The police car was rolling to Fleece Suburban at a leisurely pace. It was a cool afternoon, with barely a color in the sky. But the men inside the car were dripping with a few sweat.

October 31. Halloween. The suburban area wanted extra security for some Halloween event. They already set it up weeks ago, before all this fuckery began. Some officers were distributed among the cemeteries for The Day of the Dead. Then there were men like Mr. Zaman, who just wanted to chill in the suburban area on Halloween. Marky had to make a last minute switch so he could be with Mr. Zaman's team.

Mr. Zaman glanced at Marky. The younger officer was looking up at the ceiling, scratching his temple every now and then. He was worried about this boy. About what he could do today. He had to watch his ass like a parent.

Today is Halloween. Today, they have a plan.

The previous discoveries did nothing but confirm their outlandish theories: witchcraft. People possessed by mountains, giving them an ability to turn other people into objects...

Marky wanted to expose them, heck even eliminate them. He even suggested driving the community away from here, citing the special forensic team's discovery in the mountains: a mysterious chemical compound whatsoever that was unearthed by the recent landslide. He's quite a genius on his own, but Mr. Zaman doesn't want to repeat history. More than how he didn't want to destroy people's home in that place again, he didn't want to initiate another witch hunting.

They had arguments and heated debates, but in the end, the older officer had the final say: they'll set them up. With drugs.

He might be imagining it, but a chill ran across his spine as they entered the suburban area. It has a guard house and an arch colored in pale orange. Against the grey sky, the color take the hue of a peach. On the sides were giant pots in yellowish white, with barely alive plants trying their best to show off their remaining green pigments.

Today, there's the usual trick or treat, organized by the suburban into a big event featuring both kids and adults. Mr. Zaman's team was the first batch of the policemen who will patrol the event.

But the suburban wasn't lively. In fact, it was as dead as a cemetery. Occasional women would stare at them as they drive by, usually looking like they're holding grudge. A few kids, already in their various Halloween costumes, were passing by. But not even their energetic strides and colorful costumes could liven up the mood. The sidewalks were covered in moss. Vines were everywhere. Everyone gasped when they saw one abandoned home on a corner completely devoured by the leaves.

Mr. Zaman sighed as they spin along a roundabout. They're almost there. He looked at Marky, who also looked at him. It's almost ti-

HISS.

The car stopped. It creaked and made that hum that machines do just before they die.

The officers looked at each other as the driver tried to restart the car.

The car wouldn't start.

Outside, some people were looking at them. A woman started walking towards their car. On another side is another woman, also walking towards them.

Marky suddenly opened the door, gasping as if he was suffocating inside. He fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Marky!" Mr. Zaman got out of the car and walked to him. He was sitting on the ground, looking at the wheels. They were wrapped in thick vines.

"Do you need help?" a woman's voice.

Both officers turned around and discovered that they were now surrounded by a group of women.

Gossipers, Mr. Zaman thought.

The other officers also went out of the car. Now everyone was staring at the vine covered tires like idiots.

"Ooh!" a familiar gossiper voice announced, "Mr. Zaman, Marky, you're the first batch that will monitor the Trick or Treat event right?"

Mr. Zaman couldn't help but smile as they turned to Venice. Suddenly, a small black figure appeared in front of him and growled. He gasped.

He looked down and saw that it was Venice's daughter, dressed-up as a witch.

"Oh, aren't you a little cutie!" Venice cooed as the little girl embraced her. The kid glanced at Mr. Zaman and stuck out her tongue.

They discussed a bit more about the mysterious death of their police car. It's pretty new, bought a couple of years ago. Even now, it still gleamed in lustrous blue and silver.

"I think we should go to the event now, it's about to get started," Marky said.

"What, no! We can't just leave the car here!" Mr. Zaman sounded like he's pleading, so much that everyone looked at him. He turned to Marky and the others with wide eyes. They then understood: the drugs.

"We can just stay here to guard the car," one of the policemen said, "then we can... we can..."

The others looked at him as the silence got heavier.

"... switch places."

He was looking at Mr. Zaman with cryptic eyes as well. He assumed that he was trying to say that he'll initiate the raid like planned.

Mr. Zaman and Marky finally agreed and started walking together with the gossipy women.

