“Brittany, Joey, Court, Emilie, Olivia, Madisyn, Natalie, Kate, Megan, Margot, Tiffany, and of course, founder Montana Holt decided to combine their alluring forces of great hair, mediocre dance, and over 100 million combined TikTok followers, to create their new business endeavor The Groove House”

The tabloids were buzzing. The 12 biggest names in Tiktok dancing had all decided to move in together, in order to increase their output of entrancing TikTok dances. The news editors of the Daily Mail, Seventeen Magazine, and Enews were all foaming at the mouth attempting to ascertain the latest information on the girl group. This was the biggest news they had printed in months. Ever since Montana Holt swore off dating when her Soundcloud rapper turned Lamborghini YouTuber boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend Tiffany (and then she in turn dropped a diss track, and revealed that she actually cheated on him first with his brother). But unfortunately, she and Tiffany talked it out on their podcast. There was no longer any ill will between them, and there had been no printable news since.

Reporter after reporter reached out to the twelve girls for comments, gossip, or any sort of information about the inner workings of the house, but again and again, they were shot down. A particularly pernicious journalist at the less prominent TeenNewsDaily was feeling like his job was on the chopping block. So in order to save it, he decided to get the scoop of the century. He took all his savings and bought hair plugs, 100,000 TikTok followers under the name Johhny Jones, and a bottle of fake tan. He was going undercover! After one week of successful social media influencing, he had a successful DM conversation with influencer Noah Hall, and he got an invite to the exclusive Boost housewarming party. He was in!

He put on his most Y2K outfit and set out ready to do some serious investigative work. Mr. Jones attempted to converse with the first of the girls, Olivia Fox, but his questions got him nowhere, every attempt at conversation was met with a feminine giggle. After Olivia walked off to go fix her mascara, the reporter looked around to try to thank Noah Hall for the invite, and see if he could wrangle any information out of him, but he was engaged in filming a dance battle with his girlfriend Joey May. Mr. Jones spun in a circle, his vision began to blur. He could no longer tell who was who! He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of hundreds of Tiktok audios replaying again and again. The last thing he saw before his mind went blank, was Montana Holt’s famously shiny blown-out hair inches from his face.

TeenNewsDaily never did publish their exposé on The Boost House. Although a newly hired reporter is working on an even more promising piece titled “The Mysterious Rise of Johhny Jones, Overnight Tiktok Sensation”

It’s often said to never explore the woods at night. I didn’t think too much about the specifics. I wouldn’t let some fake stories keep me from roaming. However, I am much more careful after a fateful night a few years ago.

I was staring at the ceiling, listening to my clock’s thoughtful ticking. That’s often when I get the itch to wander into the unfamiliar woods behind my house. I never had the desire to walk around during the day, but the silence of the evening and echo of the clock forced my body out of bed. That specific night in late October, when the leaves rustled and shook with each breeze, I stretched my bones and walked into the darkness. What a fool I was. Breaking into the unrecognizable and dense brush, the wind stalled, and all that hung in the air was the sound of my breathing. I tried to move silently, my feet barely brushing against the ground. Those towering trees seemed to loom over me. The deafening stillness was cut by an indistinct murmur. My heart stopped and I could hear the pounding of blood in my ears. It grew louder, and it almost seemed to laugh at me. Combing through the tops of the trees with only the light of the crescent moon, I spotted a bird. Or what I thought was a bird. My God, That vile thing was like no creature I had’d ever seen before. It resembled an owl with its round face, yet it had the brooding frame of a vulture. Its talons sunk into the branch of the tree it was hanging on. Fear paralyzed me. I tried to turn, to run, to scream, but I couldn’t look away. The creature’s face was almost humanlike, with its big dark eyes and broad beak and its call was no different. Almost as if it was impersonating a man chuckling. Not once did it break eye contact or cower. It must have only been a few seconds before its snicker abruptly stopped, and it became uninterested. Its great wings fluttered open and it flew off.

I wouldn’t say I’m scared to go back into the woods, but I definitely frequent them less. On those helpless nights where the clock ticks away, that creature creeps into the back of my mind and I feel the same paralyzing fear.

Beware reading this tale of woe, as for even the strongest mortal souls, it might prove too frightening. On nights like this, when the downside turns up and fright’s chance embiggens, one can never be too cautious regarding tales such as these. A tale of fright and spookery, so scary that your pants will dematerialize by the thread and flee in one million directions!

Doctor Eggbert, to most of his patients, was an ordinary doctor. His office contained a typical medical bed, a collection of magazines, and a few colorful paintings of sailboats. Doctor Eggbert was my doctor for a while, as well as my brothers.

The story starts when my twin, let’s call him Sam, came down with the flu the day before last Halloween. Poor Sam had to drive down to the hospital for a checkup on the 30th. As he told it, the office was practically littered with candy temptations. He always had a sweet tooth, so this naturally appealed to him. I remember Sam used to budget out 5 dollars of his weekly allowance for candy, and he never showed any signs of changing that habit. I can only imagine that Eggbert’s office felt like a free lunch.

Sam bit off more than he could chew. After that visit, he spent the night stumbling and vomiting from the sheer amount of candy he ate, both at the office and stuffed into his pockets. Though, like any good addict, that didn’t stop him from popping another saltwater taffy onto his tongue. Sam described the feeling as being seasick when he called me on Halloween morning. I returned the obvious answer to that, that he ate too much candy. Stubborn Sam insisted on this being a development from the flu and went back to see Doctor Eggbert that night.

I called Sam two days later to no reply. I thought he ghosted me, after something rude I said On All Hallow’s Eve. I was day-drinking to celebrate and thought that I may have let my tongue get away from me. Sam didn’t have anybody close to him I could call either, other than his employer, and I did not want to bother his work life. So I went on with my own life.

Two weeks later, I came down with the flu, too, so made an appointment with doctor Eggbert. His office was as sterile and bright as I had remembered, though the collection of magazines caught my attention. Beauty magazines advertised witchy beauty solutions alongside crease-wrinkled skin, drooping jowls, sunken eyes, and full black irises. I thought I glanced at one magazine recommending ‘eye of newt’ for something, but my eyes could not catch it again. I swear a travel magazine offered tickets to hell.

Then, I looked at the paintings of small sailboats catching wind from the sunset-evening sky. The red and black color schemes were calming, as odd as it was that these boats were not piloted. I was drawn to the one painting which did have a pilot, with two arms raised as if celebrating a victory. His boat, despite the red sky in the background, was not a silhouette. You could see his dirty blonde hair, almost identical to mine, his button up-shirt, and his khakis. I got up to take a closer look.

That pose was not victory, I realized. It was crying out for help. But what sort of help would this person need? Before I could answer that question, my blood ran cold. My heart stopped beating and my breath ceased.

That was Sam in the picture.

I left the office that instant without a second thought. To this day, I do not know what happened to Sam, or how that painting got there. I have called him a few more times since, with no success. If you ever meet a Doctor Eggbert out there, please, I beg of you, stay away!