Nowhere To Go... But Here
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On a quiet Friday night, a sibling babysitting shift takes an unsettling turn. What starts as an ordinary evening filled with junk food, cartoons, and video games slowly spirals into something far more chilling. As the house grows darker and stranger, one thing becomes clear—something isn't right.
It was a Friday night—the kind where the house felt too quiet, and the clock seemed to tick just a little louder than usual. Mom was out for the evening, and I was stuck babysitting my nine-year-old sister, Mikayla.
I was deep into my new game on the Nintendo Claudette—a chunky silver handheld with a screen just bright enough to annoy Mikayla—while she sat next to me, glued to the TV. Like any little sister, she could be a little annoying sometimes. Tonight, she was bouncing on the couch cushions like they were trampolines, legs swinging, humming whatever weird theme song was stuck in her head.
I glanced down at the coffee table. No wonder she was bouncing off the walls. Scattered cookie crumbs and a couple of empty orange soda bottles told me everything I needed to know.
“Where did you get those?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I got them from the kitchen, while you were not looking,” she said, giggling like she’d just pulled off the heist of the century.
I sighed and turned to see what she was watching. Of course—it was that weird Cartoon Network show again, The Adventures of Princess Panty-Boy. I still don’t get the hype. I watched it once, out of morbid curiosity. It’s about this boy who dresses up as a girl in every episode, running around looking for fancy underwear like it's some kind of treasure. It’s kind of corny, but I guess for a kid, it’s peak comedy. I’m twelve—basically a teenager. I don’t watch cartoons that much anymore.
The phone rang, and I grabbed it. It was Mom. She said she’d call every so often to check on us.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. “We had pizza. Mikayla kinda went rogue and grabbed some soda and cookies when I wasn’t looking.”
I could already picture her frown.
“I know, I know—it wasn’t my idea.”
We talked for another minute or two. From the background noise, it sounded like she was at a restaurant. Laughter, clinking silverware, that whole grown-up vibe.
Mom’s been going out a lot lately—dressing nicer, staying out later. Mikayla thinks she’s “looking for love.” I think she’s just tired of eating dinner with two kids who argue about cartoons and cookie theft.
Our dad left when Mikayla was only two. She doesn’t even remember him. I do, though. I remember the day he packed up and left, like he was going to the store and just… never came back. No address. No goodbye. Sometimes I wonder if he ever really cared about us. It’s been seven years. Probably not.
With him gone, I kind of became the man of the house. I still have to follow Mom’s rules, of course, but when she’s not home… it’s all on me. And yeah, that can be a disaster. Like tonight. Instead of hanging out at my friend’s place, playing Bonestorm on their huge flatscreen, I’m here—playing a handheld game and trying to keep Mikayla from bouncing into another dimension.
Oh, and Bonestorm? Yeah, we don’t talk about that around Mom. If she ever found out I played that game, I’d be grounded until the end of time.
“Hey!” Mikayla yelled.
I looked up, expecting another sugar-fueled outburst, but her voice had a sharp edge to it this time. I followed her gaze to the TV.
“We interrupt this boring kids' show for a special report,” a serious voice said, cutting through the cartoon's goofy music. The screen showed a news anchor with a tight-lipped expression and shadows under his eyes.
“An eight-year-old girl has been reported missing,” he announced. “About ten minutes ago, Sandy Gordon from Prior Lake…”
My stomach dropped.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “Another kid?”
Mikayla’s hand curled around mine. Her eyes were wide, and for once, she wasn’t bouncing around or making jokes. I pulled her closer and hugged her tight.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I said gently. She didn’t answer—just gave me a little pout, her lips pressed together like she was trying not to cry.
“...the fifth child in the last two days,” the man on the screen continued.
That number hit me like a brick. Five. In two days.
I needed a break. I got up and went into the kitchen for some apple juice, Mikayla trailing behind me like a shadow. She hadn’t left my side for days—not even to go to the bathroom alone.
Summer break was the only reason I was even home with her right now. If school was in session, I’d be in class, and she’d be watching this stuff alone. That thought made my skin crawl.
