“Officer Briar?”

  Luis and I turned from the cluttered board dominating the precinct’s back wall. Over the past few days, we’d poured countless hours into dissecting this case. Theories filled the air like smoke, clinging to every thought and detail. Our latest idea? Some group had synthesized a poison capable of draining the blood from a body, leaving behind those grotesque scenes. But the symbol—that damned symbol—remained untouched. Every time we stared at it for too long, our heads swam with nausea and vertigo, as though it were alive, feeding on our attention. We agreed to shelve it, promising to revisit it only after we caught the perpetrator.

  “Yes, what is it?” I asked, glancing at the beat cop leaning up against the door.

  “I was headed out to check a noise complaint, but the chief told me to give it to you two.” He flashed us a grin and shrugged. “No skin off my back. He also told me to tell you to haul it–this is not a mosey-on-over scenario.”

  He held out a small slip of paper. I took it and glanced at the name scrawled in bold, heavy handwriting:

  Luke Hunter.

  Luis craned his neck over my shoulder. “Isn’t that the dad? Jessica’s father? What the hell does a noise complaint have to do with the case?”

  I flipped the paper over, feeling a strange weight settle in my gut. On the back, another note was hastily scribbled:

  ‘Screams of a woman reported by nearby neighbors.’

  The room seemed to chill in an instant, the fluorescent lights above buzzing like angry hornets.

  Luis broke the tense silence. “Do you think she was still alive?”

  I stared at him, confused. “I saw her heart in Mary’s hand, Luis. I don’t care how weird this case gets—she’s dead. There’s no coming back from that.”

  Luis hesitated, his eyes darting toward the board, then back to me. “Then what else could it be?”

  “Obviously,” I said, trying to mask my unease, “the dad’s our guy. Maybe he’s got another victim, and things got messy. Neighbors heard something, and now here we are.”

  Luis’s eyes widened, his face pale. “You think he’s the killer?”

  “It makes sense. He’s connected, and now there’s screaming coming from his house. We need to move—now.” I grabbed my coat, adrenaline kicking in as I stormed out of the room. Luis scrambled to follow.

  The drive to Luke Hunter’s address was suffocating. The paper sat on the dash, its words seared into my brain. ‘Screams of a woman.’ The phrase played over and over, louder with every passing second.

  “What the hell are we walking into?” Luis asked, breaking the heavy silence.

  “Answers.” I said, tightening my grip on the wheel. “One way or another.”

  ...

  The street was dead silent as we pulled up to Luke Hunter’s house. The headlights carved through the gloom, revealing a dilapidated home with warped shingles and peeling paint. An overgrown lawn swallowed the path to the porch, and the windows, dark and empty, watched us like sunken eyes. A faint flicker of movement deep inside was the only sign the house wasn’t abandoned.

  Luis shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, his hand brushing against the holstered gun at his side. “Doesn’t look like the kind of place you hear screaming from. Too quiet.”

  I killed the engine, and the oppressive silence rushed in to fill the void. The stillness felt alive, buzzing with tension that pressed down on my chest. A light briefly turned on in a basement window, there and gone so fast I almost missed it. The rest of the house sat in total darkness, a black void against the purple twilight sky.

  “Stay sharp,” I muttered, grabbing my flashlight and stepping out into the night.

  The house loomed larger as we approached, its sagging porch groaning beneath our weight. Each step echoed far louder than it should have. Luis shot me a glance, his eyes wide with unease.

  I rapped on the door, the sound unnaturally loud in the still air. For a long moment, there was nothing. Then came faint shuffling inside, followed by a heavy, deliberate thud.

  “Mr. Hunter?” I called, my voice cutting through the silence.

  Another pause. Then more shuffling. Luis tensed beside me, his breathing shallow as I reached for the handle. It turned easily, and the door creaked open on rusted hinges, releasing a stench that hit us like a physical blow.

  The smell was suffocating—a mix of copper, decay, and something acrid that burned the back of my throat. Luis gagged, pulling his coat over his mouth. “Jeez,” he muttered, his voice muffled.

  I stepped inside, sweeping the room with my flashlight. The inside, furniture was overturned, deep gouges carved into the hardwood as if something had clawed its way through. The walls bore strange markings, smears of dark, dried substance arranged in strange patterns that seemed purposeful. Papers and photographs littered the ground—crude attempts to recreate that symbol we'd found on Jessica.

