Free solar panel construction plans

I work in interior design. My boss asked me to remodel our office expansion, and I put in probably 60 hours of unpaid work designing it because: 1) it was a great portfolio opportunity 2) I’m going to design school 3) my colleagues aren’t on the design side of things (they’re logistics, site managers, etc) 4) I’m the only person in the office who knows how to do CAD/floor plans etc and 5) I love design and wanted to make something beautiful for our office.
Anyway, the desk arrangement/assignment thing for a group is political. And we have a weird loft with inconvenient pillars dividing up the space. I agonized over the desk arrangements and considered everyone’s input. On one side, there were 2 corner desks and I randomly assigned one to my coworker “K” and the other corner desk to myself.
In our current smaller office, I hate how little natural light is at my desk, so I’m always bringing my personal laptop to the tiny lunch table by the window and working there. K literally remarks about how I’m “solar powered” when she walks by. I fall asleep without natural light and can’t focus.
Here’s the problem: now we’re allowed to see the new office space (lease just started) and all the natural light patterns through the day, and my corner is way darker than I thought, and the desk assigned to K is way way brighter. Inevitably, I will be dragging my damn laptop back to the damn lunch table and abandoning my desktop computer and long-awaited new office expansion desk. We haven’t moved all our belongings yet (ie files, desktop computers), but I proposed the plan to everyone with their own personal place, so there is still an attachment/expectation from everyone about where they sit.
Basically I feel entitled to this other desk of my choice because 1) I put in all this work in addition to my normal work, working late, working at home, through lunch, and she didn’t. And the solution here is not for my boss to compensate me for this work because I’d still be mad about where I’m sitting on a daily basis. The solution I want is to sit at the other desk. 2) I’ll fall asleep without natural light. 3) I’ll be resentful pretty much every day while falling asleep in my dark corner.
How can I approach this? My boss doesn’t care at all so it’s my responsibility to sort this out. Obviously I’m upset right now so i need some guidance on how to approach this reasonably—it’s not her fault that I arbitrarily wrote down names at desks. But I feel very strongly about this now with the understanding of the lighting.
Thanks.

Back story: I never have been the type of person to seek out drama, in fact I actively avoid it and am typically the peace keeper. Early last year I got hit with some major drama. I'm not going to go into detail but there was some infidelity in my relationship and I found out about by my partner telling me. After a lot of thought I decided to stay. However I did reach out to the other person basically telling them I know and to leave my family alone. No insults, nothing nasty just informing them that I know. They came back at me with some really nasty messages telling me I'm dumb to stay with him blah blah blah. I ended up having a panic attack following the messages, that was so bad I went to the ER thinking I was having a stroke... lol nope just a good old fashioned panic attack. I never responded to their hurtful messages. Flash foward a few weeks and EVERYONE knows what happened, our friends our family everyone. I wanted to just keep everything between my partner and I because again.. I don't like drama and prefer to deal with my business myself. Come to find out the dude is the one spilling the tea, not a huge shocker as the messages he sent me were petty and I could tell he didn't get the response out of me he wanted. Whatever though, not much skin off my back as I didn't do anything wrong in the situation I just felt bad for the shame my partner had to go through as a result. As an aside my partners family is very religious and doesn't have an outright issue with gay people BUT do have an issue with their own kids participating. I'm very open with them and speak my mind when it comes to this- love is love let people f*ckin live etc. But boomers.. yk. Also side note- the cheating stemmed from some traumatic sexual trauma my husband experienced as a child which caused him to repress a lot and then question his sexuality later in life. Not excusing the cheating and lying but I can emphasize with the shame he felt about it and his fear of telling me. But he came clean of his own free will and we have worked very hard to get our relationship back to a good spot, which I can confidently say it is now. Honestly better than before.
This person has not contacted either of us in almost a year at this point but has continued to talk about it with other people which I only know about because we have mutual friends.
Flash forward to present day: We moved to a new town and no one knows where we live except our families and close friends. About a month ago I went out to my car one morning to find one of my tires slightly flat. I thought nothing of it and just went to the gas station to add some air. Shortly after I took a trip and left my car at the airport for the weekend and came back to my tire at 6psi flat af. So my husband takes my car in to his place of work and has the guys fix it. Come to find out there is a 4 inch nail in my tire. I do drive a decent amount (but there is not a ton of construction in my area) so I figured I just ran over a nail somewhere whatever. They patch the tire and rotate them as well. THEN a week ago another tire is slightly flat. I think great... the patch didn't hold gonna have to replace the damn tire, sucks but not the end of the world. Husband again takes my car to work to have it fixed. They find TWO more 4 inch nails in a completely different tire. Normally I'd be able to just dismiss this as coincidence but with everything that went on last year I just had a weird feeling in my gut. Am I crazy to think someone is putting nails in my tires?! Husband thinks it's just a coincidence considering people run over nails ALL the time... but I just feel weird about it. Am I crazy and reading too much into it or am I on to something?? Advice??

Hi all,
I have had gastro issues for the last three years- mostly chronic intermittent vomiting but also issues with my bowel movements and bloating have started to become a concern. I have done several tests (including the blood test for celiac which was negative, 2 gastroscopies, a colonoscopy in Feb, and I am due to have a capsule endoscopy this Friday). The initial review of the colonoscopy was fine but I have not heard yet about the biopsies (although I have since been referred for this pill cam)
Due to the lack of answers thus far, I'm wondering whether I should trial a gluten free diet to see if thus has any effect. I plan to wait until after the pill cam in case it affects the findings.
I was wondering if I need to worry so much about cross contamination while on a trial diet. I know small traces of gluten can affect a person with celiac, but if I go from daily gluten to just trace amounts, is that likely to make a noticeable enough change? Or is thus trial diet something worth doing at all?
Any advice is greatly appreciated :)

For starters, I usually say I’m “libertarian leaning” as opposed to libertarian. I do believe the health insurance industry needs some sort of regulation & oversight. Obviously the one we have in place now is not free market, but arguably monopoly, manipulation, & a system that nobody truly understands. Many say these companies basically wrote the ACA. Many fearmongerers said these companies would go out of business when ACA was passed but their stocks went through the roof. It also didn’t seem to be successful in many areas other than keeping you on your parents plan until 26 & eliminating the ability to deny based on pre-existing conditions. Alternatives, like the EU system, seems to work for smaller countries, but comes with a lot flaws, especially in larger ones. For starters, choosing your own doctor may not be possible, and if you don’t like your assigned doctor it may be a hassle to get a new one. Complex health issues seem harder to solve in public health systems, and procedures seem to have long waiting lists depending on what it is. I do believe in Medicaid for those in need and Medicare for the elderly.
My overall view is corporations are greedy & government is cheap. What’s the answer here? Anyone think of anything or read/hear any ideas that would be better than the complex system we have now?

Back story: I never have been the type of person to seek out drama, in fact I actively avoid it and am typically the peace keeper. Early last year I got hit with some major drama. I'm not going to go into detail but there was some infidelity in my relationship and I found out about by my partner telling me. After a lot of thought I decided to stay. However I did reach out to the other person basically telling them I know and to leave my family alone. No insults, nothing nasty just informing them that I know. They came back at me with some really nasty messages telling me I'm dumb to stay with him blah blah blah. I ended up having a panic attack following the messages, that was so bad I went to the ER thinking I was having a stroke... lol nope just a good old fashioned panic attack. I never responded to their hurtful messages. Flash foward a few weeks and EVERYONE knows what happened, our friends our family everyone. I wanted to just keep everything between my partner and I because again.. I don't like drama and prefer to deal with my business myself. Come to find out the dude is the one spilling the tea, not a huge shocker as the messages he sent me were petty and I could tell he didn't get the response out of me he wanted. Whatever though, not much skin off my back as I didn't do anything wrong in the situation I just felt bad for the shame my partner had to go through as a result. As an aside my partners family is very religious and doesn't have an outright issue with gay people BUT do have an issue with their own kids participating. I'm very open with them and speak my mind when it comes to this- love is love let people f*ckin live etc. But boomers.. yk. Also side note- the cheating stemmed from some traumatic sexual trauma my husband experienced as a child which caused him to repress a lot and then question his sexuality later in life. Not excusing the cheating and lying but I can emphasize with the shame he felt about it and his fear of telling me. But he came clean of his own free will and we have worked very hard to get our relationship back to a good spot, which I can confidently say it is now. Honestly better than before.
This person has not contacted either of us in almost a year at this point but has continued to talk about it with other people which I only know about because we have mutual friends.
Flash forward to present day: We moved to a new town and no one knows where we live except our families and close friends. About a month ago I went out to my car one morning to find one of my tires slightly flat. I thought nothing of it and just went to the gas station to add some air. Shortly after I took a trip and left my car at the airport for the weekend and came back to my tire at 6psi flat af. So my husband takes my car in to his place of work and has the guys fix it. Come to find out there is a 4 inch nail in my tire. I do drive a decent amount (but there is not a ton of construction in my area) so I figured I just ran over a nail somewhere whatever. They patch the tire and rotate them as well. THEN a week ago another tire is slightly flat. I think great... the patch didn't hold gonna have to replace the damn tire, sucks but not the end of the world. Husband again takes my car to work to have it fixed. They find TWO more 4 inch nails in a completely different tire. Normally I'd be able to just dismiss this as coincidence but with everything that went on last year I just had a weird feeling in my gut. Am I crazy to think someone is putting nails in my tires?! Husband thinks it's just a coincidence considering people run over nails ALL the time... but I just feel weird about it. Am I crazy and reading too much into it or am I on to something??

I figured I'd continue this sort of thing with the next weapon class down the list.
Historically, straight-bladed, one-handed or hand-and-a-half swords were sidearms. Either as a backup weapon on the battlefield or as personal defense/a status symbol for everyday carry. I think the devs did a good job of capturing that in game. As a class, straight swords are rarely if ever an outright bad choice, but in any specific circumstance they'll fall well behind a more specialized option. Once you have access to bigger, flashier, or more impressive options they tend to fall by the wayside. But if your main breaks or is the wrong choice for a fight, it's comforting to know that you always have something that's basically OK to fall back on.
One thing that's not historically accurate is the power stance. I actually enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would. The damage output was pretty impressive and the specific way you swing both of them seems to have a more generous hitbox than one alone. Would I recommend doing it yourself? Well, definitely with Blue Flame and maybe with a couple others.
There are 18 straight swords in this game so let's get into individual details.
Shortsword
The main thing you notice using this is it's short. Deep insight, I know. Thing is, this is Dark Souls 2 and weapon hitboxes are at least vaguely the same size as the model. At times you can really feel the lack of reach when you find yourself whiffing attacks more than is healthy. The second thing you notice about the Shortsword is it isn't very strong. Straight swords don't have a whole lot of variance in their damage, but the Shortsword is definitely on the lower end of the scale and the above average counter damage can only do so much to cover for it. The third thing you notice is that the moveset is bloody fantastic. I'm always going to value a straight sword with a thrusting attack over one that only slashes. Thrust is just plain a better damage type than slash, it improves performance in tight spaces, and it gives your attacks more forward momentum to keep up aggression (and make up for short reach). It also may just be me, but it feels like the thrusting heavy attacks are better than slashing against NPC invaders too.
Longsword
It's only the second entry on the list and my thrust attack bias is rearing its head again. The 2 handed strong attack of the Longsword is just plain good. Between the damage and the stagger, there's parts of the game where I treat it more like a thrusting sword than a straight sword. There are a few other swords that have the same attack, but the Longsword is the strongest of the bunch (though it's only in the middle of the pack for the overall weapon class). The free fire infused one you can get is fine enough for the price. It performs about as well on average as the base model but it has some advantages against fire weak or slash resistant enemies and some glaring disadvantages once you hit a water or fire level. It's a lot more useful in vanilla where the Dull Ember is a lot harder to get. One last thing: I'd be remiss if I didn't bring up the Longsword's performance in PVP. I don't know nearly enough about that aspect of the game to really talk about it, but something about the specific intersection of reach, stagger, moveset, and requirements means this gets an S rank in a LOT of tier lists.
Broken Straight Sword
Something has to be the worst option, and it's the broken sword's thankless duty to fulfill this role. It's pitifully short, pathetically weak, and disappointingly fragile. It exists mostly to give players a clearly visible bottom of the barrel to compare other weapons to. One thing it does have going for itself is the lowest stamina costs of literally any weapon which is at least something. Poison or Mundane infusion can even make it borderline usable for the masochists out there.
Broadsword
One thing I've noticed about DS2's weapon design is that the first weapon you find in a specific class gets treated as the "default" and most others will be variants of it in some way. The Broadsword fits that mold here and that's not a bad place to be. It's got a decent moveset, decent damage, and it's decently easy to get and use. The thing is that being the archetype for the Basically OK weapon class means that you don't stand out at all. Its damage is a little above average, but it's reach is a little below and it's still well in the middle of the pack for both. All other stats and its moveset are completely standard. There's nothing wrong with using it, as long as you don't need to stab anything that is, but you'll find plenty of better options down the line.
Foot Soldier Sword
Lightweight, extremely low requirements, good reach, decent base damage for infusions, and an excellent moveset. If it weren't for the incredibly low durability this would be one of the best swords in the game. As it stands, well, it can make a decent emergency backup option as long as you don't need to rely on it too much.
Heide Knight Sword
This got done dirty in the Scholar version. First by being shifted from a guaranteed drop to a rare drop, and second when they made infusion much easier to unlock and devalued pre-infused and natural elemental weapons. It's still a Basically OK weapon but it's been knocked down to niche use rather than a staple. I'd say the best use case is someone who wants to use Faith from the start (for instance, helping a friend with a dedicated support build in co-op) and wants at least some payoff in damage before late game. I used it as my left hand weapon in power stance for quite a lot of the game since I wasn't planning to buff that hand anyway and it pulled its weight. That said, there's a reason I didn't use it in the right hand. I'm not a big fan of the one handed moveset. It's not bad per se but the underhanded swings just feel less powerful and I'm not sure why the strong attacks are borrowed from the Royal Dirk.
Varangian Sword
These first 7 swords are available pretty much at the start of the game, with varying levels of effort, so I'm loosely grouping them together as the "starter pack." Out of these, the Varangian Sword is the most viable as a main weapon rather than simply a backup. Broadsword moveset, Longsword length, and noticeably higher damage output than any of the other 6. Durability is something you have to keep in mind, and it can be especially bad for newer players who aren't as experienced with making it last, but for me it was mostly a non-issue.
Blue Flame
You know, when Elden Ring came out and there wasn't a single melee weapon that doubled as a casting tool I was a little confused. But then looking at the ones that appeared in DS2 and 3 and I start to think that the Blue Flame being actually pretty good as both a weapon and a casting tool was some sort of fluke. It's not really the best at either, as a staff it's a bit slow and only about third place in damage and as a sword it's Basically OK most of the time but suffers from the frequency of magic resistant enemies. But it lets me double buff easily in power stance and when you do, it's a blast to use. Now there is the question of infusion. Both Raw and Magic are basically direct upgrades in different ways. Raw works best if you plan to use it primarily as a sword since while it does improve the magic damage, it doesn't do so by a lot. Magic greatly improves spell damage, but is worse than base as a melee weapon, in no small part because it drops the physical damage down to "might as well not exist" level. Personally I think Raw is the better deal overall, especially since you have the option to apply Aromatic Ooze for an even better boost to spell damage than any spell buff, but I can see situations where more powerful spells could tip the balance in your favor. Also a heads up when you use this, due to some quirks in the buff formulas, Great Magic Weapon is only a few points weaker than Crystal on this weapon.
Red Rust Sword
This is an axe. Normally I would be fine with that since I fucking love the standard axe moveset for reasons I can't fully articulate, but this is not a particularly strong axe either. In fact at 40 Strength it's noticeably weaker than the Battle Axe even before you factor in the complete lack of counter damage. And the Battle Axe upgrades with normal titanite. And that;s not even touching on the Bandit Axe. Though granted it is at least strong for a straight sword if you count it as one. The one unique thing about the Red Rust Sword is its power stance performance (as you might have guessed from the person you get it from). It has straight sword compatibility and moveset priority but axe power stance moveset. This means you can pair it with some things that you normally can't pair with axes (daggers, thrusting swords, greatswords, spears, and lances specifically) and putting it in the left hand means it's less likely to override the moveset if you don't care for the axe power stance (and I don't).
Sun Sword
So the thing about weapons in DS2 with noticeably higher scaling than others in their class is they almost always have much lower base damage. This means that high stats are a requirement for use rather than a reward. Said scaling in this case is also a textbook example of DS2's misleading letter grades. The game tells you A/A but doesn't tell you that means 80%/45%. The other semi-unique feature, the one-handed stab, is not nearly as impressive or effective to me as the Longsword's two-handed one. And farming it is a complete pain in the ass even with the best luck boosts and a good plan. But let's take a step back from negativity and look at what this sword really wants you to do. It incentivizes physical stats and one handed use, which to me suggests one of two routes. Sword and board, especially since it comes with its own shield, but I've never felt that that's a particularly interesting playstyle. Or you can use it as the right hand in power stance, and that's where I think it shines. Again, having the option to use thrust damage when needed is very helpful, and the Sun Sword is one of the better options for this specific niche.
Drakekeeper's Sword
This just barely avoids being a direct upgrade to the Broadsword by having no counter damage. Above average reach and stagger, good damage, and high durability make this a very strong if not particularly flashy or dynamic choice. Just a pity that it's found almost at the end of the game.
Black Dragon Sword
Until you get very high stats, this is the strongest straight sword in the game. Both with a Raw infusion when compared to the physical options and with elemental infusions. And unlike the other strongest options, there's no traditional downside to balance it. High durability, Broadsword moveset, average reach, average weight, and no notable stat deficiencies. The real downside, aside from it being a pain to farm, is the opportunity cost of spending your boss upgrade material on something that is only the best of the Basically OK.
Yellow Quartz Longsword
Imagine a Longsword with a Broadsword moveset, worse damage, half the durability, and a bunch of crud smeared on the blade. Preorder weapons had a couple of hits and a bunch of misses. This one's a miss.
Possessed Armor Sword
This one has a few unique things going for it. The least remarkable thing is the above average reach, nice as it is. The moveset borrows a bit from axes and greatswords for a few attacks, and it works pretty decently. But the real draw is in the self-buff. L2 gives you 25 seconds of boosted fire damage at the cost of durability (much like the Watcher and Defender Greatswords). As for how well all of that works in practice, well it's not great but it's not really bad either. The buff doesn't add all that much damage, and fire is in many ways the worst damage type, but as long as you keep an eye on the durability and are not using it on things that resist it, it's Basically OK.
Ashen Warrior Sword
This sword has the same moveset as the Shortsword, with thrusting strong attacks when both one and two handed, so it makes a good first impression. And unlike the Shortsword it has decent reach so it's even better. The cracks start to show when you see the durability, though even then it's not a dealbreaker for me. That comes when you see the damage output and realize it traded actual real damage for bleed. Heartbreaking.
Puzzling Stone Sword
This weapon is unique top to bottom. The light attacks are already a pretty unique combination before you get into the weird extendo whip sword strong attacks. It's even got some weirdly high Dex scaling. Thing is, even with that scaling it's always on the lower end of damage for straight swords. And taking advantage of the extended reach with the strong attacks means dealing even less damage since they're way out of the sword's sweet spot. Still, as a rollcatcher or zoning tool it's pretty effective. Just ask Fencer Sharron.
Fume Sword
This is the longest straight sword by a decent margin, and acts even longer with those thrusting attacks. It has dark scaling, but no requirements in those stats and can be buffed with resin so it works just fine in physical builds. It also has above average counter damage. I think like the Sun Sword, this works best one handed with either a shield or another weapon, just like how its previous owner used it.
Ivory Straight Sword
It's a lightsaber. It deals pure physical Strike damage. It requires 40 Dex. It has no scaling. It weighs 0.5 pounds. It does not benefit from Flynn's Ring at all. It has 250 durability. It breaks after 25 swings no matter what you hit. It deals the least amount of poise damage of any weapon. It has the slowest attacks and the highest stamina costs of any straight sword. The 2 handed strong attack can deal 4 digit damage. Using that attack costs as much stamina as drawing a Twin-Headed Greatbow. I'm about 70% sure it can headshot. It's cool looking and unique. It sucks so bad. If you're intrigued by this thing's design and want to try to make the most of it, there's two different routes you can take to make it work. 1. Treat it like some sort of weird fucked up pocket great hammer and exclusively use the 2HR2. 2. Go play Elden Ring and build around the Carian Knight Sword or Coded Sword instead.

