So, about 8 years ago I worked nights at a hotel. I was there for a few weeks. Just doing my job, y’know. It’s right off the highway, so there are other buildings around. And one right across the street. Like, this three-storey office park. It looked normal enough at first. After a few weeks, I started noticing something really wasn’t right about it.

When you first start a job--for me, anyway--you're enthusiastic to excel and stuff. Cause you're just happy to have a job. But after a few weeks, it’s like I’m no longer on probation and I get drawn into mischief. Like, I enjoyed digging around in the lost and found. I always wanted to find something juicy. Not just old toothpaste. Or get into the manager’s personnel files. Or I’d try to figure out which guests are prostitutes. I was the only employee in the building from 11pm to 7am.

Another thing I’d do was just look out the huge, plate glass window in the lobby, see what was going on out there. Suspicious individuals and cars or whatever. That’s really when the building across the street started to interest me.

I don’t even think I knew why it was captivating me at first. I kinda just kept looking, night after night, and it struck me, cause I just casually thought, “I wonder what businesses are there.” And that’s when I realized there didn’t seem to be any businesses there. I don’t mean, like, it’s an abandoned warehouse or the office space is for lease. I mean, the fluorescent lights are always on, there’s plenty of office furniture, I could make out plants, looked like it could be picture frames on the desks and a swivelling fan. So it’s set up like it’s used, but it’s just not. Ever. There are no cars in the parking lot. No people moving around inside. No security guards or janitors. I’ve covered my co-workers for midshift. Nothing ever happens there.

I know it’s stupid for this to bother me. But it really started to bother me. A lot. I mean, the utilities bills for a three-story office block have to be pretty high. It has to be insane when there’s no business inside to justify that. And it’s maintained, it looks clean. It’s not like it’s getting renovated. No-one’s carting asbestos out. Isn’t that just really weird? It’s just this big, stupid stone mystery sitting right across from me. And I’m not ashamed to say, it gave me bad vibes. Because it just made no sense.

I didn’t talk to anyone else at the hotel about it for quite a while. Generally, I just did my job and went home. I didn’t have much of a relationship with them. I’ve been this loner for a while. When I’d have things to talk about, I’d want to come home and tell my girl. But she’s been gone for a long time. Ten years now. Makes you think. Ten years feels like just a little bit ago now. One time ten years ago was like, ancient.

Anyway, one day I chat with the shuttle driver in the morning, just kinda ask him if he ever noticed the building. He says sure, it’s right in front of the hot...

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Her name was Emma.

That’s what everyone called her, anyways. Sometimes they would call her Em, sometimes someone would slip up and call her Emily. She was a part of our group of girlfriends growing up in a large town, not quite big enough to be a city but big enough that there was still privacy between neighbors.

We called ourselves the “Unbreakable Six,” because there was me, Summer, Mel, Nina, and Jules.

And there was Emma.

Emma started off as a practical joke by the other girls in the fourth grade. It was probably Jules that started it. She was always playing pranks of people. In high school, she even got suspended once for going too far, and had to babysit for hours to buy that girl a new cellphone. Or maybe it was Summer, who always seemed too busy with music and band to think of such an elaborate prank. Or maybe it was Mel and Nina, who were best friends and could have lived without us, always conspiring together like they were twin sisters.

Either way, I bought my lunch, cold cut sandwich and carrot sticks and a pint of orange juice (I couldn’t stand milk; it would account for how short I ended up being) and walked over to our lunch table. Jules looked excited, waving me over to them.

“Lotte! Look!” I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to be looking. “This is Emma. She moved here from Los Angeles!” We lived far inland and into the boonies. Los Angeles was glitzy and glamorous and chic compared to the flat houses and half-rate high school football that was the only real source of entertainment in the area.

“Uh, what?”

“Los Angeles, dummy,” Jules said, rolling her eyes. “She’s not in our class, she’s in Miss Lark’s, but she’s the same grade as us. Isn’t that cool?”

I still wasn’t sure where I was supposed to be looking. I sat down with my tray uneasily, wondering what I was supposed to see. “Who?”

Summer jabbed me in the side. “You’re being rude,” she hissed quietly. Summer was all about rules and manners. “Say hi to Emma.”

I looked around our table, from Jules to Mel to Nina to Summer and back to Jules, who was waiting impatiently. I don’t know. I was weak. I wanted to fit in. I didn’t get it.

“Hi, Emma.”

They seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, like I was making everything awkward. “Charlotte’s weird sometimes, but her brother has a Nintendo that he lets us play sometimes.”

