home, but what I saw in the distance made me feel shocked.

That monster was on top of a building really far away, I tried to ignore it and went to get some sleep. I probably need to book a therapy session.

-CreepyPasta story by Y.S. Inspired by Siren Head by Trevor Henderson. (If you find this story familiar because it was reviewed by a famous Youtuber)

And how is the world reacting you may ask?

How is our Mother treating us?

Monsoons, floods, tropical storms, bushfires

And what are we doing? What is happening?

It’s causing a stir, that’s what.

Politics, the opinionated

Point the blame to others

Not themselves

There is conflict arising yet some people are still so indifferent, so ignorant of it.

Catastrophic level fires, Catastrophic Monsoons

Catastrophes.

What more could Mother warn us?

But whose fault is it?

It’s ours…

Our doing…

Humans…

We have made mother angry.

Fearing

Fearing for our lives, for our future, for our children, for our families,

for us…

The Human Race

helpless and hopeless

Mother, please save us

But we know we’ve hurt you too much now-

There’s no going back

Or is there?

The sun was beginning to lose its feverous gaze to the dark blanket of the night. Shades of ochre littered across the building like the splashing of paint made by a drunken artist. I crept lightly, avoiding the grime and lights that lit up the unfamiliar streets. Every electricity pole threateningly towered over me, splintered yet still proud, holding up the curtain of the night. I pulled my coat closer around my shoulders and shivered in the winter breeze. I regretted not wearing more. The man in front of me turned sharply down a dimly lit alley and for a second, I debated whether I should too. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea after all. But my curiosity outweighed logic and I too, turned into the dark alley.

My childhood was a happy one. My mother worked harder than anyone to look after me while my dad was often away for business. Whenever he came home, I was ecstatic. The most memorable was when I was only 10, when my father and mother took to the amusement park together. The first time they were both with me. I remember when my mother had gone to the bathroom, my father quietly handed me brightly wrapped box and told me to put it in my bag and not to tell mother until we were home. He winked and I winked back excitedly. That day, whatever I wanted, my father bought for me and when my mum tried to pay, he laughed and pushed her hand away. At the end of the day, my father asked me what I liked the most, and I replied, “I liked playing with you, dad”. My father’s face paled, but he instantly corrected himself to a blinding smile he always showed me and picked me up to spin me around happily. In the corner of my eye I saw my mum clench her hands. That’s when the threads began to weave around me.

Deep down I always knew things weren’t as simple as it was. I remember in primary school; I’d hear whispers of my classmates about my fatherlessness and that I was an “unwanted”. These whispers slowly escalated and like thread, began to be tangled around me, tighter and tighter. I wanted to shout, “I do have a father!” but no one seemed to hear me. My mother found out in my last year and she made sure my father went to the last parent teacher interview. The rumours died down. But the threads didn’t fray, instead they thickened and threatened to choke me. I felt the bright world around me was darkening. And like lost moth, I was trying to weave across the night, in search of the glimmering moon.

Now I was in high school and things were uneventful. The threads that bound me began to loosen but by then, I was too afraid to break out of it. The only things that joyed me was when my father would come to visit, which became less and less frequent. I always knew my mother and father’s relationship was probably strained so I didn’t dare to ask for more. I didn’t tell her the one day I saw my father with another woman at a café, laughing. I remember the surge of emotions I felt, and the rush of energy as the threads loosened around me for a just a second as I rushed to greet my father. But that was instantly shattered when he pecked that unknown woman on the cheek. That evening and for the next two weeks, my father didn’t come to visit us.

When I exited the alleyway, I was swarmed with neon lights and people laughing in every direction. But like a moth attracted to a flame, I followed father carefully. My short stature hid me well in the small crowds of people and the sides of buildings. Night had slowly taken over, creeping its long thin fingers around me but I continued without a thought. He entered one of the brightly lit buildings with a mishmash of neon signs of every colour. The glass door swung close behind him with a bang and my heart leapt in unison. I didn’t even need to walk up to the door to know what I had just witnessed. I tumbled towards the front door and into a jarringly illuminated reception room.

His voice rang out unmistakably, “Same as usual. She’s a loyal customer but are you serious? Why would she spend thousands to make me play “house” with her son each year…”

Suddenly I was a moth that swarmed at light bulbs, pitifully mistaking them as the moon, only to be burnt to death upon contact to the “object of their dreams”. Dread weighed down my mind immediately as reality began to tighten around my neck like a noose. My heart jumped erratically in my ribcage, struggling to supply blood to my brain and my frozen legs.

I met eyes with the man at the reception. And instantly, my glass walls of memories shattered and all that was left was me, alone, bleeding and choking to death by the threads that bound me.

“The one who Danny loves in the whole world is you and mummy, Daddy!”