PARASOMNIA

By

DAN CHADWICK

Copyright © 2023 Dan Chadwick

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of any of this material is strictly prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover, photos, documents, texts, legal documents, or interviews may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, reading within a media system, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author and publisher.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover Design: Dan Chadwick

For My Girls

parasomnia

noun

a disorder characterized by abnormal behaviour of the nervous system that involves unusual and undesirable physical events or experiences which can occur before or during sleep.

The steps leading down to the basement were very old, wooden and splintered. Being careful not to step on the third one down—he knew that if he did, it would break—he moved further in to the dark room. The only light source was a single, discoloured, batten light that flickered on and off causing shadows to dance around the pale, grimy walls. He moved to the back of the room where a large shelving unit stood—an old fashioned bookcase, which had been used to store anything and everything. Moving to the left side of it and reaching behind, through a tight gap, there was an audible Click and the bookcase began to move across the floor by itself—creating a doorway behind.

He squeezed through the space created by the furniture moving away from the wall, and through the newly created passageway. There was no source of light down here. He flicked on a torch—low battery, so it needed to be conserved as much as possible. The beam of light searched the way forward—it was a narrow corridor, the walls as dingy as those in the main room. He knew to move forward for several steps until he reached the laboratory, but there may be something in there with him—there was no telling if this corridor was safe from…the light of the torch flickered then went out. There was a hiss and a gust of wind swept past him. The smell of rotting flesh and, what could only be described as death, filled the air. There was an ear-piercing screech and then sharp shallow breathing—whatever was in here with him seemed to be mere inches from his face.

A white flash filled his vision as the torch burst to life, and there was the creature—a crimson, eyeless face with a large gaping mouth filled with hundreds of razor sharp teeth. The mouth opened wider as the screech sound filled the tiny space once more. A large green tongue, dripping with puss, wormed its way from the thing’s face and edged closer to his. He raised his knife and brought it down in an arch, aiming straight for where the monster’s eyes should have been. As the blade pierced through the skin, a thick black liquid—almost like tar—oozed from the wound. The thing struggled as though in pain, rose up above the ground and spread its appendages—of which there were six—so that it filled the space entirely. It hissed, craned its long neck backwards and then thrust forward as if to lunge at him. The creature froze in its tracks and then began to flicker in and out of existence.

“Oh for fuck sake, not this again …” cried Charlie.

“I told you mate, every time it goes to lunge, the damn thing freezes…crashes the game entirely.” Eric replied.

“Is it just the Reaper, or any creature that appears in this hallway?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not always the same thing that appears in this area, it’s random…so if another monster spawns, does it cause the same issue or is it only the Reaper?”

“I don’t know Charlie, I’ve only come across this guy in here on the four or five playthroughs I’ve done. Are you sure it’s random? Maybe Emma changed it?”

“No, I specifically stated that it had to be random. I have said this from the beginning; every part of this game has to give every player a different experience. I don’t want kids going online to find walkthroughs telling them exactly what equipment they need when and where. I want to scare the shit out of anyone who picks it up.” Charlie had begun to pace the room as he became more animated throughout his rant.

“I don’t know what to tell you, sorry. I’ll check with Emma in the morning. In the meantime, do you want to go through some of the creature builds? I think Damien said that most of them have been fully rendered in the engine now and we can view them, make any tweaks, before they are fully implemented.”

Charlie grabbed a plastic cup from beside the water machine, sighed, and then filled it. He took a sip.

“Yeah, okay…sure. I’m excited to see my creations finally come to life…I just … hope they haven’t changed anything.” He sat back down next to Eric, as he loaded up the viewing screen containing the character models.

A bat-like creature filled the screen—deep purple in colour, with an immense wingspan. Its claws held a lifeless body of a man, minus its head. Blood, drool and other viscous fluids were dripping from the creature’s fangs. The eyes were blood red. In the centre of the thing there was a long indentation that drew down in a line from the top of its chest to the approximate location of the navel. As Eric double clicked the image, the indentation opened up to reveal a cavity, from which a grotesque clawed appendage protruded, holding the head of the aforementioned corpse.

“Ah, the Vespertilium…nice. It’s even better than I imagined. Good work Damien.”

Eric breathed a sigh of relief and continued to go through the character models.

******

Charlie jumped on his bike—a brand new, Triumph T120 chrome edition, that he was incredibly proud to own. He pulled on his helmet and gloves, started it up and tore out of the car park. He had been riding motorbikes for as long as he was (legally) able to. Despite being able to drive a car, the ability to filter through traffic and the lack of metal box surrounding you at all times, gave a sense of freedom that you could only get on two wheels. It also seemed to give Charlie a clearer head and the ability to think through things, as he whipped through traffic—issues that could seem impossible to figure out when sat at home, in the office or even a car, would suddenly become so clear to him as the wind whistled through his visor.

