STORIES OF
LOVE , LAUGHTER, CHILLS & THRILLS
LGBTQ AUTHOR & NARRATOR
NEED TO CATCH UP?
[PART ONE] [PART TWO] [PART THREE] [PART FOUR] [PART FIVE]
BLURB: I have a place for everything. Yet, lately, my reality is fraying. Badly. It’s not just what’s missing; it’s the way they’re being taken—and then returned! Someone on Reddit called it a Thumbnail Demon infestation, and if they’re right, my “forgetfulness” is actually something much worse than a sanity slip!
I stare at the items, Sam Hellter has placed in my palm.
For a moment, I’m speechless.
I brush away the grit, and albeit the items are still dirty and worn with age, there’s no mistaking what these things are. The weight of them feels like a physical blow to my chest.
There was that tiny, hot-pink Polly Pocket shoe.
I remember crawling on my hands and knees for three hours across the living room carpet, crying because I was certain the cat had eaten it and was going to die of an intestinal blockage.
Then, a teacup from my porcelain dollhouse set.
Losing it had disrupted the set from being complete. It haunted me with a nagging sensation, every time I’d play with it. I eventually stopped because I’d become crazy with agitation when I tried to host a tea party with my dolls and saw that empty spot in the carrying case. I’d spend more time searching the the corner of my toy box than actually playing.
The final blow. A woven friendship bracelet—the one with the neon green, pink, and yellow threads—that I lost when I was twelve.
I remembered the screaming match in the middle of the school hallway. I blamed my best friend for taking it out of my jewelry box the night before when we were hanging out. We didn’t speak for weeks after that.
I can’t form the words to express the rush of varied emotions I’m experiencing. It’s a cocktail of relief, nostalgia, and a very specific, sharp-edged fury.
My “craziness” had a name, and it lived in the roots of this oak tree for years? And the culprit wasn’t my own brain but these little monsters!
Suddenly, I’m trembling.
Sam seems to notice and places a reassuring hand under my elbow. “It’s okay. I understand. I’ll have these little wack-nuts out of your hair in no time,” His voice surprisingly gentle for a man built like a brick wall. “You okay? You look a little piqued.”
I nod yes, but I’m not okay.
My entire childhood was a series of “misplaced” items that turned my organized world into a minefield of anxiety. I watch as he digs up even more items—a silver earring, a key to a diary I haven’t seen in twenty years, a singular AAA battery—and places them in my open palms like a collection of cursed offerings.
“I probably won’t be able to retrieve all the missing stuff, but it’s a sure bet they hoarded like 90% of it,” Sam says, standing up and wiping his brow with the back of a leather glove. “I gotta go back to my truck and get some other supplies. This nest is deeper than I thought. They’ve been tunneling into the root system like a bunch of tiny, demented architects.”
Suddenly, I find my voice. It’s thin, like a frayed wire, about to cause a total meltdown. “Wait, hoarders? Why would they want a seltzer tab or a doll’s shoe? How do they even use them?”
“Yes, these little toe-picks are hoarders of human items. Things that aren’t that valuable, but as you’ve experienced, can drive you mad wondering why said items go missing and then may or may not return.”
“But why?” I press. I need a reason. My brain demands a logical ‘why’ to satisfy the years of searching under cushions.
He sighs, looking at the tiny hole. “Honestly, I don’t really know. But if I had to guess, they just like to feed off the agitation, the chaos, the feelings of misalignment with your flow. It’s like spiritual static. You’re a high-energy person, Mary. You like things just so. To a Thumbnail Demon, your irritation is like a five-course meal. Every time you huff or count the sugar cubes again and again knowing it’s off, you’re basically ringing the dinner bell.”
“Why now? I mean, this has obviously been going on my whole life! But it got so much worse the past few weeks. It felt like they were trying to break me. I feel they nearly did…” My voice trails off quietly.
“Well, just like any other animals out there. The nest was probably small, and then they had an influx in their population. Maybe a neighbor moved away and their food source dried up, so they had to escalate. Or maybe you just got more organized, and the contrast between your order and their chaos made the ‘spices’ taste better. It’s hard to say.”
“I need a drink,” I mumble, clutching my handful of dirty treasures as I make my way back to my house.
Sam takes about an hour in the backyard. I watch through the kitchen window as he uses equipment vaguely familiar to any other exterminator, yet strange in its application.
He digs, he sprays a mist that smells faintly of 80s Auquanet hairspray and cotton candy, and he mutters under his breath in a language that sounds like grandma’s been smoking too many stogies.
When he returns, he drops the remaining items he’s recovered from the nest on the counter.
