I'm going back to my true home to gather my children.

 I recently found out that I was adopted. It was strange at first, catching me completely off guard and turning my world upside down. But as my parents began to explain things to me it immediately started to make sense more and more. In fact the more they explained, the more I felt relieved. It was as if my whole life was coming together. I'd been lost, though I never even realized it until that moment.

I have been having this dream every night for as long as I can remember. The first time must have been when I was around four or five years old, and every night since then I can remember it all perfectly vividly.

I'm swimming in the ocean, deep down, underwater. There should be no light down here yet I can see just fine. I know I am deeper down in the depths than is humanly possible, yet here I am. I am breathing like I am in air, but floating like I am in water. I am swimming north. I do not know how I know this, but I do. I am swimming north towards my home. Strange and monstrous creatures pass by me; gargantuan beasts unseen in the deep and long forgotten to time. They fear me. Every leviathan and behemoth that passes reeks of fear, and I inhale the intoxicating stench into my lungs and revel in the sensation. These beasts belong to me.

Soon I am close to my home. I see even further below me a gaping hole in the rocky ocean floor. It is pure blackness within until I swim through the entrance and my eyes adjust. The cave goes down further into the earth and then spills out into a cavern of massive proportions. The cave is larger than anything you have ever seen on earth. If I had to give a gauge of it's size I would say you could fit several Mt. Everests inside it. Perhaps stack a couple high, and a few length-wise if that makes sense. Within this magnificent cavern lies my home. My city, my kingdom, my people.

The towers of ancient coral and stone are erected in rows and rows all over the cavern floor, surrounding my castle sitting in the middle. It is taller than all the other buildings, with sharp and cruel looking spires standing all about. It is terrifying looking, and I love that it is so. There are countless windows in all the buildings, and even more in my castle. From every window I see the eyes of my subjects. They watch in fear and admiration. They are not like the dumb beasts I pass on the way here, but instead intelligent, shrewd, and loyal.

They are ugly beasts, but beautiful in their own way, and perfect to me. They are tall and thin, yet they have powerful arms and legs. They have webbed and clawed hands and feet, perfect for swimming, and perfect for tearing. They're black, piercing eyes can see in the dark and in the light, and their mouths are adorned with rows of sharp teeth made for one purpose. These creatures I molded and shaped into my beautiful children for one purpose, and one purpose only. The domination of the world.

But before I could execute my plan something happened. Long ago, thousands of years before humans began spawning there were many of us. We were powerful and we were hungry. We fought to gain footholds anywhere and any way we could. Many fought fruitlessly with ill-planned attacks and foolish rashness. But there were some, like myself, who were cold and calculated. We made smart decisions that led to absolute victory, and we slowly conquered the lesser of our kind, until only two of us remained. There was myself, and one other who's power I must admit worried even myself. I should have heeded my own heartful warnings.

My army was completed. My perfect subjects were ready to fight and I was ready to lead them into battle. But my opponent was too cunning. He wished to fight me one on one for the chance to end the war without large battles and destruction. He wished to keep the fight between us. I foolishly agreed, thinking my opponent was no match for my skill. That day I was humbled. He struck me down, harder and faster than I had ever thought possible and I was cast into a void of endless haunts and nightmares. I drifted for thousands of years, tortured and alone, until by chance I found a way out. A small portal to an unknown new life. I had heard tale of these, that they were rare, if not impossible to find. Yet here one was, beckoning me onward. That is how I came to be now.

I remembered all this as my parents told me that I was adopted and how they had found me. They said I was old enough to hear the truth and they did not want to lie to me my whole life. They found me one day while walking down on the beach. I was just a small, newborn baby wrapped in clumps of seaweed. I was laughing and clapping my hands as the ocean waves splashed up around me. They were shocked of course, but took it as a sign from God. They wanted a child but were not able to conceive, and had just been talking about adopting. They had been praying on it and thought that I was an answer to their prayers. Perhaps I was, but not from the God they thought they were praying to. Nevertheless, they have been good to me, and I plan to spare them once my campaign begins.

I of course have not told them anything about my dreams or about where I am going. I will leave early tomorrow leaving a simple note of goodbye. They will not understand where I am going, so explaining would be pointless.

