Mad House: A Travesty of Modern Man | Teen Ink

Mad House: A Travesty of Modern Man

May 29, 2013
By Technomancer, coppell, Texas
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Technomancer, Coppell, Texas
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Favorite Quote:
"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity" - Edgar Allan Poe

Author's note: I enjoy finding things that defy the idea that this generation can't be creative, to find what makes us human and completely humiliate it.

I have never been one to believe in supernatural phenomena or insane murderers, nor have I had an actual encounter with something of that sort. All it was a single trip to my neighbor’s apartment, but that did the trick; I am now paranoid of every living thing that enters my apartment.

I live in room M13, to which there have been many rumors made about. It’s haunted, someone died there, I psycho lives in the closet. You know, the usual thought of paranoia. But what intrigued me was not a story about the things that were in the apartment, but what was supposedly living right next to it. Monsters, they said. Monsters that never came out, not even at night. They had room service bring them their food, and give it to them through a doggy door they installed themselves. How they paid the rent every day without having any known job was interesting to me, being an accountant and everything. I spent three nights, restless, turning over and over, curiosity of what might lay across the wall always at the front of my brain. On the fourth night I finally decided to see for myself what is next to my apartment.

I quietly crept from my bed, flashlight in hand. The only noise being the soft sound of my breath. The door opens with a creak, which I hadn’t realized it did. The hallway is almost pitch and silent, except for the soft glow and hum of the vending machine at the end of it. I turn to face the dreaded Apt. M14, prepared for anything that may be waiting behind it. I get on my hands and knees, and begin to nudge my way through the doggy door. I almost get stuck a few times, but manage to get through with only a few scrapes. The place is just about the same size as my apartment, but the closet is on the other side. Intriguing. I begin to snoop around, tense and nervous at what I might find. I check under the bed, in the bathroom, and just about every Drawer and crack I can find. I finally reassure myself that there is nothing there, and am about to leave when I hear a small rustle from the closet. How did I not check there earlier?

I approach it slowly,with utmost caution. I grasp the knob, and turn it. I fling it open, and my jaw drops as the door slams against the wall. The man, the man is dead inside of the closet! I scream, and turn to see a silhouette in front of the door, trying to open the door. Jesus Christ! He was waiting for me to come in the entire time! He knew that I would come at some point! I have to get out, but how!?

I turn, and see the window, and know what I must do. I quickly climb out and began to sidled along the ledge, to the window of my room. I almost fall, but manage to make it back to my safe haven. Safe Haven.

I have now been in here for thirty years, forever scared that the man is waiting for me. I used to have only eaten what they had given me through the doggy door I made, but now the man is always there, no matter what time of day it is. I stand in the closet and feel my strength waning.

Now is the end, but at least he didn’t get me.

Two old men sit on a bench in the crowded city.
“Who should we reel in next with our ‘murder’ story?”

“Maybe him, he looks like he is need of a home.”

“The problem is is that almost all of the apartments are filled.”

“No, we still have apartment M12.”

“Good, after that one is occupied, then the ‘apartment’ complex will be complete.”

“ The end is soon, very soon.”

The author's comments:
This was one of my better stories, which I enjoyed writing.

Dr. Theodore Malikovski has been working in the psychiatric field for a little over ten years, earning his Phd at the age of twenty-one. He worked with murderers, hallucinatory cases, and even amnesia patients, but his thirteenth patient was by far the most, um, interesting one he had.

December fifteenth, 2012. Six days before the supposed mayan apocalypse, a time where people didn’t think about how trustworthy a stone calendar is, only how much crap they can stock up on before they are invariably let down by a race that was killed by just a few men.
The man in question, Tyler Blancardi, was a simple man. One who you wouldn’t think to be someone mentally troubled, with his suave demeanor and classy choice of clothing. In fact, most would assume that he was a perfectly sane man. But after an encounter with supposed “supernatural intervention”, he believes that he held the key to saving mankind from impending doom.

He walked in on Dr. Malikovski with a flair of arrogance, as if everything that was about to take place meant nothing to him, but the Doctor knows otherwise. “Good morning.” he says, “how are you doing today, Doctor?”

