Sincerely
Ba-doh, ba-doh, ba-doh, ba-doh-ba
Sincerely, oh yes, sincerely
'Cause I love you so dearly, please say you'll be mine
-The Moonglows
Part I - The End
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. If I keep saying it maybe it will be true.
But it was happening. Tough times. Humpty Dumpty times. Out of gas in the desert with no bars times.
And, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse than a Tijuana root canal; she walked in. Out of the sweltering Mexican heat, into the dim bar, she came; the only thing standing between me and the blinding light. I heard a couple of gunshots somewhere in the distance.
I still remember how the sun illuminated my 2pm rise and shine, shit-faced full of no caffeine afternoon after, hair of the dog; tequila shot and beer. Like I said, tough times on the Ponderosa, Hoss.
Every time I think of that moment, I stand transfixed in time. Unable to move, frozen in-place tighter than a suckered kid’s tongue to a Chicago lamppost in a February ice storm. Maggie had long ago won my heart’s devotion only to betray both me, and it, in ways still inconceivable to my sauce pan of a brain.
So, a couple of months ago, my life in post-apocalyptic ruin, I did what any red-blooded American would do; I flew across the border to CDMX to drown my sorrows in tequila and cheap living. And now, incomprehensibly, here she was; back, again like the September monsoon. Had the bitch air tagged me?
It seemed with Maggie my heart’s devotion was not enough. Everything she wanted and received soon became a dull knife; just ain’t cutting. Mags had to have it all, all the time. And I thought she had gotten all of me and more. Who’d think she’d want to pick at the carcass? But inexplicably, there she was like my constant migraine, the one that never really left the base of my skull.
Without a word Mags swooped in close like she missed me and now hadda kiss me.
Then, quicker than lightning showing off, she plunged her delicate-boned hand deep into my chest. She then removed it with even greater alacrity holding it high above her jet-black mane. She waved it for all the bar to see, my still beating corazón in it, color-coordinating against it’s will with her manicure, making what looked like vague Italian gestures.
Nobody in the bar paid us any mind.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t help but avert my horrified gaze into my now exposed chest cavity, only to witness darkness within darkness gazing back at me.
“Heyyyyyy,” a voiceless voice greeted and saluted.
I looked up at Maggie. She took the seat opposite mine. Then reaching over with her free hand commandeered my tequila and knocked it back quick. Her encore was to grab my beer and drain it with all the mud she could muster into my eye. Then, with a satisfied look she dropped the now emptied bottle on the wooden table hard enough to make a thud.
Maggie then met my stare. My cardia beating peripatetically in her freshly manicured right-hand she made an elaborate shrug, her face smug as a tyrant’s fart.
I remembered wondering what the fuck was keeping my cardio so vascular. It sure as fuck wasn’t clean living. Then, that voiceless voice had yet more to say.
“Now what, Spenser?” it asked.
Now, it was now my turn to shrug. Surprisingly, despite being a now certifiably heartless son of a bitch, I, too, had something to say. So, I said it.
“You’re fucking diabolical, Maggie.”
My words of judgment echoed clear, permeating deep into the abyss, then back again at Maggie. She caught my words easier than a kitten catches smiles. She just shrugged again. It was starting to get annoying.
“You ruined me,” I added just to be doing something.
The shrug undulated down from her tan and toned shoulder through her arm, finally coming to a full stop at her finger’s tips.
Waving my heart at me with more vague Italian gestures Mags asked, “How can you be so sure, Spenser?”
Part II – The Middle
Sincerely, oh you know how I love you
I'll do anything for you, please say you'll be mine
...
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. My new mantra wasn’t working.
Six months ago, I thought Maggie was the answer to my dreams.
Swooping down like an angel to shower me with attention and affection. Dinners with wine. Hot sex. More hot sex. No strings attached. Getting to know you pillow talk.
Now, there’s one thing I need to add. I met her through a dating app but as it turned out we both worked for the same nonprofit. We didn’t know each other as it’s a fairly big company but it turned out I supported the code for both her projects. This turned out to be one of many coincidences.
We both hated our jobs. We both liked writing short stories but never could sell a thing despite writing dozens and dozens. We both could dance salsa, on 1 and 2 and loved to hablar en español que no era muy guapo.
We both wanted to run away to Mexico city and live the Bohemian life.
Coincidences like we both grew up in NYC and had issues with our respective families of origin. And while she was Chinese-American and I was Russian-American both our fathers were born in the same year and were obsessed with Woody Allen. We both had much younger siblings we didn’t speak to.
Yeah, we had both grown up with weak fathers and selfish narcissistic mothers in common. And worser still, we had both experienced unstable living situations in high school. In my case, I was kicked out of the house for smoking weed.
In Maggie’s case, I never really was sure what went down but the best I could get out of her was at 13 she got pissed at her mom for cheating on her dad and left the house with nowhere to go. She ended up with family friends or relatives but the details were always murky and I was not the nosey type.
Her words to me were, “My mother’s emotional IQ is low. I raised myself.”
Impressively, she had made it through the Ivy League and seemed to be someone down to earth I could spend time with. But truth be told from the minute I saw her profile picture I was hotter than a Texas chili sprout for her.
It was some kind of primal attraction I thought I was long past entertaining. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t love. It was like the thought of coming home to a family I never knew I had or that even could exist.
This shit made old me feel like young me again. But, as oft is the case in life, there was a problem. I was old, broke and probably about to lose my job. I was in IT and I was having problems with my manager being a psychopath; for reals.
It wasn’t mere conjecture as he had a reputation of getting people fired, or worse, making their lives so miserable they would quit; even with no prospects. I had been the focus of his sabotaging efforts and it had been having a bad effect on my mental and physical well-being.
This had taken a turn for the worse and I was catching a lot of passive aggressive hostility on the project Maggie supported.
Anyway, she was the bright spot in my otherwise mostly solitary and emotionally bleak life. And she lived nearby. She had an ex and kids and shared custody but I never met them and she didn’t really talk much about it except to say once, “You should need a license to have kids.”
I never had quite known what to make of some of the things she said, but like I said, I was under her spell. And I liked it.
And the icing on top? I had a dominant kinky side and that was a fire Maggie poured gasoline on every chance she got. She was worse than an arsonist in Underoo Town.
One weird thing about Mags was her knitting habit. If we weren’t fucking or eating she was knitting. Even at restaurants and bars.
One day in November, with the sun golden in a sky so blue you thought you could touch it I asked, “What are you knitting?”
Maggie gave me a wry look. She got out of her chair and seemed to be examining my bald head which I had shaved just that morning.
“A hat,” she replied.
But as the holidays rolled around things started to change. One Sunday morning as we were having coffee Maggie looked around the crowded steamy café.
“Everybody’s hooking up for the holidays,” she remarked.
I didn’t really know what to do with that one so I let it be.
But as the days went on there was a change in the weather. Fewer texts. Less sex. Maggie going out of town to some vague destination. Sending me sexy pictures of herself in Santa outfits after I caught the flu during Christmas.
A few days after Christmas I got a text late one night.
“Is it okay if I come by?”
“Very okay,” was my reply.
Maggie showed up with chocolate, red wine and the hat she had been knitting. Orange Afghani wool softer than a golden retriever’s fur. She put the hat on my head and then removed all my clothes.
“Let’s celebrate Christmas, Spenser.”
And, we did.
When we were done and lying head-to-head, I said, “I love my hat.”
Maggie said, “I made it especially for you. No matter what, don’t lose it.”
It was another one of those weird Maggie things she said, like, “I used to shoplift,” and shit like that.
I nodded.
“Promise me you’ll hold on to your hat, Spenser.”
“I promise.”
Maggie observed my face, then nodded as if confirming something to herself.
“Okay.”
Then we did that thing again.
That was the pinnacle. Things quickly went downhill for no reason I could discern. Texts unanswered and when answered; kind of abrupt-like. Being unavailable. Stuff with her kids. Time away in Connecticut for some vague reason. After that I began feeling like the weakest card in a gambler’s hand.
But Maggie kept shoe horning me in at odd times, giving me just enough crumbs to keep me on the hook. And as we rode the roller coaster down everything always seemed to center around alcohol. And sex. More and more debauched sex. Finally, by New Year’s Eve things were getting straight-up weird no chaser.
“You know that thing we talked about?”
By her tone I knew what she meant. I nodded cautiously.
“You want to try it?”
Maggie dropped a smile on me that would have had the serpent in the garden applying for unemployment.
“Yes,” she said.
So, we did.
I thought I had been imagining things. I thought we were back at the pinnacle. I could feel the love drug course through my veins. Things couldn’t be better. Or, so I thought.
Oh Lord, won't you tell me why
I love that girlie so
The Following Monday
The next Monday I was called into what turned out to be the most fucking bizarre moment of my fifty-eight years on this planet; and I’ve had some bizarre fucking moments growing up in south Brooklyn in the 1970’s; believe you me.
The company’s CIO, compliance officer, head of legal, head of HR and my evil manager, Conte Rugen were all in attendance, cameras ROLLING.
It appears I was being dismissed after 8 years loyal service for sexual assault, extortion, harassment, hate speech, insults to farm animals and every fucking other offense against God and man one could commit in these holiest of holy United States of America.
And just who had I… who had I.. victimized? Who had I preyed upon? Harassed? Gone full nutso on?
Maggie.
They had the goods. Recordings. Video. Ropes. Whips. Chains. Bad Spanglish. Maggie screaming, “No, papi! No!!!!”
I believe I was, what is known in legal parlance as, summarily fucked.
Nobody wanted to hear my side. How things were taken out of context. Things we had mutually consented to out of exciting and bonding trust and exploration.
“Did I have consent agreement?” I parroted back in shock to the head of legal.
“Did you get one when you fucked your mother in the ass before she shat you out?” I added just to keep my mouth from puking.
I was in bombshell shock. Maggie was my angel. Our situationship was supposed to be fucking healing from our abused childhoods and here I am now some kind of Tarantinoesque, Mr. Fucking Rapist? And my fucking manager once bragging about throwing a cat out a window when he was a juvenile delinquent?!?
There would be charges pressed. I would need an attorney. I might be arrested.
And it all happened faster than you can say, “Blue Monday, How I hate Blue Monday”.
And then Maggie sued the company. Take no fucking prisoners, Maggie. Disco-fucking-inferno burn that mother down we don’t need no water let the motherfucker burn Maggie. I wondered if her ex had been left on food stamps after the divorce.
A few months and my life savings and retirement account after that the criminal case got pleaded down to misdemeanor assault and I was able to arbitrate with my employer and Maggie’s lawyer leaving me with some clothes, my passport and precisely enough plastic to fly into the sweltering Mexican heat. So, fly into it I did.
Part III – The Beginning
Sincerely, oh you know how I love you
I'll do anything for you, please say you'll be mine
Oh Lord, won't you tell me why
I love that girlie so
She doesn't want me
But I'll never never never never let her go
...
“I wish you’d stop waving that thing at me,” I said gesturing at my heart with my chin.
“You’re still upset,” Maggie said. It wasn’t a question.
“You fucking abused me. You fucking eviscerated me. Yeah, you could say I’m a little perturbed.”
“But you’re still wearing the hat,” she said smiling.
“It’s a bad ass hat,” I said. It was after all. Why cut off your nose to spite your face?
“I put a lot of time and thought into it,” she said. My heart continued to beat in her hand.
...
Oh Lord, won't you tell me why
I love that girlie so
She doesn't want me
But I'll never never never never let her go
...
“Look,” she said waving my heart at me.
“I really wish you wouldn’t wave that around like that.”
The voice in the abyss in my chest spoke. It said, “Wait for it.”
Maggie said, “Spenser, you poor fucking sap. You hate your fucking job. You try to do the right fucking thing and speak up and you get kicked around like a dog. You try to love hard and you get beat up and left in an alley. You try to write books and start businesses and you end up bankrupt or dead.
And now look at you! You don’t have a care in the fucking world. You don’t have a shitty job. You are in beautiful Mexico City with the girl of your dreams. You say your heart was hardened? Well, I say it feels pretty fucking soft and sweet to me. Like the hat I knitted you. With the pom pom. And you know what?”
“What?” I heard myself murmur?
The abyss in my chest said, “Yeah, what?”
“Well, one the fucking pom pom has a beacon so I knew where you were the whole fucking time you sap. So I can tell you this true. And I will. So here I am in fucking Mexico sweating my tits off. And I am telling you this," she said nodding at my cardio, "is a very good heart. And I am putting it back where it belongs.
There is nothing wrong with it and now nobody can hurt it again. And if you want to write a book now you have something, and someone,” she added with a wry smile, “to write about.”
Then lightning quick Maggie put it back in my chest and removing her hand made a quick flourish gesturing for the waitress.
“Botella de tequila, por favor!”
I looked down at my chest. Everything seemed to be the way it had been before she ripped out my heart. Only different.
I was about to speak. Maggie raised a hand.
The waitress appeared like a wraith and put down a bottle of Don Julio and two fresh shot glasses and two cold ones.
Maggie poured two shots and pushed one at me with the hand that had been holding my cardio captive. She then fished around in her pocket and found her phone.
“What the fuck, right," that's what your thinking, Spenser. Yeah, what the fuck is right. Look at this baby boy,” she said and then pushed her phone next to the shot glass.
I was looking at what appeared to be a bank balance that appeared ready, willing and able to face fuck an extraordinarily tall giraffe. I felt the migraine disappear like a bad dream.
Maggie gave me a wry smile.
She pushed the shot glass closer to me and picked hers up. I felt my elbow bending. It felt okay.
She tilted her shot at me and said, "Here's looking at you, kid," and took the shot. I drank mine.
We put our glasses down.
“You can negotiate anything," she said, then added, "sincerely.”
And then, then she kissed me.
Oh say you'll be mine
Oo-eee, oo-eee-oo, ooi-ooi-ooo
Sincerely