  “Hunter!” I called again, the sound echoing in the suffocating space.

  No answer.

  The faint sound of dripping caught my attention. I followed it, the flashlight beam tracing a dark, viscous trail snaking across the floor toward the back of the house.

  “Briar…” Luis’s voice was barely above a whisper. “We shouldn’t be here, man. This place—it’s wrong.”

  I ignored him, stepping carefully to avoid the sticky substance. The further I went, the heavier the air felt, thick with an unnatural humidity. My flashlight flickered, the beam sputtering as I rounded the corner into the kitchen.

  It was empty, save for the source of the dripping. A cellar door stood ajar, and dark fluid dripped steadily down its steps, each drop echoing like a ticking clock.

  Luis tugged on my sleeve. “We need backup. Right now.”

  I hesitated, but moved towards the stairs, my grip tightening on the flashlight.

  The descent into the basement felt like entering another world. Each step creaked underfoot, the darkness below swallowing the beam of my flashlight. The smell grew stronger, and the dripping turned into a faint, rhythmic splatter.

  At the bottom, I froze in place.

  The basement opened into a large room, lit by a singular hanging lightbulb. Luke Hunter sat in the center, perched on an old lawn chair. A shotgun lay across his lap, and at his feet a body bag lay on the floor, dark fluid seeping from its seams. It twitched occasionally, like something inside was testing its constraints.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Good Lord," Luis breathed.

  “Call for backup. Now.” I told Luis.

  He nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving Luke as he slowly moved back up the stairs.

  "Mr. Hunter," I said carefully, keeping my weapon trained on him. "I need you to put down the shotgun."

  Luke didn't move. His eyes remained fixed on the bag, tears cutting clean tracks through the grime on his face. "You don't understand," he whispered. "It's not her anymore. It's... something else."

  The bag convulsed violently, and Luke raised the shotgun with trembling hands.

  "That thing in there?" he continued, his voice cracking. "It's wearing my daughter's skin like a costume. I thought... I thought I could save her. But you can't save someone once they've seen the symbol. Once it's inside them."

  Another convulsion, stronger this time. The zipper began to slide open on its own.

  "Drop the weapon!" I shouted, but Luke just laughed—a broken, hollow sound.

  "You don't get it," he said, turning to face us. His eyes were wide, almost fevered. "But you will. The symbol... it shows you things. Things you can't unsee. And once it's in your head, it never leaves. It just grows, and grows, and..."

  The bag split open with a soft, tearing sound.

  ...

  It tumbled out of the body bag with a grotesque slap, as the autopsy's remnants spilled onto the floor—organs and viscera cascading like discarded refuse. The copper smell intensified, which made my teeth ache and my vision blur. I stood paralyzed, my mind trying and failing to reconcile what I was seeing. The thing twitched, spasming as though trying to recall how to move.

  The beam of my flashlight caught its contorting form, casting bizarre shadows across the walls. It was human once—that much was clear—but now its flesh rippled unnaturally as if something inside it clawed for freedom. Bubbles rose beneath the skin, swelling before rupturing with sickening pops, spraying ichor and blood in all directions. The symbol spread from her chest, leaving her skin a sickly black.

  A rough spike of white cracked through, followed by another, and another. With each sharp, grinding emergence, jagged shards of bone punched through its sinew and muscle, splitting it open like a disgusting cocoon. Its limbs extended, distorting into asymmetrical monstrosities. Where hands should have been, there were now aberrations- fingers too long and numerous, some ending in claws, some in hooked talons, as more and more sprouted from unnatural points in the creature's body.

  The basement’s musty air grew thick with the stench of copper and decay. Each breath felt like swallowing molten metal.

  The thing fell forward, collapsing onto what could only loosely be called its knees, the ground beneath it slick with blood and viscera. For a moment, it stilled, its malformed body twitching as though testing itself.

  I watched in shock as its face separated.

  The sound was organic, like overripe fruit being torn in half. Its head peeled back like a blooming flower from hell, each "petal" lined with tissue and bone that shouldn't exist. At its center, a single massive eye emerged, glistening in the dim light. The pupil contracted as it found me, and in that moment, I felt something ancient and corrupt reach into my mind.