I grabbed two cups, filled them, and handed one to Mikayla. On the table, the half-empty box of Pizza Lucé sat open with two slices left. I handed one to her and took the other for myself.
As we stepped back into the living room, a loud, violent crash made me jump—and I dropped my cup of juice.
The sound had come from just outside the front door.
My heart leapt into my throat. Mikayla yelped and grabbed my arm.
I ran to the door. The porch beyond the glass was shrouded in a thick, inky blackness. I flipped the porch light switch—nothing. The bulb didn’t even flicker.
“Mikayla, stay where you are,” I told her firmly. I kept my eyes fixed on the window, trying to make sense of the dark shapes shifting outside. The shadows didn’t look right. And then—
Eyes.
Glowing. Yellow. Eyes.
Not high up like a person’s. Low. Near the porch floor.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat. The eyes blinked—slowly. And then they began to move closer.
I reached for the phone with trembling fingers. Should I call the police? Was this just an animal? Was someone trying to scare us? The eyes grew brighter as they crept toward the door.
And then, the shape emerged into view.
A kitten.
A tiny, fluffy, soaking wet kitten.
My knees nearly gave out from the mix of fear and relief.
I opened the door cautiously, half-expecting something to lunge past the frame. But the kitten just walked in. Calm. Too calm. Like it knew exactly where it was going.
I locked the door behind it, trying to slow my breathing. Mikayla lit up when she saw it.
“Where did he come from?” she asked, kneeling to pick him up.
“I think he’s the one that made all that noise,” I said. “Poor thing must’ve been out there alone. I’ll get him something to eat.”
“Bring him some milk!” she called as I stepped into the kitchen. I could hear her giggling again—soft, shaky, but real. It was comforting, for a second.
I poured some milk into a saucer, feeling the chill of the jug against my skin. I didn’t hear Mikayla anymore. I figured she’d just gone back to watching TV.
But when I came back into the room… she wasn’t there.
Neither was the kitten.
I set the saucer on the coffee table, heart already thudding.
“Mikayla?” I called. No answer.
I searched every room—hallway, bathroom, my bedroom, even under the beds. Nothing. No giggles. No footsteps. No kitten.
“Mikayla!” I yelled louder. My voice cracked. Still nothing.
I grabbed my phone and tried to call 911. The screen wouldn’t turn on. Battery dead. But it was full just an hour ago.
I threw the phone on the ground, panic rising like a wave about to crash.
“Mikayla!!”
I bolted out the front door, into the howling wind and pounding rain. The sky had turned black, the air charged with something heavy and electric. I called her name again and again, the sound ripped from my mouth by the wind.
Nothing.
I ran back inside, drenched and shaking. I locked the door behind me. She wouldn’t have gone out the back. I was in the kitchen. I would’ve seen her.
Then the lights went out.
I was swallowed in darkness.
I stumbled, tripping over the edge of a chair, catching myself on the couch. The air felt wrong—too still, too silent, like the house was holding its breath.
Then came the footsteps.
Upstairs. Slow. Heavy. Measured.
I ran up the steps, skipping two at a time. As soon as I reached the top—silence.
“Mikayla,” I whispered, but it didn’t even sound like my own voice.
Her room—empty. Mine—empty.
I turned to Mom’s room. Just as I reached for the knob…
Scratch.
It came from downstairs. Long. Slow. Like nails dragging across the wood.
I froze.
“Mikayla, this isn’t funny!” I shouted down the staircase, my voice echoing through the empty house. “Stop trying to scare me!”
No reply. Just another scratch. Louder.
I crept to the front door and peered through the window. The porch was still dark. Still empty.
But the scratching didn’t stop.
I reached for the lock with a shaking hand. It was still bolted.
There was no way she’d gone outside through there.
The scratching turned frantic—scrabbling, clawing. I staggered back, heart hammering in my chest.
Then came the footsteps again—from upstairs. And a door creaked open, somewhere behind me.
That’s when I knew—I wasn’t alone.