I will gather my children and we will overtake this world. Consider this a warning. Once I am finished, I will hunt down my old opponent. If he still lives, I will crush him this time. Now I am prepared for his tricks, and nothing can stop me.

Something Came Out of the Ocean

Something came out of the ocean and it's still wandering about. No one knows what it is exactly, where it came from, or where it is going. All that anyone knows is that it leaves death and destruction in it's path. All I know, is that it's heading this way.

I first heard news of it on the radio. Every station was playing the reports about a mass of green-blue goo that had emerged from the ocean. Pictures were of course posted all across the internet. It was formless, shapeless, and seemingly size-less as there was no way to measure something that was constantly changing the way it was. One second it would be a small blob about the size of a basketball, and then it would be the size of a small car. The green-blue colors of the blob were slightly glowing and shifting in a sickening swirl. The blob had come out of the water and onto the beach where it was constantly surrounded by scientists and biologists, as well as crowds of people who wanted to get a look at this new strange discovery.

At one point one of the marine biologists on the team had cautiously approached the thing once they confirmed it wasn't radioactive or anything. This was all live broadcasted, mind you. She had reached out to touch it with a gloved hand, and as soon as it made contact with the blob she began screaming. Then she exploded. I don't mean a brain explosion, a burst blood vessel or something like that. I mean her whole body exploded as if she'd been boiled from the inside so fast that her body couldn't take the pressure. All this on live television. Needless to say the broadcast was cut short after.

News of the blob did not return until almost two weeks later. The long silence and sudden surge of news was due to a strange occurrence of mass black outs all across the west coast with about a one hundred mile radius of where the blob had come onto land. But this black out included everything. Flashlights didn't work, phones didn't work, cameras didn't work, cars wouldn't start, and some sources said that anyone with a pace maker was now dead. That last bit seemed trying to be kept hushed up though. When power and functionality had returned the blob was gone.

There were some reports that the very marine biologist who had turned into dropped lasagna was seen walking away from the scene good as new. This of course raised many theories as to the whereabouts of the blob and the biologist. The most common, and the one I am inclined to believe, is that the blob assumed the form the biologist. There were too many witnesses who saw her leave the area, and plenty more who'd seen her explode. As all this information came forth, new information interrupted it all.

Another black out, the same strange issues as before, was now happening further inland. Yet again there was about a one hundred mile radius as well as reports of exploding people. And so began the seeming pilgrimage of the blob. Though no one every saw the blob itself, the trail of death and destruction was enough. It was making its way straight across from west to east, indiscriminately killing in its path. This thing is headed right for my town. It's only a few hundred miles off now. The problem is, no one knows who it is. There are now constant reports of deaths, only to be later contradicted by witnesses seeing the dead walking away.

A terrifying thought occurred to me today. What if everyone that explodes and comes back is the blob? What if it's more than one person now? Authorities are urging people to stay in doors as the blackouts and deaths sweep across the land. I've barricaded myself indoors now with as much food and water as I could get in a short amount of time. Should be enough to last me a couple months if I ration it properly. I just have to wait for this thing from the ocean to pass. Hopefully it will go right back into the ocean. Hopefully it will stay there. Or they.

Something came out of the ocean, and I think it's going to bring a lot more back in.

The Hunting Trip Incident

 It was my first time hunting and I was pretty excited. Naturally the rest of my friends were sure to give me a hard time the whole way up the mountain. I was the noobie, and I was paying for it. But I didn't really mind.

There was myself, Mark, Annie, and her husband Ben. The three of them had been hunting together for years, and though I'd known them the whole time, I had never taken them up on the offer until now. There was usually some reason: work, family, Netflix. You know how it is. I had been shooting before at a range, so I at least knew a bit about that part. What I didn't know anything about was camping, or how to skin and gut your catch. They didn't hunt for sport, and this was one thing they got serious about on the ride up.

"You respect what you hunt, Daniel," Mark said to me as he drove up the forest lined road. "If you don't kill what you hit, then you track it down and finish it. Don't let it suffer. When we clean up, you bury what you don't or can't use. Respect the forest, Daniel." Both Annie and Ben were quiet while he told me this, and I could tell he was serious. It made sense, especially as growing up I wasn't allowed to waste anything in my home. My parents weren't poor, but it was the principle of waste they hated so my siblings and I were taught well.