Mr. Zaman walked slowly in purpose. When he was far from the gossipers' wide earshot, he went to Marky.

"We'll still go with the plan. Go signal is when officer Alan enters," he whispered to him.

"Copy that," he answered.

"YOOO!"  a loud voice from behind that made both officers jump. They turned around and saw laughing kids in bloody costumes.

They probably didn't hear them, since they all weren't looking at them. They did glance and frown at them, but that didn't mean that they heard.

In fact, everyone in this place seem to look at the police with cautious eyes. He assumed his organized bullshit theory is true, but a part of him believes it's not. Either way, it weirds him out.

Marky stopped their walk, "Zaman?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you noticed that... there's scarcely any men in this place?"

"Oh," he gasped, "I mean, there were little boys but..."

"Forget about the little boys- the men, where are they?"

"At work? Home? Maybe they're cleaning at the cemetery? Who knows? You might be overthinking it, Marky," Mr. Zaman said. 

They continued walking, "calm down okay? Relax. Everything's still going according to the plan," he said to Marky.

They're now at the heart of the suburban. The multipurpose building was bustling with that annoying crowd noise. But it's still devoid of life, Mr. Zaman thought. He might be imagining it, but he hated the weight of this "event". As if it's The Day of the Dead already, and not Halloween.

They entered the building. Both officers made sideways glance to the west. There, the daycare stood, devoid of lights or people. Case number 3's crime scene. Somehow, everyone cautiously glances at it. A real life Halloween icon. A hiding place for an adult Boogeyman.

They just walked around, talking to people - still not much men around. They just have to wait. Wait for the go signal. Their nerves got more and more tensed as the minutes - hours - went by...

***

The grey sky did show hints of reddish orange, quickly fading into indigo. Forming a starless sky with a faint glowing white spot for a moon.

It's been a few hours and Marky was already sweating despite the chill night. The kids part of the event was almost over: they were awarding the best costumes already. Perhaps that's what they've been waiting for. For the kids to get the hell out of here.

The winner was a ten year old dressed up as a forest fairy of some sort. Marky didn't like how she was covered in brown vines. Vines. But he guessed it's extra scary to wear it in a place that's being invaded by magic vines. Plus it's indeed a good costume.

He continued walking around. It's quite boring, since he wasn't talking with anyone. The people here - mostly women like they observed - were staring at him like he committed unspeakable crimes. Like they were staring into his soul. Like they'll judge him for his sins.

Mr. Zaman wasn't around.

And no matter where he looked, he's nowhere to be found. He saw other policemen, some night patrolmen. He couldn't even remember when and where did he lost him.

He walked to one of the doors, only to find it closed.

"Why is this closed?" he said to a woman, who raised her eyebrow.

"Why they closed it..." she said.

"For a special event later! Right?" another woman jumped in.

Marky doesn't like the sound of it. He doesn't like everything in this event in fact. He was feeling the classic something-is-wrong-and-I-gotta-get-the-fuck-out-of-here feeling.

So he stormed to the lobby. There, the two extra doors on the sides were still open. He went to the western one and headed to the direction where their car died down. The two fuckers there probably slept already.

Beside him, the daycare center stood against the moonlight. It's light brown color glowed pale blue against him. It's presence seemed to weaken Marky. The image of case number 3's remains in the toilet bowl... it loosens his appetite, it fogs his mind. It was like a fever.

He walked faster, looking away from the daycare and into the multipurpose hall. Still looking for Mr. Zaman. That other fucker probably slept as well.

There were a few people on the road he just turned to. Kids trick or treating, teens hanging out in groups, women exchanging bullshits that make them shoot into annoying dolphin-like laughs.

Not much men.

Men... they're mostly night patrolmen.

As he walked, he saw Leo. And he was walking shoulder-to-shoulder with someone who was least likely to be with him. Jean. The two were strolling to the daycare... or behind it.

Cold sweat was dripping in his back as he followed them with his eyes.

They disappeared behind the empty daycare building. Marky, being a police officer he was, monitored all the possible exits. The doors and the lobbies, and especially, the road from behind.

A few minutes later, Jean appeared in the aforementioned road. Skipping away. Alone.

She stopped for a bit. Marky thought she saw him. But when she continued skipping, he thought he was probably imagining it.