I bolted to the back door, flung it open, and the storm nearly knocked me off my feet. But I didn’t care. I just needed to run—get to a neighbor—get help.
But before I could even step outside—
CRACK.
Something slammed into the back of my skull.
The world tipped sideways.
And everything went black.
Nowhere To Go... But Here -2
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Lost in a strange, shifting world, the search for a missing sister leads deeper into the unknown. As the landscape twists and reality bends, danger lurks closer than ever—and not everything is what it seems.
“Where am I?” I screamed. “What’s going on?”
My voice echoed through the strange place—sharp, desperate, swallowed by walls that twisted in ways no building should. I was running, breathless, down what looked like a maze or a labyrinth. Tall hedges loomed on either side, their leaves a deep violet, almost black, and thick enough to block out anything beyond. The air smelled like crushed mint and rain-soaked stone.
Somewhere—everywhere—I could hear Mikayla screaming. Her voice wasn’t close, but it wasn’t far either. It was everywhere at once. Like the walls were throwing her cries back at me from every direction.
“Hold on, Mikayla!” I shouted, trying to sound brave, but my voice cracked. I charged forward again, smacking into a wall that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“Ugh—seriously?” I stumbled back, holding my shoulder.
I looked up and froze.
The sky wasn’t blue. Or gray. Or even stormy. It was pink. Not soft sunset pink, either. Bright, unnatural—like bubblegum lit from behind by lightning. Huge, slow-moving clouds rolled overhead like cotton candy with a grudge.
“This… this doesn’t look like Earth,” I muttered.
Above me, a pair of enormous white birds swooped low, their wingspans longer than a minivan. They screeched—not like hawks or gulls—but like something mechanical, high-pitched and echoing. I ducked and covered my head as they passed. The wind from their wings nearly knocked me over.
“I have got to find Mikayla before I get eaten by a giant bird,” I whispered, heart pounding. But every time I turned toward her voice, it was like the maze turned with me, rearranging itself to block my path.
I stopped, spinning in a slow circle. Her voice bounced off the walls. In front of me. Behind me. To the left. Now the right.
“This is hopeless!” I shouted. “I can’t find her if her voice is everywhere!”
That’s when I heard it—something else. A soft rustling, just beside me. I turned quickly and saw… something small.
It looked like a garden gnome, or maybe a dwarf. A short figure with a stubby cap and thick arms. His back was to me, hunched as he sat cross-legged by a tiny, perfectly round pond. The water glowed faintly, casting ripples of light up onto his hunched figure.
“Excuse me!” I called. “Can you help me—have you seen my sister?”
The little creature startled, jerking around. His face was hidden in the shadows of his cap, but I caught a glimpse of eyes—wide, luminous, and frightened. Before I could say anything else, he sprang to his feet and sprinted off, faster than anything with legs that short should’ve been able to move.
“Wait!” I ran after him, but by the time I turned the corner, he was gone.
The only thing I saw were strange, butterfly-like creatures floating through the air. Their wings shimmered like stained glass, and they flitted lazily among the bushes, almost like they were watching me. I slowed my steps. I didn’t want to scare them. Or worse—get them angry. They didn’t seem dangerous, but in a place like this, seems didn’t mean much.
I kept walking, my shoes crunching over white gravel that hadn’t been there a second ago. The sky pulsed with shifting shades of pink and orange. My footsteps echoed faintly, like the air itself was listening.
And then Mikayla’s voice stopped.
Just like that—gone.
The silence hit me harder than the noise. My throat tightened. I didn’t even realize I’d stopped breathing until I gasped.
No more screams. No more echo. Just silence and the sound of my own racing heart.
I tried to stay calm, but the thoughts came flooding in anyway.
What if I never find her?
What if Mom comes home and we’re both just… gone?
We’d be on the news. Flyers. Missing posters.
“I have to find her,” I whispered to myself. “But even if I do… where do I go after that?”
I turned another corner—and froze.
In the distance stood a mansion. No, not a mansion—a fortress.