“Very well, thank you.” Malikovski replies, “Now why don’t you sit down?” Tyler, instead of laying back on the patient chair next to the Doctor, took the liberty of laying down on the velvet couch on the far side of the room. “Allow me to speed up this meeting, by skipping the introductory statements, and instead go straight to the question that you get from all of your other patients; Why am I here?”

The Doctor is taken aback by the man’s abrupt, yet surprisingly useful, statement, and took a few moments to skip the first three chapters of his guidebook. Before he could speak though, Tyler once again begins to talk, “Could you please not use that useless book? I already know what you are going to say.”

“Really now?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Well then, what do you suppose I am going to ask next?”

“You were about to answer my question with another. Why do you think you are here? That is a very simple technique for a novice like you, but I should really be asking you that.”

“Why so?”

“Because I have just proven that I either read your book, or for some reason actually did know what you were going to say, and will say, at these very moments.”

“Well then, I guess if you are asking me my own question, then my answer is-”

“Allow me to stop you again.”

Now the Doctor is very annoyed with the constant interference of his method, but is willing to allow the patient to speak. Tyler gets into a sitting position, now in a state of intense thought. It seems like an eternity to the poor Doctor, until the man finally exclaims, “Yes! Now I remember! You are going to say ‘Because I need to heal the wound that is hurting you.””

Now the Doctor is extremely suspicious. How could he know everything that is going to happen beforehand? He is about to ask, but is now interrupted by the chime of the grandfather clock to the left of his desk. “Oh good,” Tyler says, jumping up from the couch, “It is finally time for me to leave. Well, see you Thursday then!” And exits the room, leaving the Doctor to contemplate the strange circumstances of the encounter. How could he have possibly known almost all of the events of this day, before they actually happen. Obviously I am dealing with a very delicate case, and must proceed wisely.

On Monday, he got his paycheck from the hospital he works at, and goes to the bank to cash it in. “Thank you sir,” The teller drones, “Your new balance is $7,834.”

“Wait a second, I used to have over one hundred thousand dollars in here!”

“Well, someone made a withdrawal from your account, saying that they were going to use it to buy a house.”


“It’s true! They even looked like you, and could use the exact same signature as you!”

“Who was it?”

“Some guy. He said he came from a faraway place, only five days ago.”

“Are you serious? Why did he tell you that?”

“He mentioned that he wanted me to know, so that you could know what to expect when you two meet. Weird, right?”

The Doctor Curses under his breath. Tyler! He knew his face seemed familiar, because it looked almost exactly like his, just older. Now he knew what to say when they meet again, that he is a downright madman, and cannot be helped.

Thursday, December twentieth. The day before the dreaded mayan apocalypse. Malikovski had not slept well for the last few days, and looked older than he really was. He sat once more in his leather armchair, awaiting the arrival of the notorious Tyler Blancardi. The knock from the door rings in his ears. “Come in.” The door opens, and Tyler walks in. “Hello Doctor, are you ready to confront the Downright Madman, who allegedly cannot be helped?”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Good, and you better make it quick, because we only have ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes for what?”

“Ten minutes until you go take my place.”

The Doctor is now very nervous. Did it just get hotter in his office? “Now, what exactly do you mean by ‘take your place’?” The man chuckled, and slyly replied, “I mean that we are the same person.”


“It’s true. Now we only have five minutes left, so I will make this quick. A solar eclipse now darkens the sky.” And just as he says it, the view outside becomes significantly darker. “Now what do you suppose that is, a solar eclipse? Not. Even. Close.”

The doctor is very worried now, and begins to shift around in his chair.

“Two minutes. You see, the mayans were right, but we just read it wrong. We accidentally added a day. The end is today, and everyone will die, except for us.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Hold on, one more minute. You and I are in a perfect alignment with the Earth, Moon, Sun, and the meteor. This pre-apocalypse equinox is going to send us into the past!”

“you’re insane!” The Doctor screams, now completely assured of this man’s insanity.

“No, I just have a better concept of these last few moments. Thirty seconds.”

“It’s impossible!”

“On the contrary, it is all too possible. In fact, it is inevitable. Ten seconds. You will go almost two weeks into the past, but I am going to kill myself, free myself, of this perpetual loop. right here, and right now. Good luck.”

Tyler pulls a knife from his jacket and stabs himself in one fluid motion, leaving Doctor Theodore Malikovski to experience one of the most traumatizing, yet miraculous events he shall ever witness.

