u/purple_fucker

Sometime in the 1600s

The settlers and the Native Americans fought each other to the death over food and land. That year, the soil turned sour. Crops failed. Winter was coming, and the settlers weren't willing to freeze and starve.

They slaughtered most of the native population in the area. most of the bodies were burned, their ashes scattered across the fields to enrich the poisoned earth. The bodies that were not burned were stuffed, dried, wrapped in burlap and mounted on wooden posts to stand watch over the next year’s harvest.

The fields grew again.

1992 — Thanksgiving Break

The town’s annual harvest festival buzzed with noise and neon lights. Rides spun, games clattered, and the smell of fried food drifted through the cold evening air. The carnival sat right beside the old cornfield.

At the center of it all stood the town mascot.

The Dancing Scarecrow.

It had a cheerful burlap face, stitched into a permanent smile. Its button eyes reflected the carnival lights as it swayed gently beside the stage.

Mayor Adams stepped up to the podium, tapping his microphone.

“Welcome to the 320th Harvest Festival! Tonight we celebrate what we’re thankful for—and honor the Native Americans who shared their food with our town’s founders during a harsh winter.”

A group of college students stood off to the side.

“Look at that big-nosed asshole,” Brett muttered. “Same speech as last year.”

“He’s a lazy mayor,” Diane said. “And an even lazier speechwriter.”

“I heard he was sleeping with his secretary,” Albert added. “Fired her when his wife found out.”

“Unpaid vacation,” Ethan said. “Permanent one.”

Becca laughed. “I would’ve trashed his office before leaving.”

The group snickered.

Albert said " I heard she got a job up north"

Diane glanced toward the cornfield.

“Too bad that scarecrow can’t get a job up north,” she said, pointing.

Albert shrugged. “ if it makes you feel any better, there are two more out in the field.”

Diane shivered. “Why do they keep them up all year?”

“I wouldn’t touch one to pull it down,” Brett said. “Probably diseased and digusting from bird shit.”

Later, just before sunset, they cut through the cornfield toward their dorms.

The path was narrow, the stalks tall and dry, whispering in the wind.

Albert called out, “Pregame and be ready at seven!”

7:00 PM

They returned to the festival, each slightly drunkened and laughing.

The Dancing Scarecrow greeted them at the entrance.

“Welcome! Here is some Glow sticks and don’t forget to have fun.”

Its voice sounded… off. Flat. Like it was being forced through something dry.

Albert took the glow sticks. “Thanks.”

The scarecrow didn’t respond.

The night went on.

They drank too much, rode bumper cars, and played games. Albert won Diane a stuffed animal. Becca complained Brett never did that for her.

Eventually, they returned to the scarecrow mascot for more glow sticks.

“Hey, can we get a few more?” Albert asked.

The scarecrow didn’t move.

Albert repeated himself.

Slowly—too slowly—it reached into its pocket and handed over four glow sticks.

No words.

No expression.

Just that stitched smile.

Suddenly, the stage lights flared.

Mayor Adams’ voice rang out. “I proudly present tonight’s entertainment—the Flying Acrobats!”

The performers soared on trampezes above the crowd, flipping and catching each other midair.

The crowd roared with excitement and laughter.

Kids pointed and told their parents, they wanted to try it at home.

Then a loud snap roared.

One of the ropes gave way.

Two performers plummeted.

One hit the stage screaming, his leg twisted unnaturally.

The other landed headfirst.

A sharp crack echoed through the silent crowd.

He didn’t move again.

The crowd went silent except for the fallen man. He screamed in pain.

Mayor adams told everyone to leave. The structures had been tampered with and was unstable.

The carnival was emptied quickly after that.

The lights of ambulances soared through the carnival and lit up the cornfield.

The group walked back through the cornfield, shaken and quiet.

“I don’t think he made it,” Diane whispered.

Brett suddenly vomited.

“That was… disgusting,” he said, wiping his mouth.

No one disagreed.

Halfway through the field, Albert stopped.

“Wait… where’s the scarecrow?”

The post near the path was empty.

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

Then—

“There.”

Brett pointed.

The Dancing Scarecrow stood ahead of them, between the rows of corn.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Brett called.

No answer.

Albert stepped forward. “Quit messing around.”

He shoved it.

The burlap mask slipped off.

Underneath—

A mummified face wrapped in old burlap

No mouth.

Just dark, hollow eyes.

“What the fuck—”

The corn rustled.

Two more scarecrows emerged.

Before anyone could react, one grabbed Becca. She screamed.

Brett swung, landing a punch—but another scarecrow drove something sharp into his side.

He gasped.

Then they dragged him into the corn.

“BRETT!” Becca screamed.

Albert grabbed her arm. “Run!”

They ran blindly through the field, crashing through stalks, losing the path.

Diane tripped and fell.

Albert turned back—

Too late.

A scarecrow drove a blade into her back.

She coughed blood as it dragged her away into the darkness.

Albert and Becca barely made it back to the dorms.

They called the police.

Search parties combed the field.

They found nothing but blood… and pieces.

The police blamed Clarence Darby—the man hired to play the Dancing Scarecrow.

They said he sabotaged the trapeze stadium, then killed the students while wearing a mask.

Becca and Albert insisted there were multiple scarecrows.

The police didn’t believe them.

They were drunk. Unreliable.

And hell would be made if they spoke about it again.

Clarence Darby was never found either.

The following year, the cornfield stood tall again.

And in the middle of it—

Three new scarecrows watched over the harvest.

Jason goes to hell's mask is made from a part 7 mold. But it's so battle damaged that it actually looks raggedy in my opinion. And the straps are uneven also, and it pisses me off.

Jason x the mask is too small and too close to the eyes, so you see jasons eyes way too much. Very few scenes where the shadows can hide them properly.

Freddy vs jason mask dosnt look good in general til the very end to me. You can see brush strokes from when they dirtied up the mask and looks artifical as hell. It looks like a little kid painted it in some scenes. I don't like the shape of the mask either. The eyes were way too visible also. they glued a fake droopy eye into the actual mask. And the scratches during dream sequence looks fake also.

The remake mask is too small. It makes his head look like a toe with a ingrown nail in some scenes. I like the shape I just wish they made it a little bit bigger. And it suffers from the dirt on the mask looking fake like FVJ. Not as bad as FVJ but it dosnt look like natural dirt either.

My least favorite of the 4 is the jason goes to hell mask. Jason looks like a bum with that mask, IMO.

And the Freddy vs jason is the next worst one. The paint job was hard to look at.

Followed by jason x

The remake would be my favorite mask of the series if it was slightly bigger. And the paint job looked more naturally aged. But like FV, I can absolutely see brush stroke marks of dirt in certain scenes.

Sometime in the 1600s

The settlers and the Native Americans fought each other to the death over food and land. That year, the soil turned sour. Crops failed. Winter was coming, and the settlers weren't willing to freeze and starve.

They slaughtered most of the native population in the area. most of the bodies were burned, their ashes scattered across the fields to enrich the poisoned earth. The bodies that were not burned were stuffed, dried, wrapped in burlap and mounted on wooden posts to stand watch over the next year’s harvest.

The fields grew again.

1992 — Thanksgiving Break

The town’s annual harvest festival buzzed with noise and neon lights. Rides spun, games clattered, and the smell of fried food drifted through the cold evening air. The carnival sat right beside the old cornfield.

At the center of it all stood the town mascot.

The Dancing Scarecrow.

It had a cheerful burlap face, stitched into a permanent smile. Its button eyes reflected the carnival lights as it swayed gently beside the stage.

Mayor Adams stepped up to the podium, tapping his microphone.

“Welcome to the 320th Harvest Festival! Tonight we celebrate what we’re thankful for—and honor the Native Americans who shared their food with our town’s founders during a harsh winter.”