Anyone know a good solar company. I got a quote from Harmon, Elevation, Streamline, and I have an appointment with Bright homes Solar. So far they all have different takes on having solar with SRP.
Apparently I should be on the SRP E-27 plan. Does this really lower your SRP payment to them?
I guess being on SRP I will always have a bill. Just wondering if it's worth it and if a 59% offset is better than a 70 or 90% offset to save money on panels since I can't bank any overages sent to SRP.
Thanks for any help.

I don’t know what flair to use anymore. I feel like we’re strangers now so I’ll go with that. Once upon a time it would have been crushes but we’re well past that.
I hope you're doing well. I'm hanging in there despite still being unemployed at the moment. The good news is that I'm starting to hear back from some places, so hopefully, I'll have a job soon. I think it's for the best that we’re no longer working together. It would have been awkward to continue with those lingering feelings.
Having this free time has allowed me to focus on my music. I remember our conversations about music, especially our shared love for Bon Iver. I mentioned I was writing some songs and hoped you’d hear them someday. You seemed to think that was cool. What I didn’t tell you was that two of those songs were about you, and that was how I planned to confess my feelings…once I found another job and resigned so it would be appropriate.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. I didn’t mean to drunkenly admit my feelings and put you in an awkward position with those texts, leading to my termination. I understand why you had to protect yourself and your job, and I don’t hold any resentment towards you for that. In fact, I’m glad you still have your job because I think it would be even harder for you to find something with comparable pay in this job market. It’s certainly been tough for me, and I’ll likely have to settle for less.
I’m sure you knew how I felt even before I admitted it, and I sensed that you might have had feelings too. But I crossed a line and made things uncomfortable, and for that, I’m truly sorry.
Maybe eventually, you'll be willing to speak to me again. Talking to you was always the highlight of my days. You didn’t seem to mind my frequent visits to your office. I cherished our playful banter and the way you would always mess with me. I feel like I’ve lost a dear friend.
Take care, F :)
(Signed with a smile like I always did on paper.)

I feel trapped, the claustrophobia is EXTREME. It's getting really hard to keep the "I love my body" affirmation going in my head. I want OUT of this body.
Woke up light painss, did chores in a smart slow way and STILL caused a major flare. Cannot put my right arm/hand down near My right side. No sitting, standing, laying position helps, it all feels bad lol. It's like if you could take straw and hay force it under your rib and in between your intestines and all the way into your hip and leg. I feel like a fucking scarecrow. A scarcrow internally on fire. I have not had a completely pain free day in so long I forgot what it feels like to be pain free.
I think the worst symptom is that I cannot escape, I cannot dissociate, I take THC, I take all the pills, I watch intriguing shows, or put myself outside to study plants and My cats, I listen to podcasts, make art, try to get lost in work on fundraising and graphic design, l take hot showers AND CONSTANTLY FEEL SCARECROW. I WANT OUT OF THIS BODY.
I feel like a dog who is just trying to run away from their pain by running in circles, sometimes I find myself like desperately clawing at my body literally losing my mind. I got surgery only a 1.5 year ago and I'm nearly as in much disruptive pain as before surgery.
I changed my diet lifestyle and everything and yet the disease persists. I protect myself from getting sick by masking, bc everytime I get sick, this disease gets worse. Like im doing everything, I am trying SO hard for this scarecrow body to not be in pain.
It is truly making me a very dysregulated, grumpy, and mean person bc I am constantly being met with invalidation. Im like bitter woman at 29. If one more person tells me to stay positive I might spontaneously combust, its so hard to be positive when you're in pain. When your pain is disruptive and ruins plans, even chores. It's getting hard to see any kind of future where im not in agony?. I have hope about a lot of things, I can be a hopeful person, but I feel like my soul is dying with every bad pain day and unexpected and expected flare.
How are yall coping lately? How do we cope with knowing this long term/lifelong? Is there any podcasts about coping with endo/chronic illness yall like? Have you found a way to do chores/tasks like laundry or vacuuming and mopping, that doesn't flare? Do your friends and family believe you? How do yall cope with realizing people think you're bullshitting and lying? Bc I am struggling 😭💔

The HRRFY.
It’s the horror movie festival where something genuinely fucked happens every year. And I mean every year.
Like, there are some screenings that unleash hordes of bats while the movie is playing. You're free to leave whenever you want, but the movie will still play for 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Other screenings hire actors to turn at you and scream at some point in the movie. You have no idea when, or how many times.
It's a festival where the word "illegal" can't even begin to describe what occurs. You'd only attend if you were a young, stupid edgelord like me who was trying to prove he was hardcore to his friends.
Trust me. DO NOT GO.
You have nothing to prove to anyone. Don't be stupid.
Wait for the lamer film versions to come out streaming. That's what everyone else does. They're neutered edits but they're fine.
All they lack is the real gleaming thing everyone wants to see at HRRFY, but who cares. At least you don’t get traumatized. At least you’re not risking your life.
Anyway, if you really want to know what attending HRRFY is like. I’ll be quick and summarize the one screening I went to. It was the 20th anniversary, and I was lucky enough to get in.
***
I had signed up for the HRRFY mailing list, and joined the subreddit. Through a series of cryptic online emails I solved a sequence of riddles and was entered in the lottery for a HRRFY entry.
Lady Luck took a shine to me, because one day in my mailbox, I received a physical ticket. I had done it.
I was going.
The actual ‘ticket’ was a black USB key that announced the location of the festival the night before (which I won’t disclose here) and it did force me to pay for a very expensive flight in order for me to make it on time.
You see, to prevent getting shut down, the location of HRRFY changes every year. Some years the local police have managed to stop it, but for the most part, authorities have given up. What’s the point of arresting or charging anyone, if all the organizers and attendees actually want to be there?
Upon arrival, I had to pick between three participating theaters.
Based on title alone, I decided to go see “Many Drownings” (directed by Oleksander Gołański.) It was in the theater that was furthest away from the downtown core, which meant it was likely the one where the craziest shit was bound to happen.
That’s what I came here for right?
I lined up a solid two hours before the screening like everyone else. The entire line was jittering, just vibrating with excited twenty-somethings. Rumors flew left and right.
“I heard they’re going to force everyone to take acid.”
“I heard an actor’s gonna run in and shotgun the ceiling.”
“I heard they’re going to disappear like four more people this year. At this screening!”
Each year people disappeared. And each year the same people were ‘found.’ And yes this is the worst part, and why should never, ever, ever go to this event.
Again I will repeat myself. DO NOT GO.
No one has ever truly gone 'missing' at HRRFY in any legal or physical sense, because every missing person always shows up a day later, convinced that they are fine—refusing to elaborate further.
There are some small support groups for people who have family members who had gone to HRRFY, and came back irrevocably changed after being ‘found.’
These few unlucky people lose all semblance of personality. They don’t want interviews, or help, or therapy, or contact of any kind. And they never, ever want to talk about what they saw.
Some HRRFY fans think that these ‘found’ people were body-snatched. Cloned in a lab or replaced by a cyborg, or something stupid like that.
But I think there’s a far simpler explanation. The ‘found’ are still the same people. They're just terrified. They got shaken by something that shattered the foundation of their mind, body and soul. They got too scared.
They got HRRFY’d.
***
I should mention I had a cough the day I went. And I was worried my sickly appearance might give me trouble at the airport.
So I invested in an intense double N95 mask which I wore for the whole flight, and continued to wear even at the screening of “Many Drownings.”
It made my face hot and uncomfortable, but it still didn’t stop me from yelling “excuse me, excuse me!” as I ran to snag a seat in the back of the theater.
I always preferred sitting in the far back. You get a good view of the whole screen, and a good view of the whole audience.
Beside me sat a big dude named Sylvester, who apparently flew all the way from Australia to attend HRRFY.
“Worth the full Seventeen hours mate! It’s gonna be epic!” he dropped a massive camping backpack beside me, which I assume contained all of his luggage.
The lights dimmed, and the production company logos started to play.
The whispering, giggling and suspense all stacked upon each other to create an electric feeling in the air. I was giddy. It's like the entire audience was embarking on a massive roller coaster.
The anticipation was the best part for sure. It might have been the only good part.
Then the movie started.
It was a wide shot of a gray, stormy sea. The waves were massive, and the thunderclouds were looming. There was no land visible in any direction.
All we could hear was the sound of waves foaming, swirling, and crashing over and over. Lightning crackled. Rain poured. The camera held perfectly still over this storm as if it was mounted on a perfectly hovering drone. A drone so resilient that it didn’t waver at all.
I thought it had to be CGI.
The shot held like this for the next few moments. Everyone sat glued to their seats. Everyone was thinking the same thing.
What’s going to happen? How are they going to scare us?
People chuckled. People cheered. People wanted to tease whatever was going to happen—to happen already.
But nothing did.
Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes went by without any change. People started snoring.
I looked beside me and saw that Sylvester—the most excited audience member of them all—had fallen totally asleep. The jet lag must’ve gotten to him.
Then I peered beyond the rest of the audience members and saw other people snoozing too. Heads were keeled over, some people were curled in their seats, some had even spilled out into the aisle and were dozing on the floor.
I looked above the bright screen, at the huge vents in the corner of the theater. I saw a faint white gas emerging from the vents.
Holy shit. What have we been breathing? I tightened the straps on my N95 mask, and made my breathing shallower.
The gas must have been pumping since the opening credits—because how else would an audience of two hundred people all fall asleep?
As I moved my hand through the air in front of me, I could sense the thickness. It was definitely hazier than usual. I took the scarf off my neck and wrapped it around my mouth as well.
Then I spotted movement in front of the screen.
It was a tall blonde man, wearing a black trenchcoat and military-grade gas mask. Beside him arrived six hazmat suits who started pointing at various audience members.
I slunk in my chair, pretending to sleep like everyone else.
Two hazmats walked over to the front row and picked out a sleeping guy in flannel. They lifted flannel up, under the armpits and by his ankles, carrying him between them both like a hammock.
The hazmats walked back up to the stage, where the blonde leader inspected the flannel man and tapped his head. Something was approved?
The hazmats began to swing flannel back and forth, as if they were getting ready to toss him. Despite their masks, I could hear a very muffled, very distant countdown.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One…”
The flannel audience member was tossed into the screen.
I literally watched him fly into the image of stormy waves … andfallinto them. The flannel man sank into the gray water like a rock, leaving a few bubbles and foam. A wave came crashing down. All trace of him was gone.
What the fuck.
All six hazmats began grabbing more audience members with much more urgency. It became a minute-long process where they would pick the sleeping person up, bring them beside the screen, and then swing-toss them into it.
How was this possible?
I turned slightly to see if there was a projector above me, and realized there was none. Which meant maybe there was no screen on stage.
Which meant … maybe it was a portal?
I tried to wake Sylvester by shaking him. I pinched his leg and arm a bunch.
He was out cold.
The hazmats started grabbing audience members from the middle rows now. They were emptying the whole theater. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I waited until they grabbed another batch, only a few rows down from me. When all hazmats had their backs turned—I broke into a run.
With my left arm, I tightly gripped my mask and scarf against my face, while my right arm vaulted me over seat after seat.
I had never breathed so hard—through so much fabric—in my life.
The hazmats all turned to me. “Hey! Hey!” But their hands were full with their next victims.
I ran all the way down the aisle, to the big exit sign on the left. My heartbeat filled my head. My plan was to dropkick through the exit door.
I imagined myself breaking through like some flying gazelle.
I jumped.
I angled my kick.
It might as well have been a brick wall. I fell ass-first to the ground, followed by my head. Of course the door was locked.
Through a muffled mask I heard a sneering scoff.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Above me stood the one wearing a trenchcoat. I could see his piercing gray eyes through his gas mask.
I rolled aside and tried to run by him. He lifted a foot and tripped me without effort.
My forehead bashed into an empty seat. It dazed me.
The blonde leader bent down and grabbed me by the neck, tearing away my scarf and mask.
“No! No!”
A sweet, ether-like smell filled my nostrils. I did my best to hold my breath, but I could already feel myself getting light-headed.
The other hazmats joined in, grabbing me from all sides. Even if I had the strength to struggle, there was no escape now.
Above me, all I could see was the dark theater ceiling, and some of the light behind me from the cinema screen.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“No. Please. Don’t do thi—”
SPLASH.
I was plunged deep into cold, wet chaos. My head was completely underwater.
Gagging. Bubbles. Spinning.
I fought for dear life, dog-paddling like a maniac.
Churning. Freezing. Panic.
For a second, my head popped above the water. I inhaled all the air my lungs could muster. I stared across a vast, violent ocean.
An enormous thirty foot wave came in my direction.
My whole body lifted higher and higher as the wave approached. I did my best to tread water. It seemed to be working.
Then a series of smaller waves arrived and smacked my chest.
SPLASH.
Spinning. Kicking. Flipping.
My view alternated between the pitch dark ocean beneath me, and the moonlit night sky above.
Again I swam to the surface, popped my head out. Ravenously sucked in air.
There was a small lull in the water.
Around me I now registered the other theater goers. Most of them were lying face-down or sinking … but a few were flapping about like me, fighting for their life.
And above all of us, a floating white shape.
It was painfully bright, I had to lift one hand to look at it.
My jaw dropped.
It was the movie screen, hanging completely still in the air. It showed a dark, empty theater. The exact same theater we all occupied moments ago.
It was tremendously high, above all of our heads. There was no way of reaching it.
Then I saw another thirty foot wave come our way. It grazed the bottom of the screen.
I knew what had to be done.
***
One of the theater goers happened to be on a college swim team. She was the first one able to traverse one of the giant waves and climb into the screen.
Once she was up there, she found a firehose in the theater and reeled it out to us like a rope.
One by one, we swam as hard as we could, praying to God we could reach the rope. Everyone’s energy was sapped. Your body can only sustain itself on adrenaline and fear for so long.
By some miracle, five of us got out.
I was the last.
I climbed the rope coughing and vomiting. I had swallowed so much water that my stomach felt swollen.
When I reached the top and they pulled me into the screen, I sobbed. I couldn’t stop crying.
My life had flashed countless times before my eyes. In bubbling, suffocating visions, I saw both my parents and my brother. I saw my highschool graduation. I saw my favorite Christmas from when I was six years old.
I had almost lost all of that. I had lost almost everything.
On the dirty, carpeted theater floor, I lay with my face down, savoring the fact that I now lay on a hard surface. God bless ground. God bless this filthy, popcorn-strewn ground.
Beside me I heard bantering, hugging, the wringing of wet clothes. Sylvester was the second last to be saved, and he was particularly vocal.
“Wooooooaaaaahh!” He came and drummed me on the back, lifted me up. “Oh my god dude! Holy shit!”
I sat on my knees, wiping the tears and snot off my mouth.
Sylvester clapped his hands, held his face and screamed some more.
“Holy shit dude! That was so fucking scary! Like literally people were dying beside us. Like I SAW people die!”
I nodded, shivering in my drenched clothes. “ I know it was—”
“—That was craaaaazy!”
He laughed and stood up, patting everyone on the back. He kept clapping his hands like this was some sports event.
“That was sick! That was siiiiiiiiick!”
He ruffled someone’s hair then ran up to me with an open palm.
“High five dude! WE MADE IT! High five!
“Don’t leave me hangin’ dude!”

