I was once told to grow two plants; an orchid and a rose.

I disliked orchids.

However, I had to care for it.

I planted it, but I despised it.

I watered it, but I hated it.

One week, there was a drought, and I could only water one plant.

I watered the rose but spared some drops for the orchid.

The orchid later died.

I was told that it was okay because I tried.

However, they would never know.

He crawls down the halls, deluding his mind into believing that he is the only one who walks down the narrow path. His subconscious is aware of my existence but refuses to let the fact be released. The ignorance of his mind shines brightly when he claims that I am not here, for my arrival is inevitable for every man.

He had been continuing on the path to nowhere, painting it with hollow meaning as he went on, determined to believe that the path he took is the one all should take. He always trekked down his monotonous path with no goal in mind.

He never knew where he was going, but he claimed that it was fine.

How pitiful. He never knew that doing such a thing would infect him from the inside.

The journey he undertook was a treacherous one. Leeches fed on him joyfully as he limped blindly to nowhere. Yet, he continued to drag his lame legs down the thousand miles, as the rest of his body began to break down. The bones of his legs snapped as well as those of his hands. His skin broke open as maggots began to feed on the already rotten flesh inside. Nevertheless, he continued in a foolish and stubborn way.

Now, he drags himself pitifully before me. He seems incredibly regretful of the path he has taken. He seems to have never learned that loathing of the past is about as useful as sand in the desert.

However, the years of his hardship and suffering are of no matter to me.

Right now, I must judge his actions and how he should spend his years in this world of mine.

I wait until his shivering and muscle twitches have stopped. After he finally manages to lay still, I prepare to extract his soul.

However, the maggots and parasites had eaten away at him so terribly that they already revealed the withered soul underneath. The soul was hideous and mouldy, revolting and black. The pure whiteness had been degraded over a hundred years, eaten away by an aimless journey and an aimless mind.

I gently pull the soul out of his chest and place it in his very own room. I am still extremely upset at the fact that he had wasted his determination and chance for a better ending. However, life must go on. I must be careful not to mourn him for too long.

Before I leave him, I quickly set his room aflame and rush out the door. I hate to do this, but I cannot accept how he blatantly threw his gifts away.

It’s always sad to let them go like that. I always grow attached to them; they become a sort of pet.

However, I am comforted by the fact that the flames, and nothing else, will never be able to take him away from me. As I walk away down the hall, I hear him wake up in a frenzy.

He shouts for help and screams with all the force he can handle.

Despite how hard he tries to make himself heard, his screams are soon muddled with the screams of a thousand others.

Over the past few months, my mind has been bruised and tainted by unknown entities. What they truly are, I don't know, but for whatever reason, they torture every part of my sanity. They wrap their cursed hands over my mind, destroying it and letting it bleed out from the inside. They have begun to drive me to the edge of insanity. I can neither see or touch my tormentors, but my mind simply knows what they are. There is a blind twig-thin man with the height of a skyscraper, a two-headed beast with nefarious eyes, and many more vile creatures that frighten me to recall.

It seems that these things live among us. They are all over us, but we only see them when they want us to. They take the form of a human and lure us in, either to torment us for mere fun or to reach their goals.

There have also been stories of the unfortunate souls who have been used by these creatures, and how their minds snapped, never to be well again. This condition has been dubbed "Phantom-Induced Insanity". For the entities who use us to fulfil their ambitions, it is still unknown what their goals are. They may use us as a food source, but it doesn't seem that small. It was only when I researched more and discovered tales of people dragged to the ground, never to be seen again did I realise that they were bringing us to their world.

I tried to think of every possible reason why and after multiple shaky conclusions, I dropped it. Then, one day, I came across another story; the buried story of a serial kidnapper who tormented a small city.

The kidnapper was an odd man. He had a limp, an affinity for tux coats, ripped black gloves, and usually wielded a hoe during the abductions.

One night, the people he had captured heard him scream and saw him dragged into the ground. He wasn't seen again.

The story was kept hidden from the curious eyes of the press and was buried from the public.

However, about a month after his disappearance, hundreds of people began complaining of a mysterious entity who was tormenting them.

When asked to describe how the entity was tormenting them, they described symptoms similar to those of people who had suffered from Phantom-Induced Insanity.

The outbreak wasn't shocking news until people began describing their tormentor. Every single one had described them as the missing kidnapper.

Those creatures were turning us into them. But for what reason?