A group of college students stood off to the side.

“Look at that big-nosed asshole,” Brett muttered. “Same speech as last year.”

“He’s a lazy mayor,” Diane said. “And an even lazier speechwriter.”

“I heard he was sleeping with his secretary,” Albert added. “Fired her when his wife found out.”

“Unpaid vacation,” Ethan said. “Permanent one.”

Becca laughed. “I would’ve trashed his office before leaving.”

The group snickered.

Albert said " I heard she got a job up north"

Diane glanced toward the cornfield.

“Too bad that scarecrow can’t get a job up north,” she said, pointing.

Albert shrugged. “ if it makes you feel any better, there are two more out in the field.”

Diane shivered. “Why do they keep them up all year?”

“I wouldn’t touch one to pull it down,” Brett said. “Probably diseased and digusting from bird shit.”

Later, just before sunset, they cut through the cornfield toward their dorms.

The path was narrow, the stalks tall and dry, whispering in the wind.

Albert called out, “Pregame and be ready at seven!”

7:00 PM

They returned to the festival, each slightly drunkened and laughing.

The Dancing Scarecrow greeted them at the entrance.

“Welcome! Here is some Glow sticks and don’t forget to have fun.”

Its voice sounded… off. Flat. Like it was being forced through something dry.

Albert took the glow sticks. “Thanks.”

The scarecrow didn’t respond.

The night went on.

They drank too much, rode bumper cars, and played games. Albert won Diane a stuffed animal. Becca complained Brett never did that for her.

Eventually, they returned to the scarecrow mascot for more glow sticks.

“Hey, can we get a few more?” Albert asked.

The scarecrow didn’t move.

Albert repeated himself.

Slowly—too slowly—it reached into its pocket and handed over four glow sticks.

No words.

No expression.

Just that stitched smile.

Suddenly, the stage lights flared.

Mayor Adams’ voice rang out. “I proudly present tonight’s entertainment—the Flying Acrobats!”

The performers soared on trampezes above the crowd, flipping and catching each other midair.

The crowd roared with excitement and laughter.

Kids pointed and told their parents, they wanted to try it at home.

Then a loud snap roared.

One of the ropes gave way.

Two performers plummeted.

One hit the stage screaming, his leg twisted unnaturally.

The other landed headfirst.

A sharp crack echoed through the silent crowd.

He didn’t move again.

The crowd went silent except for the fallen man. He screamed in pain.

Mayor adams told everyone to leave. The structures had been tampered with and was unstable.

The carnival was emptied quickly after that.

The lights of ambulances soared through the carnival and lit up the cornfield.

The group walked back through the cornfield, shaken and quiet.

“I don’t think he made it,” Diane whispered.

Brett suddenly vomited.

“That was… disgusting,” he said, wiping his mouth.

No one disagreed.

Halfway through the field, Albert stopped.

“Wait… where’s the scarecrow?”

The post near the path was empty.

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

Then—

“There.”

Brett pointed.

The Dancing Scarecrow stood ahead of them, between the rows of corn.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Brett called.

No answer.

Albert stepped forward. “Quit messing around.”

He shoved it.

The burlap mask slipped off.

Underneath—

A mummified face wrapped in old burlap

No mouth.

Just dark, hollow eyes.

“What the fuck—”

The corn rustled.

Two more scarecrows emerged.

Before anyone could react, one grabbed Becca. She screamed.

Brett swung, landing a punch—but another scarecrow drove something sharp into his side.

He gasped.

Then they dragged him into the corn.

“BRETT!” Becca screamed.

Albert grabbed her arm. “Run!”

They ran blindly through the field, crashing through stalks, losing the path.

Diane tripped and fell.

Albert turned back—

Too late.

A scarecrow drove a blade into her back.

She coughed blood as it dragged her away into the darkness.

Albert and Becca barely made it back to the dorms.

They called the police.

Search parties combed the field.

They found nothing but blood… and pieces.

The police blamed Clarence Darby—the man hired to play the Dancing Scarecrow.

They said he sabotaged the trapeze stadium, then killed the students while wearing a mask.

Becca and Albert insisted there were multiple scarecrows.

The police didn’t believe them.

They were drunk. Unreliable.

And hell would be made if they spoke about it again.

Clarence Darby was never found either.

The following year, the cornfield stood tall again.

And in the middle of it—

Three new scarecrows watched over the harvest.

Detective Richie sat across from nine-year-old Alan Morgan, trying to piece together what had happened.

Alan was crying uncontrollably, trembling as he spoke about the creature he had seen.

“You’re safe now,” Richie said gently. “It’s over.”

But Alan didn’t seem to hear him.

“It killed my dad… and my sister,” Alan sobbed. “I don’t know where my mom is.”

Richie hesitated, then pulled the boy into a hug. “We’re going to find her. I promise.”

Alan buried his face in the detective’s shoulder, crying harder.

After a moment, Richie spoke again. “Alan… I need you to draw what you saw. We don’t know what it looks like.”

He set paper, pencils, pens, and crayons in front of him.

Alan ignored everything except a single sheet of paper and a pen. With shaking hands, he began to draw. Tears rolled down his cheeks, spotting the page as he worked.

When he finished, he quickly rolled the paper up and handed it over.

“I never want to see it again,” he whispered. “Can I go to my grandma’s?”

Richie nodded. “Yeah. I’ll call her.”

After Alan was picked up, Richie returned to his desk and slowly unrolled the drawing.

Chelsie and Dave followed their guide along a narrow mountain trail in the Appalachians. The air was cool, the forest thick and quiet.

“Bonding with other couples can really help a relationship,” Henry, the guide, said with a smile.

Dave glanced at Chelsie. “I sure hope so.”

Chelsie quickly looked away, her eyes drifting off the trail. “The trees are beautiful out here,” she said.

“They are,” Henry replied. “Especially the white flowers. You don’t see those in the city.”

Chelsie picked a small handful and smelled them as they continued walking.

Soon, the resort came into view—several well-kept cabins surrounded a central lodge.

“This is where you’ll all be staying,” Henry said. “Your cabin is B2. Meals are served in the main lodge. Dinner’s in two hours.”

“Good,” Dave said. “Hiking makes me hungry.”

They were greeted by another older couple, Pam and Mitchell.

“I love the fishing out here,” Mitchell said.

“I didn’t bring a rod,” Dave admitted.

“I’ve got an extra,” Mitchell cut in. “Always do.”

Dave smiled. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Henry then introduced Angel and Tyler, who gave a quick wave before heading to their cabin.

Dave and Chelsie collapsed onto their bed, exhausted.

That evening, the couples gathered in the lodge. A long table was covered with food.

Chelsie’s eyes lit up at the sight of perfectly cooked steaks.

“Chef Howard deserves the credit,” Henry announced proudly.

Everyone filled their plates and sat together.

“Nice to meet you all,” Angel said, Tyler nodding beside her.

“We needed a break from the city,” Dave said.

“Same,” Tyler added. “If it weren’t for vacations like this, I’d lose my mind.”

Dave laughed, mimicking a finger gun to his head.

Henry stepped onto a small stage with a microphone.

“It’s our pleasure to have you here tonight.”

The staff cheered, raising their utensils.

“Also,” Henry added, “complimentary wine baskets are available to take back to your cabins.”

The group cheered again—until a loud, piercing scream echoed from the woods.

Everyone froze.

“It’s just a mountain lion,” Henry said quickly. “They’re rare here and usually avoid people. I’ll light the central fire—it’ll keep it away.”

The tension eased slightly, but unease lingered.

Later that night, another scream echoed—louder this time. Then something else joined it… something harsher.

The sound of struggle carried through the trees.

