"Dad... Dad! You're late, wake up already!" My daughter yelled, pulling me from under the covers. I got up and started to get ready. "Come on Dad, I'm late too. We need to hurry." She said, handing me my breakfast and the car keys.

We got in the car and drove to her highschool. My daughter usually arrived late, so this is what an average day felt like for us. I stopped in front of her school. "Dad, school ends at 1 P.M. Do not forget to pick me up again, okay?" She ran inside the school. This girl... She'll never learn, now will she?

Time flew by at work, and before I realized it was time to pick my daughter up from school. I hurried to her school and saw her waiting for me at her usual spot. "Here Dad! I'm coming. You're late again," she got in the car "I was starting to get worried too. I really shouldn't though, you come late every day." She said. As part of our usual routine, I dropped her at home and went back to work.

As I got home, she was preparing dinner. "Here Dad, I made your favorite." She handed me my dinner. I left it at the table and went upstairs to my room. "Good night Dad." She yelled out as I went up the stairs.

The next morning, I slept in. It was a weekend, after all. I heard my daughter call me from downstairs. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." I groaned, walking downstairs into the living room. It was decorated with lights and balloons. There was a sign. It read: It's almost time...

The sign meant: It's almost time for the end. "Hey, Dad... You can guess what's about to happen, right?" She looked sad. "Let me guess, time's up in an hour?"

"Five minutes..." I realized what was about to happen. She started crying. "Our time is ending... I couldn't be of much help, I'm sorry." I hugged her. "You're wrong. I'm still sane because of you. I don't know how I'd deal with my life without you." She looked at me with eyes looking like they're ready to burst. "Ten seconds..." She hugged me harder, as she slowly disappeared. "Goodbye, Dad..." I took off my headset. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I placed it next to my dead daughter's picture. "Thank you for letting me see Sakura One... Last... Time..."

What have I done?

I stood in front of the taunting hotel doors. From beyond the windows, something was stirring. Invisible to the eye, but there nevertheless.

Insanity pierced my skin. It persisted. It was the essence that edged my thoughts away from the light. It grabbed hold of me. Persisting, ever persisting. Little did I know, the moment I entered the abandoned hotel, insanity had already consumed what little life I had left.

I turned on my flashlight. Unrecognizable shadows covered the wall. Light’s conspicuous absence caused my mind to grow sick of the constant suffocating blackness. I took the first step.

The next moment I had gone up ten floors. I kept going.

Floor twenty. Breathing became more difficult. I longed for the crisp autumn air. The wind outside had died down. A faint squeaking of bats was noticeable in the background. I kept going.

Thirty-five. I had developed an unbroken rhythm. I went up and up. Forgetting everything, focusing only on taking one step at a time. The ringing of the churchbells matched the heartbeat of my footsteps.

Forty-nine. I stopped. An abundance of pain overwhelmed me. Only one more floor. I just had to shine the flashlight out the window and I could finally go home.

But inside the hotel, I heard a door shut. I went out of the staircase.

Something was there; out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head. Something slipped into the room at the end of the hallway. I begged myself not to go. But a force pulled me closer, pulled me away from my sanity. In just a moment, I was standing in front of the cracked door. I peered through what I could see. Nothing was there. I opened the door. The first thing I noticed was blood.

Everywhere.

The walls were crying. The blood came down thick and scarlet.

This can’t be real.

Then, I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t see. Everything around me seemed to be closing in. My breathing grew faster and faster until I was gasping for air. But no one was there to help me. All I could feel was pain.

The ringing stopped. I opened my eyes to see no blood. The walls were normal again. All I knew is that I had to get out. I turned around to see that the door was shut. I knew it was locked before I even pulled it.

To my left, I noticed the bathroom door swinging silently open, inviting me inside. To my surprise, no one was there. I glanced in the mirror at my rugged appearance. I took four long, deep breaths in, and held to a count of five before releasing again. Breathe in… breath out.