It also begged the question; are all of these creatures former humans?

Is this just some strange new habit that they are picking up? Yet another question with an answer buried deep inside the earth.

As I continued studying the case, I started experiencing symptoms of P-II. There were other creatures, but my main tormentor was a young girl with a paralyzed face of fear. Her expression is horrifying, and looking at it elicits the same fear she had in you.

However, because she is always here, I always see the face, and thus, I'm always anxious and on edge.

I just can't enjoy my life anymore; and to make it worse, it has begun to take a toll on my health. I am now confined to the bed due to having no energy and being extremely ill these days. All I see is that girl, screaming and crying.

What happened?

Is she a pure creature, or one made from the flesh of people?

Why is her face paralyzed?

Questions, questions, questions- and no answers.

How cruel this world is.

It doesn't matter though.

Soon, that won't be my problem anymore; something that I am eternally grateful for.

In a beautiful country with crisp green grass and stars that seem to dance at midnight, lies a dirty secret. For you see, all the happy citizens and peaceful days were fabricated for the mere purpose of hiding the country’s legacy as the victim of the unnamed criminal simply called X.

Long before X preyed on the children and elders of the country, the country dismissed tales of X’s crimes. They were ignorant and labelled every warning of him as the words of a mad man.

To them, no such creature could exist. What a bizarre concept it was to them! There was no way that a person could just vanish. It was simply ludicrous.

Unfortunately for them, it seemed that X had caught wind of their sayings. How frightfully angry he must have been! Every man with an ounce of common sense would know that doing anything to even remotely make X mad is digging your own grave. And so, X started his reign of terror over the country like a plague of the rats.

X made sure to expose the country’s inhumane ways of life. He snatched homeless orphans and the sick elderly and stockpiled them in his tenebrous lair like how a dragon stocks his gold.

Meanwhile, the country’s leaders didn’t bat an eye. This angered the citizens, and they demanded justice for their dead friends and family, but to no avail. Over time, a rift began to form between the citizens and their leaders. Only when the leaders began to lose their profits due to boycotting did they finally take action.

During their investigations, they made a peculiar discovery. After they had vanished, the only thing that witnesses reported seeing was a pair of white tuxedo gloves and that a pair of them showed up on something the victim loved not long after.

X was then aptly renamed “Gloves”.

However, the investigators quickly ran into a dead end. Up until this point, everyone thought that X was a human; but it just didn’t seem right. They asked around, but they only got more confused. Even during daytime attacks, when Gloves snatched his victims, witnesses only saw gloves. No head, torso, or legs. It didn’t add up. Some people joked that he was probably one of the ghosts from the Unseen.

One detective and his beloved dog travelled to many countries, telling locals of Gloves’ story and asking if it reminded them of something. He travelled for months but he eventually found someone who knew something.

The detective was ecstatic. He pulled out his pen and paper, tied his dog to the post outside the house, and jotted down everything the local told him. Throughout the stay, however, the detective began to feel uneasy. The stories of Gloves were horrid and disturbing, and eventually, the detective called off the stay.

He forgot about his dog and didn’t hear it’s barks as it tried to get it’s master’s attention.

As the detective stumbled out of the house and down the moonlit roads, crickets chirped in the peace of the night as a pair of gloves was found near the dog.

One thing did come to light, though. The brave local travelled to the detective’s country and told the detective’s coworkers a brief summary of who Gloves was:

The king of the Unseen.

The coworkers were shocked. They questioned the local mercilessly. The Unseen was just a folk tale; it wasn’t true!

The local laughed. She didn’t reply. She suddenly grabbed hold of their ankles and the mere 3 men screamed with the thundering voice of a thousand armies as they were dragged into a dire pit. There, they were shown scenes that would not only prove that the woman was right but haunt their minds until the day they died.

They left the place soon after and the local was gone, and although they were unscathed in the body their minds would never be well.

A girl walked down the empty streets of an unfamiliar neighbourhood. She was on edge and jumped at every noise she heard.  It was a strange place; nothing felt right. As she walked,  she gradually sped up, due to her feeling that someone was tailing her. 

 She had stayed at a friend’s house and now needed to walk back home. As she was going back, however, she had taken a wrong turn. She kept wandering but her problem only got worse. At this point, she decided to knock on someone’s door, ask to use the phone to call her mom and get back home safely.

She looked around for candidates until she came across a house that had the lights on. She knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer.