Angel gripped Tyler’s arm. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It’s probably fighting another mountain lion or a black bear” Henry insisted.

Then came a final, strained cry… followed by silence.

And then—something else. A strange, chilling sound that didn’t belong.

Henry’s expression faltered for just a moment before he spoke again.

“Everyone stay inside tonight.”

The next morning, Dave and Mitchell went fishing by the lake

Dave caught a big bluegill before Mitchell laughed and said they only need 20 more to feed everyone

Dave casted again and felt a strong pull on his line. “This one’s heavy.”

Mitchell helped him pull it in.

What surfaced wasn’t a fish.

It was the mangled body of a mountain lion.

The two men stared at it in silence.

They rushed back to get Henry—but when they returned, the body was gone. Only a faint trail of blood led up a tree.

“It’s… unusual,” Henry said. “But it's something a mountain lion can do.

He lowered his voice. “Let’s not alarm the others. I’ll offer a partial refund if you keep this quiet.”

Reluctantly, they agreed.

That night, Tyler and Angel were walking back from the lake when they saw movement along the trail.

Two glowing red eyes stared back at them.

Before they could react, something lunged from the darkness.

Tyler fought it off briefly, but the creature dragged Angel into the trees.

He chased after them—then stopped.

Silence and Tyler sees a tree with deep scratches and walks towards it.

Something moved above him.

A smothered scream and a gush of blood fall down the tree. Tyler looks up as the creature grabs his face and pulls him up the tree.

Back at the lodge, the remaining couples sat down for dinner—uneasy.

Then gunshots rang out.

Henry burst inside, slamming the doors shut. “Grab something to defend yourselves!”

“What is going on?” Chelsie shouted.

“I shot it—six times,” Henry said, reloading with shaking hands. “It didn’t stop.”

A clawed hand smashed through the window.

Chaos erupted. The creature had Henry's throat in his hand

Dave hits the creatures hand with a fire extinguisher before the creatures pulls it's claws back outside.

A small pause of silence,

Then

The creature bust a upstairs windows and climbs the wall. Henry raises his handgun but this time the creature bites down hard on his neck and thrashes. Mitchell tries stabbing it with a cooking knife but the creature grabs him and bust through the front door. Mitchell grabs the door and tries his hardest to hold on til a crunch is heard and Mitchell falls down. And begins crawling back inside. His right leg below the knee is missing, Pamela and chelsea grab Mitchell and try to stop his bleeding but he starts shaking violently. He is in shock.

Dave grabs Henry's gun and starts pointing everywhere looking for the creature when Dave looks up on the ceiling and sees it crawling like a bat. As the creature lunges on the group. Dave closes his eyes and fires. The creatures falls down and starts foaming from the mouth. Dave raises the gun and fires 2 more times.

Pam crys and screams as Mitchell stops breathing.

Hours later, authorities arrived.

Dave, Chelsie, and Pam sat in a police station, shaken and injured.

The creature’s body had already been taken—confiscated by the government.

The official report would call it a rabid bear with mange.

But all three survivors told the same story.

It wasn’t a bear.

It looked like a pale, elongated man… with claws.

Detective Richie sat across from nine-year-old Alan Morgan, trying to piece together what had happened.

Alan was crying uncontrollably, trembling as he spoke about the creature he had seen.

“You’re safe now,” Richie said gently. “It’s over.”

But Alan didn’t seem to hear him.

“It killed my dad… and my sister,” Alan sobbed. “I don’t know where my mom is.”

Richie hesitated, then pulled the boy into a hug. “We’re going to find her. I promise.”

Alan buried his face in the detective’s shoulder, crying harder.

After a moment, Richie spoke again. “Alan… I need you to draw what you saw. We don’t know what it looks like.”

He set paper, pencils, pens, and crayons in front of him.

Alan ignored everything except a single sheet of paper and a pen. With shaking hands, he began to draw. Tears rolled down his cheeks, spotting the page as he worked.

When he finished, he quickly rolled the paper up and handed it over.

“I never want to see it again,” he whispered. “Can I go to my grandma’s?”

Richie nodded. “Yeah. I’ll call her.”

After Alan was picked up, Richie returned to his desk and slowly unrolled the drawing.

Chelsie and Dave followed their guide along a narrow mountain trail in the Appalachians. The air was cool, the forest thick and quiet.

“Bonding with other couples can really help a relationship,” Henry, the guide, said with a smile.

Dave glanced at Chelsie. “I sure hope so.”

Chelsie quickly looked away, her eyes drifting off the trail. “The trees are beautiful out here,” she said.

“They are,” Henry replied. “Especially the white flowers. You don’t see those in the city.”

Chelsie picked a small handful and smelled them as they continued walking.

Soon, the resort came into view—several well-kept cabins surrounded a central lodge.

“This is where you’ll all be staying,” Henry said. “Your cabin is B2. Meals are served in the main lodge. Dinner’s in two hours.”

“Good,” Dave said. “Hiking makes me hungry.”

They were greeted by another older couple, Pam and Mitchell.

“I love the fishing out here,” Mitchell said.

“I didn’t bring a rod,” Dave admitted.

“I’ve got an extra,” Mitchell cut in. “Always do.”

Dave smiled. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Henry then introduced Angel and Tyler, who gave a quick wave before heading to their cabin.

Dave and Chelsie collapsed onto their bed, exhausted.

That evening, the couples gathered in the lodge. A long table was covered with food.

Chelsie’s eyes lit up at the sight of perfectly cooked steaks.

“Chef Howard deserves the credit,” Henry announced proudly.

Everyone filled their plates and sat together.

“Nice to meet you all,” Angel said, Tyler nodding beside her.

“We needed a break from the city,” Dave said.

“Same,” Tyler added. “If it weren’t for vacations like this, I’d lose my mind.”

Dave laughed, mimicking a finger gun to his head.

Henry stepped onto a small stage with a microphone.

“It’s our pleasure to have you here tonight.”

The staff cheered, raising their utensils.

“Also,” Henry added, “complimentary wine baskets are available to take back to your cabins.”

The group cheered again—until a loud, piercing scream echoed from the woods.

Everyone froze.

“It’s just a mountain lion,” Henry said quickly. “They’re rare here and usually avoid people. I’ll light the central fire—it’ll keep it away.”

The tension eased slightly, but unease lingered.

Later that night, another scream echoed—louder this time. Then something else joined it… something harsher.

The sound of struggle carried through the trees.

Angel gripped Tyler’s arm. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It’s probably fighting another mountain lion or a black bear” Henry insisted.

Then came a final, strained cry… followed by silence.

And then—something else. A strange, chilling sound that didn’t belong.

Henry’s expression faltered for just a moment before he spoke again.

“Everyone stay inside tonight.”

The next morning, Dave and Mitchell went fishing by the lake

Dave caught a big bluegill before Mitchell laughed and said they only need 20 more to feed everyone

Dave casted again and felt a strong pull on his line. “This one’s heavy.”

Mitchell helped him pull it in.

What surfaced wasn’t a fish.

It was the mangled body of a mountain lion.

The two men stared at it in silence.

They rushed back to get Henry—but when they returned, the body was gone. Only a faint trail of blood led up a tree.

“It’s… unusual,” Henry said. “But it's something a mountain lion can do.

He lowered his voice. “Let’s not alarm the others. I’ll offer a partial refund if you keep this quiet.”

Reluctantly, they agreed.

That night, Tyler and Angel were walking back from the lake when they saw movement along the trail.

Two glowing red eyes stared back at them.

Before they could react, something lunged from the darkness.

Tyler fought it off briefly, but the creature dragged Angel into the trees.

He chased after them—then stopped.

Silence and Tyler sees a tree with deep scratches and walks towards it.

Something moved above him.

