It was the third night since the screaming had started. I covered my head with my pillow, trying to drown out the cacophonous cries and moans that came from above my head. The effect of the pillow was only to mute the sound. For a moment the screams died away, and I was left in utter silence. The silence was almost worse, I realized, as I sat anticipating the next outburst of screams. My heart beat loudly beneath my skin, and I feared that I would drown within my terror. Finally, when exhaustion overtook me, I succumbed to sleep.

In the morning, I opened my eyes to survey the dimly lit apartment room. For a moment the screaming from the night before seemed only a distant nightmare, a figment of my imagination, but the screams still echoed in my ears, and I knew them to be real. A somber light filtered into the room through the sheer curtains that hung raggedly across the windows. I dressed quickly, fighting off the morning chill as I rummaged through the dresser drawers for my sweater. I hurried down the apartment stairs after locking my door tight, passing through the dingy hallways and toward the rundown entrance. To get to work, I had to walk through an alleyway, passing by the homeless and the despairing. Today as I walked, I felt a chill that crept down my spine. I turned around often, sensing the presence of another close at hand. Each time I turned, I saw a shadow slip down a side street, always too quick for me to see whom it was. I began to walk more quickly, nearly jogging as I neared the street. As I merged with the crowded sidewalks, the tension disappeared, and I no longer felt the chilling presence of the shadow. This was now the third day that I had sighted this shadow.


That night the screaming began once more. I moaned beneath the bed sheets, grasping the pillow tightly around my head. When I thought that I could not stand the screaming a moment longer, I sat up, looking around wildly, half expecting to see the haunting shadow that had followed me before. The room was empty but for the weak moonlight that filtered in through the gossamer curtains. The screaming continued. How was it no one else ever heard the screams? Was I going mad, I wondered? Or were the other tenants so used to the screams that they merely ignored them as they slept? Suddenly my fear turned to anger and my anger to determination. I pulled the drawer of my nightstand open, grasping the flashlight I kept within. I would go up to the floor above and see who was screaming. I would stay until I learned the secret. I crept from my room, my footsteps falling silently upon the floor as I walked. The stairs loomed up ahead of me, and I climbed them one at a time, slowly, so as to not let the creaking of their timber awaken the other tenants. But, I thought, if they could sleep through the screams, they could sleep through the creaks of the old apartment. As I reached the landing, I found that the screams still came from above me. Peering around, I perceived a small set of stairs that led up to a trap door in the ceiling. The attic! I cried out triumphantly to myself. The screams came from the attic, right above my room. I felt my way around the door, finding a handle and pushing it open. A cold blast of air met with my face and my bravery faltered for a moment. But then, as I took a deep breath, I plunged into the dark depths of the attic.

Though I expected the screaming to become unbearably loud, rattling the walls and shaking my very spine, I found the attic to be in absolute silence. All around me the silence pressed close to me, shutting out all sense of time and space. I flicked on my flashlight and gazed around the room finding it to be filled with the very same odds and ends you would expect an attic to hold. I wandered to the corner of the attic, finding the spot that lay straight above my room. Surely this was where the screaming had come from. I peered around the dark crevices, half expecting a shadow to jump out at me. I stood still for nearly an hour, watching for any hint of a shadow, listening for any hint of a scream, but the attic stayed silent. Finally, I consented to retreat to my room, giving up on my quest for the night. I hoped that the screaming had ceased for the night and when I returned to my room, I found that it had.


The day passed quickly, and though the shadow pursued me along the alleyway, I did not think much of it. My mind was numbed by the exhaustion of the last four nights. Tonight, I vowed, I would go straight to the attic and wait for the screaming to begin.
Instead of heading for my room, I went straight into the attic that night. I kept my flashlight stowed in my pocket, feeling my way around the dark attic until I sat crouched in the darkest corner. How clever I thought myself to be, hiding from something that remained hidden itself. It would never see me here, tucked away far from sight. And when it exposed itself, I would have it. There would be no more screaming tonight.