Stardust/Synchron is probably my favourite archetype in Yu-Gi-Oh, but I haven't been able to play it because I'm still pretty bad at deckbuilding. Anybody have any suggestions for a good deck that won't explode immediately if I go 2nd or get my junk synchron/speeder negated by ash? (Also please help with tips to prevent bricking, because that's also one of my biggest issues with this deck atm)

“Hey Raz, I got one!” Raz’s voice was cut by static as he called back, “Great! …at quarry …die.” Well, that wasn’t ominous at all, I thought to myself as I adjusted the rear-view mirror to check on the operator I had just blown past. They were doubled over coughing, their gas mask swayed side to side on the ground next to their feet. I don’t know what compelled me to not flatten what I had thought to be an AQ soldier, but I’m glad I didn’t.
I slammed my hummer in reverse, coming to a stop next to the helpless operator. “Hop in bud, we can get you to final exfill yet.” He slowly hauled himself into the bed of my hummer, landing with a dull thud and a groan as he fell onto his back. We cleared the gas, and I was immediately put on edge as my passenger started to gain consciousness. If he was planning anything nefarious, there wasn’t much I could do about it now. “You good back there? Normally I’d stop to send an invite but given the situation that might have just caused more problems.” He leaned through the non-existent rear window, “Nah, I understand man. When we get further from the gas we can stop and squad up. Don’t need to risk lighting each other up if things get hot at the exfill.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, “I don’t think that would be much of an issue regardless. Hey, we didn’t leave any of your friends back there, did we? I know we peeled out pretty quick.” I saw him shake his head and point to our left in the rear-view mirror. “We got split up, but they were running for a car, so I wasn’t too worried.” I followed his finger, a white hatchback cruised along parallel to us, swerving through buildings trying not to eat too many AQ bullets. “Hey boys, Dutch here is gonna roll with us to final. We’ll squad up when we get there.” I was barely able to make out one of his squad mates call out “Tight!” over his earpiece.
“Hey, listen, I’ve got friend I’m rolling with. His name’s Raz, he’s gonna meet us at final. If you see a red, white, and blue LTV, don’t shoot alright.” Raz chimed in, his radio finally clear of the static, “That’s very kind of you to tell them not to shoot me Dutch.” Before I could respond, a black turreted LTV slid out of Said City ahead of us. “Is that your boy Dutch?” I wanted to give my passenger the benefit of the doubt, it is windy in the box after all, he might not have heard me. “Nah man, wrong colour, and he didn’t have a turreted LTV last I saw.” The black LTV continued North along the main road as we cut away into the quarry proper. “Raz, company is headed your way. Looks like it’s just a solo in that truck but you can never be too careful.” “Thanks for the heads up Dutch.”
I rolled to a stop at the base of the helicopter ramp, gently flattening a couple of AQ who were getting a little to close to the bird for comfort, just shy of the battery running dry. The other two operators in the hatchback slid to a stop just down the hill from us. I got out of the hummer, a tad worried that my good fortune was about to come to an end at the hands of these fellas. As they ran up the hill, the notification finally popped. I accepted and ran down the hill to grab the hatchback, breathing a sigh of relief. “Wait, where you goin’ Dutch?” One of my clients called out. “Raz and I will run interference while we wait for the chopper to take off. Any AQ or unfriendly operators are gonna have to go through us.” “You keep talking about this Raz guy, but I’ve yet to see anyone other than that black LTV.” Almost on queue, a black LTV flew up the hill narrowly missing my hatchback. My clients went into a frenzy. “Operators pushing us! Take ‘em down!” The LTV spun in the sand in front of me, a glorious and perfectly oiled moustache glinting in the Al Mazrah sun. “Hold your fire! It’s Raz!” I called from below my clients. I sent an invite to him which he had hopped out and accepted faster than any of these guys could pull the trigger. “You see the operator that was in that earlier?” Raz shook his head, “No, I pulled up on it and they were gone. Must be out on foot somewhere.”
With 5 seconds left on the clock, there wasn’t enough time to go find them, our clients now panicking as they realized we weren’t on the bird. “What are you two doing?!” They shouted from the air as we waved goodbye. “Al Mazrah is our home gentlemen. That bird was never meant for us.” I gave Raz a pat on the shoulder as the gas rapidly approached, another successful day had come to a close.
The clack of a Kastov charging handle was almost unmistakable. We both turned to see the operator from the LTV standing there, rifle honed on us. “Well shit.” Their rifle dropped towards the dirt as they looked back over their shoulder at the nearly out of sight exfill chopper. They pushed through us, wandering towards the North side of the quarry. Raz and I locked eyes, shrugging in unison. That was one of those moments where we really wouldn’t have blamed them for their decision, whatever it might have been. “We better get back to HQ, Compton said I.T dropped off something for you.” Raz said as the gas engulfed us.
“I’m going back to the island boss.” My hands were shaking as I gripped the file folder that I.T had left for me. “Twitch.” “He’s back, it took him a bit, but he’s managed to re-take the castle and hunker down since we last saw him. And if he’s back then we might finally be able to get some proper intel on those blue tracers, direct from the source.” I handed the folder to Raz. He took it, turning to no doubt address the rest of the crew. I grabbed his shoulder, stopping him before he could speak. “Not everybody, not this time. They’ve doubled the defences; we’d be walking into a slaughterhouse.” “Well, you can’t go in there alone, we look out for our own Dutch, you know that.” Raz’s brow tightened, I could tell he was already trying to figure out what my plan was. “I’m bringing Maze and Alex. They’ll provide sniper cover while I infiltrate the castle. I still have my old uniform. As long as they haven’t drastically changed up their callsigns, I should be able to get in undetected.” I could tell Raz wasn’t convinced. “Dutch, like you said, you’d be walking into a slaughterhouse. How does you going in solo make that any better.” “After what happened in the complex…I’m not putting anyone else at risk, I can’t. The Bomb Maker…Twitch, I’ve gotta face him myself. Look him in the eyes so he knows I crawled out of Hell to drag him back down there.” “Alright, I couldn’t really stop you if I wanted to, could I?” Raz shrugged. “No, not unless you shot me, and honestly, I’d take those odds.” I punched his shoulder and started heading for the breakroom to grab Maze and Alex. “You keep that up I’ll be moving you back out to that sea can of yours.” Raz smirked.
The locks took a bit of fighting to get open. While this footlocker had only been on Ashika Island for a few months, the constant spray of salt water had worn away what little integrity it once had. The black uniform, emblazoned with the Rook and Spade of Shadow Company, was still in excellent condition, save for a bullet hole just under where the plate carrier would sit. I paused for a moment, holding it up in the air, memories of the past flooding in. “Not a lot of fond memories in that uniform I take it.” Maze called out from the catwalk in our home away from home. “I think part of the problem is that there are good memories. It’s a little concerning that such fond memories can hide out amongst so much evil.” “We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of. Some of us just did things other people also wouldn’t be proud of either.” Alex chuckled to himself as he cleaned his rifle on the cot next to me. I grimaced, mostly because he was right. I slipped into the old black fatigues and strapped on my old plate carrier. My weapons were all still intact too, I pulled my Taq-56 out of the footlocker, running my fingers over the engraving in the side, ROOK-XLIV. I cycled the charging handle a few times before loading in a fresh magazine and setting it on the cot next to me. I pulled out a pistol belt, two pearl handled revolvers, one with an ebony Rook on the grip, the other, an ebony Spade. Umbra Catavae engraved along each barrel. Maze had come down from the rafters now, a look of mixed intrigue and concern on her face, “I take it those don’t invoke fond memories.” I had done a poor job of hiding my look of disgust. “No, unfortunately they do.” I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. “Each of these was given to me for completing outstanding performance in the field. I did things I’m not proud of, and I was rewarded for it, handsomely. Holding these in my hands, I feel the same pride I had felt when they were first handed to me. It makes me sick.” I strapped the belt around my waist. The pearl handles shining against my all black silhouette. Alex piped up again, “Hey, at least you are trying to make amends for your sins, not many can say the same.” I let out a long sigh, “I suppose you’re right. You both remember the plan?” “Get to the radio towers and start lighting the place up when shit inevitably hits the fan.” Maze grinned. “Close enough.” I pulled my balaclava up and headed for the door.
The guard at the gate didn’t immediately shoot me which gave me some spark of hope that this might work. “In position!” Alex and Maze called out almost simultaneously. “Jinx, you owe me a beer!” Maze rejoiced. “What? Why would I give you a beer for that?” Alex sounded genuinely confused. “Hey, cut the chatter you two, don’t need to give them any reason to not let me in alright.” The guard held up his hand. “I don’t recognize you, let’s see your I.D.” I held up my old I.D card. “Well I’ll be damned, look who crawled out if his grave.” He pulled my mask down to confirm. “You look pretty good for a corpse, though your I.D card is out of regulation. You might want to stop by the I.T guy to get a new one made.” “Thanks, I’ll head right over.” The first thought that came to my mind was Bob. There’s no way he still worked for these assholes, is there.
“You used your old I.D?! You mad man!” Maze cackled over the radio. “Ok, I’ll admit, this wasn’t my greatest plan. I honestly thought they’d just capture me after seeing who I was.” Alex cut me off, “Go with the flow I suppose.” “Spade-499 up one-two.” The local radio channel began to drown out my squad’s comms. “Rook-3468 down one-one” “This is some odd radio traffic Dutch.” Alex quipped. I watched as a Shadow Company mercenary approached a stairwell, each step primed and ready to pop a leg off whichever unfortunate soul chose to ascend. “Spade-5454 up one-two.” “It’s how they know to deactivate the traps.” I whispered into our secure line. I approached the same stairwell. “Rook-44 up one-two.” I could hear the traps audibly click off. The guard at the to put his hand out as I reached the top step. “Sorry, no ghosts allowed on the second floor.” “Ghost? What…” He bent over laughing. “I’m just messing with you man. They said you died holding off the ULF while Bob and Twitch escaped, going out in a blaze of glory. Clearly, they didn’t have their facts straight. Glad to have you back.” I’m glad I had the balaclava on because I was struggling to hide my confusion. Last I checked I was the scape goat for the largest backstab in Shadow Company history, not a hero. I was never a hero when I worked for them. “I take it you are going to see the boss, call up two-zero, we don’t want people to be just guess on the fly, just in case someone tries to sneak in.” If only he knew.
“We don’t have eyes up there Dutch. Whatever happens, you’re on your own.” I could hear a tinge of worry in Alex’s voice. “Just make sure whoever is in here doesn’t get reinforcements.” “You got it!” Alex and Maze both called out in unison. “Jinx, you owe me another beer.” “There’s free beer at headquarters, why would I owe you a beer for that.” Alex called back clearly still confused. “Radio silence please. I’ve got a rat to kill.” I took a deep breath, pulling my Bryson from its sheath, the chrome exterior brushed over with a dull grey to blend in. “Rook-44 up two-zero.”
“Well, well, well. I was wondering when I’d see you again after our last encounter. Urzikstan and Al Mazrah clearly hadn’t kicked your ass enough so you decided to come crawling back to me for another round.” The traps clicked off. “Come on up, I’ve been looking forward to this.” I slowly ascended, keeping my Bryson trained at the top of the stairs, my eyes scanning each stair for an actual trap. As I crested the stairwell, my eyes were immediately drawn to him. His back turned to me, Trophy Systems whirring and clicking around him. “I missed you Dutch. Well, the old you. The one that would shoot through a hostage just to prove a point, the one that would dangle captives from buildings by their collar until they squawked like a bird, and then still dropped them anyways. I miss the Dutch that smoked Keller because his gas mask worked and yours didn’t when we those crazy Russian’s tried to hit us with mustard gas. I still get a little nauseous when I think about you peeling his face out of there.” “I’ve changed Twitch, I’ve moved past all that. I found a calling that doesn’t require me to be a conniving bastard.” Twitch laughed as he turned around, his hands empty. I kept my Bryson trained on him. “That’s what you think I am huh? I prefer shrewd businessman, but if that’s what helps you sleep at night.” He walked to one of the barred windows. “You really think what you and those taxi driving hooligans are doing matters?” “Clearly it does, or you and the Chemist wouldn’t be working so hard to sabotage us.” I took a few steps towards him. “Well, I suppose it matters to one of us. The Chemist and Raz go way back, but you know that. What I care about is the money, and I get a lot of money for helping that crazy bastard try to wipe out your little band of Merry Men.” “And Women. This guy just loves the sound of his own voice. Can I remove his head already? He’s looking right at me, practically begging me to pull the trigger.” I could hear the contempt in Maze’s voice. Twitch always did love a monologue. “You can still fix your mistakes Twitch. Gives us what info you have on those tracers of yours and I might consider not killing you.” I snarled. “When you went soft Dutch, you lost any respect I might have had for you. We are long past the point where you can intimidate me. Besides, any info I did have, is with the Chemist. He paid a handsome sum to get the formula, and really, it was becoming a logistical nightmare to ship enough of those little blue gems across the sea. Better for everyone to have it made close to the front lines.”
“Spade-101 up two-zero.” Bob’s voice cut through the tension. “Well I’ll be, it looks like we are gonna have a little family reunion.” Bob’s head poked up the stairs, “Hey boss, another server bank has shorted out from the sea air, I told you we should invest in better waterproofing the housings but if you still…” He trailed off as I dropped my Bryson, the sling catching it just before it hit the ground, and drawing my two revolvers. “Oh, hey Dutch. Nice to see you too.” Bob stammered. I cocked the hammer on each one, keeping one trained on each of my old squad mates. “Really Bob? Really! I understand you sticking around the day of the heist. But now? After everything that Shadow Company has done to these countries. To its own people.” Before he could respond, a siren blared over the intercom system. “Defensive positions! Hostile operators have breached the perimeter.” “Dutch you’ve got six operators approaching the castle, I think it’s time to bounce.” Maze was drowned out by her own gun fire, her Signal .50 raining death into the courtyard. “Looks like our time is up here Dutch. Since you clearly don’t have los cojones to pull the trigger, you might as well see yourself out, and let me and my men handle this.”
“Fuck it.” The hammer of the first revolver slammed down, dropping Bob instantly. I turned to face Twitch, his face a mix of surprise and pride. “Maybe I was wrong, the old Dutch still lives.” I charged forward, tackling him through the window and off the roof. Both of us lay on the ground, groaning as the chorus of gunfire roared around us. He dove for one of my pistols, but unfortunately for him, I had managed to hold on to the other, putting a round through his arm just before he could grab the gun. He rolled out of the way of the second round, bringing his one working hand up to the radio on his chest. The explosion from the castle threw both of us across the courtyard, debris raining down around us. I felt like I was reliving one of the worst days of my life all over again. I hauled myself to my feet, Shadow Company mercenaries and operators wandered aimlessly through the ashes. Everyone seemed too disoriented to fight. “I think it’s time to leave Dutch.” “I second that.” Maze and Alex were barely audible over the ringing in my ears. “Regroup at the boat. If I’m not there in 5, go without me.” I never heard a response, even if they tried, they wouldn’t have convinced me to leave, not with him still breathing.
I combed through the smoke and fire, carefully checking every nook and cranny I came across but the slippery rat was nowhere to be seen. “Looks like you 3 aren’t thick as thieves after all, eh Dutch. Poor Alex here was left all alone on the beach, no boat to be seen.” Twitch was sucking in air between words, no doubt kept standing by adrenaline. “You lay a finger on him, and I’ll make you wish you had died in that explosion.” I spat into my mic. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
I limped over a hill towards the beach where we were supposed to regroup. “Alex! Where’s Maze?” I called out as I stumbled down the sand bank. Alex didn’t respond, his head held in a tight headlock by Twitch, my second pistol against his temple. “She abandoned you both, and now I get the pleasure of killing you both after yet another betrayal. When will you learn Dutch. This world is a cruel place. Only the strong survive, clearly Maze knew that.” Twitch cut me off before I could retort. “Save the fight me with honour B.S that I know you are gonna spew.” I’m gonna kill you and your buddy and salvage what little I can of this operation. Then maybe retire to Cuba. I do love a good cigar.” “Adios, pendejo!” Alex brought his arm down, the knife concealed in his hand connecting with Twitch’s thigh. Twitch let out a high-pitched yelp, letting loose a round from the revolver which narrowly grazed Alex’s hair. Alex dove into the sand right as Twitch’s shoulder exploded in a pink mist followed shortly by the unmistakable crack of Maze’s Signal .50. I squinted trying to see where the shot came from, all I caught was the glint from her scope in the sun, the boat hardly visible in the rolling surf.
I limped forward, Bryson in hand, chrome starting to show through the worn grey paint. I kicked the revolver away from Twitch, placing a boot on his chest and the barrel of my Bryson against his forehead. He began to mumble and cry, hardly able to string together an understandable sentence. “Save it, you’re gonna need your energy for what comes next.” Our boat slammed into the shore, Maze hopping off, rifle raised and ready. “Oh shit I actually hit that!” “I’m not gonna lie, I thought you’d actually just bailed.” I laughed as she helped Alex to his feet. “You still go those claymores?” I asked Maze as Twitch continued to writhe in panic under my boot. “You wanted the old Dutch, eh Twitch. Ask and you shall receive.” Maze handed me the claymores, while Alex kept sidearm pointed at Twitch. I planted 4 around him, just far enough away that they wouldn’t go off unless he moved. I drew one of my revolvers, popping the cylinder out and emptying all but one round. I gave the cylinder a spin before flicking it closed. I tossed the revolver at Twitch. “Don’t waste that on me. You’ll only regret it in about an hour.” I took my other revolver, and hurled it towards the sea, the pearl grip glinting in the sun as it spun through the air, disappearing into the crashing waves. “Good riddance.” I sighed, that chapter of my life finally ended. Twitch was silent, his whimpering now just deep, laboured breathing. I turned back before I stepped onto the boat, watching as his hand slowly moved to the pistol in the sand next to him. “Well played Dutch, well played.”