As the girl got closer, he could see how her neon pink sweater flashed against the pale light. This girl has a thing for neon colors, it seems. Across it, in bold font and deep purple color: "GIRL POWER".

Marky remembered that she's one of those crazy feminists.

At that moment, it all clicked. So much that the cricket chirps stopped, the sound of people disappeared, and the winds halted.

The victims were all men. And the crazy mountain-possessed sorcerers are all women. The lack of men here, the feminist discourse... Even the fucking little girl saying "boys are weak"...

Suddenly, Marky sprinted back to the multipurpose hall. That special event... it can't be good. Especially considering his fellow policemen, and the night patrolmen - his fellow men...

His heart started to engage in an overdrive. He suppressed his urge to scream, saving his voice for when he found Mr. Zaman. He would shout "ZAMAN, IT'S NOT ORGANIZED BULLSHIT, IT'S ORGANIZED SLAUGHTER!"

Upon reaching the building's main entrance, he clashed against a fairly thick crowd of mostly kids. They were surrounding a peculiar Halloween decoration: a life-sized zombie. Upon closer inspection, the prop looked like a rock. Not glowing even a bit under the moonlight, and as immobile as a corpse. A familiar man in his forties.

It was Mr. Zaman.

***

The smell of sugar was everywhere, so much that Jim could taste it with his eyes. Combined with the striking, yeasty smell of cookies, it made him submit to the simple fact that he's now one of them. A mere ghost-shaped cookie.

More specifically, he's a soft sugar figure inside a ghost shaped cookie. He's trapped inside with little space to move. It was like being stuffed in a bag that is hard as stone.

The chatter of women from the outside was mildy audible. The unmistakable giggle sound making his prison vibrate.

His world shook. Fear flushed all the spirit in his body, as if he was free falling.

His fear tripled when he did feel like he was free falling... upwards. Like a really fast elevator, it put all his blood to his feet. Making his consciousness fuzzy. So when the prison cracked and revealed endless darkness in the outside, it barely registered to him. The smell - a putrid, wet stench, further degraded his consciousness. What is this place? And how can such a disgusting hell exist?

Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by a warm, thick liquid. It melted the stone-hard cookie that surrounded him. He felt the floor move and maneuver the melting cookie. Together, it created a bitter-sweet concoction that sticks to his body like glue.

He is in someone's mouth, of course he should've expected that.

As if the owner of the monstrous mouth heard his thoughts, she giggled. It was a hearty giggle that shook his world. But the momentary gesture showed him a glimpse of the outside - the familiar sight and sound of the multipurpose hall, where he was a few hours ago. He could see the yellowish-white teeth that were obscenely wide, like huge cardboard shaped stones. It was surreal that he'll end up like this... drenched in sugary spit. But he won't give up.

He flailed, crawling towards the teeth. It was a sticky terrain, and every desperate move forward made him smell and even eat some of the gross liquid. He was scratching the tongue with his nails to crawl forward, but it was so wet and slippery it only made him fall face-first to the massive muscle. He was retching as he desperately crawl. The mouth opened again, shaking his world. It's still a long way from here, and Mike was already tired.

"Hey, I got the one!"

"Good to know, Venice!"

Suddenly, the tongue pushed him to his destination. Through the teeth, then through the dark lips. It's surreal how he could see how they blend with the rest of the mouth, the opening looking like a big oval hole. Both the teeth and the lips clipped his torso so he wouldn't move further. He sighes as his head protuded from the massive lips. He was looking downwards, and a spit string dripped from his nose. It made a long line towards the black shirt Venice - his predator - was wearing.

He looked up and saw another woman, who was wincing in disgust, but giggled at the sight of him wiggling helplessly between her friend's lips.

She grabbed a phone and took a photo, "Tell your husband this is what'll happen to him if he angered you - or your kid actually!"

The mouth pinning him giggled, "I'm pretty sure he's obedient enough!" The teeth was pinning him hard as she talked. Her lips were embracing and releasing his head as she spoke, covering him in fresh layers of saliva.

The other woman giggled too, "I know, they're still here right?"

"Yeah, he's with our daughter at the lobby."

"Kid said she had to save the zombie because he'll turn into a dwarf."