As he turned onto the dual carriageway and quickly gained speed, the moment that the creature had become frozen in the hallway began to replay in his mind. What was causing the issue? Trees either side zipped past in a green blur, as his mind’s eye focused on each section of the creature. It only happened as the limbs spread and it began to lunge…that’s it…the limbs. He realised that the corridor was too narrow for the Reaper—the top two appendages were wider and thicker than the other four and were clipping into the surrounding environment, and he believed that this is what caused the glitch. Emma would have to be consulted about the other creatures, as the random nature of this section of the game seemed to be in question. But, if he was right, then they would need to widen the passage by several (in game) feet and the issue should be resolved. As any other creature he had designed for this area would not present a problem, given the Reaper was the only one with such an immense presence. The Vespertilium was the only other that could have potentially caused a problem due to the impressive wingspan, but these were programmed to only appear (randomly) in open areas, as to not waste the threat from above that it could pose.

A smile spread across Charlie’s face, and he pulled back on the throttle, the engine roared as he did so.

******

“Yeah, so if we make the hallway wider by a couple of in-game feet then that…yeah exactly. Expand it on the left side as there is nothing back there, we have used it for asset storage, whereas the other side is the first room of the lab…we don’t need to be repositioning all of that, it would take too much time…great, thanks Emma. Oh, and can you check with Eric tomorrow what settings he was using with the test, make sure that the creature generation is completely random…cool, see you tomorrow.” Charlie ended the call, threw his phone onto the bed, and removed his clothes. He crossed the landing to the bathroom, closed the door and stepped into the shower. Lazily standing under the falling water, as it cascaded over his head and down his body, he felt too tired to even wash. Sleep had eluded him for the most part over the last few weeks; this game meant so much to him that Charlie was dedicating every minute he could to it.

Thinking back to the early days, he had worked for several other companies beforehand, but having grown tired of developing repeated sequels, he decided to leave and form his own studio to make a game that he had always wanted to make, My Soul To Take, which was the studio's first release in 2018. At the 2019 GameStar Awards, the team had won the award for Best New Studio. They had immediately begun work on their next project—one that was dear to Charlie’s heart, as it had been something he and his father had conceived when he was a young boy. They initially envisioned it as a board game, aching to Dungeons and Dragons, but Robert had sadly passed away when Charlie was just thirteen years old, and it had been forgotten about until he was helping his mum move home in 2019 and came across a box of his old sketch books, one of which contained early designs of the creatures he and his dad had envisioned. There was also a notebook full of their wild ideas and concepts.

So, for the last two years the small indie team of six had worked tirelessly from early concept, all the way through to polishing and testing over the last few weeks. The game had developed into something much darker than Charlie’s thirteen-year-old mind could conceive, but still held the same basic premise and nods to his and Robert’s initial creation. As with all games there were issues and bugs that required fixing, the hallway leading to the lab being the latest, but it was all coming together. Charlie was starting to feel the toll it was having on him though—black coffee, with a lot of sugar, had become his best friend.

“Shit…” Charlie exclaimed, he had forgotten to send his progress report to Michael, the main investor in the project. Michael was a stickler for these reports being received by six p.m. on a Monday evening. Glancing at his watch, Charlie realised it was now five-fifty-three p.m. Spinning himself around to turn off the shower the bathmat suddenly released itself from the base of the bath and pulled his feet from underneath him. His head collided with the tiles, then the edge of the bath, before Charlie lay unconscious—the constant stream of hot water was the only sound in the, quickly darkening, bathroom.

******

The world began to slowly come back into focus, as Charlie finally came to. He wasn’t sure how long he had been out of it, but there was no longer sunlight coming in through the window. As his eyes were adjusting to the darkness, there was a strange scuttling sound coming from the other side of the room. Charlie rubbed his eyes, and then strained to see what could be causing it. The sound had stopped, but there was a strange shape on the wall facing the bath that seemed to be twitching. Charlie reached for his phone from the windowsill, assuming that his eyes were playing tricks on him. He turned on the torch, which illuminated the room, temporarily blinding him for a fraction of a second. His eyes refocused and the shape had begun to move, with the scurrying sound starting again. What the hell is that? Charlie didn’t own any pets, and lived alone, so he began to wonder if he had left a window open and the neighbour’s cat had made itself at home. Mrs. Hopper, the elderly woman who lived in the next flat, had two cats—Tom and Jerry—and they had a habit of getting themselves into unusual places, where they weren’t wanted. Charlie wasn’t a big cat person, he had always preferred dogs, but he would always play the friendly neighbour and didn’t make a fuss when returning one of them after finding it hidden in the airing cupboard, or asleep on his sofa.