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My second post for the day since one page comic posts with the context of whatever story explained are apparently bad now.
Anyway, telephone (as it is known as in North America), or Chinese whispers (as it is known as in some other Commonwealth nations, you really do learn something new everything) is a children's game. Basically put, a message is passed down from person to person with the fun of the game coming from seeing the difference between the interpreted final message and then first message.
As a phrase, "a game of telephone" indicates that the original thing said has snowballed into something else that only vaguely resembles the original. One example I like going back to would be the character of Crow Hogan from YuGiOh 5ds. There is an in depth explanation here, but the short version is that there was a theory that Crow was intended to be the final villain of the arc he debuted in.
The actual truth is that while an early plan (because lets face it, trying to pin down the first will always be tricky since it can often be exclusively in a creator's mind) suggested that he tried to steal from Yusei (the main character of 5ds) once, that same draft also mentioned him as being a friend. What is correct is that there is evidence that he was not intended to have the role he got eventually, but that snowballed into him being a bad guy, and then that snowballed into him having been the final villain but being changed due to his popularity.

One hundred and forty-nine stairs. That’s how many there are to get up to the fire tower I’m posted at. I used to think getting up there meant safety. Now, I’m hoping it just means survival.
Climbing one hundred and forty-nine steps when you’re healthy is no small feat. When one of your legs has been torn to shreds, you’re bleeding from many places and you’re trying to get up there to wrap it, hoping there’s enough bandages so you don’t bleed to death, it’s a lot more difficult.
Then there are the stairs themselves which also count as a hazard when you have to hop up each one, causing pain to shoot through your injured leg. The stairs are skinny enough as they are, but the closer you get to the top, the smaller they get.
How do I know the exact number of steps? I counted them. I also counted which ones I miscalculated my jump, or brushed my foot against the step, or did something else that nearly sent me sailing over the rickety railing to my untimely death. The first time was one step number three, then fifteen, thirty-seven was a bad one, fifty-two, one oh seven, one-twenty, and finally one-forty-three. I guess it’s a good thing I’m deathly afraid of heights.
By now you may have figured out, I’m a park ranger. How did I end up playing this deadly game of hopscotch? It started a week ago when I got the job.
I was super excited, because I love working alone, and I love nature. What other job blends those two so well?
That excitement waned quite a bit when I arrived at the tower on my first day and looked up at those tiny metal steps I would have to climb to get to my job. The whole thing looked about as sturdy as if someone had built it with an erector set. I mean honestly, seeing surface rust on stairs that have to support your weight is terrifying, and I had to wonder how much I would be swaying when the wind really kicked up.
I wanted to close my eyes and just run up, but I didn’t dare. I paid attention to every single step, watching the metal bow under the weight of my foot, white-knuckling the railings as I went.
Finally, I reached the top and knocked on the trapdoor that had to be opened to let me in. I met the ranger who would be training me. His name was Bob, and he looked every bit how I envision a park ranger would look. Tall and thin, wiry but not scrawny, with a five o’clock shadow because he never had the time to shave properly.
Bob was one of those guys who seemed to always have a smirk on their face like they’ve just been told the greatest joke of all time, but they don’t want to let you in on it.
He spent the entire shift showing me around and then boring me to tears with all the little details of working in a fire tower. The place wasn’t bad. I was expecting an empty room with a card table and a radio, but this was nice. It reminded me of a small apartment or the inside of a small RV. There was a kitchenette with a microwave, sink, and minifridge. There was a couch and a couple of chairs, and most importantly, there was a bathroom.
At one point I thought there would be an outhouse at the base of the tower I would have to use. The thought of going down all those steps while holding number one or especially number two was something I didn’t even want to have nightmares about.
Just before the end of the shift, the next ranger came up. His name was Toby.
Toby looked nothing like I envisioned rangers looking like. He was overweight but made up for it by being under tall. He had a look of mischief in his eyes like a seventh grader who had just dropped a cherry bomb down the toilet and was trying to walk away looking nonchalant.
He smiled and shook my hand.
“So did Bob bore you to tears?” he said.
“Not quite to tears,” I said.
“Hey, I’m a good trainer,” Bob said looking offended yet still wearing that grin.
“Did you tell him everything?” Toby said.
“Pretty sure,” Bob said.
“Did you tell him about?” Toby leaned closer and whispered something in Bob’s ear that I couldn’t hear.
Bob’s grin grew.
“No, I didn’t tell him about that.”
“Maybe we should wait until he’s done training,” Toby said.
“What?” I said looking back and forth between them.
“We’ll tell you once you’re done job shadowing,” Bob said with that infuriating grin.
When we left, I was so focused on what they weren’t telling me, I nearly missed the first step and plunged to my death.
“Yeah, you’re gonna want to focus on those steps,” Bob said. “We had a coworker get hurt really bad because of them.”
“Is he ok now?”
Bob looked away.
Toby came over and volunteered, “He’s dead.”
That was definitely what I wanted to hear.
The next few days were a blur. Between total boredom with reading the procedure book and Bob grinning all the while refusing to tell me the big secret, I was getting super frustrated. I couldn’t wait for my first night working alone.
At least I had brought some supplies up to keep in the tower. Some snacks, a few books, and a tablet to make some notes on if I started writing a story.
Finally, the night came. I was working on my own for the first time. Surprisingly, Bob’s smile vanished as he told me.
“Did you ever read anything off of Reddit?” he said.
I shrugged.
“I don’t really read much other than books.”
“Sign up for Reddit, then go to the nosleep subreddit and look for a story called, ‘I was a park ranger stationed in a fire tower. It had a strange set of rules.’ Read that. It’ll tell you what to do.”
“Ok,” I said. “That’s the big secret? Read someone’s made-up story?”
“It might seem made up,” he said. “But trust me, follow the rules.”
I tried to read his expression to see if he was messing with me or not. In the five days I’d known him, there was never a time he wasn’t wearing that stupid grin, until now. His face was serious as a heart attack.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll look it up later on my phone.”
“You really should do it as soon as I leave.”
“Ok.”
“Good luck.”
He stepped over to the door and went down the stairs. A few minutes later I heard his truck drive away.
“What the hell was that about?”
I stood in the middle of the room looking out at the beautiful trees, but not even seeing them. My mind was occupied by what Bob had said.
“It has to be a prank,” I said to the empty room. “Bob and Toby cooked this up to scare me on my first night. Well, I’m not falling for it.”
I did my first round of walking around on the outside walkway, looking for any sign of fires. We worked twelve-hour shifts, so I was working from seven am to seven pm. It was late summer and still warm enough to go without a jacket, at least on my first round. By the time I got to my fourth round, there was a chill in the air. I started doing my rounds from the inside and made a mental note to bring a jacket with me tomorrow.
It seemed odd to be talking about a jacket in late summer, but in the forest, the temperatures can vary wildly. It could be thirty degrees at night and eighty during the day.
I stepped back inside and saw my phone had lit up with a text message. I looked at it and it was Bob.
‘Did you read the rules yet?’
‘No,’ I texted back.
‘You don’t have much time.’
I knew this was a joke, it had to be a joke. The old timers pulling a fast one on the new guy, jerking his chain a little.
‘I’ll get right on it,’ I texted.
‘You better.’
I put my phone down and looked at the clock. It was ten minutes after ten. Outside was now completely dark, creating a very disconcerting illusion where when I would look outside, all I saw was my reflection. I decided to turn some lights off and go with just the bare minimum. That reduced the reflection some and I could see some trees outside.
I did a slow pan around, then grabbed a bag of chips and a soda, sat down, and worked on a crossword puzzle. That only lasted a half hour until I was bored with it. I picked up a book and started to read.
I woke sometime later, with my head resting on the back of the chair, chip crumbs all over my shirt, and the book laying on the floor.
I stretched and looked over at the clock. It read two-thirteen.
I jumped up, flinging the bag of chips to the floor, realizing I’d missed several checks, then ran around the room staring out at the trees. After my quick lap, I took a breath and did another slower lap to make sure there was no smoke. Thank God, there was none.
I chided myself for falling asleep on duty like that as I cleaned up my mess. I decided I should set an hourly alarm on my phone so that wouldn’t happen again.
When I picked up the phone I noticed there was a series of texts from Bob.
‘Did you read it yet?’
‘Why aren’t you answering?’
‘Are you alright?’
‘Don’t open the door for any reason.’
The last one sent chills down my spine.
Why would I open the door in the middle of the night?
As I was thinking this, another text came in.
‘For the love of God, read it!’
What the hell was wrong with this guy? Was he seriously losing sleep for a stupid joke?
I decided I would humor him and read the story. I opened my phone and went to the Reddit site. I had just signed up and put my information in when I heard static over the radio. I stepped to the receiver and checked it. Static blared out of it, making me jump as I heard a faint voice in it.
“Tower seven, do you read me?” I heard from a voice I could barely hear through the static.
I hesitated for a moment trying to remember if this was tower seven or not.
“Tower seven do you read me?” the voice said sounding a little more desperate.
I picked up the mic and keyed it.
“This is tower seven, go ahead.”
“It’s good to hear you tower seven,” the voice said suddenly clear. “I didn’t think you would answer.”
“Well, here I am, awake and alert, answering you,” I said. “What did you need?”
“I already have what I need,” the voice said sounding like it was chuckling. “I’d like to come visit if that’s alright.”
“Tower seven, this is base, who are you talking to?”
“I don’t know, someone on the radio,” I said into the mic.
“Seven, there’s no one else on this channel,” base said.
I got chills for a moment. What did that mean? How was I hearing someone that base couldn’t? Why would someone be calling now? Then it hit me that the base dispatcher was probably in on the joke too.
“Ok, base, maybe it was just some random transmission.”
“Tower seven,” the voice said. “Am I alright to come from a visit?”
I hesitated for a moment. What if it wasn’t a joke? Who the hell is walking through the forest at two thirty in the morning?
“Maybe we’ll do that visit another time,” I said.
“Visit?” base said. “What visit? Seven, you know it’s against policy to have visitors.”
“Yeah, sorry, base, I won’t be letting anyone visit.”
More static came over the radio. I could swear I could hear someone say something in the middle of it.
It sounded like, “We’ll see.”
I put down the mic and picked up my phone to read the story when I saw something off in the distance. It was a light, but it was hovering, like a helicopter. I switched my phone to camera mode, zoomed in, and took a picture. It was weird because the light was blue. I didn’t think helicopters had blue lights on them. Also, this light wasn’t flashing, it was solid the whole time. It came closer and I took another picture.
It floated even closer. It was mesmerizing. There was no sound. No hum, no whirring of tiny blades keeping it afloat like a drone, nothing. It was about the size of a basketball and glowing the most brilliant blue I’d ever seen. I reached out for it and it backed away from my hand. I took a step closer to the edge of the walkway, reaching out as far as my arm could stretch.
It backed away a few inches, just out of reach. I stood on my tiptoes, pushing against the railing trying to touch it. It moved away another inch.
I reached the tipping point and pinwheeled my arms to regain my balance and shove back against the railing.
I fell onto the walkway, landing hard on my backside and hitting the back of my head against the window. I looked up and the light was gone.
I shook my head, painfully stood up, and went back inside. I didn’t want to do a patrol but figured I’d better. After a slow walk around, I collapsed in the chair and set my alarm to go off in an hour.
After sitting there for a few minutes I could feel myself nodding off, so I opened my phone and started reading the story. After about ten minutes, I lowered my phone, eyes wide, hands shaking.
“It can’t be real,” I whispered. “It’s just a joke.”
I scrolled back through the story and re-read the rules.