Could I get my query letter critiqued please?
I'm trying to make it more appealing and attractive for agents
Dear XXX,
I’m seeking representation for my debut YA fantasy novel of 80,000 words, THE WARLOCK’S SHADOW. In a mystical world where magic and modern life seamlessly coexist, fifteen-year-old Alex is an ordinary teenager with huge dreams of following in his late father’s footsteps to become a Knight; an elite dragon-riding, magic-wielding, protector of the world. There’s only one problem: he sucks at magic. While attending school he undergoes an affinity ritual to discover that he aligns with the mysterious element of darkness, something extremely rare and associated with black magic users called Warlocks. The only Warlock Alex knew of is Blight, the same man who tried to enslave all dragons in pursuit of world domination--as well as his father’s murderer. Disheartened when no domesticated dragon egg bonds with him as it does for classmates, Alex stumbles across a wild dragon egg in the nearby woods. It immediately hatches for him alone, unleashing his previously untapped magical gifts. Intrigue mounts when his mother passes down a cryptic amulet, a gift from his late father later that evening. Meanwhile, black magic cults are on the rise and Alex’s amulet begins to pulse with energy and his own magic starts to go haywire. Curious about the amulet’s behavior Alex finds his father’s journal while researching and discovers an upcoming cosmic event called the Celestial Shadow. The event in question would weaken the boundary between their world and the Void which is imprisoning the Warlock Blight. Cults worshiping Blight plan on using this event to free him. Alex and his friends vow to stop whoever is behind the plot to bring back Blight. Should they fail, life as they know it will be turned upside down. THE WARLOCK’S SHADOW is a unique combination of “How to Train Your Dragon 2” and “Harry Potter”. This work is aimed at a young adult audience seeking an immersive escape into a world where magic is not just a part of life but a force that shapes destinies.
Enclosed, please find the first xx pages/chapters for your consideration. Thank you for your time.
Sincerely, (Me)

The following is a directive by the 2nd Shock Army instructing its subordinate formations and commanders on how to prepare and carry out a breakthrough, including organizational measures to improve its combat effectiveness. 2nd Shock Army was deployed in the rear of 2nd Belorussian Front in December 1944, preparing to participate in the East Prussian Operation. In mid-January to would successfully break out from the Rozhan bridgehead.

DIRECTIVE FOR THE ORGANIZATION AND CONDUCT OF THE EAST PRUSSIAN OFFENSIVE OPERATION
TO THE CORPS COMMANDERS AND CHIEFS OF THE TROOP BRANCHES OF THE 2ND SHOCK ARMY
When preparing for a breakthrough, I require you to focus particular attention on the following issues:
PREPERATORY PERIOD
[1)]
a) Study in the entire tactical depth of the enemy’s defense his engineering structures and obstacles, infantry and anti-tank fire systems, artillery and mortar groups, and the system of observation posts.
b) Know the areas where reserves are concentrated and the possible directions of counterattacks. Senior commanders (commanders of rifle corps and rifle divisions) must also know the operational depth of the enemy’s defense, the location of his operational reserves, the possibility of meeting them and on what lines.
c) Know where tanks are concentrated and the possible directions of their actions.
d) Using an observation system and studying all intelligence data in detail, establish the combat routine of the defending enemy.
2) Organization of observation
a) No later than December 25 the army headquarters will equip one OP [Observation Point] (main) in each direction and two auxiliary ones, providing them with communications equipment, surveillance equipment and specially trained officers.
b) Corps and division commanders must determine places for OPs and report to me no later than 12/18.
All OPs from the platoon commander and above must ensure complete observation of the terrain from the starting position according to the principle - every commander must see the battlefield.
Telephones should be placed at the OP for those where the commander is monitoring the battlefield.
c) Artillery and infantry observation should be organized by the army headquarters from 12/20/44, corps and divisions - by special order with the obligatory keeping of observation logs and a report to the top.
Observation data for the day should be submitted to corps headquarters and artillery headquarters to army headquarters by 10 p.m. daily.
d) At the OP from regiments and above, specially trained and instructed officers (3-4 people), headed by a staff officer and provided with security (2-3 machine gunners), must be located and monitored.
Observers should change every 2 hours.
The senior officer must visit the OP at least once a day.
e) Each commander must have a map with data from his personal observation and data received from other commanders (in different colors).
Artillery and infantry commanders should compare the data received by each of them about the enemy to clarify them.
f) By 12/28, the Army Headquarters will provide the corps and divisions with maps filled with the situation about the enemy based on data received from the defenders, observation from the OPs and from other sources.
3) Study the area
a) Study in detail the features of the terrain in front of the enemy’s front line of defense, in the tactical depth of his defense, and for higher commanders in the operational depth. Pay special attention to studying the terrain in tank terms.
b) Keeping in mind the open nature of the terrain, carefully study all approaches to the enemy’s front line, possible starting positions for the attack and the directions along which the artillery will advance.
Know the roads leading to the front line from the depths, and the roads in the depths of the enemy’s defense in the zone intended for the offensive.
4) Secrecy and camouflage of measures taken to prepare the operation
a) Regrouping of troops (infantry, artillery, tanks) should be carried out only at night.
Carefully camouflage the areas where troops are located, preventing the appearance of smoke during the day and the lighting of fires at night.
b) Eliminate any possibility of communication and conversations with the local population. Under no circumstances should commanders and fighters be allowed to be housed with local residents.
The headquarters of units and formations are usually located in a forest.
c) Warn all personnel about the inadmissibility of revealing the numbering of army units and formations.
d) Avoid talking on the phone about ongoing events. The commanders of the formations personally approve the lists of persons to whom telephone numbers are left and the right to converse.
Strictly prohibit the use of radio equipment until the moment of the attack.
e) Do not allow signs indicating unit numbers, field mail and commanders' names, as well as identification marks of hospitals and rear institutions to be displayed at intersections and at entrances to areas where formations and units are located. The latter will be displayed by special order.
f) Take the strictest measures to protect documents and maps, preventing their loss. Do not take maps with the details of your units to the front line.
g) Army headquarters, rifle corps headquarters, rifle divisions and rifle regiments organize a commandant service, establish commandant posts and patrols and carefully instruct them.
Commandant posts and patrols should not allow accumulations of vehicles, horse-drawn vehicles and manpower, especially in areas of visibility, and ensure strict compliance with all camouflage instructions.
Inform all personnel that the requirements of commandant posts and patrols are mandatory for all officers, regardless of official position.
h) All reconnaissance should be carried out in accordance with special instructions.
5) Combat training
Combat training begins on 12/20/44.
Combat training of troops differs from general combat training in that it is carried out in a specific environment.
Commanders of formations and units should organize combat training based on the specific tasks of each unit (being in the first or second echelon, with whom and when it interacts, etc.).
Conduct combat training on terrain as similar as possible to the one on which you will operate.
Corps and division commanders should be ready for an operational game at army headquarters by 12/26/44 based on the materials and conditions of the operation being prepared.
6) Work of headquarters
a) All headquarters prepare a complete schedule of urgent reports and the procedure for its implementation.
Establish a list of officers responsible for information from higher headquarters, formations of supporting and interacting units.
Consider the failure of the transmission of at least one report at any link to be an emergency.
Pay special attention to the truthfulness of the information.
b) Check the readiness of all means of communication: telephone, telegraph, radio, mobile vehicles (liaison officers, cars, motorcycles, etc.).
Have a reserve of radio equipment to create intermediate stations, especially for communication with mobile groups.
c) Check the distribution of functional responsibilities among staff officers and their mastery.
d) Ensure control over the implementation of combat orders of commanders. Following a combat order, an officer of the operations directorate (department) must be sent to the troops to monitor the implementation of this order.
The officers sent must be instructed by the formation commander or chief of staff and have a firm knowledge of the mission of the formation, unit or subunit to which they are sent.
e) Minimize the production time for operational documents, without in any way “eating up” the time of lower headquarters.
f) Carefully work out in advance all interaction documents for the entire depth of the battle.
g) Prepare SUV (Covert troop management) documents in advance and send them to the troops.
Immediately upon receipt of them, organize training and ensure free use of them by all officers, especially officers and administrators.
7) Logistical support
a) Carefully check the condition of automatic weapons. Each fighter must have the prescribed number of cartridges, each machine gun must have the prescribed number of belts and disks. Belts should not be damp.
Check the winding of the seals, the tension of the return springs, the availability of spacer rings (spare), extractors and antifreeze fluid.
In rifle platoons, which are intended for special work in clearing mines and laying paths for infantry, have carts for pulling away wire and other obstacles.
b) Check the ammunition from the rifle to the gun. Determine where to store ammunition, who, how and where to supply it.
c) The equipment of each fighter must be checked (fitting of uniform, equipment, contents of duffel bag, etc.).
d) Prepare a backpack supply for soldiers in the amount of one daily allowance, the issuance of which will be carried out by special order of division commanders.
Check the feeding arrangements, especially on the first day of the fight.
e) All vehicles must be repaired, possible routes determined, fuel depots installed. Each driver must be familiar with these routes and road conditions in advance. Cars must have chains and tools (shovels, axes).
f) Put horse-drawn transport in order.
g) On roads in the army zone, install signs at all intersections indicating populated areas, marking altitudes and azimuths of directions.
h) In crossing areas, prepare gaps and exits from roads every 50 m in both directions. Crossings should be distributed among commanders of formations and a commandant service should be established on them, avoiding the accumulation of vehicles, horse-drawn vehicles or manpower.
i) Establish a procedure for evacuating the wounded. Designate sanitary picket points.
Explain to the soldiers that the wounded must bring their weapons to the dressing station, and the weapons of the seriously wounded must be picked up by orderlies.
j) Explain to all fighters the inadmissibility of using captured products and “junk”.
k) All commanders should check the unit’s logistics on a daily basis.
PREPARATION AND OCCUPATION OF THE STARTING POSITION FOR THE ATTACK
1) The day before the troops reach their starting position, mark the routes to it for each company to prevent wandering and mixing of units. Set up beacons.
Take the most decisive measures so that soldiers and officers cannot get lost and fall into the hands of the enemy. Under no circumstances should you allow yourself to go over to the enemy’s side.
2) Study the starting position and equip it so that the infantry and materiel are completely covered. Eliminate the possibility of exposure and losses of manpower and materiel.
Considering the dampness of the soil and the appearance of track marks on it after turning off the road, these marks should be immediately smoothed out.
3) Regiment commanders prepare and fix roads to pull everything necessary to the starting position.
4) Consider the organization of communication when reaching the starting position.
5) Reach the starting position over two nights.
On the first night, bring out heavy infantry fire weapons and direct fire weapons. Those guns that can be seen in positions by the enemy should be brought out on the second night.
On the second night, bring out the infantry.
6) When taking over a combat area from defending units, carefully study your own and enemy’s minefields.
Clear your minefields located in the depths of the defense in advance; those located in front of the front line should be cleared of mines two to three days before the offensive, organizing the protection of the passages.
Clear enemy minefields within two nights. This demining is carried out under conditions of careful camouflage from enemy observation.
7) Before leaving for the starting position, explain to all personnel: for what, where and how should they do it, what secrecy and camouflage measures to take.
Bring the combat mission to the fighters 4 hours before the start of the attack.
INFANTRY ATTACK AND COMBAT IN THE DEPTH OF THE ENEMY'S DEFENSE
1) Build battle formations not according to a template, but taking into account the specific actions of each unit and subunit.
During a frontal breakthrough, the battle formation will be straightforward, in a forest battle - along road directions, when crossing rivers - echeloned, and when fighting in the depths of defense - maneuverable.
Pay special attention to the placement of forces and weapons in combat formations at all stages and in all conditions, so that fire weapons do not lag behind the infantry.
Senior commanders check the decisions of subordinate commanders, carefully explain the shortcomings they made in the formation of battle formations and indicate measures to eliminate these shortcomings.
2) Every Red Army soldier must understand that the main goal of an organized breakthrough of the enemy’s defense is to reach the firing positions of his artillery in the first 2-3 hours of the battle.
3) Remind each officer once again that combined arms combat consists of three elements:
a) organizing artillery fire support,
b) organizing close combat between infantry and tanks and
c) organizing close interaction between these two elements.
4) Remember that the basis of artillery fire support is not artillery preparation, but the organization of artillery fire in the depths of the enemy’s defense.
Every officer must know that the success of artillery fire depends on good organization of reconnaissance, on his knowledge of the capabilities of all means of reinforcement and the correct formulation of tasks.
5) An infantry strike must be preceded by a fire strike. This means that it is necessary to follow this order: reconnaissance, then fire strike, then attack, and not the reverse.
6) During the attack, under no circumstances should infantry be allowed to lie in the first trench. It is dangerous because it causes a desire to take cover and, as a rule, is always targeted by enemy artillery.
Don't linger at temporary stops; The longer people lie, the more difficult it is to raise them, the greater the losses.
The attack must be swift.
7) All means must be used to hit one place. Everything must be linked together.
I forbid pointing at others: “The tanks failed,” “The infantry did not rise,” “The artillery did not support.”
Check the implementation of interaction issues at all levels.
The artillery commanders will be with the infantry commanders.
8) During a battle deep in the enemy’s defense, obtaining accurate data on the enemy’s behavior becomes of utmost importance. Report about the enemy only quantitatively, and not organizationally, i.e. 30-40 soldiers and not a company or platoon.
Report exactly where and what enemy firing points are hindering the advance. Do not allow the expressions: “Heavy machine gun or mortar fire.”
9) Each commander knows at any time the position and condition of the formation (unit). The situation report must always be truthful.
The commander must have the courage to report whether his unit can carry out the order at a given moment, and if not, then for what reasons.
10) The depth of the enemy’s tactical defense in front of the army’s front lies at the line of 6-8 km from the front edge (the artillery positions). Until we reached the artillery positions, the breakthrough was not realized.
11) Consider the tactics of using tanks by the enemy:
a) for counterattacks with small groups of infantry,
b) as fixed firing points (armored fortified points) and
c) in night battle conditions.
Introduce to every officer the procedure for organizing anti-tank defense, which should include:
– a two-tier construction of the AT defense is provided;
– measures to combat both counterattack tanks and armored fortified points are indicated.
Take measures to consolidate occupied lines.
The two-tier construction of AT defense should be understood as follows:
– first tier – fire weapons from platoon to regiment (from anti-tank grenades to regimental guns); this tier is mobile and is located in infantry combat formations; his task is to fight enemy tanks and self-propelled guns encountered along the path of troops;
– the second tier is organized in depth from anti-tank fighter regiments and other artillery reinforcement means. This tier moves in jumps from line to line and ensures the advancement of the infantry.
A solid knowledge by officers and soldiers of the order of constructing anti-tank support prevents tank fear.
Each unit should have groups of sapper-hunters to blow up tanks.
12) The battle must be continuous, waged day and night. Continuity is achieved through reserves and the use of battalions specially trained for night combat. When issuing an order to commit a reserve to battle, the same order should also indicate the creation of a new reserve.
The order for a night battle should be given in such a way that the unit is not late in starting action.
13) The attack must be general. Do not allow the formation's battle to turn into battles of individual units. This can only be achieved by good observation of the enemy, knowledge of the situation, immediate response to the course of the battle, and solving the problem using fire weapons.
14) The battle must be deep, which means that commanders are required to know not only the object they are attacking, but also what is behind it, by organizing deep reconnaissance.
15) Provide advance relocation to new command posts and OPs. The relocation plan must be approved in advance by a senior commander. The axis of movement of the command post must be known to junior commanders.
You can move to a new point only when communication is established there.
16) Commanders who have personal radio stations should always keep them with them and during the offensive do not move forward without them.
17) The names of the commanders of units and formations are addressed on the radio only by their operational call signs, because some of them were published in the orders of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief and mentioning them will enable the enemy to establish from which front these units or formations arrived.
18) Prohibit communications on the radio in the clear. Use only communications tables, reference diagrams and coded maps.
ISSUES OF ORGANIZATION AND MANAGEMENT OF FIRE
1) All commanders should check their subordinates’ knowledge of the materiel, ability to eliminate delays, and tactically, competently, fire and use each type of weapon.
2) Check all weapons for trouble-free operation and combat accuracy.
3) Require officers, non-commissioned officers and enlisted personnel to make full use of infantry fire, especially at the moment when artillery fire will be transferred from the first trench to the second.
Carefully consider infantry fire according to the stages of the battle.
2-3 minutes before launching an attack, heavy machine guns should open fire on the enemy trench under attack. Be sure to take into account which heavy machine guns will go on the attack with the infantry and which ones will support them with fire.
Light machine guns must be completely in the combat formations of the attacking infantry and fire on the move and from short stops.
Fire from machine guns on the move during an attack, taking into account to save ammunition when you need to fight in the second and subsequent trenches.
4) Artillery commanders should not dismiss the organization of fire combat for the infantry itself. Take into account the fire of heavy and light machine guns in planning.
5) The guns will be assigned to companies and platoons; you should always help them move with you, and not abandon them.
6) Commanders of rifle corps and divisions and artillery commanders should give instructions to officers up to the company commander on how and what type of artillery should be assigned tasks.
7) Each commander is obliged to know what assets are operating in his offensive zone in addition to his group. Every leader should inform his subordinates about this so that they can take it into account when making a decision.
8) Division commanders must approve the OP for direct fire guns. Each direct fire weapon must have its own target, the nature and position of this target, the number of shells to hit it, and the time for their consumption.
Rifle corps, divisions and regiments must have general fire plans for direct fire guns.
Direct fire guns should only be placed on the observation posts when the latter are fully prepared and all work is camouflaged. After installing direct fire guns, they should also be carefully camouflaged so that the enemy could not guess their presence even with the help of photographs.
9) In terms of artillery fire for the destruction of trenches, each artillery and mortar battery must have its own area, preventing firing in areas.
Check target numbers with batteries and guns to ensure there are no typos or errors. Also check the trench numbers.
10) Particularly consider the issue of organizing fire to repel counterattacks of small groups of the enemy, with the help of which he seeks to delay our advance. In such cases, the counterattacking infantry must be met with organized fire and, pursuing it, burst into his trenches on the shoulders of the enemy.
11) When moving artillery, first of all move those batteries whose fire has reached the [range] limit.
ISSUES OF USING TANKS AND SELF-PROPELLED GUNS
1) Eliminate the shortcomings in the use of self-propelled artillery that occurred in previous battles: excessive fragmentation of self-propelled units, the use of self-propelled guns as tanks, lack of proper assistance from sappers in clearing mines, building bridges, etc.
Self-propelled guns are used to reinforce regiments as infantry escort weapons.
In regimental battle formations, self-propelled guns should be placed behind the infantry.
2) Provide assigned tanks with fire from the guns of the infantry's anti-tank system. The guns accompanying the tanks must be accurately aimed at the enemy firing points that they need to suppress.
3) Fully use the minesweeper tanks attached to formations. The actions of these tanks will be supported by infantry fire.
To remove and neutralize mines not detonated by minesweeper tanks, assign sapper groups to accompany them.
ENTERING RESERVES INTO BATTLE
(second echelons)
1) Take all necessary measures to eliminate the possibility of delay in bringing reserves (second echelons) into battle.
The commanders of the reserve units must be at the OP together with the commanders of the units advancing in the first echelon.
2) Commanders of reserve units are required to conduct reconnaissance on all possible directions of action of their units.
3) Thoroughly work out on the ground issues of interaction related to the introduction of reserves. Determine the boundaries of deployment, reassignment of reinforcement equipment, establish signals and the procedure for organizing communications.
Avoid delays in switching amplifiers.
INTRODUCTION OF MOBILE GROUPS INTO THE BREAKTHROUGH
Commanders of rifle divisions and regiments can be appointed heads of mobile groups. They need to remember the following:
– more initiative; do not wait for the decision of senior commanders;
– conduct thorough reconnaissance, especially engineering;
– always have a group of sappers ready to clear mine routes, fix roads, and build bridges;
– in case of major damage, use all available human resources to correct it, without waiting for the sapper units to arrive;
– ensure communication both within the group and especially with the highest headquarters of the formation in whose zone it operates;
– before the introduction of a mobile group, check that the issues of interaction, communication and support have been worked out by the commander in whose zone the group operates.
BATTLE MANAGEMENT ISSUES
1) By 12/20/44, check the staffing, composition and preparedness of the headquarters of company and battalion commanders and the availability of communications equipment. Avoid loss of control in this link.
Every officer must once again understand that control during battle is the basis of success; its loss threatens to disrupt the offensive.
2) Rocket signals should be a means of control only by the regiment commander. Other commanders duplicate these signals.
The signals should be common throughout the breakthrough area.
3) Use only white flares to indicate our front line when flying our aircraft. These missiles should only be launched at the very front line. Prohibit the use of white flares for any other signals. Corps commanders should check and report the presence of white flares and signal pistols.
4) Ensure that rifle units (companies) are always combat-ready. It is necessary to maintain a combination of manpower and fire.
After each battle, restore the combat readiness and firepower of the attacking units.
5) Each commander must have two pre-appointed deputies.