The scuttling stopped and was followed by a strange snipping. Charlie aimed the beam of light in the direction of the sound and was horrified by the sight that was now clear as day before him. There was a nightmarish creature hanging upside down—six large black crab-like legs clung from the ceiling, the sharp points of which seemed embedded in the plaster, the legs belonged to the upper torso and head of what seemed to be a human baby, but the arms formed into large, grotesque pincers at the ends. The hideous thing opened its mouth, making a repulsive gurgling sound, as green mucus began to spew out. It began to snap its pincers towards Charlie’s face, moving side to side as it did. Charlie dropped his phone in utter shock and let out a guttural scream, as the light disappeared, he could hear the creature moving around, unsure of whether it was moving closer to him. He anticipated some form of contact from it in the pitch-black room, perhaps the sharp pinch of its claws, but the sound stopped as quickly as it had begun, and the feeling of something else being in the room with him began to fade. Has it gone?

Charlie listened, frozen, in the silence for what seemed an eternity, then finally bent down and shakily picked his phone back up from the bottom of the bath. Quickly raising the beam of light back up towards the ceiling, he frantically searched…but there was nothing. A scan of the room revealed that the creature had seemingly gone.

Still not fully reassured that he was alone, Charlie leapt from the bath and hurried to the landing, where he flicked all of the light switches – the hall, stairs, landing, and bathroom lights all came to life at once. There was nothing there, and the sound was no longer echoing in his ears. That creature, he was sure he recognised it—the Decayura, it was from the game. How is that possible?

Charlie felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and reached up to feel the, rather large, lump that had resulted from the impact of his fall. He checked the tips of his fingers to find a few drops of blood. Must have been some fall. Christ.

******

There was no better feeling for Charlie than clear skies on a warm sunny day, whipping through the streets on his motorbike. The traffic was pretty minimal, which meant less of the awful stop-start riding on his morning commute; he could pull back a little more on the throttle. It really helped to clear his head—Clear skies; clear mind was something his dad used to say.

The final stretch of road leading to the office was a long straight that was only broken by two sets of traffic lights. On a clear day, like today, Charlie would always challenge himself to get from one end to the other without having to stop, attempting to time the lights perfectly, as there was only about five seconds between the first light turning green and the second changing to red. His bike stood at the top of the road, his eyes fixed solidly on the first light, waiting for that green signal, his right hand tickling the throttle.

The first flash of green and Charlie pulled back on the throttle, quickly shifting up gears as smoothly as possible and rapidly gaining speed. He was closing in on the second set of lights when everything suddenly grew dark, like someone had turned off the sun. A great shadow had formed overhead, which caused Charlie to slow, as the sky had been free from cloud mere seconds earlier. He glanced upwards as a large shape swooped down over him, a rush of wind knocking him slightly off balance, as something had passed over mere inches away from his helmet.

Then it was gone. Charlie looked down quickly enough to see the light had changed to red and was able to apply his brakes in an emergency stop, skidding to a halt an inch over the white line.

The figure, he was sure, had been purple. At least, that was the colour of the blurred shape he was confident had passed over his head…Vespertilium? Impossible.

******

The image of the Vespertilium was staring back at Charlie, it’s vivid purple colour almost jumping off the screen. The blood red eyes glaring…

Something suddenly dropped on the desk in front of him with a thud.

“Order up…” Eric snickered as he had placed a brown paper bag on Charlie’s desk.

“…Sausage, bacon and egg, red sauce. Enjoy.” He stopped and stared at Charlie for a second. “Dude, are you okay?”

“Uh…yeah, sorry…what did you say?” he felt dazed.

“Breakfast that you ordered. You ready to run through the next area?”

“Yeah…yes…sure, load it up on the main screen.”

Eric nodded to Grace, and she selected something on her computer screen, which was then projected on to a large screen in the centre of the room so that all of the team could see it. It was another area in the game, an exterior location near the entrance to a large medieval castle. Dark clouds were causing lightning and heavy rainfall; the screen began to move, as the main character proceeded forward towards the crumbling bridge, a high-pitched screech came from above.

“Okay, so this is the issue…” Eric announced, as a swarm of Vespertilium swopped down from the clouds and began to attack the screen. The view was full of purple and red, and then faded to black. The words GAME OVER appeared.

Charlie stared for a moment.

“This happens every time.” Said Eric, awaiting some form of response.

Charlie stood up from his desk and began to pace around the room.

“Okay…” he said, finally. “…this area allows up to fifteen enemies to spawn, but if they are always just Vespertilium then the player will have no chance of survival…so limit the area to allow only two to spawn at the same time, with the remaining thirteen potential enemies to be made up from lesser creatures. Obviously, the Reaper and Reachnid are exempt from the list that can spawn, so this should be much more achievable.”