1. Never, under any circumstances, leave the fire tower until you are relieved.
   
2. Turn off all lights between the hours of 2 and 3 am.
   
3. If you receive a radio transmission or phone call between those hours, do not answer.
   
4. If anyone knocks on the trapdoor during those hours tell them they’ll have to wait until morning. Do not open the door.
   
5. If you see a glowing object floating toward the tower, don’t look at it. Cover your eyes and count to 50. When you open your eyes it should be gone. If not, cover and count to 50 again.
   
6. If animals surround the tower don’t go down to look. Fire your flare gun into the air twice one minute apart, then lock yourself in the bathroom and hope for the best.
   My skepticism started to waver. How could they have known about those things, unless…
   

There was a powerful banging at the trapdoor that made me jump.
“Who is it?” I said.
No one answered.
I minute later, the pounding resumed. I searched for anything I could use as a weapon. Digging through the silverware drawer and finding an old, dull, paring knife, I backed as far away from the trapdoor as possible while staying inside. The pounding repeated. Somehow through the fear that coursed through my veins, I found my voice.
“You’ll have to come back in the morning,” I said.
“But I’m here now tower,” said the voice from the radio. “Let… me… in... ”
The last three words changed from asking to demanding. The voice also became deeper and more menacing.
I didn’t answer. I just slid down to the floor and hugged my knees holding the knife in front of me, silently searching through the story on my phone to see if there was something I missed, some way I could remedy the situation. But there was nothing, and the end of the story didn’t give me much hope.
I covered my ears and closed my eyes as the pounding continued now mixed with the voice that was going back and forth between pleading and threatening. It whispered then it screamed. It sound like a young boy, then it sounded demonic.
I rocked back and forth trying to keep some measure of sanity as the assault continued. I began to wonder how long the trapdoor would hold before whatever it was broke through.
Then suddenly it stopped.
As happy as I was that there was no more pounding and yelling, I didn’t trust it. My entire body was on pins and needles. It felt like the calm before the storm.
The fire tower shook. It felt like an earthquake, only different. I stood and went out to the walkway to see what was happening. When I looked down, I couldn’t believe it. The tower was surrounded by animals of all kinds. Deer, squirrels, bears, moose, any forest animal you could imagine, and even a couple I couldn’t and didn’t want to identify.
As I leaned over watching this strange menagerie, a moose rammed into one of the tower’s legs. It sent a shockwave through the entire metal framework. By the time it got up to me the tower was shaking so hard it made me lose my balance.
I toppled over the edge and fell. I threw my arm out attempting to catch the rail, but only touched it with my fingertips.
I knew I was falling to my death, there was no doubt. The wind rushing in my ears didn’t drown out the sound of my screaming. It sounded odd like I was listening to someone else scream. I closed my eyes, not wanting to know when the end was coming.
Suddenly something hit me hard in the ribs. I looked and I had hit a tree limb, but it didn’t stop me. The branch broke sending me falling again until I hit another branch. This one tore a gash on my leg as I flipped head over heels and fell again. The next branch grazed my head and made me see stars. I bounced off another branch hitting my shoulder, then took one to the knee, and landed flat on my back on the ground.
I lay there dazed, injured, but alive and surprised to be so. As I tried to regain my bearings, I saw the animals rushing over to me. I doubted they wanted me to pet them while they licked my wounds and cared for me while singing Disney songs.
I jumped up as pain rocked my body from more places than I wanted to think about. I hopped over to the tower steps and began my long arduous journey, just a half step away from a bunch of animals that seemed dead set on my destruction.
About halfway up I realized there was no more pursuit, so I slowed trying to conserve energy.
I got to the top, unlocked the hatch and tried to push it open. It took several tries to get enough strength while balancing on one leg standing on the tiniest of all the tiny steps. As soon as I got it open, I turned and slammed it shut, locking it.
I hobbled into the room, found the first aid box and struggled to get to the couch. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and forget this day ever happened.
I tried to easily lay myself down, but ended up collapsing in an excruciating heap.
Once down, I focused on bandaging the leg since it was losing the most blood. Once done, I proceeded to bandage all the rest of the areas that needed.
“How are you feeling, tower seven?” I heard the voice say over the radio.
I didn’t answer.
“Oh, come on now tower, don’t be like that,” it said. “Talk to me. Let me in and we’ll have a conversation.”
I lay there trying to think of anything other than pain and this voice.
“There has to be punishment for disobeying the rules.”
My blood ran cold. How did that thing know about the rules?
I reached into my pocket and was astonished that my phone was there. It had a cracked screen, but was usable. I texted Bob.
‘I’m alive, somehow. I broke half the rules without knowing it because I read the story too late.’
‘Are you alright?’
I took pictures of my bandaged leg that was wrapped but blood was still seeping through. I took pictures of my battered face, and my bruised ribs. I sent them all to Bob.
‘Good Lord, man, what did you do?’
‘I fell out of the tower.’
‘You did what?’
‘Was leaning over the edge of the walkway when one of the animals smashed into the support leg and shook the tower, knocking me over.’
‘How are you alive?’
‘Tree caught me.’
‘I’ll call the paramedics and come in early to relieve you.’
‘I’ll be laying here on the couch, bleeding.’
Then I added, ‘I’ll follow the rules from now on.’
There was static on the radio and a faint voice said, “You’d better.”
***
When Bob unlocked the hatch and led the EMTs in, he didn’t have that grin on his face.
“You ok, kid?” he said.
“Hunky dory, how about you?” I said laying on the cushions that were soaked in my own blood.
“He might be in shock,” one of the EMTs said.
My rescue was an adventure in itself. When they examined me they informed me that my leg was broken. I was sweating trying to go back down those steps with a splint on. I could just see me slipping near the top and falling again. There didn’t seem to be any trees close enough to catch me on this side.
Apparently, the EMTs seemed to be thinking the same thing. Someone came up with the brilliant idea of tying me to a backboard and trying to carry me down the steps. After two EMTs nearly fell, they decided to tie it to a rope and lower me like a sack of potatoes.
They rigged up a rope around one of the support poles for the walkway. Watching the rope scrape along the edges of the wood, fraying as it went was probably more terrifying than anything I’d experienced last night.
Floating in the air, spinning slowly didn’t help my fear of heights any. I decided to close my eyes and try to stay as still as possible so the balance wouldn’t be disturbed and slide me out of the end to fall to my death.
I was extremely grateful when the board hit the ground. My adrenaline finally crashed and I fell into a deep sleep as they loaded me into the ambulance.
***
Truth be told, I’m absolutely terrified to go back to the tower. It’s not like I have a lot of choices. Park ranger is a good paying job and sitting around watching for fires is about the easiest job I’ve ever heard of.
If you take away the supernatural voices, bizarre wildlife, strange lights, and the stairs of death.
I’m hoping paying attention to the rules will keep me safe.
I’m posting this as a warning. If your job has some strange rules, make sure you follow them, no matter how stupid you think they might be.

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Expected	Name	Publisher	Video Summary
June 5	#bg Classic Rally	Self-Published	Preview
June 5	#bg Stroganov Big Box	Game Brewer	Preview
June 6	#bg I C E	This Way !	Preview
June 6	#e AEG - Expansion Extravaganza (Space Base Tiny Towns Cubitos War Chest)	Alderac Entertainment Group	Space Base Tiny Towns Cubitos War Chest
June 6	#bg Tectonia	Self published	Preview
June 6	#bg MechaTop 2nd Call	Tabletop Systems L.T.D.
June 6	#e Mixtape Massacre: Time Warp Expansion	Bright Light Media
June 6	#rw Roll on the Range	25th Century Games	Preview
June 6	#wg Third Crusade	Ion Game Design	Preview
June 6	#rpg Quest Chest	Self-published	Preview
June 7	#e Worldbreakers: The Indigo Sisterhood	Self-Published	Preview
June 8	#bg Witchcraft!	Salt & Pepper Games	Preview

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What is this?