Doctor Malikovski, now known as madman “Tyler Blancardi”, sits in front of himself, making a futile attempt to warn him about the impending doom that approaches his loved ones, and the loop that he will be forever stuck in unless he does something about it. But just like the last fifty times, he doesn’t listen, and he is forced to kill himself.

The End/beginning/end/beginning/end/beginning..........

The author's comments:
More off an oddball than anything meaningful, but still a good read.

Rain drills against the windows of the small country home, and the sky is bleak, no sunlight in sight. Farmer James Hawkins sits down for his midday meal, which consists of steak, corn, potatoes, and a tall glass of brandy. This was actually one of the more meager meals he has had, due to the ever pouring rain outside. For three weeks the rain had fallen down upon the once dry and barren land, and James thought mother nature was outdoing herself a little bit.

As the last drop of brandy was finished, Mr. Hawkins got up from his seat clumsily, a little bit buzzed by the drink. He started up the stairs, only wishing to be free of this lame routine that he now submitted to. Boy, did he get more than he was asking for.

There was a loud knocking at the door, and it took James a little while to realize that it wasn’t thunder this time. He immediately rushed down the stairs, overjoyed to finally have some company. Flinging open the door, James was greeted by a man, coughing and shivering, being battered by sheets of icy rain. “Good sir, come in! You could die if you stand out there any longer.” He said to the man, and the stranger rushed in, throwing his jacket and hat onto the table. “Thank you very much sir,” He said, his voice gruff and torn, “I really would have died of cold if you hadn’t let me in.”

“No problem at all! Say, what is your name?”

The stranger replied in a very peculiar way. While his voice before was gruff and scratchy, he now spoke with the confidence and air of a rich englishman, “Jeremy Calliope, at your service.”

“Jeremy Calliope?”

(His voice is now a child’s) “No, Thomas Williams.”

“But you just said your name was-”

The stranger’s voice changed once again, now the booming voice of a army soldier, “General Sam F. Kingston, veteran of world war one.”

Suddenly, the man drops to his knees, screaming with the voice of what James would later guess is his original one, “Would you all please just SHUT UP!?” He turns to James, who is now against the wall, afraid of what the man might do. But all he says before collapsing is, “My real name, has been long forgotten.”

Farmer James Williams stands shocked, but after a few moments of silence (the rain had mysteriously stopped when the man came in) he rushed over to the unconscious heap, and checked his pulse. He was still alive, but in a cold sweat. Every now and then he quivered, as if troubled in his dreams. He mumbled in different tones, dialects, and languages, most of which James couldn’t even figure out. He dragged the man onto the couch. He laid asleep for hours, always mumbling in a new voice. Since the rain was over, James decided to get some work done, and went out to plow the fields.

When he came back, the man was sitting upright, and had made himself a cup of tea. “Hello. Sorry for their outbursts last night. It has become harder and harder to keep them all in line.”

“What do you mean ‘them’?”

“Sit down and let me tell you.”

The farmer was hesitant for a moment, but finally sat down, fatigued by the work he had done.

“It all started a year ago, when I was visiting a international soccer conference in Chernobyl. Everything seemed like it was going fine, until the power plant had a meltdown. Many people died, except for us. I don’t know how or why this happened, whether it was the radiation or something supernatural, but me and a few other hundred people had our consciousnesses strung together. An empathic bond that traps their minds in my body. At first they were all confused, which helped me out a lot, but then they started realizing what had happened.” Some rebelled, but since it was my body, I still had more power. I was able to stop them and get everyone to remain calm and organized. Until the General started straying away from the pack.”

“General Kingston?”

“Exactly! He has gathered over three hundred followers, who are now doing battle with my mind. I have forgotten who I am, and where I came from. All I know of is the accident, and the people that I am trapped with. I am close to the verge of insanity, and one more well placed uprising could send me over the deep end. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, so I ran away, leaving behind all the people that I once knew, and ended up here.”

James sat, not sure whether to trust this man or kick him out on the spot. The man is dangerous, or in a sense, the people within him are dangerous. James has to be careful. “Alright, that is a pretty wild story. Is there any way I can help you?” James offers. The guest ponders this for a moment, then decides, “Yes, I believe there is a way you can help.”