  From the jagged edges of its segmented face, teeth began to sprout—yellowed things that jutted out at random angles, growing and multiplying as if the creature itself couldn't decide where they belonged. Each new tooth emerged with a sound like breaking chalk.

  The tear continued downward, ripping through torso and spine with a sound like damp velcro being pulled apart. More bone fragments erupted from the wound, along with masses of shifting sinew that seemed to move with purpose. Thin, membranous wings unfurled from its back, their surface nearly transparent. I could see dark fluids pumping through veiny structures, each pulse accompanied by a soft, undulating sound.

  I couldn't breathe. The floor held my feet in place as the thing rose to its full height, its form seeming to fill the entire basement. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I could only stare, my flashlight beam trembling across its form. It reached into my mind, pulling me closer with invisible tendrils that bypassed all rational thought.

  Luke’s shouting broke me free. His shotgun clattered in his hands as he fumbled to raise it, his breath ragged and frantic. The creature turned what passed for its skull toward him.

  "Get back!" Luke shouted, finally raising the barrel. But before he could fire, it lunged.

  Its movement was impossible—too fast, too fluid. One moment it stood across the room, the next it had Luke in its grasp. The shotgun blast went wide, the sound deafening in the confined space. Concrete dust rained down as the creature's gaping maw clamped over Luke's head with a crunch.

  The scream that followed wasn't human. It resonated at a frequency that vibrated my teeth, a sound that existed somewhere between radio static and breaking glass. A multitude of limbs lashed out, ripping into Luke's chest with surgical precision. Blood sprayed across the room in an arc, each droplet sizzling where it hit the floor.

  The visceral scene snapped me out of my trance. I spun on my heel, my boots slipping on the blood-slick floor, and bolted up the stairs. My mind raced, my thoughts a jumbled mess of terror and disbelief.

  I burst into the living room to find Luis, his phone pressed to his ear as he shouted into the receiver.

  “What the hell happened?!” he demanded, his voice cutting through my panicked breaths.

  “The bag-its… it's alive! Run!” I sputtered, the words tumbling out of me incoherently, choking on my words as the images of the reflection of fire in its eye pierced my thoughts. I still felt its grasp on my mind, but it loosened with every step. My legs moved on instinct, carrying me past him and toward the door.

  From the cellar came the sound of dragging—slow, deliberate, and heavy. Then a screech tore through the air, so loud it felt like needles in my skull. The sound carried something else with it, a subsonic frequency that made my vision blur and my stomach turn.

  Luis froze, his eyes wide. The dragging sounds grew closer, accompanied by the snap and crack of bones rearranging themselves.

  "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" Luis screamed, stumbling backward as the creature's twisted form emerged from the cellar. Its claws left deep gouges in the walls, and wherever its fluid touched, the wallpaper began to bubble and peel.

  It launched itself upward with impossible speed, its amalgamation of limbs finding purchase on every surface. The ceiling creaked under its weight as it pulled itself fully into the room, sending furniture crashing in its wake. The symbol on its chest pulsed with a sickly light that cast writhing shadows across the walls.

  “Luis, MOVE!” I yelled, my voice cracking with panic. I reached out towards him, but he hesitated, frozen in the gaze of the thing's eye.

  Its wings unfurled with a slimy, sickening slap, the membranous surfaces scraping the walls as they spread wide.

  “Luis, Get out!” My shout barely cut through the piercing screeches that followed.

  Luis stumbled back, reaching for his gun, but it was too fast. It moved like liquid shadow, limbs a chaotic flurry of claws and muscles, slamming into him with a bone-shattering force. He hit the back wall with a gasp, sliding down onto the floor.

  Terror gripped me like a vice, rooting me to the spot. Luis groaned, dazed and struggling to move as the creature stalked toward him, each step leaving a trail of blood and viscera in its wake.

  Its separated face twisted open, revealing jagged teeth that seemed to grow as it approached. Without thinking, I raised my gun and fired. The shot struck true, the bullet tearing through its chest.

  The creature let out a piercing screech—a sound more like a fork being dragged along a plate than anything living. The unearthly noise reverberated in my skull, driving me to my knees as I clutched my ears, struggling to block it out.

  Before I could fully recover, it was already too late.

  What had once been Jessica Hunter now held Luis aloft in its countless hands, his body limp, limbs dangling like a broken puppet. From its chest emerged a grotesque, glistening limb, a clawed hand seared with a burning sigil.