They kept on talking, chatting about whatever fourth grade girls chat about, and I ignored it. If they wanted to play that prank, then that was fine. I wasn’t going to buy into it. I was always a precocious child; I knew that what they were looking for was a reaction.

That’s how Emma became a normal part of our lives. It was crazy. We would buy her birthday presents, and they’d disappear like they were taken. I wonder how many candle making kits and Mancala games Jules had piling up in her closet after all these birthdays. One year, Mel even got ...

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My life seemed like it was going pretty well. I had just received my bachelor's degree at the state college, and received the fairly well-paying job as an office manager. The thing is, something felt like it was missing from my life… I wanted love. I wanted to have a wife to keep me company, but the only women I knew worked at the office—and were drop-dead ugly.

After coming home one evening from a long day at work, I grabbed a coke, sat down, and booted up my computer. I was very desperate to find love as soon as possible, and it seemed my only choice to find it was through online dating. I visited a popular website, registered, and set up my interests in the hopes that I'd be matched soon.

The next morning I woke up and turned the computer on once more. I noticed that there was only a total of two matches, and, strangely enough, one of the two was a drop-dead ugly co-worker. The other had no profile picture, but the name was unfamiliar. Knowing how desperate I was I took a chance and private messaged this 'girl', asking her to meet up at a local café that night. The person replied back about three minutes later, saying okay. I was very excited, but at the same time anxious to see how this would go.

That night I was bitterly exhausted from the tremendous amount of work I had at the office, but my excitement overpowered it as I quickly got home, changed, and drove off to the café. The café was only a quick five minutes from my house, so driving was no problem at all.

I had no trouble parking, and soon enough I was inside ready to see my blind date. To my utter astonishment, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life approached me—her most prominent feature were her eyes—the most gorgeous gray eyes in the world. "Hi," she said, smiling. "I'm Christy. You must be David, I saw your picture online."

"I sure as heck didn't see yours," I said, and we shared a laugh. I could tell already we were meant to be.

Our first date turned out great, and as it turns out we did indeed have a lot in common. As I dropped her off at her shabby apartment building, we partook in our first kiss, and I left. At this point, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world—like nothing could go wrong now.

Christy and I dated for only 4 months before I proposed to her, and she said yes with great excitement. Our wedding went like most, but there was a desolate turn of people. The members of the audience included my mother, Christy's father, a couple of my closer co-workers, and a few of her close friends. She was just so wonderful, and I was so in love.

That night I lost my virginity with her, but luckily she didn't get pregnant, because having a child this early on in our marriage wouldn't be too good. I wasn't financially able to afford a honeymoon, but she thought it was alright, and being with each other was all that mattered. She was just so ni...

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He's never been late before

today. Punctual is

his motive for living.

We sent a driver to his house.

1141 Poilnee Lane.

The house with the green door.

It was open.

Stanley was open

with a black mass standing

next to him.

The video cut to static.

Never heard a man scream like

this man before.

A groom drove an orange Chevy up a road in next to some woods somewhere in Indiana, back in 1971 one night. He and his brand new bride listened to The Temptations sing, "Just My Imagination" on the car-radio. "Jack honey, how much further to the hotel?" the bride asked the groom. "I'd say twenty miles, Karen sweetheart" Jack answered. Pretty soon, Jack and Karen both spotted a cottage in the wilderness on the side of the road. Jack drove passed it and Karen asked: "Oh, Jack, that nice little cottage looks cozy and deserted. Can we we stay there for our honeymoon please?". "Oh, alright" he agreed and drove back to the place.

Jack got out of his Chevy and glanced into each of the windows of the cottage, seeing it was dark and empty. Later on that night, Jack poured champaign from out of a bottle into two glasses, and he and his new wife drank them, together. They sat together on an old couch, near a roaring-fire in the fireplace, while a full moon was out, up in the evening-sky above the forest. Jack finished his glass of champaign and told Karen, "I'll be right back, Sweetheart. I forgot one of the suitcases out in the car".

Jack grabbed the suitcase out of the trunk of his orange Chevy, saw the moon was full and suddenly was attacked by a werewolf. The beast had blonde, curly, long hair and struck Jack in his arm with its jagged and thick-claws. Jack screamed, dropping the suitcase on the ground. The monster slashed at his chest, ripping huge holes in his collared-shirt in the shape of its razor-claws. The thing growled deep and dreadful at him, sinking fangs into Jack's throbbing-neck. He screamed, hollered and yelled as loudly as he possibly could into the night. Jack hit the ground.