I sit alone in my room on the seventh floor, writing what will surely be my last will and testament. The heroin which allowed me to forget and to sleep for the last couple of years has lost its power to keep the screaming terrors away. The drug destroyed my body and mind, gradually eating away at them like a corrosive acid. Now I have become a slave to it. And yet, without it, I do not sleep for weeks, but instead continuously see the scenes from that terrible night running through my head on repeat as worsening waves of madness crash on the shores of my consciousness.
In the caverns under the town of Frost Hollow, I found the meaning of true madness. Ever since I escaped that den of horrors, it is difficult to tell what is real and what is only the feverish delirium of an unhinged mind.
Even now, they wait behind the door to this cheap, bare rented room. They drag their claws over the wood. I hear them hissing in that strange, ancient tongue, the one I first heard in the tombs of rock that had been undisturbed for countless millennia.
***
I had first heard rumors of an unexplored cavern from my friend, an experienced caver named Sonia who had explored caverns all over the world. I had been looking for some excitement in my life, some break from the constant monotony and boredom of simply working and sleeping. I had gone caving quite a few times over the year leading up to the trip, but I was not nearly as experienced and had never explored a supposedly virgin passageway of cavern before.
“How do you know no one’s gone down there?” I asked, curious. We sat across from each other at a local diner, getting some early breakfast before our planned descent. The sunrise was still another half-hour away, the sky flat and dark. We would be joined by Sonia’s husband, Phil, who would meet us there shortly after sunrise. I repressed an urge to yawn, chugging half of the steaming hot coffee in one long swallow. Sonia leaned close to me, her nearly colorless blue eyes reminding me of chunks of ice floating down a muddy stream.
“Phil’s friend just found it randomly,” she whispered before glancing around conspiratorially, as if she feared someone would care enough to eavesdrop on a conversation about a cave. “Well, it’s in the middle of a farm, and Phil’s friend, Jack Graysole, owns the entire property and surrounding woods. Jack says he noticed the cows kept going over to a certain spot in the field when it got really hot during the summertime. They would all gather around this little indentation in the grass. After seeing it a few times, Jack got curious and went to investigate what the cows were doing.
“He found a small hole in the ground, almost entirely covered by weeds and grass. He said he felt a cool breeze constantly blowing out of the hole, a breeze that smelled like burning matches and charred metal. After bringing out some shovels and digging down a couple feet, Jack realized that the hole wasn’t a hole at all, but the beginning of a steep passageway leading deep into the bowels of the earth.”
***
The owner of the land decided to unofficially call the newly-discovered cavern Graysole Caverns. Out of respect for him, this is also the name we all used. This is the story of how I found myself in the bowels of a strange subterranean tunnel, a tunnel where creatures beyond my comprehension slunk and hunted, skittering monstrosities who would be more at home in a nightmare.
After grabbing a couple coffees to take with us, Sonia drove over to Graysole Farms. Cows stood out in the grassy fields, huddled in tight circles as they repetitively chewed. The thin silhouette of Jack Graysole waited for us next to the herd. He had a face like a raisin, I thought to myself. I watched his thin, shaking body standing in the middle of an overgrown grassy field. Jack stared down blankly at something only he could see. Sonia and I started unloading some equipment from the car while we waited for Phil.
Once we had the backpacks loaded with some simple supplies, such as water, food, headlamps, rope, a couple extra batteries, some buck knives, and radios, we headed over to accompany Jack. We weren’t taking much, as we didn’t really expect to be down there for more than six or seven hours at the most.
Jack Graysole’s withered old face was as slack and expressionless as that of a corpse. He stared down at the ground as if he were in a trance, waving back and forth slowly on his feet like a plant in a light breeze.
“Jack?” Sonia called out as we approached. I could hear the man’s teeth chattering as we got nearer.
“Hey, what are you doing over here this early? You interested in accompanying us down there?” Sonia joked. But Jack might as well have been totally deaf for all the reaction he gave. Sonia glanced over at me with an anxious expression. I wondered if the old man was having a stroke.
I quickly walked over to where he stood, staring down at a black circular hole about three feet across directly in front of his feet. The entrance to Graysole Caverns stared up at us like a sightless pupil. As I drew within a few feet of Jack and looked straight into his blank eyes, I noticed something alarming.
His pupils were quickly dilating and constricting before my eyes. They would shrink to tiny pinpoints, then, a couple seconds later, rapidly expand until they became dark and serious. I could see his thready, rapid heartbeat pulsating in a vein on the side of his temple. Alarmed, I reached forward and put my hand on his shoulder.
Instantly, he came to life, like a man waking up from a nightmare. Shrieking, he looked at me with fully dilated pupils, reminding me of a panicked deer surrounded by wolves. His quavering old man’s voice shook with ineffable existential horror and mortal fear.
He took a step back away from us, seeming to realize where he was and what he was doing. He looked around, confused, then straight at me and Sonia. His eyes focused with anger and fear, as if we were demons here to drag him down to Hell. His eyes flicked back and forth between us constantly. Jack raised a trembling hand and pointed it straight at my heart.
“It’s you,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. His teeth chattered despite the warm spring air. His skin looked deathly pale. “You’re the one who will bring an end to humanity, who will release the ruler of nightmares upon us.” He continued to point accusingly for a long moment at me, his face turning chalk-white. Then his eyes rolled up in his head. Slowly, he stumbled and fell backwards onto the soft grass of the field.
“Jack!” Sonia cried, running over to the old man. Jack’s breaths had started to come in slow, drawn-out gurgles, like a man with a slit throat trying to breathe. Frothy blood bubbled from his lips as they turned blue. Staring up at the endless expanse of cloudless sky, he exhaled one last shuddering breath and died.
***
Phil showed up only a couple minutes later. He found me and Sonia in a state of utter panic, both of us bent double over the still body of Jack. Sonia was on the phone with 911, and I was trying to give Jack chest compressions. The way his fingernails and lips shone with that cyanotic blue cast made me feel sick and weak. I knew it was futile, that I was simply playing with a corpse at this point, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt if I didn’t do something, I might explode.
I heard the faint wailing of sirens approaching as Sonia’s panicked voice continued babbling to the 911 operator. Phil stood by her side, his tall, dark features searching and lost.
“Oh God, I think he’s dead!” Sonia cried over and over to the operator, as if she thought the operator could do anything about it. I didn’t hear what the operator said in response. As the ambulance pulled in, I gave up on chest compressions. I stood up and took a step back, looking sadly down on the kindly old man’s dead body.
The paramedics ran over. Phil, Sonia and I stood back while they worked on the corpse, trying to shock the heart back into life. But Jack’s open eyes stayed glazed as they stared sightlessly up into eternity.
***
The paramedics left. A couple police officers stayed behind to ask us a few routine questions. Eventually, after an hour or so, they left, too.
“What a fucked-up day,” Phil said, shaking his head grimly. “Do you guys still want to do this? Maybe it’s an omen from God telling us to go home.” Sonia and I exchanged a glance, then we both nodded at the same time.
“Definitely,” she said. “It’s sad what happened to Jack, but realistically, we don’t know what’s going to happen to this property now that he’s passed away. It might get sold or taken by the bank for all we know. This could be our one and only chance to explore this cave.”
“I don’t believe in omens. I’m still down,” I said, feeling slightly sick from the experience. I still remembered how Jack’s body had cracked under the weight of my chest compressions, how his ribs had snapped like bones shattering in greedy hands. “We’ll do it in memory of Jack. I plan to put this up on YouTube.” I pulled my GoPro out of my bag, turning it on. Phil groaned at that.
“Do we have any idea how far down this cave goes?” Phil asked. I felt a sense of relief now that the topic had changed from the death of the old man.
“I sent a little camera down on a rope, but it only went about a hundred feet,” Sonia responded. “It’s pretty steep at first, then it levels out. I couldn’t really see much after it leveled out, but it looks like it should be easy to climb down. There’s plenty of handholds, lots of jutting rocks.”
Phil put on his headlamp and small pack. As he crawled down into the hole, his tanned face looked up at us and gave us one last devilish grin. Once he had gone down a few dozen feet, Sonia started descending. She looked excited and happy. I noticed how she couldn’t stop smiling as she disappeared from view.
I watched their lights grow smaller and dimmer in the circular tunnel. I marveled at how perfectly circular the entrance was. It almost didn’t even look natural.
Taking a deep breath in, I followed my friends down into the dark.
***
“This isn’t too bad,” I said as I climbed down. The jutting rocks gave plenty of handholds and footholds for us. It wasn’t so tight that it felt like a coffin, either.
“It only gets easier from here!” Sonia called up.
“How do you know?” I asked. “You said you’ve never been here before.” She laughed.
“I know. Probably just wishful thinking,” she said. Far below us, Phil’s voice drifted up, faint and weak. He had already reached the bottom.
“The tunnel really opens up down here, guys,” he called. “It’s somewhat… bizarre, though.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sonia asked. I looked down, seeing Sonia and I would reach the bottom in seconds. “Forget it, I’ll let it be a surprise.” I heard her drop down. Slowly and carefully, I lowered myself down the last few feet. There was a short fall onto a smooth granite floor. I looked up, seeing what Phil and Sonia were so mesmerized by.
“Oh, wow,” I said, speechless. I blinked rapidly, wondering if the image would clear like a mirage. The tunnel was cut into a perfectly triangular shape, each side about seven feet long. The ceiling met in a point above our heads.
All along the smooth walls of gray rock, I saw thousands of black orbs peeking out. They looked similar to obsidian, but they were perfectly smooth and circular, each about the size of an orange. They were formed into interlocking diagonal patterns and followed the tunnel straight down as far as the eye could see.
“What is this place?” Sonia asked, taking a tentative step forward. I looked up, seeing the distant pinpoint of sunlight far above our heads. Our voices continued to echo off down the massive tunnels, disappearing in eerie waves into the thick curtain of shadows.
“Are you recording all this?” Phil asked me. I laughed, giddy.
“Of course! This is internet gold right here,” I said. “No one’s going to believe that this isn’t man-made, however. I can’t even believe it. Do you think Jack was playing a joke on us or something?”
“Jack had the sense of humor of a wet paper towel,” Phil whispered, shaking his head. “No, he wouldn’t do something like this.”
“Well, let’s go check it out,” Sonia said, taking a step forward. Her headlamp bobbed up and down rapidly, throwing dancing shadows through the triangular tunnel. It continued straight ahead, without the slightest deviation or curve, disappearing off into a dark point in the distance.
***
We walked as fast as we could, excited to see where, if anywhere, the strange tunnel led. Phil, always the conspiracy theorist, babbled excitedly.
“This has to be aliens, man,” he said, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I bet that scientists will find out this shit is millions of years old when we get back up and tell everyone. Maybe aliens came to earth in ancient times and made a bunch of stuff underground.” Gradually, as we walked, I noticed the tunnel opening up. The pointed triangular ceiling rose up higher above our heads and the walls moved outwards, as if we were walking up a triangular funnel. At first, it was so subtle that I didn’t believe it when Sonia pointed it out.
“No, look,” she said, raising her hand above her head. “When we first started down this weird tunnel, my fingers were only maybe a foot away from the top. Now it’s a couple feet.” I was about to respond when our headlamps illuminated something standing in the middle of the tunnel.
“What the fuck is that?” I whispered, stopping cold in my tracks. Phil and Sonia looked up at the abomination at the same time. Its back was to us. It stood nearly as tall as the tunnel, which was now about twenty feet high.
The bottom half looked black and spidery with dozens of long, jointed legs. A bloody, white spine rose out of the mass of legs. Inhumanly long, skeletal arms stretched out in front of it. Its face was pointed away from us, but the back of its head resembled an enormous pointed skull with deep fissures like the cracks of an earthquake running through the bone. The abomination stayed as still as a statue, and for a long moment, I wondered if we were looking at some macabre work of art.
Then, suddenly, one of its insectile legs twitched. A moment later, the other legs started jerking and twisting. There was a sound like bones shattering as it rose up to its full height, turning around to face us.
Its face was like something from a nightmare, melting and reforming constantly like dripping candle wax. I would see a black eye appear on its forehead, then a grinning mouth on its chin, then the features would get sucked back into the folds of melting flesh. After a few moments, two enormous eyes appeared on its face, dark and cold like craters on the surface of the Moon. The mouths and noses disappeared back into the dripping skin, and only the two lidless eyes remained, emanating a cold, reptilian consciousness beyond the ability of my mind to comprehend. I felt terror radiating from its body like freezing waves.
“Free me,” it cried in a gurgling voice that seethed with insanity. It had a shrieking, metallic ringing behind every word that gave it an alien quality. “Free me, and I will give you the waters of eternal life. Within me, I contain the seeds of immortality. Within the nightmares, we live forever, always together, never alone.”