  “NO!” I shouted, raising my pistol. Before I could fire, the claw slammed into Luis’s chest.

  The stench of burning flesh hit me like a wave, acrid and suffocating, as Luis’s agonized screams filled the room. I fired again, my shot piercing through one of its wings. The creature shuddered and recoiled, retracting its limb slowly and letting Luis crumple to the ground.

  The ground shook with tremendous force; stronger than I had ever felt it. I fell to my knees as the foundations of the house began to shake violently. The epicenter was the ritual: whatever the creature did to Luis caused the earth to shake. Like even it knew what was happening was wrong.

  I braced myself for the next attack, but instead, it let out a low, guttural sound—it was laughing.

  Without warning, it turned and shot upward, smashing through the roof in a storm of splintered wood and debris. Its wings beat unevenly, carrying it into the night as the house trembled from the impact.

  I collapsed beside Luis, my heart pounding. He was still alive but barely, gasping for air as his hands clawed at the seared sigil on his chest.

  “Luis, stay with me!” I pleaded, fumbling to assess the wound.

  But then we froze. The mark began to shift. The symbol didn’t stay etched on his skin—it sank deeper, burrowing into his flesh like a living thing. Slowly, inexorably, it disappeared beneath the surface, leaving nothing but unmarked skin in its wake.

  I met his terrified gaze, my mind scrambling for answers I didn’t have. His eyes dimmed, his breaths shallowed, and his hands fell limp. I watched helplessly as the life drained from my friend.

  ...

  Three hours later the remains of Luke Hunter’s house were discovered by the Greystone PD , after neighbors reported a fire.

  Luis had been my partner, my closest friend. But the moment his eyes closed, I knew he was no longer himself. That infection—whatever it was—had taken hold, festering in his flesh and scooping him out from the inside.

  I couldn’t let him become the monster that took him. I struck the match myself, watching his remains burn until nothing but ash was left.

  I don’t know why I wrote all this down. Maybe to make sense of it all, but I know I never will. Maybe it’s a warning, something for the person who finds me. Or maybe it is just to keep the whispers away.

  Since then, the tremors have gotten more frequent. In the two weeks since Luis’s death, we have had 17 recorded earthquakes. Those rituals are becoming more frequent, and no one can do anything about it. Whatever is causing this has claimed our town as its own, and it will not let go.

  I see the symbol everywhere now. It haunts me, etched into the edges of my vision. Hell, even looking back on my writing I can see it in between my words. It is whispering promises of things yet to come. I won’t live to see the beautiful, terrible horrors it foretells.

  The copper smell started hours ago. At first it was faint, but now it's thicker than the air. Sleep was impossible. Whenever darkness took over my vision, the shape would appear from the void. Two curved lines, with a circle in the center, watching me. I know it isn’t real but knowing has done me no good.

  The scratching began after the smell. Softly at first, a fingernail against the wood of my door. But it has become more insistent, louder as time goes on. Sometimes it stops, and I think it's over. But then it starts back up closer than before.

  They want me to let it in.

  I don’t need it to speak to know, I can feel it. It projects its desires into the coils of my mind. The air hums with something just beyond my range of hearing.

  I saw Luis’s face in the mirror tonight. He wasn’t looking at me—he was looking through me. The mark took him, I know that. I watched it burrow into his chest, consuming him from the inside out. But seeing him there, staring at me as if he knew something I didn’t, almost broke me.

  I thought the symbol was on the mirror’s surface, but when I reached out to touch it, it moved. It slid behind the glass, pulsing faintly, taunting me.

  I can’t get rid of it.

  The gun is on the nightstand. I am going to use it. Not to fight whatever’s coming—I know that’s impossible—but to escape. To end this before they take me like they took Luis.

  But every time I pick it up, I hear her voice.

  Find the peace in submission.

  I know it’s Jessica, but it isn’t. Whatever is speaking through her doesn’t want peace. It wants me broken.

  The scratching has stopped now. It’s quiet—so quiet that I can hear my own heartbeat. But I know better than to trust the silence. They’re still there, waiting, patient as ever.

  I won’t give them the satisfaction.

  If you’re reading this, then maybe they’ve found you, too. If so, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say that will help.

  I can hear them again now. Closer this time.

  There’s no escape. Not really.

  But I won’t submit.