A smothered scream and a gush of blood fall down the tree. Tyler looks up as the creature grabs his face and pulls him up the tree.

Back at the lodge, the remaining couples sat down for dinner—uneasy.

Then gunshots rang out.

Henry burst inside, slamming the doors shut. “Grab something to defend yourselves!”

“What is going on?” Chelsie shouted.

“I shot it—six times,” Henry said, reloading with shaking hands. “It didn’t stop.”

A clawed hand smashed through the window.

Chaos erupted. The creature had Henry's throat in his hand

Dave hits the creatures hand with a fire extinguisher before the creatures pulls it's claws back outside.

A small pause of silence,

Then

The creature bust a upstairs windows and climbs the wall. Henry raises his handgun but this time the creature bites down hard on his neck and thrashes. Mitchell tries stabbing it with a cooking knife but the creature grabs him and bust through the front door. Mitchell grabs the door and tries his hardest to hold on til a crunch is heard and Mitchell falls down. And begins crawling back inside. His right leg below the knee is missing, Pamela and chelsea grab Mitchell and try to stop his bleeding but he starts shaking violently. He is in shock.

Dave grabs Henry's gun and starts pointing everywhere looking for the creature when Dave looks up on the ceiling and sees it crawling like a bat. As the creature lunges on the group. Dave closes his eyes and fires. The creatures falls down and starts foaming from the mouth. Dave raises the gun and fires 2 more times.

Pam crys and screams as Mitchell stops breathing.

Hours later, authorities arrived.

Dave, Chelsie, and Pam sat in a police station, shaken and injured.

The creature’s body had already been taken—confiscated by the government.

The official report would call it a rabid bear with mange.

But all three survivors told the same story.

It wasn’t a bear.

It looked like a pale, elongated man… with claws.

The one thing I used to do from like 12-16yrs old was read creepypastas daily and I'm Sad they died out.

https://www.reddit.com/r/Dreading/s/xCDsaGmCEW

I even made this sub reddit to try and bring back creepypastas and horror stories in general.

I'm only 26 but I feel old and sad.

https://www.reddit.com/r/Dreading/s/xCDsaGmCEW

I'm trying to allow creators the freedom to freely make their content. The only rule is no porn.

I'd love to see your stories posted on my sub. You don't have to do only stories either. You can post videos and pictures too as long as it's horror themed.

R/Dreading

https://www.reddit.com/r/Dreading/s/HnalkOnalW

A couple drives into their apartment complexes parking lot,and they begin to walk towards the front door

As they reach their door, Carol glances over her shoulder.

A neighbor stands in the distance.

Not moving.

Just staring.

His face is pale. Unnaturally pale.

“Henry… he’s making me uncomfortable,” she says under her breath.

Henry barely looks. “You’re fine. Let’s just get inside.”

Carol quickly unlocks the door and steps in. Henry follows.

Darkness inside the complex

Carol flips the light switch.

Nothing.

“Seriously?” she mutters.

“Breaker probably tripped,” Henry says, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll check.”

His flashlight cuts through the dark as he heads down the hall.

Carol stands alone in the living room, her own light trembling slightly in her hand.

Then—

Tap.

She freezes.

A small ball rolls across the floor and bumps into her foot.

Angel her cat's toy.

She exhales, nudging it away. “Not now, Angel…”

The ball rolls back.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Carol frowns.

“Angel?” she calls softly.

No answer.

Henry returns briefly. “Carol, I’m gonna grab maintenance. Stay here.”

“Wait—”

But he’s already gone.

Carol turns, her light sweeping across the apartment.

It lands on the back door.

Slightly open.

Her stomach drops.

She walks over slowly… pushes it shut… and locks it.

Click.

Behind her—

The ball rolls again.

Carol turns.

Her light drifts across the floor—

And stops.

Angel lies there not moving and appears to be bleeding

Carol screams—

A figure lunges out of the darkness.

Hands clamp around her throat.

The neighbor.

His face

A smooth, white mask.

Carol claws at him, her nails scraping plastic. No skin. No warmth.

Just cold, hollow resistance.

Her vision blurs.

Her lungs burn.

Everything goes black.

Her body collapses.

The man lets her fall.

Minutes later, Henry walks back in with a maintenance man.

“Carol?” he calls.

Their flashlights sweep the room—

And find her.

“What the hell happened to her?!” the maintenance man shouts.

Henry drops to his knees. “Carol! Stay with me!”

They start CPR in the freezing dark.

Then—

She gasps.

Violently.

Air floods her lungs as she jolts awake, panicking.

Henry grabs her. “You’re okay—”

“There’s someone in the house!” she screams.

A deafening BANG cuts through the room.

The pantry door SLAMS open.

The masked man sprints out of the darkness.

The bat swings—

CRACK.

Henry drops instantly.

The maintenance man raises his arms, but the bat slams into his ribs. He collapses, gasping.

The masked man keeps going.

Stomping.

Over and over.

A wet crunch fills the apartment.

Carol runs.

She throws open the front door and bolts into the night.

Footsteps thunder behind her.

Fast.

Closing in.

She sprints toward the apartment manager’s office, light spilling from inside.

She bursts through the door.

“There’s a man trying to kill me!”

The manager rushes to lock the tinted glass door just as the masked man appears outside.

A shadow behind dark glass.

Watching.

Waiting.

“Get the hell out of here!” the manager shouts.

The bat explodes through the glass.

Carol screams.

The masked man reaches in, feeling for the lock—

The manager kicks his hand and arm hard.

The hand jerks back.

“I think I hurt him,” the manager says, breathing fast.

Carol runs into the bathroom and locks the door.

Silence.

For a moment.

Then—

Glass shatters somewhere else in the office.

He’s inside.

“No!” the manager shouts.

The bat cracks into his legs. He collapses, screaming.

Another hit.

And another.

The bat clatters to the floor.

The masked man walks slowly toward him, grabs his ankle, and drags him back.

Hands wrap around his throat.

Squeezing.

The manager claws at him, gasping—

And looks into the mask.

There are no eyes.

Only darkness.

The bathroom door bursts open.

Carol grips the bat.

She swings.

THUD.

The masked man drops.

The manager gasps for air. “Hit him again!”

She does.

Again and again til she collapses from exhaustion

Police arrive minutes later.

The masked man is pronounced dead at the scene.

Carol and the manager are rushed to the hospital.

Henry and the maintenance man don’t make it.

At the morgue, something is wrong.

They can’t remove the mask.

It won’t come off.

“Why would someone do this?” Officer Darwin mutters.

His partner shrugs. “Some people are just messed up. Probably glued it on.”

Two hours later.

The morgue is silent.

A drawer slides open.

Empty.

“Where is he?” the assistant whispers.

Then—

They look up.

Blood drips from the ceiling.

Spelling out the words.

"BE BACK SOON"

I love invincible a lot. Its my favorite show. But i cant take the heart break of a show ruining the characters and bad plot writing to make the show continue like the boys did. Don't think Kirkman can't ruin anything. He did plenty of filler and asspull writing techniques for the walking dead. Kirkman made the walkers dumb and unscary as shit to make the prison part of the story work. You know damn well the prison wouldn't of worked with season 1 or season 2 walkers that used tools and could climb shit.

1960s, a young couple moved into an old inherited house in a quiet small town. They had already been living there for a couple of weeks, slowly renovating it room by room.

Jeremiah smiled as he carried a box of wallpaper into the living room.

“This is gonna be a good place to start a family,” he said.

Tanya grinned. “I’ve always wanted to pick my own wallpaper.”

Jeremiah laughed, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her off the floor. He kissed her softly before whispering, “You’ll get to do a whole lot more than pick wallpaper.”

Tanya laughed as he kissed her again.