• A curated shortlist of Campaigns launching in the next 7 days.
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2. Let us know which you are excited for!
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One hundred and forty-nine stairs. That’s how many there are to get up to the fire tower I’m posted at. I used to think getting up there meant safety. Now, I’m hoping it just means survival.
Climbing one hundred and forty-nine steps when you’re healthy is no small feat. When one of your legs has been torn to shreds, you’re bleeding from many places and you’re trying to get up there to wrap it, hoping there’s enough bandages so you don’t bleed to death, it’s a lot more difficult.
Then there are the stairs themselves which also count as a hazard when you have to hop up each one, causing pain to shoot through your injured leg. The stairs are skinny enough as they are, but the closer you get to the top, the smaller they get.
How do I know the exact number of steps? I counted them. I also counted which ones I miscalculated my jump, or brushed my foot against the step, or did something else that nearly sent me sailing over the rickety railing to my untimely death. The first time was one step number three, then fifteen, thirty-seven was a bad one, fifty-two, one oh seven, one-twenty, and finally one-forty-three. I guess it’s a good thing I’m deathly afraid of heights.
By now you may have figured out, I’m a park ranger. How did I end up playing this deadly game of hopscotch? It started a week ago when I got the job.
I was super excited, because I love working alone, and I love nature. What other job blends those two so well?
That excitement waned quite a bit when I arrived at the tower on my first day and looked up at those tiny metal steps I would have to climb to get to my job. The whole thing looked about as sturdy as if someone had built it with an erector set. I mean honestly, seeing surface rust on stairs that have to support your weight is terrifying, and I had to wonder how much I would be swaying when the wind really kicked up.
I wanted to close my eyes and just run up, but I didn’t dare. I paid attention to every single step, watching the metal bow under the weight of my foot, white-knuckling the railings as I went.
Finally, I reached the top and knocked on the trapdoor that had to be opened to let me in. I met the ranger who would be training me. His name was Bob, and he looked every bit how I envision a park ranger would look. Tall and thin, wiry but not scrawny, with a five o’clock shadow because he never had the time to shave properly.
Bob was one of those guys who seemed to always have a smirk on their face like they’ve just been told the greatest joke of all time, but they don’t want to let you in on it.
He spent the entire shift showing me around and then boring me to tears with all the little details of working in a fire tower. The place wasn’t bad. I was expecting an empty room with a card table and a radio, but this was nice. It reminded me of a small apartment or the inside of a small RV. There was a kitchenette with a microwave, sink, and minifridge. There was a couch and a couple of chairs, and most importantly, there was a bathroom.
At one point I thought there would be an outhouse at the base of the tower I would have to use. The thought of going down all those steps while holding number one or especially number two was something I didn’t even want to have nightmares about.
Just before the end of the shift, the next ranger came up. His name was Toby.
Toby looked nothing like I envisioned rangers looking like. He was overweight but made up for it by being under tall. He had a look of mischief in his eyes like a seventh grader who had just dropped a cherry bomb down the toilet and was trying to walk away looking nonchalant.
He smiled and shook my hand.
“So did Bob bore you to tears?” he said.
“Not quite to tears,” I said.
“Hey, I’m a good trainer,” Bob said looking offended yet still wearing that grin.
“Did you tell him everything?” Toby said.
“Pretty sure,” Bob said.
“Did you tell him about?” Toby leaned closer and whispered something in Bob’s ear that I couldn’t hear.
Bob’s grin grew.
“No, I didn’t tell him about that.”
“Maybe we should wait until he’s done training,” Toby said.
“What?” I said looking back and forth between them.
“We’ll tell you once you’re done job shadowing,” Bob said with that infuriating grin.
When we left, I was so focused on what they weren’t telling me, I nearly missed the first step and plunged to my death.
“Yeah, you’re gonna want to focus on those steps,” Bob said. “We had a coworker get hurt really bad because of them.”
“Is he ok now?”
Bob looked away.
Toby came over and volunteered, “He’s dead.”
That was definitely what I wanted to hear.
The next few days were a blur. Between total boredom with reading the procedure book and Bob grinning all the while refusing to tell me the big secret, I was getting super frustrated. I couldn’t wait for my first night working alone.
At least I had brought some supplies up to keep in the tower. Some snacks, a few books, and a tablet to make some notes on if I started writing a story.
Finally, the night came. I was working on my own for the first time. Surprisingly, Bob’s smile vanished as he told me.
“Did you ever read anything off of Reddit?” he said.
I shrugged.
“I don’t really read much other than books.”
“Sign up for Reddit, then go to the nosleep subreddit and look for a story called, ‘I was a park ranger stationed in a fire tower. It had a strange set of rules.’ Read that. It’ll tell you what to do.”
“Ok,” I said. “That’s the big secret? Read someone’s made-up story?”
“It might seem made up,” he said. “But trust me, follow the rules.”
I tried to read his expression to see if he was messing with me or not. In the five days I’d known him, there was never a time he wasn’t wearing that stupid grin, until now. His face was serious as a heart attack.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll look it up later on my phone.”
“You really should do it as soon as I leave.”
“Ok.”
“Good luck.”
He stepped over to the door and went down the stairs. A few minutes later I heard his truck drive away.
“What the hell was that about?”
I stood in the middle of the room looking out at the beautiful trees, but not even seeing them. My mind was occupied by what Bob had said.
“It has to be a prank,” I said to the empty room. “Bob and Toby cooked this up to scare me on my first night. Well, I’m not falling for it.”
I did my first round of walking around on the outside walkway, looking for any sign of fires. We worked twelve-hour shifts, so I was working from seven am to seven pm. It was late summer and still warm enough to go without a jacket, at least on my first round. By the time I got to my fourth round, there was a chill in the air. I started doing my rounds from the inside and made a mental note to bring a jacket with me tomorrow.
It seemed odd to be talking about a jacket in late summer, but in the forest, the temperatures can vary wildly. It could be thirty degrees at night and eighty during the day.
I stepped back inside and saw my phone had lit up with a text message. I looked at it and it was Bob.
‘Did you read the rules yet?’
‘No,’ I texted back.
‘You don’t have much time.’
I knew this was a joke, it had to be a joke. The old timers pulling a fast one on the new guy, jerking his chain a little.
‘I’ll get right on it,’ I texted.
‘You better.’
I put my phone down and looked at the clock. It was ten minutes after ten. Outside was now completely dark, creating a very disconcerting illusion where when I would look outside, all I saw was my reflection. I decided to turn some lights off and go with just the bare minimum. That reduced the reflection some and I could see some trees outside.
I did a slow pan around, then grabbed a bag of chips and a soda, sat down, and worked on a crossword puzzle. That only lasted a half hour until I was bored with it. I picked up a book and started to read.
I woke sometime later, with my head resting on the back of the chair, chip crumbs all over my shirt, and the book laying on the floor.
I stretched and looked over at the clock. It read two-thirteen.
I jumped up, flinging the bag of chips to the floor, realizing I’d missed several checks, then ran around the room staring out at the trees. After my quick lap, I took a breath and did another slower lap to make sure there was no smoke. Thank God, there was none.
I chided myself for falling asleep on duty like that as I cleaned up my mess. I decided I should set an hourly alarm on my phone so that wouldn’t happen again.
When I picked up the phone I noticed there was a series of texts from Bob.
‘Did you read it yet?’
‘Why aren’t you answering?’
‘Are you alright?’
‘Don’t open the door for any reason.’
The last one sent chills down my spine.
Why would I open the door in the middle of the night?
As I was thinking this, another text came in.
‘For the love of God, read it!’
What the hell was wrong with this guy? Was he seriously losing sleep for a stupid joke?
I decided I would humor him and read the story. I opened my phone and went to the Reddit site. I had just signed up and put my information in when I heard static over the radio. I stepped to the receiver and checked it. Static blared out of it, making me jump as I heard a faint voice in it.
“Tower seven, do you read me?” I heard from a voice I could barely hear through the static.
I hesitated for a moment trying to remember if this was tower seven or not.
“Tower seven do you read me?” the voice said sounding a little more desperate.
I picked up the mic and keyed it.
“This is tower seven, go ahead.”
“It’s good to hear you tower seven,” the voice said suddenly clear. “I didn’t think you would answer.”
“Well, here I am, awake and alert, answering you,” I said. “What did you need?”
“I already have what I need,” the voice said sounding like it was chuckling. “I’d like to come visit if that’s alright.”
“Tower seven, this is base, who are you talking to?”
“I don’t know, someone on the radio,” I said into the mic.
“Seven, there’s no one else on this channel,” base said.
I got chills for a moment. What did that mean? How was I hearing someone that base couldn’t? Why would someone be calling now? Then it hit me that the base dispatcher was probably in on the joke too.
“Ok, base, maybe it was just some random transmission.”
“Tower seven,” the voice said. “Am I alright to come from a visit?”
I hesitated for a moment. What if it wasn’t a joke? Who the hell is walking through the forest at two thirty in the morning?
“Maybe we’ll do that visit another time,” I said.
“Visit?” base said. “What visit? Seven, you know it’s against policy to have visitors.”
“Yeah, sorry, base, I won’t be letting anyone visit.”
More static came over the radio. I could swear I could hear someone say something in the middle of it.
It sounded like, “We’ll see.”
I put down the mic and picked up my phone to read the story when I saw something off in the distance. It was a light, but it was hovering, like a helicopter. I switched my phone to camera mode, zoomed in, and took a picture. It was weird because the light was blue. I didn’t think helicopters had blue lights on them. Also, this light wasn’t flashing, it was solid the whole time. It came closer and I took another picture.
It floated even closer. It was mesmerizing. There was no sound. No hum, no whirring of tiny blades keeping it afloat like a drone, nothing. It was about the size of a basketball and glowing the most brilliant blue I’d ever seen. I reached out for it and it backed away from my hand. I took a step closer to the edge of the walkway, reaching out as far as my arm could stretch.
It backed away a few inches, just out of reach. I stood on my tiptoes, pushing against the railing trying to touch it. It moved away another inch.
I reached the tipping point and pinwheeled my arms to regain my balance and shove back against the railing.
I fell onto the walkway, landing hard on my backside and hitting the back of my head against the window. I looked up and the light was gone.
I shook my head, painfully stood up, and went back inside. I didn’t want to do a patrol but figured I’d better. After a slow walk around, I collapsed in the chair and set my alarm to go off in an hour.
After sitting there for a few minutes I could feel myself nodding off, so I opened my phone and started reading the story. After about ten minutes, I lowered my phone, eyes wide, hands shaking.
“It can’t be real,” I whispered. “It’s just a joke.”
I scrolled back through the story and re-read the rules.

1. Never, under any circumstances, leave the fire tower until you are relieved.
   
2. Turn off all lights between the hours of 2 and 3 am.
   
3. If you receive a radio transmission or phone call between those hours, do not answer.
   
4. If anyone knocks on the trapdoor during those hours tell them they’ll have to wait until morning. Do not open the door.
   
5. If you see a glowing object floating toward the tower, don’t look at it. Cover your eyes and count to 50. When you open your eyes it should be gone. If not, cover and count to 50 again.
   
6. If animals surround the tower don’t go down to look. Fire your flare gun into the air twice one minute apart, then lock yourself in the bathroom and hope for the best.
   My skepticism started to waver. How could they have known about those things, unless…
   

There was a powerful banging at the trapdoor that made me jump.
“Who is it?” I said.
No one answered.
I minute later, the pounding resumed. I searched for anything I could use as a weapon. Digging through the silverware drawer and finding an old, dull, paring knife, I backed as far away from the trapdoor as possible while staying inside. The pounding repeated. Somehow through the fear that coursed through my veins, I found my voice.
“You’ll have to come back in the morning,” I said.
“But I’m here now tower,” said the voice from the radio. “Let… me… in... ”
The last three words changed from asking to demanding. The voice also became deeper and more menacing.
I didn’t answer. I just slid down to the floor and hugged my knees holding the knife in front of me, silently searching through the story on my phone to see if there was something I missed, some way I could remedy the situation. But there was nothing, and the end of the story didn’t give me much hope.
I covered my ears and closed my eyes as the pounding continued now mixed with the voice that was going back and forth between pleading and threatening. It whispered then it screamed. It sound like a young boy, then it sounded demonic.
I rocked back and forth trying to keep some measure of sanity as the assault continued. I began to wonder how long the trapdoor would hold before whatever it was broke through.
Then suddenly it stopped.
As happy as I was that there was no more pounding and yelling, I didn’t trust it. My entire body was on pins and needles. It felt like the calm before the storm.
The fire tower shook. It felt like an earthquake, only different. I stood and went out to the walkway to see what was happening. When I looked down, I couldn’t believe it. The tower was surrounded by animals of all kinds. Deer, squirrels, bears, moose, any forest animal you could imagine, and even a couple I couldn’t and didn’t want to identify.
As I leaned over watching this strange menagerie, a moose rammed into one of the tower’s legs. It sent a shockwave through the entire metal framework. By the time it got up to me the tower was shaking so hard it made me lose my balance.
I toppled over the edge and fell. I threw my arm out attempting to catch the rail, but only touched it with my fingertips.
I knew I was falling to my death, there was no doubt. The wind rushing in my ears didn’t drown out the sound of my screaming. It sounded odd like I was listening to someone else scream. I closed my eyes, not wanting to know when the end was coming.
Suddenly something hit me hard in the ribs. I looked and I had hit a tree limb, but it didn’t stop me. The branch broke sending me falling again until I hit another branch. This one tore a gash on my leg as I flipped head over heels and fell again. The next branch grazed my head and made me see stars. I bounced off another branch hitting my shoulder, then took one to the knee, and landed flat on my back on the ground.
I lay there dazed, injured, but alive and surprised to be so. As I tried to regain my bearings, I saw the animals rushing over to me. I doubted they wanted me to pet them while they licked my wounds and cared for me while singing Disney songs.
I jumped up as pain rocked my body from more places than I wanted to think about. I hopped over to the tower steps and began my long arduous journey, just a half step away from a bunch of animals that seemed dead set on my destruction.
About halfway up I realized there was no more pursuit, so I slowed trying to conserve energy.
I got to the top, unlocked the hatch and tried to push it open. It took several tries to get enough strength while balancing on one leg standing on the tiniest of all the tiny steps. As soon as I got it open, I turned and slammed it shut, locking it.
I hobbled into the room, found the first aid box and struggled to get to the couch. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and forget this day ever happened.
I tried to easily lay myself down, but ended up collapsing in an excruciating heap.
Once down, I focused on bandaging the leg since it was losing the most blood. Once done, I proceeded to bandage all the rest of the areas that needed.
“How are you feeling, tower seven?” I heard the voice say over the radio.
I didn’t answer.
“Oh, come on now tower, don’t be like that,” it said. “Talk to me. Let me in and we’ll have a conversation.”
I lay there trying to think of anything other than pain and this voice.
“There has to be punishment for disobeying the rules.”
My blood ran cold. How did that thing know about the rules?
I reached into my pocket and was astonished that my phone was there. It had a cracked screen, but was usable. I texted Bob.
‘I’m alive, somehow. I broke half the rules without knowing it because I read the story too late.’
‘Are you alright?’
I took pictures of my bandaged leg that was wrapped but blood was still seeping through. I took pictures of my battered face, and my bruised ribs. I sent them all to Bob.
‘Good Lord, man, what did you do?’
‘I fell out of the tower.’
‘You did what?’
‘Was leaning over the edge of the walkway when one of the animals smashed into the support leg and shook the tower, knocking me over.’
‘How are you alive?’
‘Tree caught me.’
‘I’ll call the paramedics and come in early to relieve you.’
‘I’ll be laying here on the couch, bleeding.’
Then I added, ‘I’ll follow the rules from now on.’
There was static on the radio and a faint voice said, “You’d better.”
***
When Bob unlocked the hatch and led the EMTs in, he didn’t have that grin on his face.
“You ok, kid?” he said.
“Hunky dory, how about you?” I said laying on the cushions that were soaked in my own blood.
“He might be in shock,” one of the EMTs said.
My rescue was an adventure in itself. When they examined me they informed me that my leg was broken. I was sweating trying to go back down those steps with a splint on. I could just see me slipping near the top and falling again. There didn’t seem to be any trees close enough to catch me on this side.
Apparently, the EMTs seemed to be thinking the same thing. Someone came up with the brilliant idea of tying me to a backboard and trying to carry me down the steps. After two EMTs nearly fell, they decided to tie it to a rope and lower me like a sack of potatoes.
They rigged up a rope around one of the support poles for the walkway. Watching the rope scrape along the edges of the wood, fraying as it went was probably more terrifying than anything I’d experienced last night.
Floating in the air, spinning slowly didn’t help my fear of heights any. I decided to close my eyes and try to stay as still as possible so the balance wouldn’t be disturbed and slide me out of the end to fall to my death.
I was extremely grateful when the board hit the ground. My adrenaline finally crashed and I fell into a deep sleep as they loaded me into the ambulance.
***
Truth be told, I’m absolutely terrified to go back to the tower. It’s not like I have a lot of choices. Park ranger is a good paying job and sitting around watching for fires is about the easiest job I’ve ever heard of.
If you take away the supernatural voices, bizarre wildlife, strange lights, and the stairs of death.
I’m hoping paying attention to the rules will keep me safe.
I’m posting this as a warning. If your job has some strange rules, make sure you follow them, no matter how stupid you think they might be.