A few minutes later, James stands in a star, surrounded by a circle. “What exactly is this for again?” He glances over at the guest, who is mixing something in a cup. He turns and walks over to him, “This is so you can get into my mind, and stop the general.”

“And who says that I will be able to do this?”

“Don’t worry, as long as your body is still here, you can just signal me and I will pull you right back out.”

“Okay, I am trusting you on this.”

“You have my word.”

James shifts his weight from one foot to the other, as the guest begins to chant incantations under his breath. At first it seems like nothing is happening, but then the circle begins to glow. “What is going on?!” He yells, but the guest takes no notice, and keeps whispering under his breath. The walls begin to shake, and the entire room begins to become a blur. James screams as the very space in front of him is torn in half, and a bright white light engulfs him. He blacks out, unable to comprehend the images that follow.

James wakes up in a large white room. No, wait. Room isn’t the correct word for what he was in. There were no perceivable walls, ceilings, or exits. It was not a room, is was infinite. James stands up to see a large crowd of people, hundreds of them. They are all different religion, race, and nationality. “What the hell is going on here?” He asks, his memory still foggy from the night before. A man, decorated with medals and insignias, walks forth, and replies, “You are in the mind of Peter, Felix, Chinkosk; The mind snatcher.”


“A man, in a jacket, came to your house, pretending that we were attempting to rebel against his mind. He said he was trying to protect us, but instead lured you in, just like the rest of us. The name is General Sam F.-”

The farmer’s memory suddenly sparks back to life, “Kingston! You were trying to kill the stranger I met from right inside of his brain! You monster-”

He is cut short by a swift slap in the face, and he falls over, nose pouring blood. The general walks over and grabs the hair atop his head, yanks him up, and hisses, “Did you not hear what I was saying before? He trapped you here! We had him, but you had to intervene and get us stuck here, stuck in the mind of the man of one thousand names!”

The crowd screamed in unison, and begin to pour over poor James, taking twenty years worth of aggression and hatred out on him.

Mr. Chinkosk walks down the country road, aware of everything going on in his little universe. He knows that anyone in there can’t die, but what’s to stop them from feeling pain? Chuckling, he begins his trek across the land, finding more people to trap, so he may later use his wisdom to become perfect, and help them reach their full potential in life.

One fine day in the Amazon rainforest, a young paleontologist and his research group were camping downstream of a fearsome headhunter tribe. The oldest and most decorated of the research party thought it would be a good idea for the spry paleontologist to keep watch that night. “It is very simple really, all you have to do is scream HEADHUNTER if you see a group of them coming down the stream.”

That night, the young paleontologist sat outside of the tent with his rifle, ready to shoot at any sign of headhunters. Now this was the first time he had ever done this, and it seemed very tedious. He decided to have a little fun, so he stood up, back straight, and screamed out, “HEADHUNTER!” The men of the research party came out, guns at the ready. The young man just sat there laughing his head off, and when the other men had realized the trick, they scolded him for doing something like that, and went inside.

This time he was done playing games, and stared into the blackness of the forest for a good hour or so. At that time of night, the dark can play tricks on tired eyes, and boy were his tired. “What is that in the distance?” He thought, “Could that possibly be a canoe of headhunters!?” And the more he stared at the thing in the water, the more he convinced himself that it was. He jumped up and yelled, “HEADHUNTERS, HEADHUNTERS APPROACHING!!” And once again all the men leapt out of their tents with their guns.

The leapt into the raft they had tied to the riverbank, but when the object came into view, they realized that it was just an empty log that was washed down the river from the woodcutters up north. “Darn it boy,” The elder said, “can’t you do anything right?!” and with that, all the men went back into their tents again, very angry and disappointed with the young paleontologist.

It was almost dawn, and much easier to see now. The young Paleontologist was almost asleep, when a loud noise shocked him awake. He heard people chanting and the sound of paddles in the water. Now he knew for sure that these were the headhunters! He stood up, and screamed with all his might, “HEADHUNTERS! HEADHUNTERS! HEADHUNTERS!”

But no one came out.

He screamed again, “HEADHUNTERS!”, and still no one came out of the tents. Now the warriors were just seconds away from storming the campsite, so the young Paleontologist tried one more time. He straightened his back, cleared his throat, and yelled out, “HEEEEEAAAAAAD HUUUUNNNNTEEEERRRS!” but before the men could realize what had happened. the savages were already on the shore.

they pulled out their swords and spears and skewered all of the men. There were no survivors.