“Who are you?” I asked, terrified. The black reptilian skin of the enormous beast glistened as it knelt down, its massive face drawing near to mine. A sideways mouth burst out of the liquified flesh, showing hundreds of fangs growing like tumors from its white, bloodless gums. The fangs varied in size from only a couple inches to long, sword-like projections that stabbed into the creature’s flesh, causing white blood glittering with rainbows to fall like raindrops all around me.
“I have many names,” it hissed, its thousand voices rising and falling in crashing waves of sound. “I was present at the beginning, when this planet was no more than dead cliffs and endless freezing oceans. Those holy ones who search for us, the ancient ones, call me Niralahoth.”
“How do we free you?” Phil asked, looking terrified. He held Sonia’s hand tightly.
“By letting me into your mind and body,” Niralahoth cried, shaking the cavern. “I was thrown down here, cursed and forgotten. I cannot leave this place of shadows within this body. But in the body of another, my consciousness can be free, and the seeds of new life can spread beyond this prison.”
“There’s no way anyone’s going to do that,” I said, my eyes widening as Niralahoth’s reptilian skull turned towards me in fury. “I mean, you’re asking one of us to give up our individuality, our lives, right?”
“I am asking you to become one with me and gain power undreamt of by mortals,” it cried. “I have within me the fountain of life, the waters that send death away screaming.” I glanced anxiously at Phil and Sonia, wondering if we would have to run.
“The answer is no,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, we can’t do that,” Phil said, backing me up. “But, anyways, I think our trip has ended. It’s time to turn around…”
“You will never return,” Niralahoth cried, skittering away from us. “If you will not accept salvation, then you must accept death.” Within seconds, it slunk away from us, backpedaling on its many skittering legs into the shadows.
***
All around us, a rumbling started.
There was a pounding that crashed through the rock tunnel, as if an insane blacksmith were hammering on a massive anvil. The ringing of crashing rock started off slowly, with a few stones smashing down around us with heavy blasts of sound. Within seconds, the cacophony sped up, rising into a constant stream of destruction. The black orbs were spinning in place all up and down the tunnel, their glossy obsidian surfaces flashing with sparks of blue light.
“It’s collapsing!” Phil cried, running back in the direction we came, holding Sonia’s hand as she tried to keep up with him. I could only stare for a long moment, not sure what to do. It seemed that the direction Phil was heading stood closer to total collapse.
“Wait!” I cried, but my voice was drowned out in the destruction all around us. I felt a rock smash into my shoulder, sending me down to my feet. I heard Phil give a scream of pain, then another stone came down and smashed into my forehead. I remember seeing everything spinning around me as the world went black.
***
I awoke to find my headlamp still shining straight up in the dusty tunnel. Large chunks of the tunnel had slid out of place and crashed to the stone floor. The granite chunks that had fallen looked unnaturally smooth, most of them in the shapes of cylinders or cubes and varying in size from that of an egg to that of a small car.
My head throbbed. It felt as if a tight belt of fire were wrapped around my temples. Groaning, I put my fingers up to my forehead. They came away slick with blood.
Slowly, I started pushing myself up on my feet. I was relieved that nothing seemed broken. I had a deep gash running from the center of my scalp down to my left temple and some shallower cuts on my shoulders and back, but I knew none of that was life-threatening.
“Sonia?” I whispered, my voice coming out weak and strained. I reached into my pack and found a bottle of water. I chugged it quickly in one long swallow.
“Phil?” I cried again, this time stronger. I heard a soft weeping nearby. Staggering, I followed the sound.
Sonia was bloody and covered in cuts and scrapes, sitting next to Phil’s prone form. I saw Phil’s right arm pinned under a massive slab of granite. His arm disappeared from the elbow down in a spreading puddle of thick, dark blood.
“Oh God, Max, I think he’s hurt really bad,” she wept. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly in his head, his face pale and bloodless. I looked down the way we had come, seeing the entire tunnel blocked by large slabs of stone, many with strange, black orbs peeking out like the lenses of cameras.
***
I don’t know how much time passed. My phone died after a day, and then we were counting the endless darkness in breaths and tears.
Phil swam in and out of consciousness as his arm putrefied and blackened around the crush site. After a couple days, Sonia and I agreed that something had to be done. We told Phil we would need to amputate his arm. He was half-delirious, but he came back long enough to understand us and nod weakly.
We made a fire with Phil’s pack, trying to find fuel to throw in it to get it roaring. As it grew, I saw one of the black orbs near the flames abruptly ignite, as if it had been covered in gasoline. Blue, almost colorless flames rose from its surface. We started throwing the small black orbs on the fire until it rose high in the air. I sanitized the buck knife with the flames and pulled a rope tourniquet tight around Phil’s arm. He was conscious but seemingly insane, talking to himself more than anyone else.
“How are we going to get the car started without a key?” he gurgled to someone only he could see. “We need to look around. It has to be here somewhere.”
“Phil, can you hear me, bud? We need to fix your arm. We need to get you out of this mess. OK?” I said as comfortingly as I could. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly, but they didn’t meet my own. I sighed and looked over at Sonia.
“Let’s do it,” I said, giving a grim nod.
I pulled the buck knife out, slicing quickly down through the flesh next to the tourniquet. His veins throbbed like fat worms as the blackened, necrotic skin split easily under the blade, releasing a rancid-smelling gas that hissed out of the wound.
I couldn’t believe how hard it was to slice all the way through the arm. It felt like I was stuck in that hellish task forever. Phil’s eyes rolled in his head as his skin turned the color of clotted milk.
“God, Jesus, make it stop,” Phil whispered over and over, exhaling ragged, pain-filled breaths. The blood spurted from the blackened, dying tissue all over the dust-covered cavern floor, covering my hands in its warm, slick embrace.
After what was probably only three or four minutes, but felt like hours, I had sliced all the way down to the bone. The infected tissue of his arm spurted great gouts of orange pus mixed with rivulets of blood. The hard part was over.
Standing up, I took my steel-toe sneaker and stomped down on his arm as hard as I could. Phil cried out in a powerful voice, as if all the agony and suffering in the world was contained in that one shriek. The bone snapped under my weight with a sound like a tree branch cracking. A moment later, Phil rolled away from the rock that had pinned me in place for so long. Something alien and spongy was shoved into my face, a mass of destroyed red tissue pulsating in time with a runaway heartbeat. At first, shell-shocked and revolted, my mind couldn’t comprehend that I was looking at the stump of Phil’s mutilated arm. I hardened my heart and forced the giddiness and madness to the back of my mind. The time had come to cauterize the wound.
“Sonia, give it to me,” I said with a tremor in my voice. I reached out a hand towards her, a hand stained with Phil’s blood. It looked as if I were wearing a wet, crimson glove. Sonia only stared blankly at me for a long moment, however. A surge of anger ran up my chest.
“Sonia, toughen the fuck up! He’s going to die if you just sit there!” I swore at her, hearing my deep, angry voice bounce around the caverns. Sonia pulled back, as if she were struck. Inwardly, I cursed having a woman as my only able-bodied companion in this situation. She was a competent enough caver, but what would happen if violence and blood came over us? What would happen if, or more realistically when, we needed to fight?
Grimly, Sonia leaned forward and yanked the burning black orb out of the roaring fire, handing it to me on the end of a buck knife that had just barely pierced its hard, strange exterior. The handle of the knife felt coarse and splintery under my filthy skin. I put it to the spongy stump of Phil’s arm. The stump twitched violently. Phil tried to pull away as black smoke rose from the burning flesh.
There was a smell like bacon sizzling. The searing meat of Phil’s arm blackened and crisped under the heat of the orb, which had become no more than a cylinder of glowing blue embers by this point. I felt simultaneously sick and giddy. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or vomit. I felt like I was on the verge of some kind of madness, that the stress and insanity of the experience had started to shatter my mind.
His eyes rolled back in his head and he appeared to go into a seizure for a few seconds. With a long exhalation of breath, he finally, mercifully, lost consciousness. It’s hard to admit it, even this close to the end, but a small, sick piece of me was jealous of Phil. Most likely, he would be dead soon, maybe within hours, while Sonia and I would slowly starve and dehydrate like animals over a period of weeks. I looked at her lithe body and soft skin, seeing the feminine curves of her hips and chest. She was a beautiful woman. I knew Phil to be a lucky man. At least, before this trip, he was.
I watched her body, wondering if I had what it took to eat her or Phil if I had to. Did I have an iron heart that would allow me to slice into my friends and consume their raw, cold flesh? Perhaps, by that point, it would be hunger and madness driving me forward, and I wouldn’t even hesitate. I shuddered at the very thought.
***
I fell asleep that night, having strange dreams of massive gods with melting faces sitting in judgment in a circle around me. We had very little food or water left. No one knew we were down here. Rescue was not coming.
When I awoke, I found myself alone. Phil had died from his injuries while I slept, the black streaks of septic shock spreading up his arm towards his heart. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the rock ceiling.
“Sonia?” I called out, my heart racing as I sat up. “Where are you?” My headlamp was growing dim. I looked in my pack, realizing I was on the last of my batteries. I saw a silhouette walking out of the darkness, the thin, pale form of Sonia. She was trembling badly.
“I saw them,” she said. “Niralahoth and its priests. The priests aren’t human. They look reptilian with sideways mouths and too many eyes.” She shuddered.
“Why would you do that?” I asked. Her eyes grew distant.
“You know we’re not getting out of here alive,” she said. “Not on our own. I wanted to see what it offered. It says that if we take a piece of its nightmare into us, we will gain the power to leave this place, that it simply wants to see the surface and spread its nightmares there.” I shook my head.
“Insanity,” I muttered. “We’d be better off dead.” Sonia nodded.
“My thoughts exactly,” she responded grimly. I didn’t realize what she meant until the next day, when I woke up and found her hanging next to Phil’s body, her tongue swollen and blue as it poked out of her cyanotic lips. And then I was truly alone.
***
Soon after Sonia committed suicide, the last of the batteries for the headlamp died. I had run out of food and had only a small sip of water left. I don’t know how much time passed in the darkness, starving and raving, following the tunnel by running my hands over the walls. I heard many things skittering in the darkness, and a few times, I heard the demonic voice of Niralahoth as it split and distorted.
“You are on death’s door,” it hissed. “Will you not drink from the fountain of life?” I couldn’t tell where the voice came from in the maddening blackness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. I had lost nearly all of my sanity in that pit of shadows by this point. I tried laughing constantly to keep my spirits up, and when that failed, I simply cried.
“I’ll do it,” I wailed. “I’ll do it. Just let me see the sky again. Get me out of here, Niralahoth.” Everything went deathly silent all around me, then a laugh rang out like the grinding of glass.
In front of me, I saw a tornado of fire descending from the ceiling, surrounding the massive, spidery form of Niralahoth. It rose its skeletal arms upwards, as if it were Zeus calling down lightning. In the sudden brightness, I saw the fiery form of snakes slithering and centipedes skittering forwards in that tornado, each massive creature sculpted from flames in the spinning cyclone of energy. Niralahoth reached into the tornado of fire with its sharp points of fingers and plucked something small from it. The fire instantly dissipated. In its hand, I saw a tiny, swirling orb that looked like it contained a firestorm within it.
“The nightmare seed,” Niralahoth gurgled as it skittered forward towards me. I could only stare, open-mouthed and starving. I hadn’t slept for days, it felt like, and everything seemed slow and unreal.
In a blur, its skeletal arm shot out and forced the orb into my mouth. Despite the fire raging within it, it felt freezing cold. As it touched my tongue, it gave off a sensation like frostbite all throughout my mouth. I screamed and tried spitting it out, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. It started liquifying, dripping down my throat.
I felt something cancerous and sick spreading throughout my body, radiating out from my heart and stomach to every inch of it. I tried to scream, but it caught behind my teeth. I fell to my knees, clawing at my face as that insane, alien laugh continued resounding all down the tunnel. I fell unconscious and woke up under a beautiful sky in the fields of Graysole Farms.
***
Soon after, I realized that my life would never be the same. Everywhere I went, I could hear the wailing voice of Niralahoth. Behind the trees, I always saw skittering shadows, creatures with long, spidery legs that stalked me every day and night. I slept with every light in the house turned on, yet when I woke up, they would all be shut off, and I would find myself in darkness, next to something in the bed with far too many legs and a face that dripped like burning wax.
I sold everything I owned and tried to move far away, to give as much distance between myself and those cursed caverns as I could, but the nightmares followed me like a shadow. I realize what a fool I was in those ephemeral moments of madness. Sonia was much wiser than myself; I should have killed myself or died rather than allowing that thing inside of me.
Even now, I can feel it creeping through my heart, spreading through my blood. I feel it trying to crawl its way out of my throat, the thin, black legs peeking out at the back of my esophagus.
I only hope that, when I finally jump and feel my bones shatter against the concrete far below, I will kill whatever is inside of me. For I fear the consequences for the world if it were to escape.