"Also," said Annie in an even more serious tone, "if you see a woman wandering through the forest shut your eyes and cover your ears. Count to fifty and don't stop until you hit fifty."

I looked back at her and Ben. They stared seriously at me. I looked over at Mark. Back at Annie. I was waiting to see who would crack first from the BS. Then they all started laughing. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, but I laughed too.

"But we're serious about respect." Ben reiterated. Annie and Mark made agreements.

"Right," I nodded. I knew they were.

The four of us got to the base camp parking lot in the late afternoon. We began unloading gear and as we did so I took in the world around me. The mountains loomed over us, and the thick cover of trees was impressive and daunting. Huge boulders littered around, and the trail head was flagged by a great wooden sign with the name and all sorts of informational papers and pictures.

We got our packs on and began heading up the trail. The plan was to live off of what we caught the next few days, apart from some food we were bringing in, and bring out the rest which would mean meat for the four of us for the next few months, if the hunting was successful. That's was Mark said anyway. When we got to our camping spot we began unloading, setting up tents, and putting the rifles together. Mark had two cases with him, and after he assembled his, he showed me how to put my rifle together. It wasn't complicated and I felt almost like a pro once I was done. Mark and I went for a brief hike and when we returned we had dinner.

Ben and Annie shared a tent, and Mark and I each had our own small one person tents. We went to bed late into the night when the fire was finally starting to die down. I crawled into my tent, into my sleeping bag, and shut my eyes.

It was then that I noticed every single sound around me. If you've ever been camping, especially for the first time, you can probably relate to this. The slight crackling of the dying fire coals, silence, and then the occasional and odd snap of a twig or scuttle of movement. I heard owls hoot here and there. A gust of wind would sometimes pick up and gently rustle tree branches into a whispering song. And the twigs would snap along. I couldn't sleep. It was too eerie and isolated. I lay awake all night listening to the sounds of the wilderness and forest, terrified of what sound I might hear next. But there was nothing terrifying. Finally dawn came, the tent starting to light up as the sun began to rise.

I got up and stretched, looking around the campsite. The sun was starting to just peak over the tops of the mountains in front of me. The air smelled fresh, clean, with just a hint of that wonderful smokey smell from the fire, which was now all but cold. I decided to start another fire to help warm up, and then to start cooking some breakfast for everyone. I figured the smell of powder scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee would make a nice alarm clock. They were all up within a few minutes of the food being done. We ate our breakfast and then Mark declared that it was time to pack up for the next trip. We would be hiking higher up into the mountain to start the hunt.

The hike was tough. Steep switchback trails up the side of the mountain for a good six miles, and a climb of about four thousand feet. I was in pretty good shape, but not in shape for this type of workout. I can't imagine anyone could be prepared for this unless they do hikes like it regularly. But I survived, and was constantly encouraged by my friends who were the ones who did it regularly. They seemed to breeze through it. I was relieved when we got to the mountain pass. A gray, rocky nothingness with patches of snow scattered about. When I say nothingness, I mean there was nothing but the rocks and the snow. Not a single plant grew here. There was a small spring that flowed down from a little lake. We refilled our water here. We then made our way down the other side until we came to our next camping spot.

We set up the same as the night before. We went to bed. I didn't sleep.

Much like the previous night I was hyperaware of every little or big sound around me in the woods. I had also managed to pitch my tent right over a little root that poked into my back no matter which way I turned. I thought about getting up and moving the tent a bit but I didn't want to disturb the others, so I just accepted it and did my best to get comfortable. But of course it was impossible.

Then there it was. The laugh. It was a woman's laugh for sure. It was sweet and happy sounding, and seemed to echo softly around the trees. I thought maybe it was Annie at first, but when I heard it again it really didn't sound anything like her. I then remembered what they had said to me in the car about seeing a woman. To shut my eyes and cover my ears. Got it. It was Annie, or maybe a recording or something. They were obviously playing a joke on me.

"Ha ha, very funny," I shouted out. The laughter stopped abruptly. I just listened. Part of me was still feeling a little uncomfortable. It was just a prank, but it was working. "Come on I'm having a hard enough time sleeping as it is!"