Many say that if you were to see the headhunter camp, you could find the heads of the paleontologist's research group, and his head, still silently screaming his warning call to all that trespass on the headhunter land.

The author's comments:
This story could be finished in a possible sequel I may write.

In this day and age, technology has taken over a lot of people’s lives. Bluetooth, Facebook, Twitter, and all of the other things that were made for people who would have normally been picked off by natural selection if they were to go outside and life a normal life. Point being, if people living in high society, surrounded by technology, were to somehow manage to evolve beyond the rudimentary, simplistic stages they have now diverted to, what would they become? How do we evolve beyond the technology that now runs our lives?

“Yes, Marty? This is Wilfred, how’s it going? Oh, good. Yeah, everything is fine at my place, the kids are asleep, and me and the wife are about to get to bed. Bye, goodnight pal.”

my bluetooth telepathy plugin hangs up, and get into bed with Sharline, my wife. “Don’t you love all these cool new gadgets?” I ask, and she replies with a nod. “I mean, how could someone live without it? There would be no way to survive without this.”

I switch off the light, and fall asleep.

A loud noise shocks me awake, and I sit up in bed. I look over to my wife, “Did you hear that?” She asked, a look of worry across her face. I try to switch on the light, but nothing happens. I flip it on and off, but still no light. “Scharline, I am going to check on the circuit breaker, you go check on the kids.”

We both get out of bed, and I walk down the stairs while she goes to see if Danny and Todd are alright. I tap my temple, willing for my Bluetooth to turn on. Nothing happens again. I think into it, “Hello? Anyone? What’s going on? Anybody there?” I begin to walk with greater haste to the breaker. Left, then right though my house. I open the closet door, and check the switches on the breaker. All in the on position. “What the hell?” I wonder out loud, confused.

CRASH! I hear a tearing of metal coming from outside, and rush to the front door to see what it is. I fling the door open, running to the edge of the sidewalk to witness a huge, metal monolith tear up a car from off the street. “WHAT THE -” I scream, as a huge metal foot crashes down, inches from the house. CRUNCH! My wife and kids run out, and rush to my side. Tears stream from my wife's eyes as she yells, “What is going on?!” SMASH!

I take her hand, and say, “I don’t know, but you and the kids have to get out of here. don’t worry about me, I will get this all sorted out. The giant metal leg rises again. “Go, go now!” I yell, and urge her into the van. She drives off, and I run behind her, leaping out of the path of the falling pod leg. BOOM! “God, I have to find Marty!” I think, and run down the street, under the hulking body of metal that is crushing the neighborhood. I reach the end of the street, and see that Marty is already out of his house also.

We race over to each other, and he says, “They set off an E.M.P.!”

“A what?!?” (Smash!)

“An electromagnetic pulse! It wiped out all the (Crush!) technology in the area, and now nothing works!”

“And what the hell is that?” I scream, hysterically pointing at the behemoth ravaging the nearby intersection.

“The government's newest law, the natural selection act! If we can’t adapt and upgrade to the newest technology they have, they are just going to wipe us out to make room for the growing population that can sustain their demands!”

I turn around, and see that the hulking machine stopped, right in the middle of town. I see it’s plated exoskeleton retract, revealing, “An atom bomb? This is insane!”

“We have to get out of here now! If we can make it across the border, then we won’t get killed!”

Me and Marty run to his sports car, and we begin to race through the streets, racing away from the countdown to “Natural Selection”. I won’t get into great detail, but we make it across the border before it goes off, and we kiss our home goodbye. I can only hope that my family survived.

“I can’t believe this,” Marty says, “We were living on the top of the world, and now we are slinking around in the shadows.”