One hundred and forty-nine stairs. That’s how many there are to get up to the fire tower I’m posted at. I used to think getting up there meant safety. Now, I’m hoping it just means survival.
Climbing one hundred and forty-nine steps when you’re healthy is no small feat. When one of your legs has been torn to shreds, you’re bleeding from many places and you’re trying to get up there to wrap it, hoping there’s enough bandages so you don’t bleed to death, it’s a lot more difficult.
Then there are the stairs themselves which also count as a hazard when you have to hop up each one, causing pain to shoot through your injured leg. The stairs are skinny enough as they are, but the closer you get to the top, the smaller they get.
How do I know the exact number of steps? I counted them. I also counted which ones I miscalculated my jump, or brushed my foot against the step, or did something else that nearly sent me sailing over the rickety railing to my untimely death. The first time was one step number three, then fifteen, thirty-seven was a bad one, fifty-two, one oh seven, one-twenty, and finally one-forty-three. I guess it’s a good thing I’m deathly afraid of heights.
By now you may have figured out, I’m a park ranger. How did I end up playing this deadly game of hopscotch? It started a week ago when I got the job.
I was super excited, because I love working alone, and I love nature. What other job blends those two so well?
That excitement waned quite a bit when I arrived at the tower on my first day and looked up at those tiny metal steps I would have to climb to get to my job. The whole thing looked about as sturdy as if someone had built it with an erector set. I mean honestly, seeing surface rust on stairs that have to support your weight is terrifying, and I had to wonder how much I would be swaying when the wind really kicked up.
I wanted to close my eyes and just run up, but I didn’t dare. I paid attention to every single step, watching the metal bow under the weight of my foot, white-knuckling the railings as I went.
Finally, I reached the top and knocked on the trapdoor that had to be opened to let me in. I met the ranger who would be training me. His name was Bob, and he looked every bit how I envision a park ranger would look. Tall and thin, wiry but not scrawny, with a five o’clock shadow because he never had the time to shave properly.
Bob was one of those guys who seemed to always have a smirk on their face like they’ve just been told the greatest joke of all time, but they don’t want to let you in on it.
He spent the entire shift showing me around and then boring me to tears with all the little details of working in a fire tower. The place wasn’t bad. I was expecting an empty room with a card table and a radio, but this was nice. It reminded me of a small apartment or the inside of a small RV. There was a kitchenette with a microwave, sink, and minifridge. There was a couch and a couple of chairs, and most importantly, there was a bathroom.
At one point I thought there would be an outhouse at the base of the tower I would have to use. The thought of going down all those steps while holding number one or especially number two was something I didn’t even want to have nightmares about.
Just before the end of the shift, the next ranger came up. His name was Toby.
Toby looked nothing like I envisioned rangers looking like. He was overweight but made up for it by being under tall. He had a look of mischief in his eyes like a seventh grader who had just dropped a cherry bomb down the toilet and was trying to walk away looking nonchalant.
He smiled and shook my hand.
“So did Bob bore you to tears?” he said.
“Not quite to tears,” I said.
“Hey, I’m a good trainer,” Bob said looking offended yet still wearing that grin.
“Did you tell him everything?” Toby said.
“Pretty sure,” Bob said.
“Did you tell him about?” Toby leaned closer and whispered something in Bob’s ear that I couldn’t hear.
Bob’s grin grew.
“No, I didn’t tell him about that.”
“Maybe we should wait until he’s done training,” Toby said.
“What?” I said looking back and forth between them.
“We’ll tell you once you’re done job shadowing,” Bob said with that infuriating grin.
When we left, I was so focused on what they weren’t telling me, I nearly missed the first step and plunged to my death.
“Yeah, you’re gonna want to focus on those steps,” Bob said. “We had a coworker get hurt really bad because of them.”
“Is he ok now?”
Bob looked away.
Toby came over and volunteered, “He’s dead.”
That was definitely what I wanted to hear.
The next few days were a blur. Between total boredom with reading the procedure book and Bob grinning all the while refusing to tell me the big secret, I was getting super frustrated. I couldn’t wait for my first night working alone.
At least I had brought some supplies up to keep in the tower. Some snacks, a few books, and a tablet to make some notes on if I started writing a story.
Finally, the night came. I was working on my own for the first time. Surprisingly, Bob’s smile vanished as he told me.
“Did you ever read anything off of Reddit?” he said.
I shrugged.
“I don’t really read much other than books.”
“Sign up for Reddit, then go to the nosleep subreddit and look for a story called, ‘I was a park ranger stationed in a fire tower. It had a strange set of rules.’ Read that. It’ll tell you what to do.”
“Ok,” I said. “That’s the big secret? Read someone’s made-up story?”
“It might seem made up,” he said. “But trust me, follow the rules.”
I tried to read his expression to see if he was messing with me or not. In the five days I’d known him, there was never a time he wasn’t wearing that stupid grin, until now. His face was serious as a heart attack.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll look it up later on my phone.”
“You really should do it as soon as I leave.”
“Ok.”
“Good luck.”
He stepped over to the door and went down the stairs. A few minutes later I heard his truck drive away.
“What the hell was that about?”
I stood in the middle of the room looking out at the beautiful trees, but not even seeing them. My mind was occupied by what Bob had said.
“It has to be a prank,” I said to the empty room. “Bob and Toby cooked this up to scare me on my first night. Well, I’m not falling for it.”
I did my first round of walking around on the outside walkway, looking for any sign of fires. We worked twelve-hour shifts, so I was working from seven am to seven pm. It was late summer and still warm enough to go without a jacket, at least on my first round. By the time I got to my fourth round, there was a chill in the air. I started doing my rounds from the inside and made a mental note to bring a jacket with me tomorrow.
It seemed odd to be talking about a jacket in late summer, but in the forest, the temperatures can vary wildly. It could be thirty degrees at night and eighty during the day.
I stepped back inside and saw my phone had lit up with a text message. I looked at it and it was Bob.
‘Did you read the rules yet?’
‘No,’ I texted back.
‘You don’t have much time.’
I knew this was a joke, it had to be a joke. The old timers pulling a fast one on the new guy, jerking his chain a little.
‘I’ll get right on it,’ I texted.
‘You better.’
I put my phone down and looked at the clock. It was ten minutes after ten. Outside was now completely dark, creating a very disconcerting illusion where when I would look outside, all I saw was my reflection. I decided to turn some lights off and go with just the bare minimum. That reduced the reflection some and I could see some trees outside.
I did a slow pan around, then grabbed a bag of chips and a soda, sat down, and worked on a crossword puzzle. That only lasted a half hour until I was bored with it. I picked up a book and started to read.
I woke sometime later, with my head resting on the back of the chair, chip crumbs all over my shirt, and the book laying on the floor.
I stretched and looked over at the clock. It read two-thirteen.
I jumped up, flinging the bag of chips to the floor, realizing I’d missed several checks, then ran around the room staring out at the trees. After my quick lap, I took a breath and did another slower lap to make sure there was no smoke. Thank God, there was none.
I chided myself for falling asleep on duty like that as I cleaned up my mess. I decided I should set an hourly alarm on my phone so that wouldn’t happen again.
When I picked up the phone I noticed there was a series of texts from Bob.
‘Did you read it yet?’
‘Why aren’t you answering?’
‘Are you alright?’
‘Don’t open the door for any reason.’
The last one sent chills down my spine.
Why would I open the door in the middle of the night?
As I was thinking this, another text came in.
‘For the love of God, read it!’
What the hell was wrong with this guy? Was he seriously losing sleep for a stupid joke?
I decided I would humor him and read the story. I opened my phone and went to the Reddit site. I had just signed up and put my information in when I heard static over the radio. I stepped to the receiver and checked it. Static blared out of it, making me jump as I heard a faint voice in it.
“Tower seven, do you read me?” I heard from a voice I could barely hear through the static.
I hesitated for a moment trying to remember if this was tower seven or not.
“Tower seven do you read me?” the voice said sounding a little more desperate.
I picked up the mic and keyed it.
“This is tower seven, go ahead.”
“It’s good to hear you tower seven,” the voice said suddenly clear. “I didn’t think you would answer.”
“Well, here I am, awake and alert, answering you,” I said. “What did you need?”
“I already have what I need,” the voice said sounding like it was chuckling. “I’d like to come visit if that’s alright.”
“Tower seven, this is base, who are you talking to?”
“I don’t know, someone on the radio,” I said into the mic.
“Seven, there’s no one else on this channel,” base said.
I got chills for a moment. What did that mean? How was I hearing someone that base couldn’t? Why would someone be calling now? Then it hit me that the base dispatcher was probably in on the joke too.
“Ok, base, maybe it was just some random transmission.”
“Tower seven,” the voice said. “Am I alright to come from a visit?”
I hesitated for a moment. What if it wasn’t a joke? Who the hell is walking through the forest at two thirty in the morning?
“Maybe we’ll do that visit another time,” I said.
“Visit?” base said. “What visit? Seven, you know it’s against policy to have visitors.”
“Yeah, sorry, base, I won’t be letting anyone visit.”
More static came over the radio. I could swear I could hear someone say something in the middle of it.
It sounded like, “We’ll see.”
I put down the mic and picked up my phone to read the story when I saw something off in the distance. It was a light, but it was hovering, like a helicopter. I switched my phone to camera mode, zoomed in, and took a picture. It was weird because the light was blue. I didn’t think helicopters had blue lights on them. Also, this light wasn’t flashing, it was solid the whole time. It came closer and I took another picture.
It floated even closer. It was mesmerizing. There was no sound. No hum, no whirring of tiny blades keeping it afloat like a drone, nothing. It was about the size of a basketball and glowing the most brilliant blue I’d ever seen. I reached out for it and it backed away from my hand. I took a step closer to the edge of the walkway, reaching out as far as my arm could stretch.
It backed away a few inches, just out of reach. I stood on my tiptoes, pushing against the railing trying to touch it. It moved away another inch.
I reached the tipping point and pinwheeled my arms to regain my balance and shove back against the railing.
I fell onto the walkway, landing hard on my backside and hitting the back of my head against the window. I looked up and the light was gone.
I shook my head, painfully stood up, and went back inside. I didn’t want to do a patrol but figured I’d better. After a slow walk around, I collapsed in the chair and set my alarm to go off in an hour.
After sitting there for a few minutes I could feel myself nodding off, so I opened my phone and started reading the story. After about ten minutes, I lowered my phone, eyes wide, hands shaking.
“It can’t be real,” I whispered. “It’s just a joke.”
I scrolled back through the story and re-read the rules.

1. Never, under any circumstances, leave the fire tower until you are relieved.
   
2. Turn off all lights between the hours of 2 and 3 am.
   
3. If you receive a radio transmission or phone call between those hours, do not answer.
   
4. If anyone knocks on the trapdoor during those hours tell them they’ll have to wait until morning. Do not open the door.
   
5. If you see a glowing object floating toward the tower, don’t look at it. Cover your eyes and count to 50. When you open your eyes it should be gone. If not, cover and count to 50 again.
   
6. If animals surround the tower don’t go down to look. Fire your flare gun into the air twice one minute apart, then lock yourself in the bathroom and hope for the best.
   My skepticism started to waver. How could they have known about those things, unless…
   