Smack

I nearly jumped out of my skin as someone hit the side of my tent hard. It jolted the tent and the sound seemed so loud in comparison to everything else. Then I saw, just barely visible, the outline of someone standing next to the tent. Then they laughed again, and the figure moved away, the laughter fading with it.

"Guys would you please knock it off!" I yelled, my heart still pounding furiously in my chest.

"What's going on?" I heard Mark mutter groggily from his tent next to me.

"Stop with the jokes please, it's not funny anymore."

"What jokes?" asked Annie from their tent.

I got up out of my tent, turning on a flashlight as I did so. The fire was just embers now and gave off very little light. I shined it around the camp. Mark, Annie, and Ben all began to emerge from their tents, looking sleepy but concerned.

"What's going on?" Mark asked again.

"You guys are messing with me," I stated flatly. "Can we be done now? I really want to try to get some sleep tonight."

"Dude, we aren't messing with you," said Ben.

"What happened, Daniel?" Annie asked.

I stared at them all. They were serious. They weren't great actors. I could usually tell when they were pulling my leg, and they were generally quick to admit it too so they could have a nice laugh. But this time they all looked very serious.

"The woman laughing? The banging on my tent?" They glanced around at each other. "Come on Annie that wasn't you?" She shook her head.

"Dude maybe it was just a dream," said Ben. "Just a nightmare." That would actually make sense. I believed it wasn't them. It must have been a bad dream.

"I guess so," I nodded. "Sorry to wake you guys."

"No worries," Mark laughed a little. "And I promise we won't be messing with you up here. Once we're in the woods things are a little more serious. Hunting isn't a game, and we don't want anyone getting hurt."

"Right," I agreed. "Well...goodnight again then." They all said goodnight and we all went back into our tents. Guess what? I didn't sleep that night either.

The next morning we ate our breakfast and then packed some snacks, ammo, rifles, and other bits of survival gear. We all put on some camo pants and jackets and headed out into the woods. Mark told me I'd have the first kill. We wandered around for a few hours until we found a large deer with some decent sides antlers grazing. We set up against a fallen tree. I looked down the scope of my rifle, aiming for the head. I swear it looked right at me. I swear it glared at me. I swear there was something wrong with it's eyes. I squeezed the trigger, and hit right between the eyes. A bullseye shot. They all congratulated me and Mark clapped me on the back.

I carried it back to the camp, feeling pretty damn proud of myself, until it came to gutting and cleaning it. I of course had never done that before, so I was more of an observer and helper while Mark did it. I wasn't fully prepared though and got sick as he pulled out the innards. We all laughed it off and Mark told me to go out into the woods a ways and dig a nice sized hole to bury the scraps. He was going to keep the fur and head and have the head stuffed and the fur tanned for me. When he was done cleaning the dear he brought all the innards over in a bucket. He then, one by one, placed them gently into the hole. Ben and Annie came over as we filled the hole up.

"Alright," said Mark, "This deer was provided in honor, and we are grateful. We are thankful for the food it provides, the warmth, and the sacrifice. Let it not be in vain, and may it's soul pass on to a better place. Now a moment of silence."

They stood and stared at the spot where we had buried the innards. I was slightly glancing at them. They weren't religious. Mark was agnostic, and Ben and Annie were spiritual at best. But they never acted like this about anything. This strange, solemn ceremony of sorts. I had never killed anything before, so this was new to me. But I had to admit that it felt right what they were doing. It was an honor to hunt, and you had to be respectful of what you kill. It made sense. We sat in silence for a few long moments.

"Alright," said Mark, "Who's up for a swim?"

We went back to camp where Ben, Annie, and Mark began taking off their clothes. I followed suit, and the four of us, naked, ran down to a nearby lake. It felt incredible. If you've never been skinny dipping you need to try it at least once in your life. It's the most freeing feeling ever. It was a beautiful day. I was with my friends, and even a lady who hiked by the lake was laughing and waving cheerily. We ended the day by cooking up some of the meat from my kill for dinner, and then went to bed. We would hunt one more day, stay over night, and then hike out.