“Pretty nuts, right?” I reply. We have been hiding in the backstreets of New York for a week now, and things have changed rapidly. At first, people just had a google glass or bluetooth implant. Now everyone who survived each wave of ‘natural selection’ looks like a cyborg. Wires poking out of different parts of their body ( some places too ribald to explain), usb ports instead of belly button, and holographic projectors for eyes. “What have we become?” I ask, not sure at whether I should be curious, disgusted, or just scared of the half-human, half-machine behemoths. Huge airships scour every nook and cranny for people who haven’t upgraded, and every now and then, you can see someone being pulled up by their tractor beam in the middle of the night, screaming for mercy, and praying that they don’t have to become the freaks that society is making them become.

even the government is on their side. They promote ‘natural selection’ and all of their representatives are even more machine-like and grotesque than the other people. Me and Marty hide from place to place, with other groups of people who are afraid or can’t afford to be upgraded. Right now we live in a rundown hotel, far away from the good part of town. We share a bowl of beef stew, and tuck in for the night. “I can only hope that our families are safe Willy.”

“Me too Marty, me too.”

We wake up at the crack of dawn, and I sit up in my cot. I turn over to the window, pull down the shutters, and gasp.

hundreds of soldiers, who you wouldn’t even recognise as humans, are lined up in front of the motel. “How the hell did they find us?!” I hiss, and shake everyone awake. Marty gets up, and looks out the window to confirm my fears. We rush down the stairs, and run out in front of the lobby. The entire building is surrounded, and one of the homeless men begins to walk towards the military forces. “What the hell are you doing?!” I scream, but before I can run to him, he begins to change. Parts of his skin burst out, rectangular plates that begin to morph around his inner machine skeleton. I can see his heart pounding inside of the ever-changing monstrosity, and watch as the plates change from skin to deep shades of brown and black. Some retract, and Suddenly, where a man was once walking, a dog begins to trot over to the head of the line.

“A transforming spy! Was it even human before you mangled with it’s body?” I yell to the officer, who picked it up as he called back, his voice scratchy and mechanical, “Yes, it was his choice. He either joined us, or be destroyed by natural selection.”

“Now it’s time for to choose. Will you evolve with us, or be destroyed? Survival of the fittest.”

To be Continued...

The author's comments:
This one is much darker, but with a very powerful message.

Ah, the wonders and mystery of nature! If only I could say the same for the wildlife that lives now. Pollution, mercury in the water system, radiation, dams, deforestation. All of these things have something in common; Every one kills nature. Do you really think that the people who make those monstrosities actually care about the environment? That each one would ever do anything to help preserve the animals around them? Of course not, but the biggest offender, is a man who goes by the name of Herbert Sheldon Pinkerton, owner of Pinkerton power plants, one of the largest polluters in the history of the world. Any plot of land that used to have nature, is now a rusted wasteland, brimming with garbage and radioactive sludge.

He stays in his office, that is conveniently located to his mansion sized safe, that is also conveniently located right next to the Environmental Protection Agency headquarters. Usually that should be the case, unless an erratic phone call from the nearby plant came in, and sent him on what is only referenced as the road to his personal hell.

“Sir! There has been a problem a power plant number zero-nine!”

“What do you mean, problem?”

“Just listen to this, Mr. Pinkerton.”

The intern placed the voice-mail box on the desk of PPP’s CEO, and pressed the play button in the bottom right corner. At first it is just static, but then screams abruptly break out, most of them inaudible, some might not even have been human, but once the noise died down, the phone was picked up, and through the receiver came the voice of staff member Billy Cardigan,

“Sir, I have no idea what the hell happened. I don’t have a lot of time, they will break in at any moment, so i’ll make it quick. Something has gone horribly wrong. There was no malfunction, no meltdown. They all just started attacking, killing us as fast as they could. Please hurry, and don’t underestimate them. Even though they are- AGGGHHH!”

And the line dies.

“Holy cow.” Pinkerton says, “What the hell do you think happened there?”

“I’m not sure sir, but whatever it is, i’ll have the swat team check it out immediately.”

“Good, I will need a few people to back me up.”

“Wait, sir, what do you mean? You can’t possibly go there, it’s far too dangerous.”\

“Now listen here boy. I served in Vietnam for the entire war. If anyone has the experience and knowledge to take out some terrorists, it’s me. People in this country don’t mess with green berets anymore.”

“Yes sir.”

The next day, Mr. Pinkerton, accompanied by a dozen trained swat members, drove into the front lot of the powerplant. Garbage was strewn all over the acre of gravel, with a small forest outlining it. They piled out of the armored truck, and set out towards the front entrance. Even before they step through the doorway, a man bursts out, running with all his might. “Please, help me!” He screams, “They, they destroyed everything! It was chaos, no, madness!” As he got closer, they could see that he was covered in his own blood.