The two spent the afternoon scraping old paint from the walls and preparing them for fresh paper. While pulling loose boards away near the dining room, Jeremiah paused and knocked against one section of the wall.

Thunk. Thunk.

He frowned. “This one sounds hollow.”

Tanya looked over. “But there’s no room behind that wall.”

Jeremiah leaned closer, pressing his ear against it. He tapped again.

Thunk.

“Maybe it’s one of those old rooms they sealed off because it was too damaged to fix.”

He leaned harder against the wall for support.

CRACK.

The rotten plaster suddenly gave way beneath him. Jeremiah crashed through the wall in a cloud of dust and splintered wood.

Tanya burst out laughing.

Jeremiah coughed violently, spitting plaster from his mouth as he struggled to stand. “Very funny.”

Then he looked up.

His smile vanished.

Hidden behind the wall was an entire room.

Dust-covered bookshelves lined the walls like an old library. In the center stood a long metal table surrounded by circles of salt. Nearby sat a wooden cabinet filled with old bottles labeled EMBALMING FLUID.

Tanya stepped beside him slowly.

“That looks like a mortician’s table…”

Jeremiah rubbed dust from his face. “This house must’ve been a funeral home a long time ago. I used to play here as a kid and never knew this room existed.”

Tanya suddenly grabbed his arm.

“I think someone’s standing in there.”

Jeremiah squinted toward the corner.

A human figure stood motionless in the shadows.

Carefully, Jeremiah approached it and poked its shoulder.

It wobbled slightly.

He rubbed his fingers together. The skin felt waxy.

Then he laughed nervously. “It’s just a mannequin.”

Tanya didn’t laugh.

“Get it the hell out of this house.”

Jeremiah shrugged. “I’ll take it into town tomorrow. Maybe Uncle Thomas can use it in his clothing shop.”

“For now, it goes in the shed.”

Jeremiah grunted as he lifted the mannequin.

“Jesus… this thing weighs as much as a real person.”

Then he noticed something strange.

A perfect ring of salt surrounded where the mannequin had been standing.

“That’s weird.”

He carried it outside anyway.

Back inside, Tanya swept up the salt circles while Jeremiah patched the hole as best he could.

That night, Tanya lay with her head against Jeremiah’s chest while he gently rubbed her back. They talked quietly about their future children, the renovations, and how peaceful the town felt.

Then—

BANG.

The front door exploded

Jeremiah shot upright.

“What the hell?!”

He grabbed a wooden bat and flicked on the lights.

The front door hung crooked from one hinge, splintered inward as if someone had kicked it open with tremendous force.

Jeremiah examined the damage while Tanya stood trembling behind him.

The sheriff arrived with another officer about twenty minutes later. They dusted for fingerprints and photographed a muddy footprint beside the broken door.

One officer frowned.

“That’s strange.”

“What?” Jeremiah asked.

The officer pointed at the print.

“Size ten men’s boot.”

Jeremiah swallowed hard. “So?”

The officer looked up slowly.

“The footprint’s on the inside of the door.”

Silence filled the room.

Jeremiah asked them to search the property before they left. The officers checked the yard, the house, and finally the shed.

One deputy came back shaking his head.

“All we found was that creepy-ass mannequin.”

Jeremiah forced a laugh. “Yeah…”

“We checked the shoes too,” the deputy added. “Way too big to match the print.”

After they left, Jeremiah nailed the front door shut for the night.

Tanya sat quietly on the bed afterward, visibly shaken.

“What kind of person just kicks in someone’s door for no reason?”

Jeremiah tried to sound calm. “You know how it is. Sometimes they let people outta asylums before they’re fully better.”

Tanya stared at the dark hallway.

“Lock the bedroom door too.”

Jeremiah nodded.

That night, Tanya dreamed of a towering demonic creature with a swollen, deformed face. Its serpent-like mouth stretched impossibly wide as it slowly swallowed her feet first.

She screamed and clawed at the ground while the creature dragged her deeper down its throat.

She prayed aloud for God to save her.

Nothing happened.

The creature swallowed her whole.

Even after disappearing into darkness, she could still hear her own muffled screams echoing from inside its stomach.

Tanya awoke drenched in sweat.

Jeremiah slept peacefully beside her.

She wrapped herself tightly around him and didn’t let go until morning.

The next day, Tanya made bacon and eggs while Jeremiah got dressed.

“That was scrumptious,” he exclaimed after breakfast. “But I better get going if I’m gonna sell that mannequin.”

He loaded it into the truck and drove into town.

While Jeremiah was gone, Tanya returned to the hidden room to continue cleaning.

As she swept dirt away from the floor, she noticed a square outline beneath where the mannequin had stood.

A trapdoor.

Her stomach tightened.

She pulled it open slowly.

Stairs descended into darkness.

Tanya grabbed an old oil lantern and carefully climbed down.

The room below made her nearly faint.

Seven mannequins stood silently against the walls.

Looking forward.

A massive pentagram had been painted across the stone wall behind them.

“Oh my God…”

Her voice trembled.

“What the hell happened in this house?”

She cursed Jeremiah under her breath for convincing her to move there.

Then something brushed against her leg.

She gasped and dropped the lantern.

The flame flickered wildly as she snatched it back up.

A thin scratch bled across her calf.

Her breathing became shallow.

Slowly… she looked back at the mannequins.

Every single one of them was now facing her directly.

Tanya stumbled backward and ran upstairs.

She waited nearly two hours before Jeremiah finally returned home.

“The mannequin sold,” he announced proudly. “Uncle Thomas gave me five bucks for it.”

Tanya grabbed him immediately and told him everything she’d found beneath the floorboards.

Instead of panicking, Jeremiah’s eyes lit up.

“That’s good news.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

“If he bought one, maybe he’ll buy the rest too.”

“Jeremiah, I want those things gone.”

He nodded. “I’ll call him.”

Uncle Thomas agreed to buy the remaining mannequins for four dollars each if Jeremiah delivered them all together.

Jeremiah hung up smiling.

“This house is already paying for itself.”

Tanya didn’t smile back.

That evening, while preparing dinner, Tanya noticed several kitchen knives were missing.

“Jeremiah… where’d the carving knives go?”

“They’re probably still packed away.”

“No, I used them a couple nights ago.”

Jeremiah shrugged. “We’ll look after dinner.”

Later, the two finished eating steak and felt sleepy afterward.

Then came another knock at the door.

Jeremiah opened it to find the same two officers standing there.

Neither looked happy.

“What’s wrong?” Jeremiah asked.

The older deputy removed his hat slowly.

“I’m sorry, son… your Uncle Thomas was found stabbed to death inside his shop.”

Jeremiah froze.

tears rolled down his cheek.

“Do you know who did it?”

The deputy shook his head.

“All we found were bloody size-twelve footprints.”

The officers exchanged glances.

“Mind if we see your shoes? We heard you were there earlier today.”

Jeremiah silently held them out.

Size nine.

No blood.

After offering condolences, the officers left.

Tanya guided Jeremiah back inside while he tried to process what he’d heard.

Finally, he grabbed the wooden bat again.

“All this weird shit started after we found those damn mannequins.”

His jaw tightened.

“Show me the trapdoor.”

Tanya led him back into the hidden room.

Jeremiah opened the hatch and descended the stairs first, gripping the bat tightly.

The lantern light trembled across the walls as they entered the underground chamber.

Then Jeremiah stopped cold.

His voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Tanya…”

She looked up.

Jeremiah then asked tayna one more time.

"Where are the mannequins?"

A local news announcement crackled across every television and radio station in town.

A hostile foreign government had engineered a new strain of rabies — faster acting, less lethal, and far more horrifying.

The virus inserts its own genetic material into human and mammal DNA.