There was a powerful banging at the trapdoor that made me jump.
“Who is it?” I said.
No one answered.
I minute later, the pounding resumed. I searched for anything I could use as a weapon. Digging through the silverware drawer and finding an old, dull, paring knife, I backed as far away from the trapdoor as possible while staying inside. The pounding repeated. Somehow through the fear that coursed through my veins, I found my voice.
“You’ll have to come back in the morning,” I said.
“But I’m here now tower,” said the voice from the radio. “Let… me… in... ”
The last three words changed from asking to demanding. The voice also became deeper and more menacing.
I didn’t answer. I just slid down to the floor and hugged my knees holding the knife in front of me, silently searching through the story on my phone to see if there was something I missed, some way I could remedy the situation. But there was nothing, and the end of the story didn’t give me much hope.
I covered my ears and closed my eyes as the pounding continued now mixed with the voice that was going back and forth between pleading and threatening. It whispered then it screamed. It sound like a young boy, then it sounded demonic.
I rocked back and forth trying to keep some measure of sanity as the assault continued. I began to wonder how long the trapdoor would hold before whatever it was broke through.
Then suddenly it stopped.
As happy as I was that there was no more pounding and yelling, I didn’t trust it. My entire body was on pins and needles. It felt like the calm before the storm.
The fire tower shook. It felt like an earthquake, only different. I stood and went out to the walkway to see what was happening. When I looked down, I couldn’t believe it. The tower was surrounded by animals of all kinds. Deer, squirrels, bears, moose, any forest animal you could imagine, and even a couple I couldn’t and didn’t want to identify.
As I leaned over watching this strange menagerie, a moose rammed into one of the tower’s legs. It sent a shockwave through the entire metal framework. By the time it got up to me the tower was shaking so hard it made me lose my balance.
I toppled over the edge and fell. I threw my arm out attempting to catch the rail, but only touched it with my fingertips.
I knew I was falling to my death, there was no doubt. The wind rushing in my ears didn’t drown out the sound of my screaming. It sounded odd like I was listening to someone else scream. I closed my eyes, not wanting to know when the end was coming.
Suddenly something hit me hard in the ribs. I looked and I had hit a tree limb, but it didn’t stop me. The branch broke sending me falling again until I hit another branch. This one tore a gash on my leg as I flipped head over heels and fell again. The next branch grazed my head and made me see stars. I bounced off another branch hitting my shoulder, then took one to the knee, and landed flat on my back on the ground.
I lay there dazed, injured, but alive and surprised to be so. As I tried to regain my bearings, I saw the animals rushing over to me. I doubted they wanted me to pet them while they licked my wounds and cared for me while singing Disney songs.
I jumped up as pain rocked my body from more places than I wanted to think about. I hopped over to the tower steps and began my long arduous journey, just a half step away from a bunch of animals that seemed dead set on my destruction.
About halfway up I realized there was no more pursuit, so I slowed trying to conserve energy.
I got to the top, unlocked the hatch and tried to push it open. It took several tries to get enough strength while balancing on one leg standing on the tiniest of all the tiny steps. As soon as I got it open, I turned and slammed it shut, locking it.
I hobbled into the room, found the first aid box and struggled to get to the couch. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and forget this day ever happened.
I tried to easily lay myself down, but ended up collapsing in an excruciating heap.
Once down, I focused on bandaging the leg since it was losing the most blood. Once done, I proceeded to bandage all the rest of the areas that needed.
“How are you feeling, tower seven?” I heard the voice say over the radio.
I didn’t answer.
“Oh, come on now tower, don’t be like that,” it said. “Talk to me. Let me in and we’ll have a conversation.”
I lay there trying to think of anything other than pain and this voice.
“There has to be punishment for disobeying the rules.”
My blood ran cold. How did that thing know about the rules?
I reached into my pocket and was astonished that my phone was there. It had a cracked screen, but was usable. I texted Bob.
‘I’m alive, somehow. I broke half the rules without knowing it because I read the story too late.’
‘Are you alright?’
I took pictures of my bandaged leg that was wrapped but blood was still seeping through. I took pictures of my battered face, and my bruised ribs. I sent them all to Bob.
‘Good Lord, man, what did you do?’
‘I fell out of the tower.’
‘You did what?’
‘Was leaning over the edge of the walkway when one of the animals smashed into the support leg and shook the tower, knocking me over.’
‘How are you alive?’
‘Tree caught me.’
‘I’ll call the paramedics and come in early to relieve you.’
‘I’ll be laying here on the couch, bleeding.’
Then I added, ‘I’ll follow the rules from now on.’
There was static on the radio and a faint voice said, “You’d better.”
***
When Bob unlocked the hatch and led the EMTs in, he didn’t have that grin on his face.
“You ok, kid?” he said.
“Hunky dory, how about you?” I said laying on the cushions that were soaked in my own blood.
“He might be in shock,” one of the EMTs said.
My rescue was an adventure in itself. When they examined me they informed me that my leg was broken. I was sweating trying to go back down those steps with a splint on. I could just see me slipping near the top and falling again. There didn’t seem to be any trees close enough to catch me on this side.
Apparently, the EMTs seemed to be thinking the same thing. Someone came up with the brilliant idea of tying me to a backboard and trying to carry me down the steps. After two EMTs nearly fell, they decided to tie it to a rope and lower me like a sack of potatoes.
They rigged up a rope around one of the support poles for the walkway. Watching the rope scrape along the edges of the wood, fraying as it went was probably more terrifying than anything I’d experienced last night.
Floating in the air, spinning slowly didn’t help my fear of heights any. I decided to close my eyes and try to stay as still as possible so the balance wouldn’t be disturbed and slide me out of the end to fall to my death.
I was extremely grateful when the board hit the ground. My adrenaline finally crashed and I fell into a deep sleep as they loaded me into the ambulance.
***
Truth be told, I’m absolutely terrified to go back to the tower. It’s not like I have a lot of choices. Park ranger is a good paying job and sitting around watching for fires is about the easiest job I’ve ever heard of.
If you take away the supernatural voices, bizarre wildlife, strange lights, and the stairs of death.
I’m hoping paying attention to the rules will keep me safe.
I’m posting this as a warning. If your job has some strange rules, make sure you follow them, no matter how stupid you think they might be.

One hundred and forty-nine stairs. That’s how many there are to get up to the fire tower I’m posted at. I used to think getting up there meant safety. Now, I’m hoping it just means survival.
Climbing one hundred and forty-nine steps when you’re healthy is no small feat. When one of your legs has been torn to shreds, you’re bleeding from many places and you’re trying to get up there to wrap it, hoping there’s enough bandages so you don’t bleed to death, it’s a lot more difficult.
Then there are the stairs themselves which also count as a hazard when you have to hop up each one, causing pain to shoot through your injured leg. The stairs are skinny enough as they are, but the closer you get to the top, the smaller they get.
How do I know the exact number of steps? I counted them. I also counted which ones I miscalculated my jump, or brushed my foot against the step, or did something else that nearly sent me sailing over the rickety railing to my untimely death. The first time was one step number three, then fifteen, thirty-seven was a bad one, fifty-two, one oh seven, one-twenty, and finally one-forty-three. I guess it’s a good thing I’m deathly afraid of heights.
By now you may have figured out, I’m a park ranger. How did I end up playing this deadly game of hopscotch? It started a week ago when I got the job.
I was super excited, because I love working alone, and I love nature. What other job blends those two so well?
That excitement waned quite a bit when I arrived at the tower on my first day and looked up at those tiny metal steps I would have to climb to get to my job. The whole thing looked about as sturdy as if someone had built it with an erector set. I mean honestly, seeing surface rust on stairs that have to support your weight is terrifying, and I had to wonder how much I would be swaying when the wind really kicked up.
I wanted to close my eyes and just run up, but I didn’t dare. I paid attention to every single step, watching the metal bow under the weight of my foot, white-knuckling the railings as I went.
Finally, I reached the top and knocked on the trapdoor that had to be opened to let me in. I met the ranger who would be training me. His name was Bob, and he looked every bit how I envision a park ranger would look. Tall and thin, wiry but not scrawny, with a five o’clock shadow because he never had the time to shave properly.
Bob was one of those guys who seemed to always have a smirk on their face like they’ve just been told the greatest joke of all time, but they don’t want to let you in on it.
He spent the entire shift showing me around and then boring me to tears with all the little details of working in a fire tower. The place wasn’t bad. I was expecting an empty room with a card table and a radio, but this was nice. It reminded me of a small apartment or the inside of a small RV. There was a kitchenette with a microwave, sink, and minifridge. There was a couch and a couple of chairs, and most importantly, there was a bathroom.
At one point I thought there would be an outhouse at the base of the tower I would have to use. The thought of going down all those steps while holding number one or especially number two was something I didn’t even want to have nightmares about.
Just before the end of the shift, the next ranger came up. His name was Toby.
Toby looked nothing like I envisioned rangers looking like. He was overweight but made up for it by being under tall. He had a look of mischief in his eyes like a seventh grader who had just dropped a cherry bomb down the toilet and was trying to walk away looking nonchalant.
He smiled and shook my hand.
“So did Bob bore you to tears?” he said.
“Not quite to tears,” I said.
“Hey, I’m a good trainer,” Bob said looking offended yet still wearing that grin.
“Did you tell him everything?” Toby said.
“Pretty sure,” Bob said.
“Did you tell him about?” Toby leaned closer and whispered something in Bob’s ear that I couldn’t hear.
Bob’s grin grew.
“No, I didn’t tell him about that.”
“Maybe we should wait until he’s done training,” Toby said.
“What?” I said looking back and forth between them.
“We’ll tell you once you’re done job shadowing,” Bob said with that infuriating grin.
When we left, I was so focused on what they weren’t telling me, I nearly missed the first step and plunged to my death.
“Yeah, you’re gonna want to focus on those steps,” Bob said. “We had a coworker get hurt really bad because of them.”
“Is he ok now?”
Bob looked away.
Toby came over and volunteered, “He’s dead.”
That was definitely what I wanted to hear.
The next few days were a blur. Between total boredom with reading the procedure book and Bob grinning all the while refusing to tell me the big secret, I was getting super frustrated. I couldn’t wait for my first night working alone.
At least I had brought some supplies up to keep in the tower. Some snacks, a few books, and a tablet to make some notes on if I started writing a story.
Finally, the night came. I was working on my own for the first time. Surprisingly, Bob’s smile vanished as he told me.
“Did you ever read anything off of Reddit?” he said.
I shrugged.
“I don’t really read much other than books.”
“Sign up for Reddit, then go to the nosleep subreddit and look for a story called, ‘I was a park ranger stationed in a fire tower. It had a strange set of rules.’ Read that. It’ll tell you what to do.”
“Ok,” I said. “That’s the big secret? Read someone’s made-up story?”
“It might seem made up,” he said. “But trust me, follow the rules.”
I tried to read his expression to see if he was messing with me or not. In the five days I’d known him, there was never a time he wasn’t wearing that stupid grin, until now. His face was serious as a heart attack.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll look it up later on my phone.”
“You really should do it as soon as I leave.”
“Ok.”
“Good luck.”
He stepped over to the door and went down the stairs. A few minutes later I heard his truck drive away.
“What the hell was that about?”
I stood in the middle of the room looking out at the beautiful trees, but not even seeing them. My mind was occupied by what Bob had said.
“It has to be a prank,” I said to the empty room. “Bob and Toby cooked this up to scare me on my first night. Well, I’m not falling for it.”
I did my first round of walking around on the outside walkway, looking for any sign of fires. We worked twelve-hour shifts, so I was working from seven am to seven pm. It was late summer and still warm enough to go without a jacket, at least on my first round. By the time I got to my fourth round, there was a chill in the air. I started doing my rounds from the inside and made a mental note to bring a jacket with me tomorrow.
It seemed odd to be talking about a jacket in late summer, but in the forest, the temperatures can vary wildly. It could be thirty degrees at night and eighty during the day.
I stepped back inside and saw my phone had lit up with a text message. I looked at it and it was Bob.
‘Did you read the rules yet?’
‘No,’ I texted back.
‘You don’t have much time.’
I knew this was a joke, it had to be a joke. The old timers pulling a fast one on the new guy, jerking his chain a little.
‘I’ll get right on it,’ I texted.
‘You better.’
I put my phone down and looked at the clock. It was ten minutes after ten. Outside was now completely dark, creating a very disconcerting illusion where when I would look outside, all I saw was my reflection. I decided to turn some lights off and go with just the bare minimum. That reduced the reflection some and I could see some trees outside.
I did a slow pan around, then grabbed a bag of chips and a soda, sat down, and worked on a crossword puzzle. That only lasted a half hour until I was bored with it. I picked up a book and started to read.
I woke sometime later, with my head resting on the back of the chair, chip crumbs all over my shirt, and the book laying on the floor.
I stretched and looked over at the clock. It read two-thirteen.
I jumped up, flinging the bag of chips to the floor, realizing I’d missed several checks, then ran around the room staring out at the trees. After my quick lap, I took a breath and did another slower lap to make sure there was no smoke. Thank God, there was none.
I chided myself for falling asleep on duty like that as I cleaned up my mess. I decided I should set an hourly alarm on my phone so that wouldn’t happen again.
When I picked up the phone I noticed there was a series of texts from Bob.
‘Did you read it yet?’
‘Why aren’t you answering?’
‘Are you alright?’
‘Don’t open the door for any reason.’
The last one sent chills down my spine.
Why would I open the door in the middle of the night?
As I was thinking this, another text came in.
‘For the love of God, read it!’
What the hell was wrong with this guy? Was he seriously losing sleep for a stupid joke?
I decided I would humor him and read the story. I opened my phone and went to the Reddit site. I had just signed up and put my information in when I heard static over the radio. I stepped to the receiver and checked it. Static blared out of it, making me jump as I heard a faint voice in it.
“Tower seven, do you read me?” I heard from a voice I could barely hear through the static.
I hesitated for a moment trying to remember if this was tower seven or not.
“Tower seven do you read me?” the voice said sounding a little more desperate.
I picked up the mic and keyed it.
“This is tower seven, go ahead.”
“It’s good to hear you tower seven,” the voice said suddenly clear. “I didn’t think you would answer.”
“Well, here I am, awake and alert, answering you,” I said. “What did you need?”
“I already have what I need,” the voice said sounding like it was chuckling. “I’d like to come visit if that’s alright.”
“Tower seven, this is base, who are you talking to?”
“I don’t know, someone on the radio,” I said into the mic.
“Seven, there’s no one else on this channel,” base said.
I got chills for a moment. What did that mean? How was I hearing someone that base couldn’t? Why would someone be calling now? Then it hit me that the base dispatcher was probably in on the joke too.
“Ok, base, maybe it was just some random transmission.”
“Tower seven,” the voice said. “Am I alright to come from a visit?”
I hesitated for a moment. What if it wasn’t a joke? Who the hell is walking through the forest at two thirty in the morning?
“Maybe we’ll do that visit another time,” I said.
“Visit?” base said. “What visit? Seven, you know it’s against policy to have visitors.”
“Yeah, sorry, base, I won’t be letting anyone visit.”
More static came over the radio. I could swear I could hear someone say something in the middle of it.
It sounded like, “We’ll see.”
I put down the mic and picked up my phone to read the story when I saw something off in the distance. It was a light, but it was hovering, like a helicopter. I switched my phone to camera mode, zoomed in, and took a picture. It was weird because the light was blue. I didn’t think helicopters had blue lights on them. Also, this light wasn’t flashing, it was solid the whole time. It came closer and I took another picture.
It floated even closer. It was mesmerizing. There was no sound. No hum, no whirring of tiny blades keeping it afloat like a drone, nothing. It was about the size of a basketball and glowing the most brilliant blue I’d ever seen. I reached out for it and it backed away from my hand. I took a step closer to the edge of the walkway, reaching out as far as my arm could stretch.
It backed away a few inches, just out of reach. I stood on my tiptoes, pushing against the railing trying to touch it. It moved away another inch.
I reached the tipping point and pinwheeled my arms to regain my balance and shove back against the railing.
I fell onto the walkway, landing hard on my backside and hitting the back of my head against the window. I looked up and the light was gone.
I shook my head, painfully stood up, and went back inside. I didn’t want to do a patrol but figured I’d better. After a slow walk around, I collapsed in the chair and set my alarm to go off in an hour.
After sitting there for a few minutes I could feel myself nodding off, so I opened my phone and started reading the story. After about ten minutes, I lowered my phone, eyes wide, hands shaking.
“It can’t be real,” I whispered. “It’s just a joke.”
I scrolled back through the story and re-read the rules.

