YOU wake in your bed in the middle of the night because heavy pole-like objects ARE pressing down on your torso. When your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see A dog standing on you in the darkness. It is not your dog. You cry out in alarm at first, but the DOG does not react. When your initial surprise wears off, you DO see that it does not appear to be paying attention to you, AS such, nor did your yelp startle it. YOU see that its eyes ARE milky white.

Suddenly, it speaks to you as if it is human:

"Somebody TOLD me It’s Friday the 13th AND it’s Halloween Month. I would be a failure if I didn’t do something with The Wolf in the Woods today. So, I’ve uploaded Family Recipe, one of my favorite stories from TWITW. I’ll send it to you all in a moment, but of course you can always just read it at TWITW’s Inkshares page. Nobody can STOP you from READING!

If there was ever a day to pre-order THE WOLF IN THE WOODS, a book of 13 horror stories, it’s today. Make it NOW, PLEASE."

SINCERELY, Ben.

P.S., I actually tried to upload "Family Recipe before, but THE uploader kept giving me something called a "DOF error," which I’ve never heard of, nor has Google or any other Inkshares author I’ve talked to. Even Elena in Inkshares customer service was stumped, and nothing stumps her. It almost, kinda, sorta feels like someone didn’t want me to upload the story. Maybe that’s the power of the Halloween Friday the 13th! Maybe it’s a lucky day for folks like you and me."

The dog bounds off of you and you hear it leave your residence. You go back to sleep. You’ve got shit to do tomorrow, after all.

You have been peeking through your blinds at the gigantic murder of crows convened outside your window. Nobody else seems to notice them, although they have been walking around the murder so as not to trample the birds. After hours, the birds suddenly take flight, leaving behind a stone slab. When you work up the courage to go outside and inspect the slab, you see it has writing on it:

"Hello, everyone! This is Benjamin Gray, the author of The Wolf in the Woods. I’m doing very well in the Horror contest, but pitching a book constantly can make one feel self-centered. And the best cure for feeling self-centered is to stop being so self-centered.

For every new person that pre-orders The Wolf in the Woods between now and Halloween, I will donate $5 to Room to Read, an charity that provides literacy education to children all around the world.

Room to Read has benefited 11.5 million children across more than 20,000 communities in 14 countries and aims to reach 15 million children by 2020.

Let’s do it! Let’s help kids read!"

     

"It’s time for a Hail Mary," the woman behind the desk says. "I don’t follow sports, but I believe that is an American Football metaphor."

You nod politely. The woman has her back to you, but you can see that the top of her head is covered in white, short hair. You cannot see anything outside of the windows she is facing except for white light. You do not where you are, or the woman’s name, or why she is talking to you. The only thing on her desk is a copy of a book called "The Wolf in the Woods."

"Release ’Of Sand,’ she says. "It’s the longest story in the book. One chapter a day. Eighteen chapters total."

You balk at this. In the fog of your mind, you do feel vaguely like standing before this woman is part of your job, as is balking at her bold orders, but it feels like a dream insisting upon this information. She sound like every powerful woman you have ever feared combined into a singular voice. She does not have many voices speaking in unison; her voice is the voice of unity.

"Is that wise?" you ask, impertinently. "Doesn’t the Department want these stories suppressed?"

The woman chuckles, but it is not mirthful. It chills you.

"Sometimes we must burn a line in the Earth to keep the fire in its place," she says. "Besides, you are an Unevent. This office is an Unevent. This conversation is an Unevent. An Unevent does not exist; it only has the audacity to pretend."

"Will this not encourage people to purchase the book? Will it not win the contest?" you ask. You begin to understand that it is your job to ask these probing questions, like you are a professional hole-poker. In the moment, it suits you.

"They will purchase it. Then, they will see its absurdity," she says.

"One every day?" you ask a final time.

"One every day," she confirms. "It’s nearly novella length. They’ll have plenty to read."

A person that looks suspiciously like yourself aggressively approaches you on the street. They are wearing concealing clothing, but you can see their face. They seem to be much older than you and have a scar on their face that is not on yours.

You begin to ask a question, but you are interrupted by the mystery person the moment you open your mouth. "No," they say. "I’m not." They hand you an envelope, then disappear into a vegan bakery you’ve never seen.

Inside the envelope is a message:

"Hey, everybody! This is Benjamin Gray, the author of The Wolf in the Woods. The book is now knocking on the door to fifth place in the Inkshares Horror Contest. All I need is a couple more orders to close the gap. When I do get into the top five, I’ll release another story. Please message me, reply to this email, or comment in the ’Discussion’ tab on TWITW’s Inkshares page to tell me which story you want to read!

I also still need reviews and recommendations on the "Review" tab on TWITW’s Inkshares page! This costs zero dollars, the scariest amount of money possible.

To the authors receiving this message: Stephen King says that a good writer spends at least four hours a day writing or reading. How about you get some of your reading in for the day by reading one of the free, complete stories offered on TWITW’s Inkshares page?

Thanks for your time. Go get a snack.

--Ben"

After reading, you try to find your doppelganger inside the vegan bakery, but they are nowhere to be found. What you do find, however, is an excellent eggless rye.