I sit alone in my room on the seventh floor, writing what will surely be my last will and testament. The heroin which allowed me to forget and to sleep for the last couple of years has lost its power to keep the screaming terrors away. The drug destroyed my body and mind, gradually eating away at them like a corrosive acid. Now I have become a slave to it. And yet, without it, I do not sleep for weeks, but instead continuously see the scenes from that terrible night running through my head on repeat as worsening waves of madness crash on the shores of my consciousness.
In the caverns under the town of Frost Hollow, I found the meaning of true madness. Ever since I escaped that den of horrors, it is difficult to tell what is real and what is only the feverish delirium of an unhinged mind.
Even now, they wait behind the door to this cheap, bare rented room. They drag their claws over the wood. I hear them hissing in that strange, ancient tongue, the one I first heard in the tombs of rock that had been undisturbed for countless millennia.
***
I had first heard rumors of an unexplored cavern from my friend, an experienced caver named Sonia who had explored caverns all over the world. I had been looking for some excitement in my life, some break from the constant monotony and boredom of simply working and sleeping. I had gone caving quite a few times over the year leading up to the trip, but I was not nearly as experienced and had never explored a supposedly virgin passageway of cavern before.
“How do you know no one’s gone down there?” I asked, curious. We sat across from each other at a local diner, getting some early breakfast before our planned descent. The sunrise was still another half-hour away, the sky flat and dark. We would be joined by Sonia’s husband, Phil, who would meet us there shortly after sunrise. I repressed an urge to yawn, chugging half of the steaming hot coffee in one long swallow. Sonia leaned close to me, her nearly colorless blue eyes reminding me of chunks of ice floating down a muddy stream.
“Phil’s friend just found it randomly,” she whispered before glancing around conspiratorially, as if she feared someone would care enough to eavesdrop on a conversation about a cave. “Well, it’s in the middle of a farm, and Phil’s friend, Jack Graysole, owns the entire property and surrounding woods. Jack says he noticed the cows kept going over to a certain spot in the field when it got really hot during the summertime. They would all gather around this little indentation in the grass. After seeing it a few times, Jack got curious and went to investigate what the cows were doing.
“He found a small hole in the ground, almost entirely covered by weeds and grass. He said he felt a cool breeze constantly blowing out of the hole, a breeze that smelled like burning matches and charred metal. After bringing out some shovels and digging down a couple feet, Jack realized that the hole wasn’t a hole at all, but the beginning of a steep passageway leading deep into the bowels of the earth.”
***
The owner of the land decided to unofficially call the newly-discovered cavern Graysole Caverns. Out of respect for him, this is also the name we all used. This is the story of how I found myself in the bowels of a strange subterranean tunnel, a tunnel where creatures beyond my comprehension slunk and hunted, skittering monstrosities who would be more at home in a nightmare.
After grabbing a couple coffees to take with us, Sonia drove over to Graysole Farms. Cows stood out in the grassy fields, huddled in tight circles as they repetitively chewed. The thin silhouette of Jack Graysole waited for us next to the herd. He had a face like a raisin, I thought to myself. I watched his thin, shaking body standing in the middle of an overgrown grassy field. Jack stared down blankly at something only he could see. Sonia and I started unloading some equipment from the car while we waited for Phil.
Once we had the backpacks loaded with some simple supplies, such as water, food, headlamps, rope, a couple extra batteries, some buck knives, and radios, we headed over to accompany Jack. We weren’t taking much, as we didn’t really expect to be down there for more than six or seven hours at the most.
Jack Graysole’s withered old face was as slack and expressionless as that of a corpse. He stared down at the ground as if he were in a trance, waving back and forth slowly on his feet like a plant in a light breeze.
“Jack?” Sonia called out as we approached. I could hear the man’s teeth chattering as we got nearer.
“Hey, what are you doing over here this early? You interested in accompanying us down there?” Sonia joked. But Jack might as well have been totally deaf for all the reaction he gave. Sonia glanced over at me with an anxious expression. I wondered if the old man was having a stroke.
I quickly walked over to where he stood, staring down at a black circular hole about three feet across directly in front of his feet. The entrance to Graysole Caverns stared up at us like a sightless pupil. As I drew within a few feet of Jack and looked straight into his blank eyes, I noticed something alarming.
His pupils were quickly dilating and constricting before my eyes. They would shrink to tiny pinpoints, then, a couple seconds later, rapidly expand until they became dark and serious. I could see his thready, rapid heartbeat pulsating in a vein on the side of his temple. Alarmed, I reached forward and put my hand on his shoulder.
Instantly, he came to life, like a man waking up from a nightmare. Shrieking, he looked at me with fully dilated pupils, reminding me of a panicked deer surrounded by wolves. His quavering old man’s voice shook with ineffable existential horror and mortal fear.
He took a step back away from us, seeming to realize where he was and what he was doing. He looked around, confused, then straight at me and Sonia. His eyes focused with anger and fear, as if we were demons here to drag him down to Hell. His eyes flicked back and forth between us constantly. Jack raised a trembling hand and pointed it straight at my heart.
“It’s you,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. His teeth chattered despite the warm spring air. His skin looked deathly pale. “You’re the one who will bring an end to humanity, who will release the ruler of nightmares upon us.” He continued to point accusingly for a long moment at me, his face turning chalk-white. Then his eyes rolled up in his head. Slowly, he stumbled and fell backwards onto the soft grass of the field.
“Jack!” Sonia cried, running over to the old man. Jack’s breaths had started to come in slow, drawn-out gurgles, like a man with a slit throat trying to breathe. Frothy blood bubbled from his lips as they turned blue. Staring up at the endless expanse of cloudless sky, he exhaled one last shuddering breath and died.
***
Phil showed up only a couple minutes later. He found me and Sonia in a state of utter panic, both of us bent double over the still body of Jack. Sonia was on the phone with 911, and I was trying to give Jack chest compressions. The way his fingernails and lips shone with that cyanotic blue cast made me feel sick and weak. I knew it was futile, that I was simply playing with a corpse at this point, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt if I didn’t do something, I might explode.
I heard the faint wailing of sirens approaching as Sonia’s panicked voice continued babbling to the 911 operator. Phil stood by her side, his tall, dark features searching and lost.
“Oh God, I think he’s dead!” Sonia cried over and over to the operator, as if she thought the operator could do anything about it. I didn’t hear what the operator said in response. As the ambulance pulled in, I gave up on chest compressions. I stood up and took a step back, looking sadly down on the kindly old man’s dead body.
The paramedics ran over. Phil, Sonia and I stood back while they worked on the corpse, trying to shock the heart back into life. But Jack’s open eyes stayed glazed as they stared sightlessly up into eternity.
***
The paramedics left. A couple police officers stayed behind to ask us a few routine questions. Eventually, after an hour or so, they left, too.
“What a fucked-up day,” Phil said, shaking his head grimly. “Do you guys still want to do this? Maybe it’s an omen from God telling us to go home.” Sonia and I exchanged a glance, then we both nodded at the same time.
“Definitely,” she said. “It’s sad what happened to Jack, but realistically, we don’t know what’s going to happen to this property now that he’s passed away. It might get sold or taken by the bank for all we know. This could be our one and only chance to explore this cave.”
“I don’t believe in omens. I’m still down,” I said, feeling slightly sick from the experience. I still remembered how Jack’s body had cracked under the weight of my chest compressions, how his ribs had snapped like bones shattering in greedy hands. “We’ll do it in memory of Jack. I plan to put this up on YouTube.” I pulled my GoPro out of my bag, turning it on. Phil groaned at that.
“Do we have any idea how far down this cave goes?” Phil asked. I felt a sense of relief now that the topic had changed from the death of the old man.
“I sent a little camera down on a rope, but it only went about a hundred feet,” Sonia responded. “It’s pretty steep at first, then it levels out. I couldn’t really see much after it leveled out, but it looks like it should be easy to climb down. There’s plenty of handholds, lots of jutting rocks.”
Phil put on his headlamp and small pack. As he crawled down into the hole, his tanned face looked up at us and gave us one last devilish grin. Once he had gone down a few dozen feet, Sonia started descending. She looked excited and happy. I noticed how she couldn’t stop smiling as she disappeared from view.
I watched their lights grow smaller and dimmer in the circular tunnel. I marveled at how perfectly circular the entrance was. It almost didn’t even look natural.
Taking a deep breath in, I followed my friends down into the dark.
***
“This isn’t too bad,” I said as I climbed down. The jutting rocks gave plenty of handholds and footholds for us. It wasn’t so tight that it felt like a coffin, either.
“It only gets easier from here!” Sonia called up.
“How do you know?” I asked. “You said you’ve never been here before.” She laughed.
“I know. Probably just wishful thinking,” she said. Far below us, Phil’s voice drifted up, faint and weak. He had already reached the bottom.
“The tunnel really opens up down here, guys,” he called. “It’s somewhat… bizarre, though.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sonia asked. I looked down, seeing Sonia and I would reach the bottom in seconds. “Forget it, I’ll let it be a surprise.” I heard her drop down. Slowly and carefully, I lowered myself down the last few feet. There was a short fall onto a smooth granite floor. I looked up, seeing what Phil and Sonia were so mesmerized by.
“Oh, wow,” I said, speechless. I blinked rapidly, wondering if the image would clear like a mirage. The tunnel was cut into a perfectly triangular shape, each side about seven feet long. The ceiling met in a point above our heads.
All along the smooth walls of gray rock, I saw thousands of black orbs peeking out. They looked similar to obsidian, but they were perfectly smooth and circular, each about the size of an orange. They were formed into interlocking diagonal patterns and followed the tunnel straight down as far as the eye could see.
“What is this place?” Sonia asked, taking a tentative step forward. I looked up, seeing the distant pinpoint of sunlight far above our heads. Our voices continued to echo off down the massive tunnels, disappearing in eerie waves into the thick curtain of shadows.
“Are you recording all this?” Phil asked me. I laughed, giddy.
“Of course! This is internet gold right here,” I said. “No one’s going to believe that this isn’t man-made, however. I can’t even believe it. Do you think Jack was playing a joke on us or something?”
“Jack had the sense of humor of a wet paper towel,” Phil whispered, shaking his head. “No, he wouldn’t do something like this.”
“Well, let’s go check it out,” Sonia said, taking a step forward. Her headlamp bobbed up and down rapidly, throwing dancing shadows through the triangular tunnel. It continued straight ahead, without the slightest deviation or curve, disappearing off into a dark point in the distance.
***
We walked as fast as we could, excited to see where, if anywhere, the strange tunnel led. Phil, always the conspiracy theorist, babbled excitedly.
“This has to be aliens, man,” he said, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I bet that scientists will find out this shit is millions of years old when we get back up and tell everyone. Maybe aliens came to earth in ancient times and made a bunch of stuff underground.” Gradually, as we walked, I noticed the tunnel opening up. The pointed triangular ceiling rose up higher above our heads and the walls moved outwards, as if we were walking up a triangular funnel. At first, it was so subtle that I didn’t believe it when Sonia pointed it out.
“No, look,” she said, raising her hand above her head. “When we first started down this weird tunnel, my fingers were only maybe a foot away from the top. Now it’s a couple feet.” I was about to respond when our headlamps illuminated something standing in the middle of the tunnel.
“What the fuck is that?” I whispered, stopping cold in my tracks. Phil and Sonia looked up at the abomination at the same time. Its back was to us. It stood nearly as tall as the tunnel, which was now about twenty feet high.
The bottom half looked black and spidery with dozens of long, jointed legs. A bloody, white spine rose out of the mass of legs. Inhumanly long, skeletal arms stretched out in front of it. Its face was pointed away from us, but the back of its head resembled an enormous pointed skull with deep fissures like the cracks of an earthquake running through the bone. The abomination stayed as still as a statue, and for a long moment, I wondered if we were looking at some macabre work of art.
Then, suddenly, one of its insectile legs twitched. A moment later, the other legs started jerking and twisting. There was a sound like bones shattering as it rose up to its full height, turning around to face us.
Its face was like something from a nightmare, melting and reforming constantly like dripping candle wax. I would see a black eye appear on its forehead, then a grinning mouth on its chin, then the features would get sucked back into the folds of melting flesh. After a few moments, two enormous eyes appeared on its face, dark and cold like craters on the surface of the Moon. The mouths and noses disappeared back into the dripping skin, and only the two lidless eyes remained, emanating a cold, reptilian consciousness beyond the ability of my mind to comprehend. I felt terror radiating from its body like freezing waves.
“Free me,” it cried in a gurgling voice that seethed with insanity. It had a shrieking, metallic ringing behind every word that gave it an alien quality. “Free me, and I will give you the waters of eternal life. Within me, I contain the seeds of immortality. Within the nightmares, we live forever, always together, never alone.”
“Who are you?” I asked, terrified. The black reptilian skin of the enormous beast glistened as it knelt down, its massive face drawing near to mine. A sideways mouth burst out of the liquified flesh, showing hundreds of fangs growing like tumors from its white, bloodless gums. The fangs varied in size from only a couple inches to long, sword-like projections that stabbed into the creature’s flesh, causing white blood glittering with rainbows to fall like raindrops all around me.
“I have many names,” it hissed, its thousand voices rising and falling in crashing waves of sound. “I was present at the beginning, when this planet was no more than dead cliffs and endless freezing oceans. Those holy ones who search for us, the ancient ones, call me Niralahoth.”
“How do we free you?” Phil asked, looking terrified. He held Sonia’s hand tightly.
“By letting me into your mind and body,” Niralahoth cried, shaking the cavern. “I was thrown down here, cursed and forgotten. I cannot leave this place of shadows within this body. But in the body of another, my consciousness can be free, and the seeds of new life can spread beyond this prison.”
“There’s no way anyone’s going to do that,” I said, my eyes widening as Niralahoth’s reptilian skull turned towards me in fury. “I mean, you’re asking one of us to give up our individuality, our lives, right?”
“I am asking you to become one with me and gain power undreamt of by mortals,” it cried. “I have within me the fountain of life, the waters that send death away screaming.” I glanced anxiously at Phil and Sonia, wondering if we would have to run.
“The answer is no,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, we can’t do that,” Phil said, backing me up. “But, anyways, I think our trip has ended. It’s time to turn around…”
“You will never return,” Niralahoth cried, skittering away from us. “If you will not accept salvation, then you must accept death.” Within seconds, it slunk away from us, backpedaling on its many skittering legs into the shadows.
***
All around us, a rumbling started.
There was a pounding that crashed through the rock tunnel, as if an insane blacksmith were hammering on a massive anvil. The ringing of crashing rock started off slowly, with a few stones smashing down around us with heavy blasts of sound. Within seconds, the cacophony sped up, rising into a constant stream of destruction. The black orbs were spinning in place all up and down the tunnel, their glossy obsidian surfaces flashing with sparks of blue light.
“It’s collapsing!” Phil cried, running back in the direction we came, holding Sonia’s hand as she tried to keep up with him. I could only stare for a long moment, not sure what to do. It seemed that the direction Phil was heading stood closer to total collapse.
“Wait!” I cried, but my voice was drowned out in the destruction all around us. I felt a rock smash into my shoulder, sending me down to my feet. I heard Phil give a scream of pain, then another stone came down and smashed into my forehead. I remember seeing everything spinning around me as the world went black.
***
I awoke to find my headlamp still shining straight up in the dusty tunnel. Large chunks of the tunnel had slid out of place and crashed to the stone floor. The granite chunks that had fallen looked unnaturally smooth, most of them in the shapes of cylinders or cubes and varying in size from that of an egg to that of a small car.
My head throbbed. It felt as if a tight belt of fire were wrapped around my temples. Groaning, I put my fingers up to my forehead. They came away slick with blood.
Slowly, I started pushing myself up on my feet. I was relieved that nothing seemed broken. I had a deep gash running from the center of my scalp down to my left temple and some shallower cuts on my shoulders and back, but I knew none of that was life-threatening.
“Sonia?” I whispered, my voice coming out weak and strained. I reached into my pack and found a bottle of water. I chugged it quickly in one long swallow.
“Phil?” I cried again, this time stronger. I heard a soft weeping nearby. Staggering, I followed the sound.
Sonia was bloody and covered in cuts and scrapes, sitting next to Phil’s prone form. I saw Phil’s right arm pinned under a massive slab of granite. His arm disappeared from the elbow down in a spreading puddle of thick, dark blood.
“Oh God, Max, I think he’s hurt really bad,” she wept. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly in his head, his face pale and bloodless. I looked down the way we had come, seeing the entire tunnel blocked by large slabs of stone, many with strange, black orbs peeking out like the lenses of cameras.
***
I don’t know how much time passed. My phone died after a day, and then we were counting the endless darkness in breaths and tears.
Phil swam in and out of consciousness as his arm putrefied and blackened around the crush site. After a couple days, Sonia and I agreed that something had to be done. We told Phil we would need to amputate his arm. He was half-delirious, but he came back long enough to understand us and nod weakly.
We made a fire with Phil’s pack, trying to find fuel to throw in it to get it roaring. As it grew, I saw one of the black orbs near the flames abruptly ignite, as if it had been covered in gasoline. Blue, almost colorless flames rose from its surface. We started throwing the small black orbs on the fire until it rose high in the air. I sanitized the buck knife with the flames and pulled a rope tourniquet tight around Phil’s arm. He was conscious but seemingly insane, talking to himself more than anyone else.
“How are we going to get the car started without a key?” he gurgled to someone only he could see. “We need to look around. It has to be here somewhere.”
“Phil, can you hear me, bud? We need to fix your arm. We need to get you out of this mess. OK?” I said as comfortingly as I could. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly, but they didn’t meet my own. I sighed and looked over at Sonia.
“Let’s do it,” I said, giving a grim nod.
I pulled the buck knife out, slicing quickly down through the flesh next to the tourniquet. His veins throbbed like fat worms as the blackened, necrotic skin split easily under the blade, releasing a rancid-smelling gas that hissed out of the wound.
I couldn’t believe how hard it was to slice all the way through the arm. It felt like I was stuck in that hellish task forever. Phil’s eyes rolled in his head as his skin turned the color of clotted milk.
“God, Jesus, make it stop,” Phil whispered over and over, exhaling ragged, pain-filled breaths. The blood spurted from the blackened, dying tissue all over the dust-covered cavern floor, covering my hands in its warm, slick embrace.
After what was probably only three or four minutes, but felt like hours, I had sliced all the way down to the bone. The infected tissue of his arm spurted great gouts of orange pus mixed with rivulets of blood. The hard part was over.
Standing up, I took my steel-toe sneaker and stomped down on his arm as hard as I could. Phil cried out in a powerful voice, as if all the agony and suffering in the world was contained in that one shriek. The bone snapped under my weight with a sound like a tree branch cracking. A moment later, Phil rolled away from the rock that had pinned me in place for so long. Something alien and spongy was shoved into my face, a mass of destroyed red tissue pulsating in time with a runaway heartbeat. At first, shell-shocked and revolted, my mind couldn’t comprehend that I was looking at the stump of Phil’s mutilated arm. I hardened my heart and forced the giddiness and madness to the back of my mind. The time had come to cauterize the wound.
“Sonia, give it to me,” I said with a tremor in my voice. I reached out a hand towards her, a hand stained with Phil’s blood. It looked as if I were wearing a wet, crimson glove. Sonia only stared blankly at me for a long moment, however. A surge of anger ran up my chest.
“Sonia, toughen the fuck up! He’s going to die if you just sit there!” I swore at her, hearing my deep, angry voice bounce around the caverns. Sonia pulled back, as if she were struck. Inwardly, I cursed having a woman as my only able-bodied companion in this situation. She was a competent enough caver, but what would happen if violence and blood came over us? What would happen if, or more realistically when, we needed to fight?
Grimly, Sonia leaned forward and yanked the burning black orb out of the roaring fire, handing it to me on the end of a buck knife that had just barely pierced its hard, strange exterior. The handle of the knife felt coarse and splintery under my filthy skin. I put it to the spongy stump of Phil’s arm. The stump twitched violently. Phil tried to pull away as black smoke rose from the burning flesh.
There was a smell like bacon sizzling. The searing meat of Phil’s arm blackened and crisped under the heat of the orb, which had become no more than a cylinder of glowing blue embers by this point. I felt simultaneously sick and giddy. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or vomit. I felt like I was on the verge of some kind of madness, that the stress and insanity of the experience had started to shatter my mind.
His eyes rolled back in his head and he appeared to go into a seizure for a few seconds. With a long exhalation of breath, he finally, mercifully, lost consciousness. It’s hard to admit it, even this close to the end, but a small, sick piece of me was jealous of Phil. Most likely, he would be dead soon, maybe within hours, while Sonia and I would slowly starve and dehydrate like animals over a period of weeks. I looked at her lithe body and soft skin, seeing the feminine curves of her hips and chest. She was a beautiful woman. I knew Phil to be a lucky man. At least, before this trip, he was.
I watched her body, wondering if I had what it took to eat her or Phil if I had to. Did I have an iron heart that would allow me to slice into my friends and consume their raw, cold flesh? Perhaps, by that point, it would be hunger and madness driving me forward, and I wouldn’t even hesitate. I shuddered at the very thought.
***
I fell asleep that night, having strange dreams of massive gods with melting faces sitting in judgment in a circle around me. We had very little food or water left. No one knew we were down here. Rescue was not coming.
When I awoke, I found myself alone. Phil had died from his injuries while I slept, the black streaks of septic shock spreading up his arm towards his heart. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the rock ceiling.
“Sonia?” I called out, my heart racing as I sat up. “Where are you?” My headlamp was growing dim. I looked in my pack, realizing I was on the last of my batteries. I saw a silhouette walking out of the darkness, the thin, pale form of Sonia. She was trembling badly.
“I saw them,” she said. “Niralahoth and its priests. The priests aren’t human. They look reptilian with sideways mouths and too many eyes.” She shuddered.
“Why would you do that?” I asked. Her eyes grew distant.
“You know we’re not getting out of here alive,” she said. “Not on our own. I wanted to see what it offered. It says that if we take a piece of its nightmare into us, we will gain the power to leave this place, that it simply wants to see the surface and spread its nightmares there.” I shook my head.
“Insanity,” I muttered. “We’d be better off dead.” Sonia nodded.
“My thoughts exactly,” she responded grimly. I didn’t realize what she meant until the next day, when I woke up and found her hanging next to Phil’s body, her tongue swollen and blue as it poked out of her cyanotic lips. And then I was truly alone.
***
Soon after Sonia committed suicide, the last of the batteries for the headlamp died. I had run out of food and had only a small sip of water left. I don’t know how much time passed in the darkness, starving and raving, following the tunnel by running my hands over the walls. I heard many things skittering in the darkness, and a few times, I heard the demonic voice of Niralahoth as it split and distorted.
“You are on death’s door,” it hissed. “Will you not drink from the fountain of life?” I couldn’t tell where the voice came from in the maddening blackness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. I had lost nearly all of my sanity in that pit of shadows by this point. I tried laughing constantly to keep my spirits up, and when that failed, I simply cried.
“I’ll do it,” I wailed. “I’ll do it. Just let me see the sky again. Get me out of here, Niralahoth.” Everything went deathly silent all around me, then a laugh rang out like the grinding of glass.
In front of me, I saw a tornado of fire descending from the ceiling, surrounding the massive, spidery form of Niralahoth. It rose its skeletal arms upwards, as if it were Zeus calling down lightning. In the sudden brightness, I saw the fiery form of snakes slithering and centipedes skittering forwards in that tornado, each massive creature sculpted from flames in the spinning cyclone of energy. Niralahoth reached into the tornado of fire with its sharp points of fingers and plucked something small from it. The fire instantly dissipated. In its hand, I saw a tiny, swirling orb that looked like it contained a firestorm within it.
“The nightmare seed,” Niralahoth gurgled as it skittered forward towards me. I could only stare, open-mouthed and starving. I hadn’t slept for days, it felt like, and everything seemed slow and unreal.
In a blur, its skeletal arm shot out and forced the orb into my mouth. Despite the fire raging within it, it felt freezing cold. As it touched my tongue, it gave off a sensation like frostbite all throughout my mouth. I screamed and tried spitting it out, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. It started liquifying, dripping down my throat.
I felt something cancerous and sick spreading throughout my body, radiating out from my heart and stomach to every inch of it. I tried to scream, but it caught behind my teeth. I fell to my knees, clawing at my face as that insane, alien laugh continued resounding all down the tunnel. I fell unconscious and woke up under a beautiful sky in the fields of Graysole Farms.
***
Soon after, I realized that my life would never be the same. Everywhere I went, I could hear the wailing voice of Niralahoth. Behind the trees, I always saw skittering shadows, creatures with long, spidery legs that stalked me every day and night. I slept with every light in the house turned on, yet when I woke up, they would all be shut off, and I would find myself in darkness, next to something in the bed with far too many legs and a face that dripped like burning wax.
I sold everything I owned and tried to move far away, to give as much distance between myself and those cursed caverns as I could, but the nightmares followed me like a shadow. I realize what a fool I was in those ephemeral moments of madness. Sonia was much wiser than myself; I should have killed myself or died rather than allowing that thing inside of me.
Even now, I can feel it creeping through my heart, spreading through my blood. I feel it trying to crawl its way out of my throat, the thin, black legs peeking out at the back of my esophagus.
I only hope that, when I finally jump and feel my bones shatter against the concrete far below, I will kill whatever is inside of me. For I fear the consequences for the world if it were to escape.