The front door finally opened to reveal a man with a tattered dress shirt and messy hair. His expression was flat and heavy bags tainted his hollow face. ” Hello, are you ok?” He asked. She almost didn’t hear him because of how fast he was talking.

“I took a wrong turn walking home and now I’m lost. Is it ok for me to borrow your phone to call my mom?“Replied the girl, trying to hold back the shakiness in her voice. His face was bony looking and the veins under his eyes stood out abnormally.

“Sure, just give me a moment to try and find it,” said the man and walked away. He left for about 5 minutes then returned with nothing. “I’m afraid I couldn’t find it; don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll come up soon. Come on in and wait for a while,” He stood to the side and beckoned her inside while wearing a toothy grin.

Cautiously, the girl complied. The house was inviting, warm and well-lit, and once she was in, she felt calm. She was grateful that she felt like she wasn’t being followed anymore.

“Follow me,” The lanky man said suddenly. She followed him down a hallway that led to a small kitchen with a long table and two chairs.

He turned to her and said, “Sit down and relax, I’ll be back in a second,” and left once again, leaving her alone in the bare room.

She sat in her chair for a couple of minutes, bored, then decided to look around the room.  After a while, she began to feel like a hundred eyes were staring at her. She peeped under the table and looked in a cupboard, and finally went to look out the window. It was a large neighbourhood and the pathways were well lit, and yet, not even a phantom walked the lonely roads. She sighed. She was giving herself delusions.

She walked back to the entrance of the kitchen and leaned against the door-frame- and then she heard the front door lock. Although she was surprised, she didn’t think too much of it. Suddenly, she heard someone from behind running up to her and as she was about to turn, she was smashed in the face with something and blacked out.

She woke up in an empty cellar, her hands bound by ropes and bitterly cold. She looked around her and saw a door with no handle and an open, small window. As she looked, she saw ragged clothes and many old teeth. She screamed at the sight, for she figured that it must have been from other unfortunate children who had found themselves in the same situation.

She dragged herself across the floor to the window and began screaming for help. She screamed, yelled, and screeched but no one answered. 

She tried to think of how she could escape. However, no matter how hard she tried, nothing came to her, and she lay on the floor in misery until all her sulkiness gave her an idea.

She sat next to the door and began to cry out for the man. She yelled out “Help! Help!” while adding in some fake sobs in the middle. She repeated it for hours until the door finally swung open. The man walked slowly to her, and let his hands out of his pockets.

The man looked down on her. “Is something wrong?” He asked innocently. She was so stunned she forgot what she was going to say for a split second, then began crying again and burst out ” I-I think I hurt my l-leg... It’s s-sore! Help me please...”.

The man left the door behind him wide open crouched down next to her. He looked as if he was about to help her, but instead, he suddenly became angry. “As if I’d help you! You’re with “them”, aren’t you? Admit it!” He screamed. The girl sobbed and crawled away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m not with anyone!” She cried. “You can’t fool me! I know your dirty tricks! The “people” told me!” He yelled.

He backed away and tugged at his hair. He shouted in frustration then stomped over to the girl and grabbed the collar of her shirt. “Until you tell me why you work with “them” and why you’re targeting me, you won’t leave.” He growled.

The girl saw this as a chance and kicked him in the stomach. He yelled in pain and curled up in a ball on the floor. She ran out of the room and managed to lock the door, leaving the lanky man trapped. The man banged on the door incessantly, but she ignored it and ran off.

She got a knife from the kitchen and after much trial and error, freed her hands properly. She ran to the front door when she realised the banging in the cellar had stopped.

She panicked and tried the handle of the front door, but remembered that it was locked. She became breathless from anxiety and looked around for the keys. The stress began to take a toll on her and she struggled to breathe. She stumbled in a daze and, by an incredible stroke of luck, found the keys to the front door hidden under a coat. She unlocked the door with it and pushed down the handle to sweet, glorious freedom; but a pair of bony hands then wrapped around her mouth.

She froze.

She didn’t dare breathe.

The lanky man lowered his head down next to her ear and whispered: ” Didn’t I say that you weren’t going to leave?”

He tripped her feet then grabbed her by the ankles.

He dragged her back down to the cellar as the girl screamed so loud her voice became a rasp and dug her nails into the ground so hard scratch marks were left on the concrete floors.

She joined her old partners in the cellar that night; partners who were also caught working with “them”.