That night, once again, was sleepless for me. This time it was the lack of sound. This time I heard nothing but the occasional breeze blowing. It was almost maddening. Then I heard the laugh again. It echoed through the trees the same as the first time I'd heard it, but this time it seemed much closer. This time it sounded right outside my tent. My heart was pounding fast again, and I was just waiting for the bang on the side of my tent again. It was just a bad dream though. I kept telling myself it was only a bad dream. That's all it was. The laughing continued and then there it was. The smack on the side of my tent. The laughing intensified and turned to giggling, and then there was another smack on the opposite side. Then it was all around. She was running round and round my tent, giggling and hitting it. But she wasn't real. She was only a bad dream.

Then the laughing stopped. The tent stopped getting smacked. I heard loud crunching footsteps coming towards the camp. It sounded like something large. There was a woman's scream as the heavy footfalls became louder and got closer. I grabbed my rifle and got up and ran outside. There she was. It was the woman who had hiked by the lake earlier. She was screaming and pointing. I looked and saw a massive bear running towards us out of the woods. I jumped a little, and then raised the rifle and fired. The muzzle flash blinded me for a moment. I heard yelling as Ben and Annie came out of the tent.

Annie screamed. Ben swore.

My vision returned to me. Mark was lying on the ground. Right in the spot where I had shot the bear. Blood was soaking the earth. I looked around for the woman but she was nowhere to be seen.

"What happened?" Ben shouted at me as he ran to Mark.

"I don't know," I stammered in utter shock. "There was a bear.."

"I...had to...go to the...bathroom," Mark said through raspy shallow breaths. Ben was gently holding him up and was putting pressure onto the wound with a t-shirt.

"Annie get the sat phone and get some help!" Ben shouted. Annie was crying but she nodded and ran into their tent to get the phone. I still stood there frozen in place.

"The bear though," I kept muttering. There had been a bear, I had seen it. And the woman.

By the time the helicopter got there Mark was gone. He had bled to death. The helicopter took the rest of us out and when we landed below in the parking lot there were police waiting. I wasn't put into handcuffs, but I did have to go in the back of a cop car. Ben and Annie were instructed to follow us to the police station.

But as I was walking to the car, I saw her. She was standing just behind a tree at the trail head. She wasn't laughing now, but crying. I think she just wanted a friend. She was just having fun. It was all a mistake.

I was charged with 3rd degree murder, but due to the fact it was a hunting accident, and I was deemed "unfit" for such an outing I was only put under house arrest and have mandated psychiatry and psychology screenings weekly. No one of course believes me about the woman or the bear. They think it was all in my head or some typical excuse like that. But I know what I saw.

I did some research and eventually found a case from about thirty years ago where a woman was playing tag with her children when a bear came out of the woods and mauled her to death. The husband shot the bear, and he and the children survived. She was just trying to have fun. She was still out there, just trying to have fun.

The Photograph

 This is going to serve as my suicide note, but more importantly as a warning. If you go to garage sales or antique stores, don't buy old photographs.

It started about a week ago. I live alone. I have no family or friends, and my job I now work permanently from home. I started working from home during the pandemic, and my boss told me and the other employees we could continue to do so if we wanted to. Being the anti-social butterfly (or maybe house fly) that I am, I opted to stay at home. This got boring after about a year. The outings to get groceries weren't exactly exciting, so I finally decided it was time to do some exploring. A new antique store had recently opened and I was starting to see more and more garage sales popping up again. I figured I'd check out a few of the garage sales early on the weekend, and then go by the antique store last.

When I got to the newly opened antique store I was surprised by the state of the building. It had been set up in an ancient, dilapidated house on the outskirts of town. I'd gone past the house on a few occasions and it always gave me the creeps. Why it hadn't been torn down yet remained a mystery. An even bigger mystery though was why anyone would have turned it into an antique store. I pulled up the driveway, put the car into park, and stepped out. I walked up the creaking front steps onto an ivy and moss covered front porch. A sign hung on the screen front door that read OPEN. I went inside.

The rich, heavy smell of incense filled my nostrils and I almost coughed with how strong it was. The whole house was covered in thin, lazy wisps of smoke. The walls were covered in art work, photos, and various tools and even some old clothing items. The floors were jam-packed with dressers, desks, tables, chairs, trunks and bins, and all sort of odds and ends. The tables were adorned with knick-knacks of all kinds and even the walk space had various rugs with price tags on them. As I slowly walked down the main hall, taking in all the objects and items, a voice rang out from behind me. I jumped.