I sit alone in my room on the seventh floor, writing what will surely be my last will and testament. The heroin which allowed me to forget and to sleep for the last couple of years has lost its power to keep the screaming terrors away. The drug destroyed my body and mind, gradually eating away at them like a corrosive acid. Now I have become a slave to it. And yet, without it, I do not sleep for weeks, but instead continuously see the scenes from that terrible night running through my head on repeat as worsening waves of madness crash on the shores of my consciousness.
In the caverns under the town of Frost Hollow, I found the meaning of true madness. Ever since I escaped that den of horrors, it is difficult to tell what is real and what is only the feverish delirium of an unhinged mind.
Even now, they wait behind the door to this cheap, bare rented room. They drag their claws over the wood. I hear them hissing in that strange, ancient tongue, the one I first heard in the tombs of rock that had been undisturbed for countless millennia.
***
I had first heard rumors of an unexplored cavern from my friend, an experienced caver named Sonia who had explored caverns all over the world. I had been looking for some excitement in my life, some break from the constant monotony and boredom of simply working and sleeping. I had gone caving quite a few times over the year leading up to the trip, but I was not nearly as experienced and had never explored a supposedly virgin passageway of cavern before.
“How do you know no one’s gone down there?” I asked, curious. We sat across from each other at a local diner, getting some early breakfast before our planned descent. The sunrise was still another half-hour away, the sky flat and dark. We would be joined by Sonia’s husband, Phil, who would meet us there shortly after sunrise. I repressed an urge to yawn, chugging half of the steaming hot coffee in one long swallow. Sonia leaned close to me, her nearly colorless blue eyes reminding me of chunks of ice floating down a muddy stream.
“Phil’s friend just found it randomly,” she whispered before glancing around conspiratorially, as if she feared someone would care enough to eavesdrop on a conversation about a cave. “Well, it’s in the middle of a farm, and Phil’s friend, Jack Graysole, owns the entire property and surrounding woods. Jack says he noticed the cows kept going over to a certain spot in the field when it got really hot during the summertime. They would all gather around this little indentation in the grass. After seeing it a few times, Jack got curious and went to investigate what the cows were doing.
“He found a small hole in the ground, almost entirely covered by weeds and grass. He said he felt a cool breeze constantly blowing out of the hole, a breeze that smelled like burning matches and charred metal. After bringing out some shovels and digging down a couple feet, Jack realized that the hole wasn’t a hole at all, but the beginning of a steep passageway leading deep into the bowels of the earth.”
***
The owner of the land decided to unofficially call the newly-discovered cavern Graysole Caverns. Out of respect for him, this is also the name we all used. This is the story of how I found myself in the bowels of a strange subterranean tunnel, a tunnel where creatures beyond my comprehension slunk and hunted, skittering monstrosities who would be more at home in a nightmare.
After grabbing a couple coffees to take with us, Sonia drove over to Graysole Farms. Cows stood out in the grassy fields, huddled in tight circles as they repetitively chewed. The thin silhouette of Jack Graysole waited for us next to the herd. He had a face like a raisin, I thought to myself. I watched his thin, shaking body standing in the middle of an overgrown grassy field. Jack stared down blankly at something only he could see. Sonia and I started unloading some equipment from the car while we waited for Phil.
Once we had the backpacks loaded with some simple supplies, such as water, food, headlamps, rope, a couple extra batteries, some buck knives, and radios, we headed over to accompany Jack. We weren’t taking much, as we didn’t really expect to be down there for more than six or seven hours at the most.
Jack Graysole’s withered old face was as slack and expressionless as that of a corpse. He stared down at the ground as if he were in a trance, waving back and forth slowly on his feet like a plant in a light breeze.
“Jack?” Sonia called out as we approached. I could hear the man’s teeth chattering as we got nearer.
“Hey, what are you doing over here this early? You interested in accompanying us down there?” Sonia joked. But Jack might as well have been totally deaf for all the reaction he gave. Sonia glanced over at me with an anxious expression. I wondered if the old man was having a stroke.
I quickly walked over to where he stood, staring down at a black circular hole about three feet across directly in front of his feet. The entrance to Graysole Caverns stared up at us like a sightless pupil. As I drew within a few feet of Jack and looked straight into his blank eyes, I noticed something alarming.
His pupils were quickly dilating and constricting before my eyes. They would shrink to tiny pinpoints, then, a couple seconds later, rapidly expand until they became dark and serious. I could see his thready, rapid heartbeat pulsating in a vein on the side of his temple. Alarmed, I reached forward and put my hand on his shoulder.
Instantly, he came to life, like a man waking up from a nightmare. Shrieking, he looked at me with fully dilated pupils, reminding me of a panicked deer surrounded by wolves. His quavering old man’s voice shook with ineffable existential horror and mortal fear.
He took a step back away from us, seeming to realize where he was and what he was doing. He looked around, confused, then straight at me and Sonia. His eyes focused with anger and fear, as if we were demons here to drag him down to Hell. His eyes flicked back and forth between us constantly. Jack raised a trembling hand and pointed it straight at my heart.
“It’s you,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. His teeth chattered despite the warm spring air. His skin looked deathly pale. “You’re the one who will bring an end to humanity, who will release the ruler of nightmares upon us.” He continued to point accusingly for a long moment at me, his face turning chalk-white. Then his eyes rolled up in his head. Slowly, he stumbled and fell backwards onto the soft grass of the field.
“Jack!” Sonia cried, running over to the old man. Jack’s breaths had started to come in slow, drawn-out gurgles, like a man with a slit throat trying to breathe. Frothy blood bubbled from his lips as they turned blue. Staring up at the endless expanse of cloudless sky, he exhaled one last shuddering breath and died.
***
Phil showed up only a couple minutes later. He found me and Sonia in a state of utter panic, both of us bent double over the still body of Jack. Sonia was on the phone with 911, and I was trying to give Jack chest compressions. The way his fingernails and lips shone with that cyanotic blue cast made me feel sick and weak. I knew it was futile, that I was simply playing with a corpse at this point, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt if I didn’t do something, I might explode.
I heard the faint wailing of sirens approaching as Sonia’s panicked voice continued babbling to the 911 operator. Phil stood by her side, his tall, dark features searching and lost.
“Oh God, I think he’s dead!” Sonia cried over and over to the operator, as if she thought the operator could do anything about it. I didn’t hear what the operator said in response. As the ambulance pulled in, I gave up on chest compressions. I stood up and took a step back, looking sadly down on the kindly old man’s dead body.
The paramedics ran over. Phil, Sonia and I stood back while they worked on the corpse, trying to shock the heart back into life. But Jack’s open eyes stayed glazed as they stared sightlessly up into eternity.
***
The paramedics left. A couple police officers stayed behind to ask us a few routine questions. Eventually, after an hour or so, they left, too.
“What a fucked-up day,” Phil said, shaking his head grimly. “Do you guys still want to do this? Maybe it’s an omen from God telling us to go home.” Sonia and I exchanged a glance, then we both nodded at the same time.
“Definitely,” she said. “It’s sad what happened to Jack, but realistically, we don’t know what’s going to happen to this property now that he’s passed away. It might get sold or taken by the bank for all we know. This could be our one and only chance to explore this cave.”
“I don’t believe in omens. I’m still down,” I said, feeling slightly sick from the experience. I still remembered how Jack’s body had cracked under the weight of my chest compressions, how his ribs had snapped like bones shattering in greedy hands. “We’ll do it in memory of Jack. I plan to put this up on YouTube.” I pulled my GoPro out of my bag, turning it on. Phil groaned at that.
“Do we have any idea how far down this cave goes?” Phil asked. I felt a sense of relief now that the topic had changed from the death of the old man.
“I sent a little camera down on a rope, but it only went about a hundred feet,” Sonia responded. “It’s pretty steep at first, then it levels out. I couldn’t really see much after it leveled out, but it looks like it should be easy to climb down. There’s plenty of handholds, lots of jutting rocks.”
Phil put on his headlamp and small pack. As he crawled down into the hole, his tanned face looked up at us and gave us one last devilish grin. Once he had gone down a few dozen feet, Sonia started descending. She looked excited and happy. I noticed how she couldn’t stop smiling as she disappeared from view.
I watched their lights grow smaller and dimmer in the circular tunnel. I marveled at how perfectly circular the entrance was. It almost didn’t even look natural.
Taking a deep breath in, I followed my friends down into the dark.
***
“This isn’t too bad,” I said as I climbed down. The jutting rocks gave plenty of handholds and footholds for us. It wasn’t so tight that it felt like a coffin, either.
“It only gets easier from here!” Sonia called up.
“How do you know?” I asked. “You said you’ve never been here before.” She laughed.
“I know. Probably just wishful thinking,” she said. Far below us, Phil’s voice drifted up, faint and weak. He had already reached the bottom.
“The tunnel really opens up down here, guys,” he called. “It’s somewhat… bizarre, though.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sonia asked. I looked down, seeing Sonia and I would reach the bottom in seconds. “Forget it, I’ll let it be a surprise.” I heard her drop down. Slowly and carefully, I lowered myself down the last few feet. There was a short fall onto a smooth granite floor. I looked up, seeing what Phil and Sonia were so mesmerized by.
“Oh, wow,” I said, speechless. I blinked rapidly, wondering if the image would clear like a mirage. The tunnel was cut into a perfectly triangular shape, each side about seven feet long. The ceiling met in a point above our heads.
All along the smooth walls of gray rock, I saw thousands of black orbs peeking out. They looked similar to obsidian, but they were perfectly smooth and circular, each about the size of an orange. They were formed into interlocking diagonal patterns and followed the tunnel straight down as far as the eye could see.
“What is this place?” Sonia asked, taking a tentative step forward. I looked up, seeing the distant pinpoint of sunlight far above our heads. Our voices continued to echo off down the massive tunnels, disappearing in eerie waves into the thick curtain of shadows.
“Are you recording all this?” Phil asked me. I laughed, giddy.
“Of course! This is internet gold right here,” I said. “No one’s going to believe that this isn’t man-made, however. I can’t even believe it. Do you think Jack was playing a joke on us or something?”
“Jack had the sense of humor of a wet paper towel,” Phil whispered, shaking his head. “No, he wouldn’t do something like this.”
“Well, let’s go check it out,” Sonia said, taking a step forward. Her headlamp bobbed up and down rapidly, throwing dancing shadows through the triangular tunnel. It continued straight ahead, without the slightest deviation or curve, disappearing off into a dark point in the distance.
***
We walked as fast as we could, excited to see where, if anywhere, the strange tunnel led. Phil, always the conspiracy theorist, babbled excitedly.
“This has to be aliens, man,” he said, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I bet that scientists will find out this shit is millions of years old when we get back up and tell everyone. Maybe aliens came to earth in ancient times and made a bunch of stuff underground.” Gradually, as we walked, I noticed the tunnel opening up. The pointed triangular ceiling rose up higher above our heads and the walls moved outwards, as if we were walking up a triangular funnel. At first, it was so subtle that I didn’t believe it when Sonia pointed it out.
“No, look,” she said, raising her hand above her head. “When we first started down this weird tunnel, my fingers were only maybe a foot away from the top. Now it’s a couple feet.” I was about to respond when our headlamps illuminated something standing in the middle of the tunnel.
“What the fuck is that?” I whispered, stopping cold in my tracks. Phil and Sonia looked up at the abomination at the same time. Its back was to us. It stood nearly as tall as the tunnel, which was now about twenty feet high.
The bottom half looked black and spidery with dozens of long, jointed legs. A bloody, white spine rose out of the mass of legs. Inhumanly long, skeletal arms stretched out in front of it. Its face was pointed away from us, but the back of its head resembled an enormous pointed skull with deep fissures like the cracks of an earthquake running through the bone. The abomination stayed as still as a statue, and for a long moment, I wondered if we were looking at some macabre work of art.
Then, suddenly, one of its insectile legs twitched. A moment later, the other legs started jerking and twisting. There was a sound like bones shattering as it rose up to its full height, turning around to face us.
Its face was like something from a nightmare, melting and reforming constantly like dripping candle wax. I would see a black eye appear on its forehead, then a grinning mouth on its chin, then the features would get sucked back into the folds of melting flesh. After a few moments, two enormous eyes appeared on its face, dark and cold like craters on the surface of the Moon. The mouths and noses disappeared back into the dripping skin, and only the two lidless eyes remained, emanating a cold, reptilian consciousness beyond the ability of my mind to comprehend. I felt terror radiating from its body like freezing waves.
“Free me,” it cried in a gurgling voice that seethed with insanity. It had a shrieking, metallic ringing behind every word that gave it an alien quality. “Free me, and I will give you the waters of eternal life. Within me, I contain the seeds of immortality. Within the nightmares, we live forever, always together, never alone.”
“Who are you?” I asked, terrified. The black reptilian skin of the enormous beast glistened as it knelt down, its massive face drawing near to mine. A sideways mouth burst out of the liquified flesh, showing hundreds of fangs growing like tumors from its white, bloodless gums. The fangs varied in size from only a couple inches to long, sword-like projections that stabbed into the creature’s flesh, causing white blood glittering with rainbows to fall like raindrops all around me.
“I have many names,” it hissed, its thousand voices rising and falling in crashing waves of sound. “I was present at the beginning, when this planet was no more than dead cliffs and endless freezing oceans. Those holy ones who search for us, the ancient ones, call me Niralahoth.”
“How do we free you?” Phil asked, looking terrified. He held Sonia’s hand tightly.
“By letting me into your mind and body,” Niralahoth cried, shaking the cavern. “I was thrown down here, cursed and forgotten. I cannot leave this place of shadows within this body. But in the body of another, my consciousness can be free, and the seeds of new life can spread beyond this prison.”
“There’s no way anyone’s going to do that,” I said, my eyes widening as Niralahoth’s reptilian skull turned towards me in fury. “I mean, you’re asking one of us to give up our individuality, our lives, right?”
“I am asking you to become one with me and gain power undreamt of by mortals,” it cried. “I have within me the fountain of life, the waters that send death away screaming.” I glanced anxiously at Phil and Sonia, wondering if we would have to run.
“The answer is no,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, we can’t do that,” Phil said, backing me up. “But, anyways, I think our trip has ended. It’s time to turn around…”
“You will never return,” Niralahoth cried, skittering away from us. “If you will not accept salvation, then you must accept death.” Within seconds, it slunk away from us, backpedaling on its many skittering legs into the shadows.
***
All around us, a rumbling started.
There was a pounding that crashed through the rock tunnel, as if an insane blacksmith were hammering on a massive anvil. The ringing of crashing rock started off slowly, with a few stones smashing down around us with heavy blasts of sound. Within seconds, the cacophony sped up, rising into a constant stream of destruction. The black orbs were spinning in place all up and down the tunnel, their glossy obsidian surfaces flashing with sparks of blue light.
“It’s collapsing!” Phil cried, running back in the direction we came, holding Sonia’s hand as she tried to keep up with him. I could only stare for a long moment, not sure what to do. It seemed that the direction Phil was heading stood closer to total collapse.
“Wait!” I cried, but my voice was drowned out in the destruction all around us. I felt a rock smash into my shoulder, sending me down to my feet. I heard Phil give a scream of pain, then another stone came down and smashed into my forehead. I remember seeing everything spinning around me as the world went black.
***
I awoke to find my headlamp still shining straight up in the dusty tunnel. Large chunks of the tunnel had slid out of place and crashed to the stone floor. The granite chunks that had fallen looked unnaturally smooth, most of them in the shapes of cylinders or cubes and varying in size from that of an egg to that of a small car.
My head throbbed. It felt as if a tight belt of fire were wrapped around my temples. Groaning, I put my fingers up to my forehead. They came away slick with blood.
Slowly, I started pushing myself up on my feet. I was relieved that nothing seemed broken. I had a deep gash running from the center of my scalp down to my left temple and some shallower cuts on my shoulders and back, but I knew none of that was life-threatening.
“Sonia?” I whispered, my voice coming out weak and strained. I reached into my pack and found a bottle of water. I chugged it quickly in one long swallow.
“Phil?” I cried again, this time stronger. I heard a soft weeping nearby. Staggering, I followed the sound.
Sonia was bloody and covered in cuts and scrapes, sitting next to Phil’s prone form. I saw Phil’s right arm pinned under a massive slab of granite. His arm disappeared from the elbow down in a spreading puddle of thick, dark blood.
“Oh God, Max, I think he’s hurt really bad,” she wept. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly in his head, his face pale and bloodless. I looked down the way we had come, seeing the entire tunnel blocked by large slabs of stone, many with strange, black orbs peeking out like the lenses of cameras.
***
I don’t know how much time passed. My phone died after a day, and then we were counting the endless darkness in breaths and tears.
Phil swam in and out of consciousness as his arm putrefied and blackened around the crush site. After a couple days, Sonia and I agreed that something had to be done. We told Phil we would need to amputate his arm. He was half-delirious, but he came back long enough to understand us and nod weakly.
We made a fire with Phil’s pack, trying to find fuel to throw in it to get it roaring. As it grew, I saw one of the black orbs near the flames abruptly ignite, as if it had been covered in gasoline. Blue, almost colorless flames rose from its surface. We started throwing the small black orbs on the fire until it rose high in the air. I sanitized the buck knife with the flames and pulled a rope tourniquet tight around Phil’s arm. He was conscious but seemingly insane, talking to himself more than anyone else.
“How are we going to get the car started without a key?” he gurgled to someone only he could see. “We need to look around. It has to be here somewhere.”
“Phil, can you hear me, bud? We need to fix your arm. We need to get you out of this mess. OK?” I said as comfortingly as I could. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly, but they didn’t meet my own. I sighed and looked over at Sonia.
“Let’s do it,” I said, giving a grim nod.
I pulled the buck knife out, slicing quickly down through the flesh next to the tourniquet. His veins throbbed like fat worms as the blackened, necrotic skin split easily under the blade, releasing a rancid-smelling gas that hissed out of the wound.
I couldn’t believe how hard it was to slice all the way through the arm. It felt like I was stuck in that hellish task forever. Phil’s eyes rolled in his head as his skin turned the color of clotted milk.
“God, Jesus, make it stop,” Phil whispered over and over, exhaling ragged, pain-filled breaths. The blood spurted from the blackened, dying tissue all over the dust-covered cavern floor, covering my hands in its warm, slick embrace.
After what was probably only three or four minutes, but felt like hours, I had sliced all the way down to the bone. The infected tissue of his arm spurted great gouts of orange pus mixed with rivulets of blood. The hard part was over.
Standing up, I took my steel-toe sneaker and stomped down on his arm as hard as I could. Phil cried out in a powerful voice, as if all the agony and suffering in the world was contained in that one shriek. The bone snapped under my weight with a sound like a tree branch cracking. A moment later, Phil rolled away from the rock that had pinned me in place for so long. Something alien and spongy was shoved into my face, a mass of destroyed red tissue pulsating in time with a runaway heartbeat. At first, shell-shocked and revolted, my mind couldn’t comprehend that I was looking at the stump of Phil’s mutilated arm. I hardened my heart and forced the giddiness and madness to the back of my mind. The time had come to cauterize the wound.
“Sonia, give it to me,” I said with a tremor in my voice. I reached out a hand towards her, a hand stained with Phil’s blood. It looked as if I were wearing a wet, crimson glove. Sonia only stared blankly at me for a long moment, however. A surge of anger ran up my chest.
“Sonia, toughen the fuck up! He’s going to die if you just sit there!” I swore at her, hearing my deep, angry voice bounce around the caverns. Sonia pulled back, as if she were struck. Inwardly, I cursed having a woman as my only able-bodied companion in this situation. She was a competent enough caver, but what would happen if violence and blood came over us? What would happen if, or more realistically when, we needed to fight?
Grimly, Sonia leaned forward and yanked the burning black orb out of the roaring fire, handing it to me on the end of a buck knife that had just barely pierced its hard, strange exterior. The handle of the knife felt coarse and splintery under my filthy skin. I put it to the spongy stump of Phil’s arm. The stump twitched violently. Phil tried to pull away as black smoke rose from the burning flesh.
There was a smell like bacon sizzling. The searing meat of Phil’s arm blackened and crisped under the heat of the orb, which had become no more than a cylinder of glowing blue embers by this point. I felt simultaneously sick and giddy. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or vomit. I felt like I was on the verge of some kind of madness, that the stress and insanity of the experience had started to shatter my mind.
His eyes rolled back in his head and he appeared to go into a seizure for a few seconds. With a long exhalation of breath, he finally, mercifully, lost consciousness. It’s hard to admit it, even this close to the end, but a small, sick piece of me was jealous of Phil. Most likely, he would be dead soon, maybe within hours, while Sonia and I would slowly starve and dehydrate like animals over a period of weeks. I looked at her lithe body and soft skin, seeing the feminine curves of her hips and chest. She was a beautiful woman. I knew Phil to be a lucky man. At least, before this trip, he was.
I watched her body, wondering if I had what it took to eat her or Phil if I had to. Did I have an iron heart that would allow me to slice into my friends and consume their raw, cold flesh? Perhaps, by that point, it would be hunger and madness driving me forward, and I wouldn’t even hesitate. I shuddered at the very thought.
***
I fell asleep that night, having strange dreams of massive gods with melting faces sitting in judgment in a circle around me. We had very little food or water left. No one knew we were down here. Rescue was not coming.
When I awoke, I found myself alone. Phil had died from his injuries while I slept, the black streaks of septic shock spreading up his arm towards his heart. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the rock ceiling.
“Sonia?” I called out, my heart racing as I sat up. “Where are you?” My headlamp was growing dim. I looked in my pack, realizing I was on the last of my batteries. I saw a silhouette walking out of the darkness, the thin, pale form of Sonia. She was trembling badly.
“I saw them,” she said. “Niralahoth and its priests. The priests aren’t human. They look reptilian with sideways mouths and too many eyes.” She shuddered.
“Why would you do that?” I asked. Her eyes grew distant.
“You know we’re not getting out of here alive,” she said. “Not on our own. I wanted to see what it offered. It says that if we take a piece of its nightmare into us, we will gain the power to leave this place, that it simply wants to see the surface and spread its nightmares there.” I shook my head.
“Insanity,” I muttered. “We’d be better off dead.” Sonia nodded.
“My thoughts exactly,” she responded grimly. I didn’t realize what she meant until the next day, when I woke up and found her hanging next to Phil’s body, her tongue swollen and blue as it poked out of her cyanotic lips. And then I was truly alone.
***
Soon after Sonia committed suicide, the last of the batteries for the headlamp died. I had run out of food and had only a small sip of water left. I don’t know how much time passed in the darkness, starving and raving, following the tunnel by running my hands over the walls. I heard many things skittering in the darkness, and a few times, I heard the demonic voice of Niralahoth as it split and distorted.
“You are on death’s door,” it hissed. “Will you not drink from the fountain of life?” I couldn’t tell where the voice came from in the maddening blackness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. I had lost nearly all of my sanity in that pit of shadows by this point. I tried laughing constantly to keep my spirits up, and when that failed, I simply cried.
“I’ll do it,” I wailed. “I’ll do it. Just let me see the sky again. Get me out of here, Niralahoth.” Everything went deathly silent all around me, then a laugh rang out like the grinding of glass.
In front of me, I saw a tornado of fire descending from the ceiling, surrounding the massive, spidery form of Niralahoth. It rose its skeletal arms upwards, as if it were Zeus calling down lightning. In the sudden brightness, I saw the fiery form of snakes slithering and centipedes skittering forwards in that tornado, each massive creature sculpted from flames in the spinning cyclone of energy. Niralahoth reached into the tornado of fire with its sharp points of fingers and plucked something small from it. The fire instantly dissipated. In its hand, I saw a tiny, swirling orb that looked like it contained a firestorm within it.
“The nightmare seed,” Niralahoth gurgled as it skittered forward towards me. I could only stare, open-mouthed and starving. I hadn’t slept for days, it felt like, and everything seemed slow and unreal.
In a blur, its skeletal arm shot out and forced the orb into my mouth. Despite the fire raging within it, it felt freezing cold. As it touched my tongue, it gave off a sensation like frostbite all throughout my mouth. I screamed and tried spitting it out, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. It started liquifying, dripping down my throat.
I felt something cancerous and sick spreading throughout my body, radiating out from my heart and stomach to every inch of it. I tried to scream, but it caught behind my teeth. I fell to my knees, clawing at my face as that insane, alien laugh continued resounding all down the tunnel. I fell unconscious and woke up under a beautiful sky in the fields of Graysole Farms.
***
Soon after, I realized that my life would never be the same. Everywhere I went, I could hear the wailing voice of Niralahoth. Behind the trees, I always saw skittering shadows, creatures with long, spidery legs that stalked me every day and night. I slept with every light in the house turned on, yet when I woke up, they would all be shut off, and I would find myself in darkness, next to something in the bed with far too many legs and a face that dripped like burning wax.
I sold everything I owned and tried to move far away, to give as much distance between myself and those cursed caverns as I could, but the nightmares followed me like a shadow. I realize what a fool I was in those ephemeral moments of madness. Sonia was much wiser than myself; I should have killed myself or died rather than allowing that thing inside of me.
Even now, I can feel it creeping through my heart, spreading through my blood. I feel it trying to crawl its way out of my throat, the thin, black legs peeking out at the back of my esophagus.
I only hope that, when I finally jump and feel my bones shatter against the concrete far below, I will kill whatever is inside of me. For I fear the consequences for the world if it were to escape.