The rest of the team stared blankly, then each began to smile and nod. This was a typical occurrence throughout the development of the game—Charlie had everything so clearly laid out in his mind of how it was supposed to run, the number of enemies in each area, and all of the different types of creatures. So, it meant when there was an issue with anything, he would be able to solve the problem, and instruct them in exactly what steps they needed to take.

“Okay, we’ll get on it.” Said Jamie, one of the other designers, gesturing towards himself and another member of staff sitting next to him, Rachel.

Charlie’s attention returned to the Vespertilium character model.

******

The team were working extremely hard to clean up the rough edges as soon as the testers spotted them. The idea was for this process to be completed by the end of the following week, and then they could focus on the final render, and on getting the game to print. Charlie was running through a particular corridor towards the end of the campaign, where a door had been reported as glitching in and out of existence when the player went towards it at a certain angle. It was an easy fix for him. Once it was done, he submitted the updated version to the server and lifted his cup to take a sip of coffee, but it was empty. Charlie rubbed his eyes and stood up from his desk, turning off his monitor and grabbing his cup simultaneously. The conference room adjacent to his desk compromised of floor to ceiling glass panes, with built in blinds that were currently fully open. Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie noticed the lights in the room seemed to flicker. As he turned towards the room he saw something retract into the open air vent in the ceiling—it looked like a pale arm with only three fingers.

Charlie rubbed his eyes again and looked back into the conference room—the air vent was closed. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Christ, I’m tired.

After making a coffee in the kitchen, he left the cup on the worktop and walked down the hall into the bathroom. He pushed on the door to the first stall, but it didn’t budge.

“Sorry.” He called to whoever was using that facility. He pushed lightly on the next stall door, and it swung open.

As this building was fairly new, and quite upmarket, there was no graffiti on the walls for Charlie to entertain himself reading, so he opened up the calendar app on his phone and began to scroll through, and remind himself, of the different deadlines and meetings that were scheduled in over the coming weeks—he and his team were going to be very busy as the final deadline loomed closer.

Suddenly, there was a bang on the door to his cubicle.

“Occupied.” He announced to the bathroom outside.

There was another bang on the door, followed swiftly by a third.

“Hey, somebody is in here, use another cubicle…” having barely finished his sentence the door began to rattle violently, like somebody was trying to shake the door from its hinges.

“Hey…what the fuck?”

As the door continued to shake, the rhythmic thumping began to echo around the bathroom, reverberating from the tiled walls.

Charlie began to pull up his trousers, in a panicked state. What the fuck is going on? Is this a wind up?

The banging and shaking stopped as suddenly as it had started. Silence.

Charlie flushed the toilet, hesitantly unlocked the door, and slowly opened it. He peered through a small gap to see that the bathroom was empty. The stall door next to his was still closed; he could see this reflected in the mirrors adjacent. But the outer bathroom, where the sinks were, was vacant. He knocked on the cubicle next to his.

“Hey buddy, did you hear banging?” but there was no response. I’m going mad.

Charlie moved over to the sink and washed his hands. He leant down and splashed some cold water onto his face. The stress of the imminent final deadline was getting to him. He hadn’t been sleeping very well the last few nights—although that could be due to the visions he had been seeing, playing on his mind. I’m just tired.

As he dried his face with a paper towel, he saw something hanging over the top of the door to the cubicle that had been occupied when he entered the bathroom. It looked like a claw in the mirror’s reflection. Not daring to turn around, he just stared blankly at the shape, hoping it was a trick of the light. Then, it moved, inside the stall, scraping down the inside of the door with a horrendous sound—like nails on a chalkboard. The door began to shake, much like his own had moments ago, and the banging began to echo again—as though someone, or something, was slamming themselves against the inside, trying to escape. There was a slight pause, then SLAM! The door flew open, hanging off one of the hinges, and the thing that had been making all the noise began to emerge. It was a huge, hulking creature, that wasn’t fully revealed until it had pulled itself free of the cubicle, which appeared too small to have contained it. Charlie recognised the creature immediately—a Reachnid. The eyeless face with a large gaping mouth filled with hundreds of razor-sharp teeth, similar to that of a Reaper, screeched as it pulled itself up. The upper torso of the creature looked like that of a human male that had been severed and then stitched to the Reaper-like head. Similarly, crudely sewn to this disfigured body were eight appendages—the back six were human legs, complete with feet and toes, whilst the front two were human arms with hands, but the fingers pointed towards the end forming claws. The bright, batten lights of the bathroom illuminated the oily black skin of the nightmarish, spider-like abomination. The creature lunged forwards towards Charlie, who was able to move out of the way quickly enough, so that the Reachnid slammed its face into the bathroom mirror. Glass showered across the bathroom floor, tinkling as it sprayed across the ground like fairy dust. The creature steadied itself and began to reach out for Charlie, standing upright, like an animal on its hind legs, it filled the bathroom, touching the ceiling, as it attempted to get a hold of him around the throat. Charlie ducked, and scrambled to the side, grabbing the bin used for paper towels. He held it above him like a makeshift shield, using it to block the strikes that seemed to be coming from every direction. He was able to back himself up to the bathroom door, fumbling behind himself for the handle, whilst his other arm held the shield aloft.