Its towering stone walls looked like they’d been carved out of a mountainside. Three stories high, with jagged slate roofs and narrow windows. Dormers poked out at odd angles, and the skyline above the roof was a forest of chimneys, spires, and strange metal rods shaped like lightning bolts and crescent moons.
It looked spooky and ancient. The kind of place where haunted paintings followed you with their eyes, and staircases moved when you weren’t looking.
But it was also… completely silent. Not a single light. Not even a breeze.
“Could this be where Mikayla was brought?” I murmured. I didn’t want to go near it. But I had to.
The mansion was still far away, but I started walking. One step at a time. I kept telling myself I’d turn back if I needed to. I could retrace my path through the labyrinth, right?
Wrong.
I looked behind me—and the labyrinth was gone.
Completely gone.
All I saw was forest. Endless, dark, twisting forest. Trees with silver bark and black leaves that barely rustled even in the wind.
“What…?” My voice trembled. “How could this be?”
The landscape had changed while I wasn’t looking.
“This world is changing every second!” I shouted, turning in a slow circle. “I know there was a maze! I just got out of it!”
I spun back around to face the mansion—just in time to smack into something solid.
It wasn’t the mansion. That was still way up the path.
No… this was something else.
I looked up, already dreading what I was going to see.
And I was right to be afraid.
Standing inches in front of me was the most horrifying creature I had ever seen in my life.
I can't describe it. Not really. My mind wouldn’t let me. It was like trying to stare at something that didn’t belong in this world. Its shape bent the air around it. Parts of it shimmered like heat waves. Other parts were solid—clawed, scaled, pulsing. Its eyes (if they were eyes) were bottomless pits of swirling color and shadow.
Then it opened its mouth—or what might’ve been its mouth—and spewed a thick cloud of green gas. The air was suddenly sweet, too sweet, like rotting flowers and burnt sugar.
I couldn’t breathe. My vision blurred. My knees buckled.
The last thing I saw was the sky twisting above me.
Everything went black.
Nowhere To Go... But Here -3
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The children awake in a mysterious pink room, only to discover surprising changes—and an even more surprising companion. As strange breakfasts and stranger messages unfold, one thing becomes clear: nothing in this place is ordinary, and getting answers won't be easy.
I woke up with a migraine pounding behind my eyes like a marching band made of hammers. The world spun for a second before it focused.
The room around me was... pink. Not pastel pink. Not "cotton candy at the carnival" pink. This was intense, aggressive pink—like someone had tried to decorate using only bubblegum and Barbie packaging as inspiration. Even the light had a rosy tint, like the sun outside had been dipped in strawberry syrup.
In the far corner of the room, I spotted something lying still on a small, flower-covered bed. I stood slowly—legs wobbling like cooked spaghetti—and crept toward it. My head throbbed, and my legs didn't feel like they were quite mine.
As I got closer, the lump came into focus.
It was Mikayla.
She was curled up under a blanket, her messy curls spilling out onto a heart-patterned pillow.
"Mikayla!" I shouted, all pain and panic forgotten. I lunged to her side, shaking her gently. "Wake up, Mikayla!"
She blinked slowly, like a confused kitten waking from a nap. Her eyes met mine and went wide.
"Hi, big brother..." she mumbled, then tilted her head. "Wait... Cory? Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me," I said, though my voice sounded weird. Like someone had turned the pitch knob and added a sprinkle of glitter. I coughed, trying to clear my throat—and then something in my brain finally screamed: check the mirror.
I spun around and spotted a long oval mirror built into the wall. My feet dragged me toward it like I was on a slow-motion conveyor belt of doom.
The reflection made me stop cold.
I looked like a girl. Not just any girl—a pretty one. Shoulder-length auburn hair, big eyes, tiny nose, pajamas made of shimmering rainbow fabric that definitely weren't mine, and—
I looked down between my legs.
And screamed.
"This can't be happening! I can't be a girl!"
Mikayla burst out laughing.
"It's not funny!" I snapped, flailing my arms. "I'm supposed to be a boy!"
"You're still my brother," she said through giggles. "You just look like my sister now."