Its incubation period ranged from only four hours to three days. Current estimates placed fatalities at 75 percent. But the survivors didn’t truly survive. They showed signs of severe aggression and mutations.

Authorities only knew for certain that bites and scratches spread the infection. The outbreak was too new for anyone to fully understand what else it could do.

The entire town had been sealed off as a quarantine zone within hours. Military checkpoints surrounded the city, allowing only a handful of survivors to leave after blood tests confirmed they were virus-free.

Richard sat alone inside a boarded-up apartment, carefully cleaning his Glock 19 beneath the glow of a lantern.

A jammed pistol meant death now.

“One way or another,” he muttered to himself, “I’m surviving this.”

He holstered the weapon and stepped outside.

The streets were dead silent except for the crackling remains of a gun store still burning from a riot days earlier. Smoke drifted into the dark sky like black storm clouds.

As Richard passed a narrow alleyway, he heard a crunch.

Instantly, he drew his pistol.

An infected crouched in the darkness with a knife in its hand. It hacked strips of meat from a dead woman’s body, chewing noisily, too focused on feeding to notice him.

Richard slowly backed away.

Ammo was scarce, and he wasn’t wasting bullets unless he had no choice.

Further down the street, screaming erupted.

A man sprinted across the road with another infected chasing close behind him. The creature tackled him violently onto the pavement.

Richard froze.

The infected pinned the man down as something long and fleshy slithered from its mouth.

A proboscis.

The victim screamed as the sharpened tongue forced itself down his throat. Blood sprayed from his mouth while he thrashed helplessly beneath the creature.

Richard’s stomach turned.

The thing fed like a parasite, draining his blood. while the man slowly weakened beneath it.

Richard tightened his grip on the pistol but forced himself not to intervene.

He couldn’t save everyone.

Eventually, the creature crawled away, leaving behind a pale, barely conscious husk.

Richard stared in horror.

“So that’s one of the mutations…” he whispered.

He walked past the dying man and continued down the road.

Hours later, dehydration clawed at Richard’s throat.

He spotted a grocery store with barricades covering the windows and cautiously approached. Inside, several survivors huddled together beneath battery-powered lanterns.

They looked exhausted but hopeful.

One of them pointed toward a radio.

“The government says help is coming,” a heavyset man named Mason explained. “They just need more time to understand the virus.”

Richard laughed bitterly.

“You still believe that?”

The room fell silent.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they turned this whole city into glass.”

A few people exchanged nervous looks.

Mason frowned

Richard stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

“You ever been to war?”

Nobody answered.

Richard leaned against a shelf and began talking.

He told them about Afghanistan. About the patrol. About the roadside bomb that tore apart the convoy.

About the inexperienced lieutenant who ordered over the radio for everyone to get out of their vehicles to “follow the IED protocols and patrol the site for nearby combatants"

The enemy had known exactly what the protocol was.

The first explosion had only been bait.

The second IED obliterated most of Richard’s squad the moment they gathered near the blast site.

The survivors were cut down by machine-gun fire before they could even react.

Richard survived only because the blast wave threw him clear.

“When I woke up,” he said quietly, “I was in captivity.”

For three years, he endured torture before finally being traded back home.

And when he returned, the lieutenant responsible for the disaster had been promoted.

The VA denied most of Richard’s claims, arguing there wasn’t enough evidence that all of his trauma and injuries were combat-related.

Richard slowly lifted his pant leg.

A metal prosthetic extended from below his knee.

“I gave everything to people who saw me as disposable,” he said. “So if you think they still care about you now… stay here.”

Nobody spoke after that. Except mason

Mason said the government isn't like that anymore.

Finally, a teenager named Danny stepped forward.

“Fuck this,” he said. “I’m going with you.”

Richard studied the boy for a moment before nodding.

“Grab a weapon. Food. Water. Enough for a couple days. Roads are clogged with abandoned cars, so we’re walking.”

Danny returned minutes later carrying a fire axe, supplies, and a small box of 9mm ammunition.

“Will these fit your gun?”

Richard checked the box and nodded.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

As they prepared to leave the store, Danny noticed bloody footprints smeared across the floor.

“What the hell is that?”

Richard crouched beside them.

The prints looked wrong — elongated, almost animal-like.

He stood slowly.

“I think they’re mutating.”

They walked for miles through abandoned streets before spotting a deserted government health-services truck near an intersection.

Richard motioned silently for Danny to follow.

The back doors hung partially open.

Inside were dead soldiers.

A biohazard symbol reflected in Richard’s flashlight beam.

Danny swallowed hard.

They climbed inside.

Scattered across the floor were classified documents labeled:

PROJECT LYSSA.

Danny picked up a grenade from one of the corpses while Richard skimmed through the files.

One document stated the virus died within minutes when exposed to open air.

But the report was dated two months before the outbreak officially began.

Danny stared at him.

“That makes no sense, they just found about the virus 8 days ago”

Richard opened a nearby military laptop. It required a CAC (common access card login)

After searching a dead soldier’s wallet, Richard found the card and inserted it.

The screen unlocked.

Files flooded the monitor.

Animal experiments.

Human trials.

Dozens of failed subjects twisting and mutating in agony as their bones broke beneath their skin.

Danny turned away and vomited.

Richard continued reading.

Only 0.01 percent of subjects were genetically compatible with the virus.

Most died immediately.

Others transformed unpredictability into violent, unstable monsters.

Then Richard found a video file named Viral Strain V-12

A young man appeared on-screen inside a reinforced laboratory.

The narrator explained that he was the only successful bond with the virus.

The subject bench-pressed over a thousand pounds effortlessly.

According to the researchers, the virus continuously repaired cellular damage, halted aging, and prevented cancer.

Biological immortality.

Then, the footage became horrific.

Researchers amputated the subject’s limbs while recording his reactions.

Richard’s face twisted in disgust.

Hours later, the man’s arms began slowly regenerating.

The narrator calmly explained that all tissue would eventually regrow completely.

Richard shut the laptop for a moment, shaken.

Then he noticed another folder.

SITE 731.

Inside was a map of the entire quarantine zone.

And the truth.

The blood tests at evacuation checkpoints weren’t checking for infection.

They were identifying compatible hosts.

Anyone deemed incompatible was executed immediately — infected or not.

Danny stared at the documents in disbelief.

“That’s why they locked the city down so fast,” he whispered. “They planned this.”

Richard felt cold.

He already knew governments sacrificed people when convenient.

But this…

This was experimentation on an entire town.

He copied every file onto his phone.

“You gonna expose them?” Danny asked.

Richard shook his head.

“No. I’m gonna use this as leverage to get us out.”

Then they heard something outside.

Sniffing.

Wet breathing.

Both of them slowly stepped from the truck.

A creature stood in the middle of the road.

It barely resembles a human anymore.

Its limbs were too long. Its skin hung pale and rotten from its body. Its jaw twitched unnaturally as it sniffed the air.

Then it saw them.

The creature launched itself forward with terrifying speed.

Danny swung the axe into its shoulder.

The thing roared.

Richard unloaded an entire magazine into its chest.

The bullets barely slowed it down.

Suddenly its proboscis shot forward and pierced Danny’s neck.

Blood streamed down Danny’s chest as the creature fed.

Richard unloaded his last mag into it. The bullets went through the creature but it barely moved

Then Richard ripped the axe free and hacked into the monster’s skull repeatedly.

The creature slashed across Richard’s face with razor-like claws.

Richard hit the pavement hard, barely holding the creature back as it snapped inches from his throat.

Then Danny pulled the pin from the grenade.

The creature knocked it from his hand.

Richard caught it instantly.

With a roar, he shoved his entire arm down the creature’s throat and forced the grenade deep inside its body.

The explosion tore the creature apart.

The blast also shredded both of Richard’s arms.