I glance at them, no longer wanting to scrutinize the long-forgotten items, tied to painful memories.
I just need him to leave so I can try and sort this out. I pay him his fee. He thanks me and assures me the problem is resolved.
I barely mumble a “thank you,” and he’s gone, his heavy boots thudding out my door.
I can’t help but think back to my childhood and wonder about the connection between these entities and my OCD.
Did I become obsessive because of them? Or did they find me because I was already like this? These Thumbnail Demons seem to have been harassing me since childhood.
I take my wine outside, sit, and contemplate as I stare at the empty tree.
Suddenly, the motion sensor lights flick on. The light catches a glint near the roots where Sam had been digging. I stand up and go to the item.
It’s a phone—a sleek, black model with no branding, yet it still looks modern enough.
It wasn’t locked. In fact, it was already open to a video editing app. I had a gut feeling I shouldn’t have looked, but curiosity and that cat thing—I had to.
My thumb hit the play button.
My blood began to boil as I watched the “Final Cut” for what was presumably the next video he planned on uploading.
[Video Playback Starts]
(The camera is shaky, held at arm’s length by a grinning Sam. He’s sitting in the cab of his truck, the suburban sunset behind him.)
SAM: (Beaming at the lens) Sam Hellter here! What is up, my infernal family in the way-down-low! Welcome back to the channel.
Today’s “Exorcism Prank” was a total gold mine. We’re out here in the cute little cursed town of Acadia, Connecticut—shoutout to the 860 area code—and we just finished a high-anxiety “extraction.”
(He uses air quotes on the word ‘extraction,’ then pans the camera down to his palm. A tiny, white-horned, red skinned, creature, no bigger than a thumbnail, is sitting there grooming its tail. It looks up and lets out a high-pitched ‘Hi’ like a chipmunk on helium.)
THUMBNAIL DEMON: We been eatin’ like kings for weeks, boss! That lady nearly blew a gasket over a hair tie. 10/10 agitation! Would haunt again!
SAM: (Laughing) Right? The Thumbnail Demon collaboration niche is really popping off. Make sure to smash that like button and subscribe for more “Protection Racket” tutorials. I’ve refined this system so well it’s basically passive income.
Don’t get wrong. Sometimes I feel bad for the disruption, but hey, a devil’s gotta eat! There’s a lot of competition in Jersey—nay, the world! Between the oversaturation of crossroads demons, the ones running the local DMV, and of course the local utility company devils taking over, the economy is rough.
But you know my story; I left behind the grind and pivoted to the “Influencer-Exterminator” hustle.
(He taps the steering wheel, looking thoughtful.)
SAM: I’m going to have to burn my u/Bubumeister22 after this upload, though. The humans get suspicious when repeat “success stories” keeps posting on the same profile. Gotta keep it fresh. But don’t worry, the next series is going to be HUGE!
THUMBNAIL DEMON: (Hopping up and down) Tell ‘em, boss! Tell ‘em who’s next!
SAM: (Winking at the camera) I’ve got something BIG in the works, folks! We’re heading to D.C. The big, ‘Tangerine Palpatine’ in the White House? He’s ripe for the picking. The payout for high-level spiritual distress in the West Wing is going to be legendary. We’re moving the whole colony in two weeks. (Sam turns to his demon and instructs him.) But don’t touch the nuclear codes—I want ad revenue, not an apocalypse.
(The thumbnail demon gives a tiny, wicked thumbs-up to the camera.)
SAM: Stay spicy, stay petty, and remember: if you can’t find your keys, it might be me and my thumbnail guys messing with ya! (He laughs.) Catch you in the next one!
[Video Ends]
I’ve been sitting here in the dark, in stunned silence, for an hour.
“Well, shit…”
I can’t lie, I’m furious.
But, I start to feel remarkably calm as an idea comes to me.
This guy—devil—will surely be coming back looking for his phone. Idiot. Who doesn’t use protection to lock their phones these days!
I suppose you don’t have to be a demon to be devious.
I take a long sip of my wine and look at the screen. I wonder what a devil’s search history looks like?
I might be able to recover my fees and then some. How much would ole’ Sam pay to prevent his backlogs being wiped? Or hell, all his accounts getting deleted…
I may have had a Thumbnail Demon infestation, but I think Sam Hellter is about to have a ‘righteous-suburban-housewife-fury’ problem.
THANK YOU so much for sticking with me to the end.
I hope you loved the story!
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First Published on Reddit March 5, 2026
Copyright © 2026 by Mary Black Rose & Black Rose Reads
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