1. Never, under any circumstances, leave the fire tower until you are relieved.
   
2. Turn off all lights between the hours of 2 and 3 am.
   
3. If you receive a radio transmission or phone call between those hours, do not answer.
   
4. If anyone knocks on the trapdoor during those hours tell them they’ll have to wait until morning. Do not open the door.
   
5. If you see a glowing object floating toward the tower, don’t look at it. Cover your eyes and count to 50. When you open your eyes it should be gone. If not, cover and count to 50 again.
   
6. If animals surround the tower don’t go down to look. Fire your flare gun into the air twice one minute apart, then lock yourself in the bathroom and hope for the best.
   My skepticism started to waver. How could they have known about those things, unless…
   

There was a powerful banging at the trapdoor that made me jump.
“Who is it?” I said.
No one answered.
I minute later, the pounding resumed. I searched for anything I could use as a weapon. Digging through the silverware drawer and finding an old, dull, paring knife, I backed as far away from the trapdoor as possible while staying inside. The pounding repeated. Somehow through the fear that coursed through my veins, I found my voice.
“You’ll have to come back in the morning,” I said.
“But I’m here now tower,” said the voice from the radio. “Let… me… in... ”
The last three words changed from asking to demanding. The voice also became deeper and more menacing.
I didn’t answer. I just slid down to the floor and hugged my knees holding the knife in front of me, silently searching through the story on my phone to see if there was something I missed, some way I could remedy the situation. But there was nothing, and the end of the story didn’t give me much hope.
I covered my ears and closed my eyes as the pounding continued now mixed with the voice that was going back and forth between pleading and threatening. It whispered then it screamed. It sound like a young boy, then it sounded demonic.
I rocked back and forth trying to keep some measure of sanity as the assault continued. I began to wonder how long the trapdoor would hold before whatever it was broke through.
Then suddenly it stopped.
As happy as I was that there was no more pounding and yelling, I didn’t trust it. My entire body was on pins and needles. It felt like the calm before the storm.
The fire tower shook. It felt like an earthquake, only different. I stood and went out to the walkway to see what was happening. When I looked down, I couldn’t believe it. The tower was surrounded by animals of all kinds. Deer, squirrels, bears, moose, any forest animal you could imagine, and even a couple I couldn’t and didn’t want to identify.
As I leaned over watching this strange menagerie, a moose rammed into one of the tower’s legs. It sent a shockwave through the entire metal framework. By the time it got up to me the tower was shaking so hard it made me lose my balance.
I toppled over the edge and fell. I threw my arm out attempting to catch the rail, but only touched it with my fingertips.
I knew I was falling to my death, there was no doubt. The wind rushing in my ears didn’t drown out the sound of my screaming. It sounded odd like I was listening to someone else scream. I closed my eyes, not wanting to know when the end was coming.
Suddenly something hit me hard in the ribs. I looked and I had hit a tree limb, but it didn’t stop me. The branch broke sending me falling again until I hit another branch. This one tore a gash on my leg as I flipped head over heels and fell again. The next branch grazed my head and made me see stars. I bounced off another branch hitting my shoulder, then took one to the knee, and landed flat on my back on the ground.
I lay there dazed, injured, but alive and surprised to be so. As I tried to regain my bearings, I saw the animals rushing over to me. I doubted they wanted me to pet them while they licked my wounds and cared for me while singing Disney songs.
I jumped up as pain rocked my body from more places than I wanted to think about. I hopped over to the tower steps and began my long arduous journey, just a half step away from a bunch of animals that seemed dead set on my destruction.
About halfway up I realized there was no more pursuit, so I slowed trying to conserve energy.
I got to the top, unlocked the hatch and tried to push it open. It took several tries to get enough strength while balancing on one leg standing on the tiniest of all the tiny steps. As soon as I got it open, I turned and slammed it shut, locking it.
I hobbled into the room, found the first aid box and struggled to get to the couch. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and forget this day ever happened.
I tried to easily lay myself down, but ended up collapsing in an excruciating heap.
Once down, I focused on bandaging the leg since it was losing the most blood. Once done, I proceeded to bandage all the rest of the areas that needed.
“How are you feeling, tower seven?” I heard the voice say over the radio.
I didn’t answer.
“Oh, come on now tower, don’t be like that,” it said. “Talk to me. Let me in and we’ll have a conversation.”
I lay there trying to think of anything other than pain and this voice.
“There has to be punishment for disobeying the rules.”
My blood ran cold. How did that thing know about the rules?
I reached into my pocket and was astonished that my phone was there. It had a cracked screen, but was usable. I texted Bob.
‘I’m alive, somehow. I broke half the rules without knowing it because I read the story too late.’
‘Are you alright?’
I took pictures of my bandaged leg that was wrapped but blood was still seeping through. I took pictures of my battered face, and my bruised ribs. I sent them all to Bob.
‘Good Lord, man, what did you do?’
‘I fell out of the tower.’
‘You did what?’
‘Was leaning over the edge of the walkway when one of the animals smashed into the support leg and shook the tower, knocking me over.’
‘How are you alive?’
‘Tree caught me.’
‘I’ll call the paramedics and come in early to relieve you.’
‘I’ll be laying here on the couch, bleeding.’
Then I added, ‘I’ll follow the rules from now on.’
There was static on the radio and a faint voice said, “You’d better.”
***
When Bob unlocked the hatch and led the EMTs in, he didn’t have that grin on his face.
“You ok, kid?” he said.
“Hunky dory, how about you?” I said laying on the cushions that were soaked in my own blood.
“He might be in shock,” one of the EMTs said.
My rescue was an adventure in itself. When they examined me they informed me that my leg was broken. I was sweating trying to go back down those steps with a splint on. I could just see me slipping near the top and falling again. There didn’t seem to be any trees close enough to catch me on this side.
Apparently, the EMTs seemed to be thinking the same thing. Someone came up with the brilliant idea of tying me to a backboard and trying to carry me down the steps. After two EMTs nearly fell, they decided to tie it to a rope and lower me like a sack of potatoes.
They rigged up a rope around one of the support poles for the walkway. Watching the rope scrape along the edges of the wood, fraying as it went was probably more terrifying than anything I’d experienced last night.
Floating in the air, spinning slowly didn’t help my fear of heights any. I decided to close my eyes and try to stay as still as possible so the balance wouldn’t be disturbed and slide me out of the end to fall to my death.
I was extremely grateful when the board hit the ground. My adrenaline finally crashed and I fell into a deep sleep as they loaded me into the ambulance.
***
Truth be told, I’m absolutely terrified to go back to the tower. It’s not like I have a lot of choices. Park ranger is a good paying job and sitting around watching for fires is about the easiest job I’ve ever heard of.
If you take away the supernatural voices, bizarre wildlife, strange lights, and the stairs of death.
I’m hoping paying attention to the rules will keep me safe.
I’m posting this as a warning. If your job has some strange rules, make sure you follow them, no matter how stupid you think they might be.

In the vast expanse of the Mexican countryside, where the swaying fields of green met the endless stretch of blue sky, I had spent my seventy years as a humble rancher. My life had been defined by hard work, the warmth of the sun on my weathered face, and the unwavering faith that guided my every step. Family was the cornerstone of my existence, and the love that bound us together brought solace and joy to my heart.
It was my grandniece, Ana, who now resided in the bustling city of Los Angeles, who played an unexpected role in the strange journey that awaited me. Despite the miles that separated us, Ana had become a successful professional, and her heart overflowed with love and concern for her aging uncle. When she learned of my deteriorating health, she took it upon herself to arrange a special surgery in Arizona, hoping to restore my vitality and grant me a chance at a better life.
Full of gratitude and hope, I embarked on the journey, leaving behind the familiar sights and sounds of my homeland. Ana's support had brought me solace, as I clung to the belief that God's grace would guide me through any trial that lay ahead.
Little did I know that my journey to Arizona would lead me into the depths of a living nightmare, shattering the foundation of my faith and testing the very limits of my sanity. The surgery was meant to bring healing, but instead, it opened a door to a world of unspeakable horrors that would forever haunt my existence.
This is the harrowing tale of the creatures I encountered while under the influence of drugs, their relentless pursuit, and the grim realization that some nightmares extend far beyond the realms of our understanding. As I recount this chilling experience, let it serve as a warning that even the strongest faith and love cannot shield us from the darkness that lurks in the shadows, waiting to consume us whole.
As a seventy-year-old rancher from Mexico, I had experienced my fair share of hardships and unusual encounters. But nothing could have prepared me for the terrifying ordeal that unfolded after I was brought to Arizona for a special surgery. It was a routine procedure, they said, but little did I know that the anesthetics they administered would unlock a horrifying world beyond my imagination.
The moment the sedatives took hold, I found myself drifting into a nightmarish slumber. Shadows danced and twisted before my closed eyes, morphing into grotesque shapes that defied reason. When I awoke, disoriented and groggy, I found myself in a dimly lit hospital room. The air felt heavy, suffocating, and an eerie silence hung in the air.
I tried to call out for help, but my voice seemed to evaporate into thin air. Panic coursed through my veins as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement. Something skittered across the floor, quick and unnatural.
My heart pounded in my chest as I turned my gaze towards the source of the disturbance. My eyes widened in horror as I laid eyes upon the creatures that haunted my nightmares. They were humanoid in shape, but twisted and contorted beyond recognition. Their pale, mottled skin seemed to glisten under the dim light, and their elongated limbs moved with a jerky, unsettling motion.
Their eyes, oh god, their eyes were empty voids, devoid of any humanity or emotion. As I watched, they crept closer, their unsettling presence filling the room with an oppressive dread. I could feel their malevolence, an otherworldly aura that sent shivers down my spine.
Fear consumed me as I realized these creatures were not bound by the laws of our reality. They moved through walls and solid objects, effortlessly closing the distance between us. I tried to escape, to flee from the room and their relentless pursuit, but my body felt heavy and unresponsive.
With each passing moment, their numbers grew, their presence suffocating my very existence. Their clawed hands reached out towards me, their whispers echoing in my mind. Their incomprehensible language filled my head, driving me to the brink of madness. I could no longer distinguish reality from the hallucinations induced by the drugs.
Days turned into nights, and nights bled into an endless cycle of torment. Sleep became a mere illusion, a reprieve from the never-ending horror that plagued me. The creatures stalked me relentlessly, their eyes boring into my soul, taunting me with their existence.
I pleaded for mercy, begged for release from this hellish nightmare, but my cries fell upon deaf ears. No one could hear me, no one could save me from the nightmare that had become my reality. I was trapped in a twisted dimension, caught between life and death.
With the weight of my encounter with the haunting creatures pressing heavily on my soul, I sought solace in the company of my brothers. Juan and Miguel, both strong and unwavering in their support, listened intently as I recounted the terrifying ordeal that had befallen me. Their furrowed brows and concerned expressions revealed their genuine worry, but their practical minds sought a solution to this unearthly menace.
"We mustn't let these creatures continue to stalk you, hermano," Juan declared, his voice laced with determination. "We must find a way to confront them and rid you of this torment."
Miguel, the more skeptical of the two, took a moment to contemplate. "Perhaps we can lead them away, far from here. Out in the desert, where their presence won't harm anyone else."
Hope ignited within me as their plan unfolded. We would set up a campfire in the vast expanse of the desert, drawing the creatures away from populated areas. It seemed like a sound strategy, a way to buy some time and perhaps even find a solution.
As nightfall settled upon the arid landscape, my brothers and I ventured into the heart of the desert. With every step, I could feel the weight of their doubts pressing upon me. They were reluctant to fully embrace the extent of the horrors I had witnessed. Instead, they chose to drown their unease in the embrace of the bottle, their laughter echoing under the starlit sky.
But as the flickering flames cast eerie shadows upon the sand, I realized the creatures were drawing closer. The distant whispers and rustling sounds sent chills down my spine, urging me to abandon the camouflage we had created.
Summoning all the courage within me, I decided to lead the creatures further away, away from my beloved brothers and into the treacherous darkness of the desert. The pain of leaving them behind gnawed at my heart, but their inebriation had clouded their judgment, blinding them to the imminent danger.
As the first rays of dawn painted the horizon with hues of golden light, I turned to face the pursuing creatures. With each step, their presence grew more malevolent, their snarls echoing through the stillness of the desert. They lunged towards me, their claws outstretched, and I braced myself for the inevitable onslaught.
In that final confrontation, wounds appeared upon my flesh, marking me as a testament to the terrors I had endured. Though their touch sent searing pain through my body, I summoned the last vestiges of strength to fight back. Using all my willpower, I managed to block the creatures in an old, abandoned mine, the sunlight casting them into a prison of darkness.
Exhausted and battered, I limped my way back to civilization, hitching a ride with a kind-hearted Americano who sympathized with my plight. In the confines of the bus, I shared my story, hoping for understanding and validation. But as I revealed the wounds to the skeptical passengers, the sunlight exposed them for what they truly were—fresh scars, resembling those left by surgical incisions.
Their disbelief hung heavy in the air, skepticism etched on their faces. No one could fathom the horrors I had endured, the demons I had faced in that shadowed realm. Alone with my scars, I pondered the fickle nature of perception and the daunting task of convincing others of the unspeakable.
As the bus rumbled on, taking me closer to the sanctuary of my homeland, I knew that the creatures still lurked in the depths of that abandoned mine. They were trapped, but for how long? I held on to the hope that my encounter with them would remain a solitary nightmare, confined to the depths of the desert and buried within my memories.
But deep down, a gnawing fear lingered—an understanding that some terrors can never be truly vanquished, and their tendrils may stretch far beyond the boundaries of our comprehension