Charlie’s hand grasped the handle, but before he could open it, the creature lunged forward with it’s head. He had to let go of the door and use the bin, with both arms, to keep the Reachnid at bay. The monster’s large mouth was inches from his own face; he could smell it’s hot breath—the stench of death and decay—as it snapped ferociously at him.

With all of his might, Charlie pushed back against the Reachnid, giving him enough time to grab the door and burst through it to the other side. Once more the creature began to lunge towards him. He quickly moved to his feet and slammed the door shut behind him, screaming in terror for someone to help him, as he tried to hold the door shut and contain the monster. The door was shaking under the weight of the Reachnid ramming it from the other side. Charlie sat on the floor with his back against the door, straining with every inch of him to keep it closed.

Several other people in the office had come to their respective doors, to see what the screaming and commotion was all about. They were staring at him, nervously, as he screamed for everyone to get back as it wasn’t safe.

Eric approached him slowly, with the rest of Charlie’s team huddled behind, keeping a distance.

“Charlie…are you okay? What’s happening?” he tried to speak calmly as to not panic Charlie any further.

“It’s in there Eric, I have to hold it back…you need to get everyone out.” Charlie screamed.

“It’s okay, mate. Everything is going to be okay. Just calm down and tell me what the problem is…I’m here to help you.” Eric moved closer as he spoke. He placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and crouched down next to him.

“It’s in there Eric…” He sobbed. Eric gestured for Rachel to come and help him get Charlie back to his feet, which she did, despite her initial hesitance. Once Charlie was clear of the door, Eric turned to enter.

“NO! Don’t open it Eric…don’t…”

The Reachnid was gone.

******

It had been three days since the incident and, despite the few strange looks from others in the building, things had returned to normal, and Charlie had been able to focus on the game with his team. He hadn’t had any more visions in that time, and believed that, whatever had been happening was finally over.

It was an important day, as Charlie had a meeting with Michael, and he was confident that it would be positive due to the fantastic progress the team had been making, and how close they were to completion.

“Charlie…he’s here.” Damien interrupted his train of thought, as Michael had arrived for their meeting.

“Thanks Damien.” Grabbing his cup of coffee from the desk, he strode across the office and outstretched his hand to welcome Michael enthusiastically. He took Charlie’s hand and shook, but there was a look of concern on his face. Charlie gestured towards the meeting room, and they both entered.

After several minutes of Charlie explaining how well the progress on the game was going, showing screenshots, and short clips of gameplay, as well as feedback surveys from test players, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else distracting Michael—he didn’t seem as invested in the report as usual, especially given that it was all very positive news.

“Is there something wrong, Michael?”

“What?” Michael seemed to have been in a bit of a daze. “Erm…no…well, actually…yes…”

Charlie took a seat next to him.

“You see, Charlie…I have had a few reports from other people on your team…”

Charlie knew where this was going.

“…About your behaviour as of late. Strange outbursts, a nervous demeanour, and then there was an incident with the bathroom?”

“Sir, I can explain…”

“I am very concerned, Charlie. If the pressure is becoming too much for you to handle I…”

“No, Michael, please. I admit I have been a bit stressed out lately, but that’s normal. As you can see from my presentation, we have it all under control.”
“Your TEAM have everything under control, Charlie, but I don’t feel that you do. I am growing very concerned.”

“You cannot take this project away from me.” Charlie balked “ It is my life’s work, mine and Dad’s dream…I won’t let anyone take this away from me.”

Michael paused for a moment, initially shocked at the change in Charlie’s attitude and tone; he had never seen him act like this before.

“Charlie, I will have to go away and speak to some of the other investors about the potential of pushing the release date back. That is my final word on the matter.” He left the meeting room, waved at the team, and left through the door leading to the stairs.

Charlie had become visibly agitated by the conversation and followed him. He stopped at the top of the stairs and called for Michael to come back so that they could discuss it further. He tried to calm himself down and speak in a more professional manner than before.

“I’m sorry Michael, I don’t know what came over me. I am just very passionate about this project.”

Michael stood halfway up the top set of stairs, listening patiently.

“The team and I have been working so hard, and the game is almost ready. We would all be devastated if the release date were to be pushed back and…” that was when Charlie saw it—the creature that was slowly making its way up the second flight of stairs towards Michael—one of The Triplets.