Before I could respond, the wall to our right slid open with a soft whoosh, and a metal creature rolled in. It looked like a trash can and a coffee machine had a baby—complete with blinking lights, extendable limbs, and a smiley face projected onto a screen.
It hummed cheerfully and rolled up to us with a tray floating just above its head. On the tray were muffins, donuts, cupcakes, and tiny glasses of what I hoped was milk.
Mikayla clapped her hands. "Yay! Breakfast!"
"Don't eat it!" I shouted, reaching out. "It could be poisoned or mind-controlled or... or from space!"
But she'd already taken a cupcake. Too late. It was halfway to her face.
"Mmm," she said with a happy little hum. "It's got sprinkles inside."
The robot turned to me and offered a doughnut with tiny pink hearts on it.
I stared at it suspiciously. Then at Mikayla—who looked about as poisoned as a golden retriever in a sunbeam.
My stomach growled.
"Fine," I muttered. I snatched the doughnut and took a cautious bite.
It was... incredible. Like biting into a sugar cloud baked by angels with a culinary degree. My willpower crumbled faster than the frosting, and before I knew it, I had a cupcake in one hand and a donut in the other. "Okay, yeah," I mumbled with my mouth full. "This is stupidly good."
The robot beeped and rolled out of the room like its job was done. I ran after it and reached the wall just as it closed again.
There was no visible seam. No doorknob. No handle. Nothing but smooth pink wall.
Mikayla was now sitting at a tiny glass table, pouring milk into a glittery teacup like she was hosting a fairy princess brunch.
I sighed and sat beside her. She gave me a sideways glance and grinned. "Yeah, I know," I grumbled. "I look like a girl."
"A pretty one, as a matter of fact," she said with a smirk.
"Don't rub it in." I bit into another muffin.
We sat in silence for a few seconds, munching. The food was good. I started wondering if it was enchanted or genetically engineered. Or both.
"You have any idea how we got here?" I finally asked.
Mikayla tilted her head, milk mustache forming. "Well... I was petting the kitty. Then you left. Then poof—I was here. And you were a girl."
She blinked. "How did you get here?"
"I opened the back door, looking for you, and got knocked out by something. Then I woke up in this crazy labyrinth. With birds the size of cars and walls that move. It was like... some fantasy puzzle nightmare."
Mikayla stared blankly.
"It's like a giant confusing maze," I clarified.
"Ohhh." She nodded, very seriously. "Cool."
Before I could explain more, a section of the wall flickered—and an invisible TV screen lit up.
A woman appeared on the screen. She looked human. Sort of. Too perfect. Too still. Her hair didn't move. Her eyes didn't blink. And she smiled like someone who had practiced it in a mirror for a hundred years.
"I see you have finally made yourselves at home," she said, in a voice like soft jazz and frozen yogurt.
I jumped up. "Why are we here? Why did you take us? And—most of all—why am I a girl?!"
She ignored the outburst entirely.
"Welcome to Saclaurilia," she said, still smiling. "We hope you are both feeling comfortable and enjoying your breakfast. The time is 08:31."
Mikayla waved. "Hi, weird lady!"
"Why did you bring us here?!" I tried again.
"I cannot answer your questions at this time," she said, her tone still syrupy. "But I will answer them shortly."
"But—!" I started.
"Later." The screen vanished.
I stood there, fuming, staring at the wall. There wasn't even a seam or screen frame to suggest where the display had come from. Just more pink.
This room was officially weird. And possibly evil.
I turned back to Mikayla, who now had crumbs on her face and a milk mustache. She beamed at me like this was the best sleepover ever.
I sat back down, defeated, and reached for another muffin. "We're so doomed."
When we were done eating, the robot returned with another whoosh. It made a polite dinging sound and collected the tray. I darted toward the door, determined to sneak out while it was still open.
But before I could touch it—ZAP.
"OW!" I cried, yanking my hand back. The shock wasn't just painful—it buzzed through my entire body like my nervous system had decided to moonwalk.
The room spun. I staggered back, everything tilting sideways.
And then...
I collapsed onto the bed.