One of the soldiers is the first to respond, “Do you need medical attention?” But the man doesn’t listen, and instead pushes right past him. “Please,” He yells to the group, “don’t go in there. Destroy it, burn it, whatever it takes! I have seen men die these past hours, and I don’t want you to end up like them.” He drops to his knees, more blood dripping from his already soaked clothing. “Just, don’t go...” and he falls, stone cold dead.

“Holy cow.” One of the soldiers says, everyone else silent. After a few moments, Mr. Pinkerton finally speaks, “Well? What the hell are we waiting for? Let’s move out!” He begins to march through the entrance, against the drastic warning given by his employee.

The inside of the plant is a mess. Uranium rods scattered all over the place, pools of water (mixed with blood) surrounding the destroyed reactor core. At least ten bodies, all of which look like they were mangled by something inhuman. “What do you think could have done this?” The head soldier asks, a quiver in his voice. “Whatever it is, their going to have to go through me if they want to destroy my business.” A clatter comes from the far end of the room. “Quickly, over there! After the perpetrator!” Pinkerton yells, and they all begin to run towards the noise.

Right and left through the corridors, it seems like forever until they finally reach a dead end. Almost out of breath, Pinkerton wheezes, “Put your hands where I can see them, dirtbag.” And turns the corner to see a small furry animal. “What? A rabbit?!” Is this what we chased all around my plant to find? A rabbit?” Mr. Pinkerton says, stunned. Everyone else is still to out of breath to speak. The rabbit twitches, but doesn’t run. As if it were unafraid of the weaponry that was trained on it a moment ago. It begins to thump its foot, “Aw, isn’t that cute?” One of the soldiers says, and moves over to pet it, but is stopped by the head soldier. “Wait, listen to the thumps.” Everyone quiets down, the only noise being the continuous thumps of the rabbit.

Thump Thump!





Thump Thump!


Thump, Thump Thump, Thump!


Thump, Thump Thump!



Animals burst in from all sides, through the air duct, the walls, every crack and hole. They swarm the officers and Pinkerton, using an array of claws and teeth to tear at them. The men try to shoot, but are soon subdued by their sheer numbers.

There is now one less factory to pollute the earth that we live in. Thanks to the work of the ecosystems that surround us, watching our every move, we no longer have to be in fear that we will ever try to harm the beauty of nature.

The author's comments:
A chiller with a shock ending.

Most people perceive their reflection as just the scientific definition of such; The throwing back by a body or surface of light, heat, or sound without absorbing it. little do they know that they energy that they reflect is slightly absorbed, in miniscule amounts, from the source it is reflecting. The energy is not dissipated, nor radiated in any way. It just hangs there, in another universe, no, dimension, gleaning more and more, waiting to be unlocked. this action is similar to that of the large Hadron collider, which has created antimatter through an extremely dangerous version of this action. In conclusion, the longer you stay in front of the mirror, the more energy the reflection collects. The more energy it collects, the more powerful it becomes. The more powerful it becomes, the higher chance it has to entering our world in it’s own solid form.

During my Junior year and the beginning of my Senior year, I was a bit egotistical. Being top of my classes, captain of the football team, and the heartthrob of almost every girl in school, I think my admiration for myself was almost justified. On top of that, I loved to check out my own reflection. I would stand in front of the mirror for hours at a time, especially on weekends. I wasn’t dumb, but people definitely thought I was strange for doing that.

One morning, on sunday, I went upstairs to admire myself once more, but when I went into the bathroom, my reflection wasn’t just looking back at me; It was right in front of me. “Holy crap!” I exclaimed, jumping back from this tulpa of mine. With nothing better to do than copy me, It did the same action, tripping over the comb I dropped yesterday.

Even though I was still freaked out, I couldn’t help but laugh as he got up, fumbling for something to grab on to. He also chuckled, but faintly, mixed with groans of pain. I helped him up, and asked, “Who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“Can you quit copying me?”

“Can you quit copying me?”



I breathed a sigh of relief. At least this guy, er, thing, wasn’t completely dependant on my actions. I glanced over at the mirror behind us, and realized that my reflection wasn’t there. Whoa. I looked from the mirror to the man in front of me, and asked once more,

“Who are you?”