As the foul-looking face of the werewolf got down, into his face, Jack heard it mumble to him: "now I have fresh meat to eat for our honeymoon Jack!!". "KAREN????" he screamed in terror. He pierced a knife through her furry-throat and neck right then, murdering and decapitating the beast in the shadows. Jack got to his feet, dropped the shadowy-head of the monster, flinging it off his knife and wrapped his neck up with some bandages from the suitcase. He put his suitcase back in his trunk and drove off down the road in the light of the full moon.

My daughter woke me up at 12:45 last night. Me and my wife had picked her up from her friend Julia's slumber party early. My wife got the call to get her, apparently after they had watched a horror movie. She was crying and whimpering.

"Daddy, the man outside my window gave me a gift." She said, clutching my shirt sleeve.

"Ok, Honey," I groaned as my wife stirred beside me, "What did he give you?"

My hand flipped the switch and the shrill shriek of my wife pierced the silence. I just stared at our daughter.

"Julia's head."

I heard Mandy singing Amazing Grace from upstairs at 2 am, and I walked down slowly wondering how she's coping. When she saw me, she lilted away with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes. Then she stopped.

She opened her little mouse of a mouth and said: She's home! I heard her call me — My little Dandy!

My jaw slowly slackened and dropped, as my eyes fell on the sheet of hymns that were printed for my wife's 3rd month memorial service just last week.

I walk through the entrance of the metro station. At the stairs I hesitate. Flashes of a man enter my head, broken and crumbled in a mess of blood and bone.

Why did I push?

The answer was there of course. Maria. Always Maria. I am not a murderer. But the universe is cruel. It showed me a woman I couldn’t resist. Who had a husband. Him calling me a stalker, a freak was too much.

I pushed.

He grabbed my leg and pulled me down with him. Yet again the universe was cruel. He lay dead. I was unscathed.

As I descend, my steps echo through the stairwell. It leads to a cold, damp hall. I frown. There are no exits, except for another stairway. There are also no people. No benches. No ticket machines. No trash cans. Only a giant number on the wall.

1.

I walk down the next stairs. I stop, confused. It is the exact same hall, with one difference. The number on the wall is now two. I look down the next stairway and then decide to go back. Metro stations aren’t build this low. I must have made a mistake. I walk back to the stairs behind me and ascend. A cold sweat shivers through my body. The same hall. Again. On the wall is a number.

2.

How can that be? I just came from two. I run. Terror spreads as I reach another hall.

2.

This can’t be. The exit must be here. Now frantic, I ran like never before. Up one stairs. Then two. Three. Five Six. Seven. I stop, out of breath. Before me towers the giant number.

2.

Am I mad? What is this? What should I do? After a long pause, I decide. There is no way up.

I go down.

Day pass. Weeks? I only notice the passing of time by the numbers on the wall.

479.

My mouth and throat are ash. The thirst and hunger is maddening. I forgot what Maria looks like. More disturbing: I no longer care. I begin to descent the next stairs, my legs trembling and in constant pain.

I fall.

My neck snaps as I hit the concrete floor below. An excruciating pain fills my body. Then I realize it. I am alive. I grab my neck. It’s straight. I find the will to crawl to the next stairs. I will go down.

I fall.

All I am is pain. Pain and a sick determination to reach the end. Again I claw my way to the top of the stairs. Giant flames lurk beneath. I look back at the numbers.

665.

Broken and mad, I push myself from the top.

I fall.

The flames engulf me. I burn and scream while demonic faces suck my flesh.

Suddenly the burning stops and I am standing in the cold hall again.

I laugh hysterically.

On the wall is a giant number:
1.

I walked alone.

I ran alone.

I ate alone.

I lived alone... or so I thought.

Every man has his limits.



“What is the password?”



The pain from the acid he had splashed on my thigh was easing- probably because the nerves were all dead by now.

No matter how strong you think you are, or how willed, or how you have been trained, there is a limit.

When baby faced man started the torture two hours ago, I told myself that I would never tell him. Hell, I was certain I wouldn’t tell him— I was certain that I couldn’t.



“What is the password?”



But every man has his limits.

The broken molars embedded in my tongue made it difficult to speak.

“Rain…”

“Rainbowskittles230684”



The baby faced man looked into my eyes and saw the truth written there.

He turned around and walked out of the room without another word.



Like I said, every man has his limits.

I just never imagined he would push me so far to find out the stranger danger password I told my daughter.