I waited boldly as the minutes ticked by, sitting as still as the dead and breathing so softly that only a mouse could have heard. And now I was sure the screaming would start just as it had the night before and even before that. I sat with baited breath, feeling the cold air seeping in through the roof and into the attic, making the hair on my arms stand on end. I did not shiver though but remained so still that only a cat could have perceived me through the dark. But the screaming did not come. I felt my pulse beating quickly beneath my skin, my breath coming faster and faster as I waited. I could not wait any longer; I could not sit so still without so much as a tremor. I felt my heart beat growing rapidly to an accelerated fortissimo. Surely someone would appear to begin the screaming; surely someone would step forward from the shadows and begin their nightly routine. I sat still even though the minutes ticked by and no one came. This was maddening! Here I had waited so long and so patiently to expose the shadow, to expose the screamer. And yet they did not show their face! Anger welled up inside of me, and I felt my hands begin to shake. And then when I couldn't stand the tension a moment longer; when I could not listen to the utter silence for another long minute; I felt something shift beside me, hovering at my shoulder in the darkness. I heard another breath next to my ear, breathing in and out so slowly, so deeply, as if it too did not wish to be heard. I knew it to be so close, and yet it did not come forward to scream. It sat there so still and so quiet, just as I did, waiting in the darkness. I felt my breath begin to build up inside of me as I exhaled so slowly so as not to make a sound. Every muscle within me shrieked with pain as I sat unmoving like a statue of stone. Why did he not move! I grew impatient, raging inside my head. I could not sit here all night while he waited with the same baited breath. I had come up here to stop him and now he had stopped me! I felt myself grow wild with rage, my lungs burning as I held my breath. I could not hold it in a moment longer; I must breathe and move and scream!

Yes, scream!

I leaped from the alcove, raising my head and letting out a scream. I felt a sudden purpose as I began to scream and though my ears rang, I could not stop. I cried out in agony and the shadow leaped out with me, grasping me tight and dragging me down to the depths of its soul. I felt its hot breath on my neck and heard it's screaming join with mine. The screaming continued, long and drawn out, for what could have been eternity. I could not close my mouth once the screaming had started. I felt my skin boiling beneath the shadow's grasp as it held me tight. I felt the breath choked from my lungs and the bitter taste of blood in my mouth. All at once was a part of the shadow; I was the shadow, screaming and moaning all at once. And then suddenly the screaming ceased.


The woman nudged her husband awake, crying out to him in fear. "It's that awful screaming again!" she gasped in hushed whispers. "Can't you hear it?"

Her husband raised himself up on his elbow, rubbing his eyes with his fists. "I can't hear a thing," he concluded after listening for a moment.

"You don't think the story is true, do you?" his wife asked fearfully. "About the woman dying in the attic?"

Her husband shook his head. "I'm sure it's just the wind," he assured her.

"It sounds as if it's coming from just above," the woman whispered. "I don't hear it anymore, though I've heard it for three nights now."

"Well, I haven't heard a thing, go back to sleep."

The woman obediently laid back down, but her eyes remained wide open, her ears alert for any sounds of screaming. Just before she closed her eyes, she saw a flicker of a shadow across the window. She sat up, gazing around wildly, but the shadow was gone. Sighing, she lay back down, pulling the pillow over her head as the screaming began again.

Jonathan and the Strange-Tasting Pumpkin Thing

Friday night had finally arrived. Jonathan finished the last support ticket before collecting his belongings off the cheap 2-piece Ikea desk in front of him. The Zathyus Networks headquarters was quieter than usual. Most of the staff had decided to take the day off, as the lack of a paycheck was a really good reason to not show up at all. This didn't phase Jonathan. He liked working alone, especially because it meant he didn't have to fight anybody for the paper-remote to the fake cardboard TV in the room across from his desk. Meow! "What in tarnation!" Jonathan hollered. He ran to the window of the 6-story office building and looked down at the street, littered with various newspapers and pamphlets. There were some cats fighting in the dull gray lane, which was just now starting to be illuminated from the street lamps outside. "I better get home." Jonathan said plainly, with no expression on his face. Long days of answering support tickets often took every last human characteristic out of a person. At least, it did for Jonathan. He forced a smile after glancing at Brandon's 10-foot high portrait above the stone fireplace (which really had no significant belonging in an office, on floor 6). Under the oily portrait read the words "Conversions are just around the corner. Smile." Aye, the motto each of them lived by. Jonathan finally collected the last of his belongings and tossed them into his backpack.