They both giggled.

"Oh!" Venice's voice was so loud and sudden it vibrated Mike's entire body, "show him show him!"

Then the other woman showed him her phone screen. There he was between Venice's wide set of teeth, her lips pushed away suggestively and her eyes looking at him with fierceness. He couldn't recognize himself - a tiny white mass between the woman's teeth. Barely bigger than a piece of candy. Venice herself was quite a stunner, her well-built face showing elegance and femininity, despite looking like a tomboy with large teeth.

Suddenly, the lips embraced him and went all the way to his chin, like a snake. Then Venice started sucking, so hard that he grunted in pain. All the blood rushed to his head and his legs were squeezed into impossible sizes. He then realized that his dick was fully erect since seeing that picture, and being sucked now... it made him moan in sudden, tsunami-sized pleasure. Whether it's the pressure or the pleasure, his entire vision went white. Even when he was fully consumed by the hungry mouth, his vision was bright and cloudy. He even saw flashes of light as he felt his legs and torso being crushed by stones - the giantess's molars. Some of his "flesh" got stuck in the rocky structures, most of it never left the lower molars, inviting another round of grinding like an ingredient in a pestle-and-mortar.

By the time darkness and the stinking stench gripped his consciousness again, he only have a head, one arm, and half a torso. So he couldn't fight much as the molar smashed his face from above. As it grinded his head into paste, he got stuck to it. For a while, he hanged there with his head attached to the upper molars. He realized that's where the smell was coming from - the stale spit and tartar covering the monstrous stone structures.

He got crushed more and more, until he became one with the thick cookie-flavored spit. He felt like he was losing himself piece-by-piece. And was slowly merging with the disgusting slimy spit. He realized what being consumed was all about - abandoning your whole self, and merging with the superior being. That silly thought - an empty hope of continuing to live with meaning - was what vanquished his despair in his last moments.

***

Marky noticed that it's dinner time, and the party was just beginning. There were some snacks. Some mac-and-cheese, sandwiches with black bread, and some cookies that are supposed to look like ghosts. Wines and iced tea completed the strange meal.

The women were feasting on it, and it looked like they were having some sort of a contest of getting "the one". The best piece of sandwich probably. They were like little kids, and that dismayed Marky. But at least it made them distracted enough for him to perform his, admittedly, sinister plan. He thought of it as Plan Z, or Plan when-every-fucking-thing-fell-apart. And what will he do when every fucking thing fell apart? He'll perform his first instinct ever since learning about this witchcraft shit: he'll burn down the place. There'll be collaterals, but he hoped the other policemen and even the idiot night patrolmen have enough instincts to get the fuck out. Perhaps they could save many innocent women too - if they are innocent.

He knew it's insane, even for a Marky's action standards. And by the time he sneaked to behind the big black curtains at the end of the building, he knew he reached the point of no return. He'll destroy his life, his career... but at least he'll put an end to this fuckery. A kamekazee - that's something a desperate Marky would definitely do.

He laid on his stomach like a soldier crawling. He fished out his lighter, then his pistol, putting the latter in front of him. He then put the lighter next to the curtain. One click and it'll began. Sweat formed in small balls on his body. It's pretty hot in here, even without the fire. The curtain made lazy sways along the wind, unaware that it'll succumb to flames soon. With a shaky hand, he clicked the lighter.

It didn't light.

He clicked it again.

It didn't light.

He clicked it again, twice.

The flame appeared with its small, almost cute yellow form. He put it on the curtain, which started to dissolve as soon as the fire touches it. The fire then disappeared, leaving behind a small hole in the curtain.

"Fuck!" Marky whispered.

He clicked and the lighter lighted up again. He put the flame in the hole...

Something pinned his back, squeezing all air out of his lungs. He lost grasp of his lighter.

"What are you doing, officer?" the unmistakable voice from above. It was Jean.

He scrambled for his pistol, but the girl kicked it away.

He cursed himself for being so stupid and careless.

"Let me go!" he said.

Jean crouched, making him feel the weight of her presence more. Her pink GIRL POWER shirt almost reflected in the black curtain. She put her foot from his back to his face, she was wearing boots. He noticed those annoying, gross mouth sounds - she was chewing a gum?