"Good day, sir." It was a short and frail looking old woman. She was wearing a purple dress with a thick and bushy overcoat. Her gaunt face gave away her frailty, as did her graying and scattered bits of hair. Her eyes were graying over, and I was sure she was blind. She was quite frightening looking to be honest, but I knew that was mean to think. Her voice though, sweet and youthful sounding, was anything but scary. After the initial shock of hearing her voice I immediately realized what a lovely voice she really had.

"Good day," I replied with a smile. "How are you doing?"

"Oh quite fine, thank you," she replied. "Can I help you find anything?"

"No, thanks, just browsing around."

"Well I have something you might like, deary." She motioned for me to follow her. I shrugged to myself and went with her. She brought me down a side hall and into what must have been the master bedroom. She bent down on the far side of the room and when she turned she held in her hands an old photograph framed in wood. It looked like rough branches and twigs intertwined and twisted together to form the borders, and they looked incredibly old. The photo within the frame was an old black and white picture of four people. A man, a woman, a man, and a woman, in that order. They were all arm in arm and were smiling happily out at me. They stood in the middle of a field with a clear sky overhead and a beautiful, full looking forest behind them. I instantly liked the photo. I didn't even stop to question why I liked it so much, or how the old lady had known I would like it so much.

Next thing I knew I was in my car heading down the driveway, with that picture sitting in the passenger seat next to me. The old lady was waving at me from the front porch in my rear view mirror. She had a broad smile on her face, and for a moment she seemed to look much younger, and almost different, than before.

When I arrived home I went to my bedroom and put the picture upright against the wall on my dresser, right where I could see it and enjoy it. I lost track of time, but I realized I was getting hungry. It was already almost eight o'clock, so I went to the kitchen to make some dinner. I decided I was going to look at my picture while I ate my food. I brought my plate of chicken salad sandwich and coleslaw into the bedroom and sat down on my bed. I looked up at the picture as I took a bite of my sandwich.

I stopped mid-bite. The picture had changed. At least I thought it had. The two women were now standing next to each other, and the two men next to each other. I could have sworn they weren't like that before. I know they weren't. Sitting here writing this down, I remember it all now. They had definitely changed in the picture. They still wore the same smiles and cherry expressions as before. I decided I had imagined it at the time, or remembered it wrong or something. Anything to rationalize it. I went to bed shortly after, unable to finish my dinner.

I woke up the next day and got ready to start my work, barely paying any attention to the photo. I felt sore and achy, not at all rested, and figured I had slept wrong. I usually slept alright but this morning I was not feeling up to par. I started my work, and on my first break I decided to go in and take a look at the picture. I froze.

The picture had changed again. The four people now stood as they had initially, man-woman-man-woman, but now the sky had clouds in it, and all the trees in the forest behind were bare. No leaves to be seen, and even the field looked as if it was mostly dirt instead of grass. The people were no longer smiling, but stared blank-faced out at me. Then I began to feel a crushing sense of hopelessness. It was a feeling I had never felt before. It washed over me causing my whole body to feel numb. I stared at the picture and then I fell to my knees. Tears flooded my eyes as I began to cry uncontrollably. I sobbed until I fell asleep. I didn't wake up until later in the night. I got up off the floor and turned on the bedroom light. I looked immediately at the picture. Four happy, smiling faces stared at me, though this time much closer than before. The hopelessness was still there, but less intense, and I simply turned off the light and crawled into bed.

The next day was uneventful. Every time I looked at the picture it remained the same. The four faces, smiling, happy, and close, so very close. I barely got any work done. I felt physically and mentally weak. I couldn't focus on anything. I ended up calling my boss to tell him I was sick. I actually thought that I was coming down with the flu or something. Maybe even COVID. But I had no symptoms. I didn't have a fever, no sweating or coughing or sneezing. By the end of the day I started to realize it was all mental. I'd never felt this way before. It was this crushing weight. It was depression. All the while those four happy faces smiled at me, but I didn't like them anymore.