The building's elevator no longer worked. Years of neglect and misuse had forced the creaky metal contraption out of service. It was often the office joke to soak the metal cables in harsh chemicals in hopes that whoever got in next would plummet to some sort of hilarious peril. Sadly the bodies of ex-staff members were now piled so high under the elevator that the joke could no longer be played. Jonathan took the stairs.

One by one Jonathan descended down the cement footholds to the first floor of the Zathyus Networks HQ. He reached ground level uninterruptedly. As he approached the large glass doors that would send him to freedom he noticed that it had begun to rain. The ominous rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance. Disregarding this literary foreshadowing, Jonathan walked at full speed towards the entrance of the building. A short moment later, all of the building's lights had gone out. Jonathan found this odd, as he could still see the orange glow of street lamps right outside the glass doors. "A power outage? For this building only?" Many thoughts crossed the boy's mind, including one of what he would feast on when he got home. Being a 19 year old, Jonathan could typically hold a thought no longer than his stomach would allow him to. Strangely enough, Jonathan's hunger began to grow uncontrollably. "Holy gosh," he began salivating at the mouth, "I must have something to eat right away." He declared. Jonathan sat down his backpack and unzipped the main pouch. He dug around for some morsels of food, but nothing could be found. He very much doubted he would survive the walk home if he didn't eat immediately.

Not far from the entrance to the HQ was a lounge, where most of the staff kept their firearms and lunches before heading up to floor 6 to do staff work for the day. Jonathan prayed that someone had forgotten their lunch from 2 days ago. He was desperate for something to fulfill his sudden hunger. He opened the now powerless refrigerator, but alas, he could not see inside it. The building was far too dark now. If it wasn't for the street lamps outside Jonathan would not have been able to see his own hand in front of his face. He had no choice but to blindly reach into the metal container.

"Wow!" Jonathan said excitedly. "There's lots of stuff in here!" His hand was brushing up against all sorts of unidentifiable items. He decided to pull out the first thing he could clasp onto. The light was dim, but even so he could tell that he had pulled out a pear. It was firm and ripe, and smelled delicious. He went to take a bite. "Don't you think you should keep digging?" A voice called out from the refrigerator. Jonathan fell backwards, nearly smashing his head on the lounge floor. "Yes, that's right. BOO!" The voice rang out again, laughing. Jonathan was speechless (probably for the first time ever). "You're grabbing around inside of my magic fridge, stocked full of delicious items. I'll let you have anything you'd like from me, but once you take a bite of something you won't be able to take anything else. Also, once you give up something you'll never find it in here again. Choose wisely." Jonathan had to think about this carefully. He did find it odd that this staff refrigerator, which was usually full of nothing but molded items, would now suddenly be full of good food. By this logic, it had to be magic. Jonathan was always a fan of Magic(tm) so why not give this fridge-thing a shot?

Jonathan finally got the nerve to respond. "Alright! I'll play this game. I'm hungry, so it's not like I have much of a choice." He placed the pear on the ground and it disappeared in a puff of smoke. He extended his hand back inside the refrigerator and groped around some more. There were squishy things, cold things, hot things, round things, and square things. At one point he even felt something furry. "Aha!" he yelled. His hand settled on something that was most certainly pizza. He pulled it out of the darkness and examined it as closely as he could. Yes! Pepperoni even! He held the reward up high, bringing it close to his mouth for a victory chomp. "Are you suuuuuuure you want to eat that?" The mysterious voice asked him. Jonathan found this question quite odd. "Of course I am!" he chuckled. "I'm hungry and this is pizza. I love pizza!" His hunger now was alarming, and painful. "What if you find something better in here than pizza? I have many things better!" The strange voice called out. This idea was appealing to Jonathan. He figured it wouldn't kill him to search for just 1 more item. Surely he had time. He threw the pizza on the floor and it vanished in swirly smoke. "Round 2..." Jonathan said.