I looked around with wide, frightened eyes. In the mirror, I saw movement. I shined my light. A young woman appeared behind me. She had hung herself. Her pale face and beady eyes stared back at mine.

I whipped around. No one. I faced the mirror again. She was gone. The noose was still hung on the wall. Blood dripped from the rope. But no woman.

“Join us…” A whisper pleaded. It echoed throughout the strange hotel. In a dark corner of the room, something stirred. There I saw a faint silhouette of some entity. The figure fell to the ground. A cold, calloused hand reached out and grabbed the walls, ripping the wallpaper. It tore, revealing tick marks, counting down the days….

The woman lunged. I screamed. Blood spewed out of her mouth as she screamed with me. I was horrified. I turned around, fully prepared to defend myself. What I realized caused me to fall back in terror. Terror which only came from the fear of the unknown, the fear of losing one’s mind. There was no woman, no noose. The room was as dark and as lonely as ever. The wallpaper hadn’t been torn. I still felt the chilling sense of her presence.

This room was wrong. This hotel was wrong.

“I have to get out of here” I whispered.

There was now a man standing on the open window. His eyes were full of sadness, full of sorrow. Yet his face was overjoyed. He grinned. An evil, monstrous grin. Then, he fell back. Surrendered into the misty air. I drew in a quick breath. I banged on the door. I screamed until my voice gave out. My dry lips pleaded again and again. All hope seemed to have been lost down a deep, endless hole.

I closed my eyes. As I did, I heard a click of a lock. The door swung open. I ran out to greet whoever let me out of this trap. But the neverending hallway was empty.

Without glancing back, I sprinted back to the staircase. I went down. And down. At some point, I stopped, curious about how close I was to escape. I peered at the number engraved above the door.

Floor 49.

No way.

I almost tumbled down the stairs as I ran down to the next level. Floor 49. I ran up, hoping there was some possible explanation.

Floor 49.

I couldn’t believe this.

Then, there came a knock on the door to the hallway.

I opened the door. Beyond, I saw the room I was in. The room I thought I would never have to face again. I entered it again.

Insanity. They say it’s doing the same thing, again and again, and expecting different results. But really it’s knowing that whatever you do, the results will never ever change. Each door leads to the same staircase, to the same number. It's not knowing whether you've been running for days or weeks or years. It's when the sobbing slowly turns into laughter.

I looked inside the room. Nothing was there. I sat down in front of the wallpaper. I tore it back. And carved a single line with my nail.

I wonder how long I will last.

It came without warning. Well, not completely. I just thought Matt said he wanted to be a ghost. Not that he wanted to make a ghost.

It made sense to me. Matt was basically already a ghost. He said, a ghost is a dead person with a deadly grudge. He just didn’t have the ‘being dead’ part down.

I never thought Matt was scary—not the way others did. They said, he stares for a while sometimes. Not at a person, just the wall. His arms are too long, they said. His fingertips almost reach his knees.

I never noticed how offset Matt’s eyes were. Just a little too yellow, they said. Pupils a little too sharp. Sharp enough to catch the others’ attention, but not mine.

I never thought Matt’s collection of shotguns was strange. I always assumed he was a hunter. What I didn’t know was that he didn’t hunt animals.

I never took their warnings seriously. I never listened to logic. I turned a blind eye to what they said, what he did. I thought Matt was my friend, that he would never hurt me.

I was wrong.

And now I sit on my headstone. Seeing my family members come and go. However, it’s not just them I see, but every visitor to cross the graveyard.

I see a multiple of different faces, every day. This time, I really look at them. What I see is the Matts of the world.

With their long stared, overgrown arms, offset eyes, shotgun collections, and secret desires.

Would you notice that? Notice the Matts of the world? I’d bet you won’t. I didn’t. I’d bet you deny it. I did.

But he’s there. Waiting. Watching. With his long stares, overgrown arms, offset eyes, shot gun collections, and secret desires.

Just hope your Matt’s secret desire isn’t to make a ghost.