"I said, what are you doing, officer?"

Marky's face heated up both from the humiliation and the rage. He quickly rolled and planted a swift punch to Jean's thighs, he crawled up and gave her a devastating uppercut... that never reached her flat chin.

Marky felt himself weakening, falling on his ass. Jean smiled and stood up at full height above him. He appreciated how striking the girl looked from here. So much that when she glared and put her boot on his chest, pinning him on the floor, he got an erection.

"You're trying to commit arson. You think I'm stupid, officer?"

It's astounding how she lacks respect and fear for a policeman like him, even for a crazy young feminist.

"Let me go, or you'll face the consequences."

Jean crouched again, putting her face near him. She was indeed chewing a gum! Gross. The white mass danced and stretched in her mouth, making slick sounds everytime.

"No, you'll face the consequences of your actions. You wanna see?"

Confused, Marky merely tried to squirm, but his body was so weakened he's basically immobilized.

Jean stood up again. With her boot, she turned his face to the side. Marky fought back screaming as the metallic heel treads his cheek.

He felt the girl crouching.

"PFOO!"

A white mass fell in front of him with a wet shower. Jean's gum, gross.

But to his horror, the white mass started to move. The chewed down slime reminded him of a worm, but it wasn't a worm but a...

"Heeeelp! Help meeee!" a small voice erupted from it as it moves slowly, like a slug.

"Do you hear it?" Jean whispered.

Tiny bubbles from the spit formed as the white mass crawled. He couldn't imagine being molded in such a form. Full of craters and covered in spit.

"I've been chewing him for like - an hour? He's delicious actually."

The chewed-up gum continued struggling to move.

"Heyyy! It's me, Leo! Please! I-" the boot, big as a house and bearing unimaginable weight in comparison to him, cut him off. It made a dull THUD as it did. Marky gasped.

"You see? But I'll let you go, and will never tell this to anyone."

He grunted, "and what's the catch?"

Jean giggled, "you'll be with me for the rest of the night. You know what'll happen? We'll basically ask all of you policemen a favor."

"What?"

"You'll see later! At the special event!"

"You never get out of my sight, or try to sabotage this night again. If you ever did anything like it, I'll make you suffer as much as I can! I'm not joking!"

Marky felt fear. He was threatened. It was a very long time since he felt that way. But whenever it happens, it usually involves big time criminals, not college girls.

A few minutes later, a tensed Marky was walking along with Jean. The policeman was following her like a dog. But he was observing the surroundings as he did.

He saw Venice. The tomboyish young mom was wearing a black shirt and denim shorts. She saw him and smiled, walking towards him.

"Hey there, oh hey Jean!"

"Miss Venice!" Jean squealed. It's almost uncanny how respectful she sounded this time, "you know, I already converted Sir Marky!"

Sir Marky, he thought, snickering. He gave Venice a help-me look. But Venice merely grinned at him.

"Do you know now?" she said, her smile disappearing. In fact, her countenance was as intimidating as Jean's.

"Know what?"

Then Venice proceeded to narrate using her usual friendly tone.

When the hurricane arrived, it unearthed something from the mountains: magic. 

The landslide and the mysterious chemical compound in it? Marky thought. Apparently, those are pixie dusts or some shit.

To make the long story short, this magic reignited the memory of the "witches" in this place. Nature started to reclaim the suburban, and people - women - started to unlock their ability to manipulate people without magic - men.

The reason for the gender specifics are unknown, at least to Marky, who wouldn't swallow the feminist bullshit being taken as its reason.

In the end, the women learned that they can hide the bodies by making them "immortal". Things that can't be broken.

"Like a bubblegum!" Jean piped in. The comment made Marky wince.

When transformed people get broken, their souls or whatever retake their original form. That explains the cases. In fact, it explains them all, perfectly.

"Here, take a look!" Venice said as she raised her Converse.

The dirty rubber edges showed nothing. Marky frowned.

"Look closer!" she said.

He sighed and crouched to the shoe. There were many dusts stuck in the corners of the sole. There were even some little stones...

"You see that big stone near the heel?" Venice said, giggling as she struggles to find her balance, her hand on the table.

There was indeed a big stone there. Marky frowned again, "what's so special about it?"