Danny collapsed nearby, crying and bleeding heavily.

Both of them had been infected.

Danny picked up Richard’s pistol and pressed it against his own head. Shouting " I fucking tried"

Click.

Empty.

Richard wheezed weakly.

“Sorry……”

Blood streamed from Danny’s nose and eyes.

“I don’t feel good,” he whispered. And foam begins forming from his mouth and convulsing before collapsing.

Richard’s vision faded into darkness.

Richard woke to the stench of rotting flesh.

Days had passed.

The creature’s remains still littered the road nearby.

Slowly, Richard sat up.

His eyes widened.

His arms were back.

Perfectly restored.

Even his missing leg had regenerated.

Panic surged through him.

“Danny?” he called out.

No answer.

Then he saw movement nearby.

A pale, decayed figure crouched over a corpse, tearing into it with animalistic hunger. The creature then looked at Richard with dead white eyes.

It wore Danny's shirt.

I'm leaving all of the boys related stuff behind after next week and never looking back. I see people on here hoping that vought rising is going to be good. Good luck with that. Each episode has gotten lazier, and I don't know how that's possible. I bet you money if the first season of vought is good. I guarantee you the 2nd season will be half of what the first is tbh. How frenchie and homelander interacted this episode felt so damn lazy too.

A local news announcement crackled across every television and radio station in town.

A hostile foreign government had engineered a new strain of rabies — faster acting, less lethal, and far more horrifying.

The virus inserts itself into human and animal DNA.

Its incubation period ranged from only four hours to three days. Current estimates placed fatalities at 40–50 percent. But the survivors didn’t truly survive. The remaining infected changed into something worse.

Authorities only knew for certain that bites and scratches spread the infection. The outbreak was too new for anyone to fully understand what else it could do.

The entire town had been sealed off as a quarantine zone. Military checkpoints surrounded the city, allowing only a handful of survivors to leave after blood tests confirmed they were virus-free.

Richard sat alone inside a boarded-up apartment, carefully cleaning his Glock 19 beneath the glow of a lantern.

A jammed pistol meant death now.

“One way or another,” he muttered to himself, “I’m surviving this.”

He holstered the weapon and stepped outside.

The streets were dead silent except for the crackling remains of a gun store still burning from a riot days earlier. Smoke drifted into the dark sky like black storm clouds.

As Richard passed a narrow alleyway, he heard a crunch.

Instantly, he drew his pistol.

An infected crouched in the darkness with a knife in its hand. It hacked strips of meat from a dead woman’s body, chewing noisily, too focused on feeding to notice him.

Richard slowly backed away.

Ammo was scarce, and he wasn’t wasting bullets unless he had no choice.

Further down the street, screaming erupted.

A man sprinted across the road with another infected chasing close behind him. The creature tackled him violently onto the pavement.

Richard froze.

The infected pinned the man down as something long and fleshy slithered from its mouth.

A proboscis.

The victim screamed as the sharpened tongue forced itself down his throat. Blood sprayed from his mouth while he thrashed helplessly beneath the creature.

Richard’s stomach turned.

The thing fed like a parasite, draining his blood. while the man slowly weakened beneath it.

Richard tightened his grip on the pistol but forced himself not to intervene.

He couldn’t save everyone.

Eventually, the creature crawled away, leaving behind a pale, barely conscious husk.

Richard stared in horror.

“So that’s one of the mutations…” he whispered.

He walked past the dying man and continued down the road.

Hours later, dehydration clawed at Richard’s throat.

He spotted a grocery store with barricades covering the windows and cautiously approached. Inside, several survivors huddled together beneath battery-powered lanterns.

They looked exhausted but hopeful.

One of them pointed toward a radio.

“The government says help is coming,” a heavyset man named Mason explained. “They just need more time to understand the virus.”

Richard laughed bitterly.

“You still believe that?”

The room fell silent.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they turned this whole city into glass.”

A few people exchanged nervous looks.

Mason frowned

Richard stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

“You ever been to war?”

Nobody answered.

Richard leaned against a shelf and began talking.

He told them about Afghanistan. About the patrol. About the roadside bomb that tore apart the convoy.

About the inexperienced lieutenant who ordered over the radio for everyone to get out of their vehicles to “follow the protocols for IED's and explosives to patrol the site.

The enemy had known exactly what the protocol was.

The first small explosion had only been bait.

The second IED obliterated most of Richard’s squad the moment they gathered near the blast site.

The survivors were cut down by machine-gun fire before they could even react.

Richard survived only because the blast wave threw him clear.

“When I woke up,” he said quietly, “I was in captivity.”

For three years, he endured torture before finally being traded back home.

When he returned, the lieutenant responsible for the disaster had been promoted.

The VA denied most of Richard’s claims, arguing there wasn’t enough evidence that all of his trauma and injuries were combat-related.

Richard slowly lifted his pant leg.

A metal prosthetic extended from below his knee.

“I gave everything to people who saw me as disposable,” he said. “So if you think they still care about you now… stay here.”

Nobody spoke after that. Except mason

Mason said the government isn't like that anymore.

Finally, a teenager named Danny stepped forward.

“Fuck this,” he said. “I’m going with you.”

Richard studied the boy for a moment before nodding.

“Grab a weapon. Food. Water. Enough for a couple days. Roads are clogged with abandoned cars, so we’re walking.”

Danny returned minutes later carrying a fire axe, supplies, and a small box of 9mm ammunition.

“Will these fit your gun?”

Richard checked the box and nodded.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

As they prepared to leave the store, Danny noticed bloody footprints smeared across the floor.

“What the hell is that?”

Richard crouched beside them.

The prints looked wrong — elongated, almost animal-like.

He stood slowly.

“I think they’re mutating.”

They walked for miles through abandoned streets before spotting a deserted government health-services truck near an intersection.

Richard motioned silently for Danny to follow.

The back doors hung partially open.

Inside were dead soldiers.

A biohazard symbol reflected in Richard’s flashlight beam.

Danny swallowed hard.

They climbed inside.

Scattered across the floor were classified documents labeled:

PROJECT LYSSA.

Danny picked up a grenade from one of the corpses while Richard skimmed through the files.

One document stated the virus died within minutes when exposed to open air.

But the report was dated two months before the outbreak officially began.

Danny stared at him.

“That makes no sense, they just found about the virus 4 days ago”

Richard opened a nearby military laptop. It required a CAC (common access card login)

After searching a dead soldier’s wallet, Richard found the card and inserted it.

The screen unlocked.

Files flooded the monitor.

Animal experiments.

Human trials.

Dozens of failed subjects twisting and mutating in agony as their bones broke beneath their skin.

Danny turned away and vomited.

Richard continued reading.

Only 0.01 percent of subjects were genetically compatible with the virus.

Most died immediately.

Others transformed unpredictability into violent, unstable monsters.

Then Richard found a video file named viral strain V-12

A young man appeared on-screen inside a reinforced laboratory.

The narrator explained he was the only successful bond with the virus.

The subject bench-pressed over a thousand pounds effortlessly.

According to the researchers, the virus continuously repaired cellular damage, halted aging, and prevented cancer.

Biological immortality.

Then the footage became horrific.

Researchers amputated the subject’s limbs while recording his reactions.

Richard’s face twisted in disgust.

Hours later, the man’s arms began slowly regenerating.

The narrator calmly explained that all tissue would eventually regrow completely.

Richard shut the laptop for a moment, shaken.

Then he noticed another folder.

SITE 731.

Inside was a map of the entire quarantine zone.

And the truth.

The blood tests at evacuation checkpoints weren’t checking for infection.

They were identifying compatible hosts.

Anyone deemed incompatible was executed immediately — infected or not.

Danny stared at the documents in disbelief.

“That’s why they locked the city down so fast,” he whispered. “They planned this.”