They were living just fine, having a very calm and usual life, until suddenly they started to burn. No, not like the fire was set in them, but it was weirder and unusual. It was all related to the woman. For example, in the closet, the husband’s clothes wouldn't get touched, but the woman’s ones would be transformed into ash at any time. It doesn’t happen all the time but suddenly to keep her frightened and surprised because of not knowing when this would happen next time. Sometimes her side of the bed stars burning. Sometimes when she touches something, it starts burning. The deep fear of the unknown and of not understanding what is going on or how that could be possible was huge. But worse, what if she touched her kids and something happened! What if this never ends up, and she finishes by causing the death of everyone she loved by being burnt to death?!

She left the house out of fear and out of concern about her beloved family. And, then the fire was step up, in the majority of the house. That showed anger! That showed that something didn’t like being fooled and wanted her to be there!

It wanted to play with her and make her life as miserable as it could and as terrifying as it could be.

That day the fire trucks came and ended the fire quickly hopefully. But after they left, later that day, a small fire started again. So the woman got the message and came back to the house. She came back to her nightmare and her trap.

But she wasn't planning to keep burning in fire and watch her family get destroyed in front of her eyes. It was clear that there was nothing normal with what was going on. So it was the right time to seek the help of a man, a man who has an idea about such cases and such creatures because the woman felt that they weren't alone in the house. Sometimes she was feeling the breaths and the anger of something that she wasn't seeing, or she knew what it was. Sometimes she felt like it was next to her in bed.

The man who was their least hope came. With his ways and with struggling a lot, he could finally get an answer. There was something indeed in that house. That was obvious, but the most important was to know what he wanted. The woman was crying and crying, begging that it leaves her alone.

The man said that the creature was so angry. The woman hurt him first. She was using some hot water outside, and she threw away the part that she didn’t need it in the garden. But she didn’t know that when she did that she hit the creature's kid with the hot water. It didn’t say what happened to its kid, but it was planning definitely to keep that woman burning in fire for the rest of her life.

But after many fights, talks, and struggles with that creature, that man succeeded finally. The mission was so hard, but he could get an agreement in the end.

The creature promised to leave the woman alone, but he asked that the family leaves the house. And none else comes to live there or touches that house.

Of course, the family left immediately without thinking twice. The nightmare was over, but the scar will remain forever. That experience will always chase that family and that mom especially.

He’s just a little boy. What does he know? Six years old. Scared of the dark like the classic child. He’s been watching too many horror movies. He wears glasses, too. He’s probably just seeing things. He comes to your room every night, calmly explaining his fears and emotionlessly describing the monstrosities that creep from his closet, the crooked voices that cackle in his ear, and the ghastly ghouls that haunt his hamper. Usually, you’d only laugh and tell him to go back to bed, but, something is different about tonight. You see his lip quiver and a tear struggling to stay within his eyelid. This time, you let him climb into bed with you because you know he’s been traumatized. An abused autistic child. Why on earth did you accept the responsibility to take custody of him? It's because you’re soft, that's why. You had no idea what you were getting into, though, because these first two weeks have felt like forever. As he slips under the covers, he closes his eyes, but his face doesn’t change. You can’t help but stare as you try to imagine his horrible past. He needs love. He needs care. He’s imagining too much. As you attempt to push your worries aside and go to sleep, you hear a rapping from within your closet door.

Music can make your heart smile.

Tap feet or dance for a while.

Nod your head for no reason at all.

Simply put, in love, you fall.

Like my soul when I hear your voice.

My heart smiles. I don’t have a choice.

Not too fast or slow, not too high or low.

An indescribable speed at a perfect tone.

Yes, your face is cute and lovable,

It’s absolutely crushable,

But your voice, though, is what triggers

The chilling welcomed shivers.

Whatever you utter, my heart is aflutter.

I laugh at your joke, and you just crack another.

I know that I’m rather obsessive,

But your geek smarts are simply impressive,

At each morning’s glare, we have an affair

You aren’t quite aware, but I don’t care.