The Triplets were not part of the original line-up of creatures that he and his dad had conjured up all those years ago. Charlie had once heard a story back in University about a ghost nurse, with a huge inhuman grimace stretched across her face, which had apparently attacked and killed a group of young men in the town. There were conflicting accounts of the name of this horrible apparition—Joan, Jenny, Julie, Jackie etc. and this story had stuck with him for years. When it came time to actually create the game, he had decided to adapt this ghost character, but rather than one, he decided to pick his three favourite names and created The Triplets—a trio of savage demons dressed in a nurses uniform, whose eyes could hypnotise the player, they would then strike—carving into the flesh of their victim, whilst cackling maniacally.

Jessica ascended the stairs behind Michael, closing in on her prey. Michael was completely unaware of his impending doom, and Charlie remained frozen to the spot. As Jessica walked slowly up the steps, the image of her flickered slightly, and then she disappeared, instantly reappearing several steps higher. This happened again, and she was standing three steps below Michael. The demon outstretched a greyish coloured arm, with black, pointed fingernails, and grabbed Michael’s ankle. It pulled with it’s inhuman strength, and Michael toppled down the two sets of stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom, and knocked unconscious by the impact of the back of his skull on the tiled floor. Blood began to pool around him. Jessica looked directly at, the frozen, Charlie. She smiled that menacing, horrible grin, and then raised her finger in a shushing gesture. The lights on the stairwell flickered, and the demon was gone.

******

Charlie had given the team the rest of the day off, once the ambulance had rushed Michael off to the hospital, and the police had finished questioning everyone in relation to the incident. Detective Cobbs had grilled Charlie quite intensely for at least half an hour, going over every detail of the discussion before, and during, the accident—it had been ruled as such for the time being, as there was no concrete evidence of foul play. Charlie had left out the part about Jessica, fearing he would be deemed mentally unstable and taken away. The game needs to be finished. Nothing else matters.

******

The image of Michael’s terrified face as he fell, kept playing over in Charlie’s mind as he rode home. It was an accident. Wasn’t it? The demon was just a hallucination. Did I push him? No, it was an accident.

Suddenly, the sky grew dark again. A great shadow formed above him as he sped along the carriageway. A rush of wind flew past his right side, as though a large bird had flown past him. It was followed quickly by a high-pitched shriek. Charlie looked up from the road, and this time there was no mistaking what had caused the sun to disappear—there flying above him, with its huge, outstretched wings, was the Vespertilium. This time, Charlie did not remain frozen; he choked on his own spit, then pulled back on the throttle and began to speed down the road as fast as his T120 would take him. There was a ripping sound as the creature’s claws tore into the fabric of his motorbike jacket; they seemed to have caught in the material as Charlie felt himself rise from the seat slightly. He shrugged his shoulders vigorously to free himself, as he pulled back harder on the throttle. Another tear, and the material came loose. He looked up just as the giant bat swooped down for another attack, able to swerve to the left and avoid it’s almighty talons. It screeched irritably, and arched around for another attempt. This time the creature pre-empted Charlie’s attempts at avoiding it, and moved to the same side, catching him in the back of the neck—the small amount of flesh visible between his jacket and helmet was pierced, causing blood to flow from a gash.

Charlie grabbed at the back of his neck, his gloved hand moving back to his visor—it was covered in blood. He looked up again as the Vespertilium was lining up for its next assault, looking back down at the road in time to see a large white van pulling into his lane. He pulled hard on the clutch and handbrake, whilst simultaneously pressing his foot firmly down on the rear brake lever. But he had been going far too fast to stop in time, and the handlebars slipped from Charlie’s grip, throwing the bike onto its side, skidding down the carriageway with him following closely behind. They both scraped across the tarmac for several feet, before coming to a stop near the crash barrier at the side of the road.

Looking up at the sky, there was nothing but clear blue stretching for miles. The creature had given up on its assault. Charlie picked himself up, carefully, wincing at the pain in his right arm and hip—nothing felt broken, just very badly bruised and scraped—his jacket and trousers were ripped beyond repair. He began to limp towards the bike, realising that he had also sprained his left ankle. As he lifted the bike upright, it was obvious that it had taken a lot of superficial damage—the chrome was scratched and scraped, paint had begun to flake off from the tank, and the badge on the left side had been ripped off. He pushed the ignition, and it started up after a slight stutter. It would run fine, and get him home, but the repairs were going to be expensive. Could have cost me a lot more though. I’m still alive.

******

Charlie couldn’t get it out of his head—all of these appearances of creatures from the game, and the incidents. Could his creations really be coming to life? Or was he losing his mind. There was only one other person that he felt could possibly answer these questions, and they were currently lay in a hospital bed.

He decided that, for his own sanity, he had to at least try to see if Michael remembered anything and could help him make sense of it all.