Richard felt cold.

He already knew governments sacrificed people when convenient.

But this…

This was experimentation on an entire town.

He copied every file onto his phone.

“You gonna expose them?” Danny asked.

Richard shook his head.

“No. I’m gonna use this as leverage to get us out.”

Then they heard something outside.

Sniffing.

Wet breathing.

Both of them slowly stepped from the truck.

A creature stood in the middle of the road.

It barely resembled human anymore.

Its limbs were too long. Its skin hung pale and rotten from its body. Its jaw twitched unnaturally as it sniffed the air.

Then it saw them.

The creature launched itself forward with terrifying speed.

Danny swung the axe into its shoulder.

The thing roared.

Richard unloaded an entire magazine into its chest.

The bullets barely slowed it down.

Suddenly its proboscis shot forward and pierced Danny’s neck.

Blood streamed down Danny’s chest as the creature fed.

Richard unloaded his last mag into it. The bullets went through the creature but it barely moved

Then Richard ripped the axe free and hacked into the monster’s skull repeatedly.

The creature slashed across Richard’s face with razor-like claws.

Richard hit the pavement hard, barely holding the creature back as it snapped inches from his throat.

Then Danny pulled the pin from the grenade.

The creature knocked it from his hand.

Richard caught it instantly.

With a roar, he shoved his entire arm down the creature’s throat and forced the grenade deep inside its body.

The explosion tore the creature apart.

The blast also shredded both of Richard’s arms.

Danny collapsed nearby, crying and bleeding heavily.

Both of them had been infected.

Danny picked up Richard’s pistol and pressed it against his own head. Shouting " I fucking tried"

Click.

Empty.

Richard wheezed weakly.

“Sorry……”

Blood streamed from Danny’s nose and eyes.

“I don’t feel good,” he whispered. And foam begins forming from his mouth and convulsing before collapsing.

Richard’s vision faded into darkness.

Richard woke to the stench of rotting flesh.

Days had passed.

The creature’s remains still littered the road nearby.

Slowly, Richard sat up.

His eyes widened.

His arms were back.

Perfectly restored.

Even his missing leg had regenerated.

Panic surged through him.

“Danny?” he called out.

No answer.

Then he saw movement nearby.

A pale, decayed figure crouched over a corpse, tearing into it with animalistic hunger. The creature then looked at Richard with dead white eyes.

It wore Danny's shirt.

It was a normal day in the town of Chelsea until a distorted boom echoed across the sky. Moments later, thick fog rolled through the streets, swallowing the town in darkness.

Inside the shopping mall, the power died instantly. Only a few emergency generators remained active, bathing the halls in dim red light.

Brad checked his phone. No signal.

Then a scream echoed through the darkness.

“Hello?” Brad shouted.

“Over here!” a woman called back.

Brad followed the voice until he found a woman in her early thirties holding up her phone flashlight.

“Do you know what happened?” she asked nervously.

Brad shook his head. “No. Everything just went dark.”

The woman introduced herself as Alexa Links.

“Your name sounds familiar,” Brad admitted.

Alexa looked away. “My sister Tina was killed by a drunk driver a few months ago. It was all over the news.”

“I’m sorry,” Brad said quietly.

Before Alexa could answer, violent banging erupted nearby.

The two rushed toward the sound and found a security door shaking violently. Brad unlocked it just as a blood-covered man stumbled through and slammed the door shut behind him.

Brad recognized him immediately.

“Tyler Richardson?”

Tyler’s face was pale with terror.

“They’re coming,” he whispered.

Heavy pounding exploded from the other side of the door.

“Who’s coming?” Alexa asked.

Tyler swallowed hard. “Some of them are monsters… but some of them used to be people.”

Brad noticed the blood on Tyler’s clothes. “Whose blood is that?”

“Damian’s,” Tyler answered shakily. “He changed. His teeth got longer, his nails turned into claws… then he tried to eat me.”

Tyler raised a trembling pistol.

“I shot him. But he got back up.”

a loud bang on the nearby door is heard

Tyler tells everyone that's damian

The pounding intensified from all directions.

“We need to move,” Tyler snapped.

The three sprinted through the dark corridors while distant screams echoed through the mall. Tyler led them into the security office and locked the door behind them.

Inside were CCTV monitors, lockers, and emergency supplies.

“You work here?” Brad asked.

Tyler nodded while reloading his pistol. “Only got two magazines left.”

Alexa grabbed a collapsible baton from a locker.

Brad stared at the monitors. Every camera outside showed nothing except darkness.

“It’s only two in the afternoon,” he whispered.

Suddenly, something burst from an air vent above him.

Brad screamed as clawed hands dragged him into the shaft.

Tyler and Alexa grabbed his arms, desperately trying to pull him free.

Then the resistance suddenly vanished.

They fell backward, dragging Brad out onto the floor.

Everything below his stomach was gone.

Blood poured across the tiles as Brad twitched weakly before going still.

Alexa screamed.

Hours later, the vents had been nailed shut.

Tyler sat silently beside the radio while Alexa cleaned Brad’s blood from her hands.

Then the radio crackled.

A terrified man screamed through the speaker.

“Please help me!”

“Where are you?” Tyler asked.

“I don’t know,” the man sobbed. “I was at the park when the sunlight disappeared. I ran into a house.” He breathed heavily between words. “It’s so dark outside… and I hear whispering.”

Static suddenly blasted through the radio.

Then silence.

“We need to leave town,” Alexa said quietly.

Tyler unfolded a map. “There’s an east exit through the mall. Fewer creatures that way.”

The two stepped back into the hallway.

Ahead of them, a pale creature crawled across the wall like a spider.

They switched off their flashlights and carefully moved forward beneath the dim red emergency lights.

Then Tyler accidentally kicked an empty bottle across the floor.

The creature froze.

Its head slowly turned toward them.

Before it could attack, a hand grabbed Alexa’s ankle.

She looked down and screamed.

Reanimated Brad crawled out from beneath a bench. His eyes were dead white, his fingernails long and jagged.

Alexa smashed the baton into his face.

The crack echoed through the hallway.

The wall-crawling creature immediately shrieked and launched itself at Tyler, snapping its jaws inches from his face.

Alexa swung again, crushing part of its skull.

Tyler emptied seven bullets into its head.

Finally, it stopped moving.

Breathing hard, Tyler looked down at the deep claw marks across his chest. He quickly wrapped the wound before they continued toward the exit.

When they finally reached the doors, they saw a woman standing motionless nearby with her back turned.

Alexa called out carefully.

The woman slowly turned around.

Alexa froze.

It was Tina.

Or what was left of her.

Bruises from the fatal car crash still covered her body. Black claws extended from her fingertips, and sharp teeth filled her mouth.

She staggered forward, whispering one word.

“...Sister…”

Tyler immediately raised his pistol.

“Look away,” he told Alexa softly.

He fired every remaining bullet into Tina’s chest and head.

But she kept crawling toward them.

“Sister…”

Alexa’s face twisted with grief and rage.

“You are NOT my fucking sister,” she screamed. “We cremated her!”

She grabbed the baton and repeatedly smashed Tina’s skull until the body finally stopped moving.

Exhausted, Alexa dropped to her knees.

Tyler quietly offered her his hand.

After a moment, she took it.

Together, they pushed open the exit doors and escaped into the endless fog.

As they drove away from Chelsea, Tyler glanced back at the mall one last time.

Something stood in the mist.

A tall demonic figure next to brads and tinas bodies each fully intact.

I tried buying a myers mask off temu and somehow bought the really bad temu verison, that looks nothing like it and the neck is so short its bad. Does anyone got the link to the one that can be rehauled to look good? I just want the decent temu mask to practice rehauls before I go to the tots mask.