The thing thought about it for a while, looking from me, to the mirror, to himself over and over again, until he finally replied, “I think I am your Tulpa.”

“A what the what?”

“An almost exact copy of you, the only difference being that I can’t grow older.”


At that point I was at a loss for words. Amazing, my own reflection brought to life! I could only dream of the possibilities. Perfect double dates, pretending that he is my long lost twin, blaming everything on him. The possibilities were endless! I was about to test to see if he was under my control, but I heard the front door unlock. “Crap, my parents!” I whispered, “Quick, you need to hide from them. Get in the closet!” I shoved Tulpa into my closet, and ran downstairs. “Tony, we’re home!” My mom says, hands full of grocery bags and coupons. Dad follows in quick pursuit, with twice as many bags, trying to get to the kitchen before his arms give way. “You know,” I say, “you could have asked me to help.”

“We know, but we didn’t want you to wear yourself out before your big football game tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.”

I walk back upstairs, and into the closet where my tulpa is waiting patiently. “Who are those people outside?” He asks, distressed. “Don’t worry,” I reply calmly, trying to keep my voice cooler than I really am, “Those are just my parents, I will introduce them to you tomorrow, but for now you’re going to have to stay here. Alright?” My Tulpa nods back in agreement, and I close the closet door. “I’ll give you some food later.”

I race down the stairs to catch mom and dad in the kitchen, putting away groceries. “Hi sweety!” My mother says, always beaming with joy, “We brought all the groceries in already, so you can rest up for your big football game tomorrow.”

“Right, my football game.”

“So, what do you want for dinner?”

“How about hamburgers?”

“Alright, i’ll start up the grill.” My dad says, and races to the backyard.

About half an hour later, We had finished dinner and I went upstairs to turn into to bed, or so my parents thought. I tiptoe down the hall to the bathroom, hamburger in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The closet door creaks open, and I see my Tulpa, just sitting in the same position I left him. “Hey, buddy,” I said, “It’s okay to move.”

He groans and stretches, “Oh thank goodness, at first I thought I was going to seize up in there. What is that in your hand?”

“A hamburger. I brought it up here for you to eat.”

“Oh good! How cooked is it?”

“It’s a bit on the bloody side, but don’t worry because-”

My tulpa snatches it out of my hand, and bites into the burger. After that, he just sits there, a pleased look on his face as he just holds the burger in his mouth. A few seconds later, he just takes it out, and hands it back to me. “Perfect.” He exclaims, sitting back down on the bins. “Ummm, well, good night, I guess” I say slowly, throwing the burger in the trash as I walk out.

The next day, I wake up at seven P.M. on a Saturday morning, drag myself out of bed, and begin to prepare for my football game. I check the bathroom closet for my tulpa, and catch him sleeping soundly. “We both must be heavier sleepers than I thought.” I whisper and go downstairs, making sure to lock the closet behind me.

“Are you ready for the big game, champ?” My dad asks, frying up eggs and sausage, “I feel ready.” I reply. Dad flips the eggs onto a plate, and digs in. “Well then,” He mumbles, mouth full of egg, “Get Going!”

I grab the keys to my car, and run outside into the cool October air. Friday the 13th, my lucky day. The car weaves through the small suburb, and turn onto the exit that leads right to my high school. I park by the front, and race around the campus to the football field. My friend Kenth is waiting for me there with the rest of the team. “Dude! where have you been? We can’t have a team without our star quarterback!” He yells, chuckling.

Another two hours later, I am taking Kenth home in my car. It was a tight game, and went into overtime. I scored the winning touchdown by rushing the other teams QB, snatching the ball in a fumble and racing down to the opposing end zone.

“Thanks.” Kenth says, and waves goodbye as I ride around the block to my house.

I walk into the dimly lit house. “Hello? Dad, Mom?” I call out, and begin to make my way upstairs. I hear laughing coming from the end of the hall, and begin to become a little worried. Had mom and dad found out about my Tulpa? How can I explain that to them? I turn into the bathroom to see that the closet door was open, and my parents were laying dead on the ground. I scream, and turn around to see my Tulpa, whose fangs I only see once as he burrows them into my neck.

The professor pauses the video, and looks back towards the stunned classroom.

“And that, students, is where vampires come from.”

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