Given the late hour, the ward at the hospital was rather quiet, and empty. There were a small number of nurses huddled around a desk chatting idly, and one or two other visitors sitting quietly in patient’s rooms—most patients too sick to engage in any form of conversation. Michael had been afforded his own private room at the end of the corridor. Upon entering, Charlie was filled with a mix of guilt and fear, seeing Michael attached to multiple monitors, drips, and other machines that he didn’t recognise.

Charlie pulled up a plastic chair next to Michael’s bed and slumped down.

“Michael…can you hear me? I need your help, Michael…please…wake up…please…”

There was no response, other than the various beeps and whirs from the medical machinery. Charlie began to sob into his hands.

“I am so sorry Michael…how did this happen?”

As if to answer this question, the lights above Michael’s bed began to flicker on and off. Charlie raised his head, peering through a gap in his fingers, afraid to look.

Someone else was standing on the other side of the room. Charlie snapped his fingers closed again, rubbed at his eyes, then removed his hands completely. The lights flickered and the figure had moved closer to the bed. Charlie could see the nametag on the breast pocket of the uniform—Jenny, another of the Triplets. He tried to scream, but the only sound that could escape him was a slight throaty whistle. The demon flickered out of existence again, then appeared a foot away from the bed, performing the shushing gesture towards Charlie. He stood up quickly, causing the chair to fall backwards and crash to the floor. Edging backwards towards the door, he found himself mumbling.

“No…No, no, no, no…it can’t be…you’re not real…this is all in my head, you aren’t real…I created you…what do you want? Leave me alone…leave HIM alone…please, God.”

Jenny disappeared again, and then in an instant was leaning over Michael. The demon looked at Charlie and smiled—the horrifying smile he had seen from the other sister in the stairwell. Her nostrils flared, eyes darkened, and the smile spread into a toothy grin—sharp pointed teeth, hundreds of them, glistening in the dark. The creature’s mouth opened wider—the top of her head tilting back as though it would tear away from the rest of her as she let out a howling laugh. Charlie couldn’t move. Another flicker and Jenny was holding a large blade up to Michael’s face. The demon jabbed the point of it into his left cheek, pushing it deeper into the flesh, as she continued to laugh hysterically. Then, using the serrated edge of the knife began to carve across his face, tearing through skin, muscles, and tendons. Once it reached the opening of his mouth, Jenny glanced at Charlie, and then continued carving into the other side. Ripping through the meat, stopping halfway across Michael’s right cheek. The heart rate monitor attached to Michael suddenly flat lined and monitors began to beep and whir loudly around the room.

Jenny motioned for Charlie to shush once more, then disappeared. The lights in the room stopped flashing, and the monitors all returned to normal. But Charlie could hear screaming. It took him a minute to realise that it was he who was screaming. He approached the bed, to find that the damage caused by the sister was still evident on Michael—she had carved a Cheshire grin into his face. Charlie ran out of the room as quickly as he could—he knew he would be blamed for this; there was nobody else in the room.

Moments later a nurse’s scream could be heard echoing throughout the building as she had discovered the horrific, mutilated, Michael. The only sign of somebody else being in the room was two small, bloody, footprints at the side of the bed.

******

Word of what had happened to Michael soon reached the team, and there was a strange unsettled feeling amongst them. They were all trying desperately to push through as the publisher was still insisting that the game had to be released on time, despite the tragedy that had befallen the main investor. The majority of glitches had been worked through, thanks to many hours of overtime from everyone—Eric felt as though he was running purely on caffeine.

Charlie seemed to have been in the office every hour of the day—the team were unaware that he actually had a sleeping bag stored in his desk, and he would skulk off to one of the empty rooms during quieter periods to try and get some rest. But the sleep was never fully undisturbed, as flashing images of his own creations and the multiple interactions he had been involved in over the past few weeks would have him tossing and turning, waking up in a cold sweat.

It was late on a Sunday evening and the hard work continued. Eric placed a fresh coffee on Charlie’s desk and offered him an awkward smile.

“Nearly there mate…not long left to go. How you feeling?”

This was the first time in a while that one of the team had really treated him like a human being. Everybody else seemed to be constantly walking on eggshells around him.

“Not too bad thanks, Eric. The end is finally in sight.”

“How does it feel? Knowing your dream will soon be a reality? I know it is a project you hold close to your heart. Wasn’t it your dad who inspired you?”

“Yeah…we created the basic premise when I was a kid. But…he passed when I was a teenager.”

“Well…I am sure he would be proud, mate. The game is fantastic…even if I am a bit biased.” he chuckled, patted Charlie on the shoulder, and walked back to his desk.

Charlie sipped his coffee, and returned to his screen. He glanced over at Eric, who was busily working away, and smiled.

Just then, there was a sudden crash from the meeting room near Charlie. He looked over and the cover had fallen from the air vent to the floor. Glancing around the room, nobody else seemed to have heard it. The lights in the meeting room began to flicker again. He stood up from his desk, walked over to the meeting room door, and opened it. The cover lying on the floor was coated in a black viscous fluid. Charlie peered up into the vent. A three-fingered arm lunged out and swiped, striking the side of his face. He threw the cover and ran out of the room.