hi everyone. this is my first time posting here and i'm not a person who frequents this sub so idk what to expect.
TLDR: i have a very close friend group of four years now (there are 8 of us) and i love them dearly. they are like my family and i adore every part of them. although i have no doubt that they value me, i struggle with feeling disappointment with them especially when they are consistently late/flakey/invalidating my feelings about it. i've expressed frustration before and yet it never changes. how do i get over it before it causes resentment?
okay here's the long version. my friends and i met in high school. we were all part of the same larger circles but it wasn't until covid that we created our group. during covid we talked constantly and met up safely outside, masked, and at a distance when cases in our area were low. it was important to us because a couple of us had immunocompromised parents. we were dedicated to each other and they changed my life. they were and still are my rocks.
another thing to note is that my own relationship with my family is not perfect and in general, we are not very close and do not spend a lot of time together. for the most part, this isn't true for my other friends and they get along quite well with their families. it makes me approach the friendship differently i think because they're kinda like my family and they don't really need a second family. i try not to let this cloud my judgement with them but sometimes it hurts extra hard when im stood up for their family.
as years have passed and we've all gone to school, things have changed in the group but i still consider myself close to the vast majority of them and we still see each other frequently (every break, have visited each other at school a couple times). however, i find myself growing more and more hurt and disappointed over things that were originally not a big deal.
most of my friends are chronically late. i am an extremely punctual person and it frustrates me when others are late because it feels disrespectful. i have told them individually about this and yet it continues to happen. sometimes its only 10 minutes and i just get mildly annoyed, other times its hours and im left stranded without a text or call. there are 2 that regularly are late in this way and i've told them about it and still it stays the same. in these moments i feel so hurt and disrespected yet it feels like i can't express this for fear of causing conflict or harping on stuff that we've already discussed. they just say "i know" and i'm expected to drop it.
other times they are extremely flakey. whether it's being hard to pin down which is just batted away with "im so busy!" or it's fully flaking on premade (and paid!) plans only minutes before, it's a consistent issue. when we all lived in the same place, it was okay because i knew i would see them again but now that we all live far away and dont see each other as much, plans are much more deliberate and when they flake, it hurts me a lot. a lot of the time they flake to spend time with family and while i know they have to split time, it can really hurt when we had plans and they decide to stay in instead especially since i can't just go to my parents and spend time with them like they always can.
the reason i'm writing this post is because today is my last day before i leave for 5 weeks and they flaked. this is our last summer before graduating college and therefore our last "free summer." we are all spread out around the country and will be back in our hometown at various points with some overlap but mostly we'll be doing our own thing. basically, it all feels very final. today my friends and i went swimming and hung out for 5 hours during the day. as we were saying goodbye, i asked if people would be around in the evening and if they wanted to hang out. i got a tepid affirmative from everyone and said we should text after dinner and maybe watch a movie and say a real goodbye before i leave tomorrow. its around 8pm and im waiting around for a text and no one is texting so finally i text. no one responds for an hour so i reach out separately to one friend to see if they're still having dinner and what time they would be free and they say they actually made plans with other friends but they'll swing by to say goodbye before. so i get a little upset but say goodbye to them. then i text one of the others and he says he isn't free anymore but he might say bye tomorrow which is a bit annoying because i told them i wouldn't really have time before the airport tomorrow because i need to get my phone fixed but i just text him to let me know his timing and i'll see if i can make it work. finally my other friend tells me she just woke up from an accidental nap and she's gonna eat and see if she's up for it. my other friends are unresponsive. basically, my night of fun before i leave and don't know when i'm going to see them again has turned into me alone, writing this and probably watching a movie. this isn't even the first time they've done this on my last day before leaving! it happened last summer and winter break the year before too. maybe im overreacting but this really hurts my feelings. i know we hang out a lot and we spent a lot of time together already today but it makes me really angry at them and makes me hold all of this resentment and i want advice on how not to get so angry or upset when things like this happen. is there anything i can do to just get over it? am i overreacting?