Squishy things, cold things, hot things, round things and square things passed through his grip once more. His hunger was painful! Jonathan craved food! Several moments passed and he could stand it no longer. He needed to eat. He needed to eat RIGHT AWAY. He grabbed something and pulled it out of the magic fridge. He bit into it immediately. At once the magic fridge disappeared in familiar smoke, which filled the room making it too dark to see anything this time. "What is this?" Jonathan gagged. It was disgusting. It tasted almost like pumpkin, and was probably bigger than a balloon. He was so hungry it did not matter. He had no choice but to keep eating this mysterious and disgusting food. It was juicy, but salty. It was meat-like, but hard to tear. It felt like a melon with fur.

His hunger suddenly disappeared when the lights came back on. Jonathan froze.
In his hands he was holding something he never expected.
His stomach churned.
He lost all feeling.
As he blacked out and fell to the floor, Nicola's head rolled away from the staff member's grasp.

Happy Halloween!

It was a dark and stormy night. HolySavior was on his way to the ZNR Coding Dungeon to check on the shackles keeping the rest of the Coding Team from running away and doing worthless non-coding things. It had taken quite some doing to gather these primo coders, and he wasn't about to let them slip out of his grasp. No, there was way too much yet to do and the team needed to keep focus. He was already having trouble convincing Reid that ZN did not need to offer a modification for coding one's self out of a paper bag. Not only that, but Slayer was busy coding a new city in response to a request for an efficiency apartment, and Mike was considering how to add a modification to his shoutbox that would cook breakfast. Clearly, this was a team of over-achievers that needed a leader.

Little did HolySavior know that the Coding Dungeon was haunted. He and the others had moved in very quickly and just assumed it would be your normal every-day ZB dungeon--dark, damp and with the occasional rat, rumored to be a relative of EA. But lurking behind the tangled pile of script tags was an evil presence. It was the dreaded spirit of Internet Explorer....an entity so horrible no one ever spoke his full name, only his initials (sometimes adding the surname, "Sucks"). IE had been waiting for his opportunity, and now that it was Halloween night, he sensed his chance was approaching. He knew that this being a party night, the coders would all be bloated and dulled by indulging in all the cookies they had been creating as all the new codes flew from their fingers. (Although some of them were suspected to have been pulled out of other areas of their anatomies...but.... I digress.)

IE was sure he would be successful in stealing all the cookies, and would therefore control all Zathyus Network coders for all eternity to come. He had only to get by the watchful eye of HolySavior. This would not be easy, as HolySavior would be joining the party late, and would not be in a cookie-induced stupor like the others. While the party gained momentum, IE hatched his dastardly plan. He would overwhelm the hapless coders with new illogical and maddening validation rules. (Even worse than normal.) They would become so discouraged, they would just give up and hand over all the cookies. Yes, that would be his plan. He began to send out relentless official updates, stealthily changing the requirements for compatibility. If he moved quickly enough, no one would notice until they woke up the next day and received the mocking "new updates have been installed" notifier. By then it would be too late. The team would be overwhelmed, and the cookies would be his.

When HolySavior arrived, he smelled something amiss. (No, it wasn't EA's relative). It was the smell of degrading cookies. HolySavior rushed to the wall where the team was chained. They were drinking punch and had gorged themselves to the point where they were losing control of their semi-colons. HolySavior knew he had to act fast. He began to edit furiously in a desperate attempt to save the cookies from certain destruction. Just at that moment, IE leaped out of the shadows with an evil laugh. "It's too late, HolySavior. The cookies are all worthless to you now. The recipe has been changed forever! Muahahahaha!"

"Nooooooooo!" HolySavior reached deep into his bag of tricks and pulled out a secret UNINSTALL button. "Haha, IE. You thought you could not be uninstalled, but I have coded a way to do it. I've been saving it for just a moment like this." And with that, HolySavior added the last snippet to the uninstall code and pressed the button.......

"HS! HS!, wake up!" said slayer. "You overslept, man. You missed the delivery of a big box from Microsoft. Here open it, we all want to see what they sent you." HolySavior rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Could it have all just been a terrible dream? He carefully opened the box. Under all the packing material was a small note card. It said, "Congratulations. Internet Explorer has successfully reinstalled itself. All updates are now operating. Resistance is futile. -- signed, your fiend, IE."