The team were still engrossed in their work, as Charlie stood staring through the floor to ceiling windows of the meeting room. The owner of the pale arm was slowly emerging from the vent—a small, white, scaly, ape-like creature with a pointed tail that ended with a stinger—a Primion. Another—this one with a large purple mark on one side of its face, like a birthmark—quickly followed it. Then a third, with a blue tinge to the stinger. These were all variations of the same creature that would be encountered throughout different biomes. Panicking, Charlie scanned the room—nobody else seemed to be aware of what was happening.

The meeting room now contained seven Primions. They seemed to be huddled, as if having a meeting of their own. They turned and began to advance quickly towards the door. Charlie tried to hold it, and yelled for Eric.

“Eric, get everyone out of here…now!”

The whole team jumped from their seats and were staring at him. Suddenly there was a slam as the main door to the office burst open. A dark shape filled the entrance, and began to pull itself through—a Reachnid. Tiles from the ceiling began to fall down and dozens of Decayura began to fall from the open spaces, landing on desks. One landed on Rachel and began to claw at her face.

The team began to scream and scatter, as the Primions burst from the meeting room and began to attack the herd. Charlie stood frozen in sheer panic. The creatures he had created were destroying the office, his team were being clawed, bitten, and stung.

He suddenly sprung to action, marched over to the side of the room and grabbed a fire extinguisher. He pulled the plastic trigger and began to spray the foam at a nearby Primion that had pounced on top of Damien. The creature became disorientated, so Charlie swung the tank and pummelled it in the face, causing blood to spray across a nearby desk.

It was then that three demonic, smiling, faces appeared across the room. Jessica, Jenny, and Janine began to attack separate members of the team, with a familiar serrated blade.

Filled with adrenaline, Charlie made his way over to the large paper guillotine that stood by the photocopier, quickly unscrewed one end of the blade, and lifted it by the handle like a large machete. He proceeded to hack his way through the madness that had overrun his office, blood and appendages flying in every direction. As he approached the Reachnid, it lunged at him, so he swung the blade back over his head, and brought it down with such force, it split the head of the creature in two, and remained embedded as it stumbled backwards.

The carnage continued, as he ripped through anything and everything that stood in his way, trying as hard as he could to protect his team from the ensuing slaughter. More creatures poured from the ceiling and the air vents, and he seemed to be the only one capable of fending them off. He had become the hero of his own nightmarish game—he felt as though it was his duty to destroy his own creations once and for all.

******

An hour after the onslaught had begun; several police cars had surrounded the building. Specially trained firearms officers moved inside, working slowly up the stairs and securing each floor. The place was eerily silent, the first two levels were empty, and so they continued up to the third level, where the call had initially been received. As the door from the stairwell was opened, the first thing to hit the officers was the smell. One of the officers had to move back out onto the landing and stop himself from throwing up. The others proceeded. Most of the carpet was soaked with blood; it squelched under the officer’s shoes as they pressed on. Large smears of crimson streaked across the walls on both sides down the corridor. The amount of gore seemed to increase the closer they moved to the entrance to the office of SoulStealer Games. The lead officer grabbed the handle, and gestured for the rest of the team to brace themselves, as they had no idea what awaited them on the other side.

The carpets inside the office were worse than those in the corridor—blood, guts, and other bodily fluids coated the entire floor. There were intestines hanging from the ceiling tiles directly in front of them. They moved through finding an arm, two legs, and several eyeballs strewn about. There were dismembered human torsos on desks, and a nearby bin was filled with blood and guts. The glass of the floor to ceiling windowed meeting room was painted thickly with the insides of many victims.

The officers, most of who had never seen anything so atrocious in all their years, continued to move slowly through the room. The faint sound of breathing could be heard from the other side of one of the desks. The lead officer signalled to the team that they should stay back and await his instruction, as he moved around to ascertain the source of the sound. Aiming his gun directly in front of him, ready to use it without hesitation, if required. There, slumped against the desk, he found Charlie. He was sitting, covered in a thick layer of blood and gore, with something clutched tightly to his chest.

“Police…Drop whatever you are holding and raise your arms above your head, slowly.” The officer instructed.

As Charlie raised his arms, the severed head of Eric rolled down his body and onto the floor. Charlie rocked backwards and forwards, beginning to laugh maniacally, like one of the Triplets. He then turned towards the officer, looking him straight in the eye.

“I did it…”

“Stand up slowly, keeping your hands above your head, where I can see them.” The officer continued. Charlie ignored the officer’s instructions and continued to stare blankly.

“I did it…” he repeated. “I killed them all…I killed them all…GAME OVER!”

THE END