The next day things really began to get bad. I woke up in a cold sweat. The bed sheets and pillow around me were soaked and I was cold and clammy. I was breathing heavily. I sat upright in bed and began to shiver. It was cold in the room. I could see my breath. I could actually see my own breath it was so cold. I reached over and turned on the light next to my bed. I looked at the picture on my dresser, and I burst into tears. The four people were still smiling, but now they were all laughing as well. They were bent over laughing, in obvious and dramatic poses. They were laughing at me. I knew they were. I felt ugly and ashamed. I was nothing. I sat and cried for hours. When I finally got out of bed I felt angry. I went over to picture and picked it up, glaring at the four comedians standing in that stupid field in front of those stupid trees. I screamed at the picture and I flung it across the room. It hit the mirror on the opposite wall and shattered it. I screamed again and rushed over to it. It had landed face up. The people were still laughing. Laughing and now pointing at me. I fell to my knees again, the tears welling up inside once more. It was hopeless, all of it was hopeless. I picked up a piece of glass from the broken mirror and I sliced my upper forearm. I had never cut a day in my life, I never understood why people did it until that moment. The relief. The sweet sensation of feeling something other than nothingness. I watched as blood trickled out of the cut and rolled down my skin, felt the gentle tickle of it. It was good. I looked down at the picture. They weren't laughing now. But they were still smiling so smugly. A single drop of blood fell from my arm and landed in the center of the picture. I nodded approvingly and got up. I went to wash and bandage my arm, and then I went out to the kitchen to get something to eat.

I did not go back to my room until later that night. I mostly watched TV throughout the day, not having the strength or desire to do anything else. It was mindless and numbing but it was something. Every now and again I would squeeze the cut on my arm just so I could wince a little at the pain. The sweet, sweet pain. When it got late I finally felt tired. I knew I had to go to bed. I went into the bedroom and to my horror the picture was now sitting atop my dresser again. The blood that had dripped on it was gone, and the four faces now looked angry. They were now glaring at me, and their fingers were still pointing. I felt ashamed again, embarrassed. I felt myself begin to cry, but this time I stopped myself. This time I got angry right away, and this time I grabbed the stupid picture off my dresser and I went outside. I opened the trash bin and threw it inside with all my might.

"And stay in there you bastards!" I shouted at the top of my lungs before slamming the lid shut. I stood breathing heavily, my chest heaving up and down, glaring now at the lid of the bin. My breath finally started to slow and I began to feel a bit better. It didn't seem so dark now. It didn't feel like I was having the breath, life, and my very soul crushed out of me. I went back inside and into the restroom to wash my hands. I washed them and then stared at myself in the mirror. I was fine I told myself. I thought maybe I was sick with the flu, and this was all some sort of crazy fever dream.

I woke up the next day to the sight of the damn picture back on top of my damn dresser. I opened my eyes and felt dread as the four faces leered down at me, triumphant and malicious smiles spread wide on their faces. I sat up quickly and stared in disbelief.

"No!" I shouted. "No I threw you out! You're not here!" I screamed so loud. But then it washed over me once again. That complete and utter hopelessness. I had lost. There was nothing left. Nothing except...

I got up and ran to my dresser drawer. I pulled out a book of matches and grabbed the picture. I went into the bathroom and threw the picture into the bathtub. Then I went to grab papers. I piled papers underneath and around the picture and lit a match. I lit the papers on fire and watched as they and the picture became engulfed in flames. This had to work, but something in my gut knew the real outcome. And sure enough as the flames began to die down I saw that the picture was still wholly intact as the papers turned to ash around it. I shook my head and then looked at myself in the mirror. Yes. Hopeless.

The next few days I did nothing but lay in bed, watching the picture. The people continued to beam down at me, nothing but hateful glee in their eyes. Finally today I got out of bed so I could write this down. I know I have no choice. My arm keeps hurting, almost like it's telling me to do it. I know I have no choice. I can hear them laughing now. The four of them are laughing in the picture again, and I can hear them. Their laughs are echoing around my head now. I think I can even feel them moving around me. Circling me, pointing at me, mocking me. I'm going to go kill myself now, I think just slit my wrists. I'm going to put the picture in my top dresser drawer, and hopefully once I'm gone it will stay there.

Whoever finds this, don't look in the dresser. Don't look at the picture. Bury it somewhere deep and forget about it. And whoever reads this, whatever you do, don't by old antique photos. You never know what, or who, you're bringing home with you.