"Have you ever wondered why, in the ancient times, all witches are females and all statues are males?"

Marky kept frowning.

"I think he's wondering more about the whereabouts of night patrolman Stan," Jean piped in.

Marky's heart skipped a beat. Night patrolman Stan. Missing for almost a week... a piece of stone beneath a Converse shoe?

Venice giggled, "yep, that's him! I made sure he's stuck there indefinitely."

Marky stared at it. And he swore it was moving very slightly, trying to get out or scream for help. How long had he been struggling there?

"Can I touch it?" he asked.

"Sure!"

He slowly hovered his index finger to it, almost touching. But he had something else in mind.

He grabbed Venice's other leg with both arms and pushed it forwards. Venice fell on her butt and grabbed the table curtain with her. Spilling some food, wine, and to Marky's delight: candles. Everything went according to his half-baked plan. The flames started to eat the table up, as well as the curtain behind it.

Not letting his guard down, he quickly stood up and planted a swift punch on Jean's temple, knocking her to the table.

A thick smoke immediately covered the entire place. Screams echoed, followed but rushed feet and locked doors banging. He ran with the crowd to the lobby, not hesitating to push anyone in his way.

Soon, he was outside and the multipurpose building was glowing bright yellow in flames. Marky could only laugh. It's over, at least for now.

A few minuted later, firemen and some more policemen arrived. The police made the familiar routine of assessing the place. The team looked exhausted just looking around. Somebody hopped in and began leading the group.

It was Mr. Zaman.

***

HEEEELP!

HELP UUUUUUUS!

HEEEEEELP!

GODDDD! HAVE MERCY ON US!

KILL US!

Everytime they shout, Alan and Vince's voices were instantly damped by the deep dark water. No matter how loud, how passionate, how obscene their pleas. No God or human will hear them from here.

They on the floor of the sewers. Deep under dirty water that is as black as tar. On the floor, they were covered in soft, mushy thing. It reeked of an odour so foul an actual feces would smell like vanilla icing in comparison. The mushy thing on the sewer floor cemented them into place. Where no light, no sound, and no plea can ever enter or escape.

They're in literal hell.

It's been days, probably, but it felt like months for the two former policemen. That Halloween night... they were guarding the car while Mr. Zaman and Marky went to the event. After a while, a figure appeared. And it led to a strange confrontation that ended with them becoming a centimeter tall, and metallic. In fact, they couldn't move their metal bodies.

At an earth-shattering kick from the gigantic sneakers, they went rolling to the catch basin. Where they fell into hell.

From then on, they got submerged in that endless stream of foul liquid. Beneath the entire suburb's liquid wastes. Their metal bodies will be resilient for years, decades even. But they couldn't do anything but scream without sounds.

***

EPILOGUE

Mr. Zaman retired, and Marky never saw him again. The last time he heard, he mentioned something about his wife and daughters. Maybe the guy wanted to spend more time with his wife and girls.

Marky left the job as well. He is couldn't bring himself to continue after what happened that Halloween night. After what he did.

The supposed witches were framed up successfully, with the arson set up as their attempt to destroy evidence.

He went far into the countryside, living there offline and fairly low-key. Every day, he couldn't stop feeling like a criminal on a hiding.

He never read news about that fucking suburbs again. The last time he checked, the developer dropped the area. He couldn't salvage the damn thing after the investors left it anyway. The cases were fairly public, thanks to goddamn TikTok and all those shits kids use. Apparently, the place was eaten up by vines. But the people stayed. Even when the government warned them about the mysterious chemical that the landslide unearthed - magic dusts - they stayed. They stayed and Marky could imagine that they will rule the land.

He remembered what Venice told him that night. Among her last words. About nature and magic "reclaiming" the suburban.

He left them all. Like bad memories.

As he sat there near his garden, someone arrived calling his name. Addressing him as "officer".

Like a ghost, the memories came to haunt him here, in a form of a young man.

Frowning, he went to him. He was a mailman, and he had a note.

The anonymous envelope did refer to him like a police officer. And it was addressed in a place called "Vendigria". God knows where the fuck it is, if it is exists. It was as if a fantasy book nerd came to prank him. But what he read below the address, in small squiggly letters, is what shocked him.

(formerly fleece suburban)