I find you on the hour,

Then, your presence overpowers.

You have children and a wife so dear.

But none of that stuff matters here.

There is one thing I want. I’ll be clear.

It’s that voice that I’m longing to hear.

Tell me of when the sun rises and sets.

Tell me, in summer, how hot it will get.

That water will freeze at thirty-two degrees.

And all of the leaves will fall off the trees.

Tell me of cities like Kalamazoo.

Of storming and raining and thundering too.

Of tropical islands and faraway lands,

Of quaint little towns and beaches of sand.

In the morn, I awake, glance over and sip.

I turn you on when the channel I flip.

Mr. Weatherman, now, you don’t have a choice.

Make love to my ears with your beautiful voice.

The tiny lamp doesn't know that

there is darkness under it only.

The sprig doesn't know that

it has blackness at it's back only.

The woman understanding the

boy’s mood asked in a tricky way,

“Will you cook after marriage?

Is it acceptable to you? Afterwards

you should not go back on your words”

The man mad in love said,

"I'll cook daily and will feed you.

I’ll do the impossible for your sake.

I’ll bring platinum from mars.

I’ll get you diamonds in the sky "

Love doesn’t know that sexiness

is very much there with it only.

After marriage, he rejected to cook.

Elliot yawned as he walked into the kitchen, one hand holding his glances up while his other hand rubbed at his eyes, trying to fend away the sleep. He didn't really know what time it was, but all he knew was that Matt had gotten up a short while ago. He'd woken up at his desk again, the laptop still open and papers were strewn around everywhere. If he were to guess what time he fell asleep at, it would've been around 4 and 5 Am, and it was currently 8 Am.

"I feel like I got hit by a train" He grumbled, cracking his neck and back as he made his way towards the coffee machine.

"You look like you got hit by a train" Matt piped up, glancing over at his boyfriend as he took two pieces of bread outside of the toaster.

"Wow, you really do know how to flatter a man" Elliot commented sarcastically, taking one of his many mugs outside of the cupboard. He didn't even have to look over at Matt to see his shit-eating grin.

"Just one of my many talents," His boyfriend said, "Anyways, I made you some toast, what do you want on it?"

"The tears of the innocent"

"How about some Blueberry Jam?"

"Close enough" Elliot amended, making Matt chuckle as he reached into their fridge. While Matt made his toast, Elliot started the coffee machine and shoved his mug under it. The two of them stayed in comfortable silence until the coffee machine finally finished the coffee. Elliot picked it up by the handle and poured some coffee into his mug. He picked up his mug and took a sip, sighing happily as Matt made an offended noise.

"What the fuck- I'll never get used to you drinking black coffee" He stated, glaring at his boyfriends mug in disgust. In response to this, Elliot side-eyed him, making eye contact as he took another sip.

"It fuels my soul" He stated once he pulled the mug away from his lips. Matt rolled his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"We both know you like it better with sugar! So why do you do this?!"

"To spite you-" Elliot deadpanned, but there was a small smirk at the corner of his lips.

"Oh my fucking god"

Dear Death,

Thank you for not coming for me when I was thirteen and starving. I thought I would see you then as I blacked out in a room that wasn't mine.

Thank you for not coming for me when I was fifteen and tired from the sticks and stones being thrown. I thought I could meet you half way.

Thank you for not coming for me when I was eighteen and thought myself worthless and unnecessary. I was stopped before you could knock on my door.

Thank you for not coming for me when I was twenty-two. My heart had broken and I felt nothing so why live anymore. If not for friends and family I would have been in your arms.

Thank you for not coming for me when I was beaten up, bloodied, and bruised. Locked in a garage and tired from the pain, I thought about coming to see you again. I grabbed a cord and I grabbed my phone...I would have seen you that day if my cats hadn't have cried.

Thank you again for not coming for me. I've finally grown quite fond of living. I'm safer now and I'm on my own. I'm glad when I called for you, you never answered your phone.

Please keep ignoring me for now, I have a life to live and I finally know how.