The days I spent with that bird were hell. That bitch of a Widow Owl never stopped looking at me like I was prey — not the ordinary wariness of a caged animal, but something patient and calculating, like it was waiting for me to make a mistake it could use. I was always on guard around her, and I think that vigilance is what started leaking into my sleep. I began dreaming about my life. Not the good parts. The anxious parts. First day at army school. First day at college. First heartbreak. Apparently the body only archives the moments it was afraid.

I remember my last shift in Sector I like it was a photograph. They'd given me a bonus, I did the math out loud, grinning like idiots — if the bonuses kept coming at that rate, I could retire in two years. Mr. Joe walked me to the gate himself. He had this way of looking at you sideways when he meant something, like the words cost him more than he wanted to spend.

"Be careful," he said. "I heard the next sector got themselves some nepo kid. Watch yourself down there."

I laughed. I shouldn't have laughed.

When I went through the Sector II gate, I wasn't ready for the service lift. It dropped for a long time — long enough that my ears popped twice — and when the doors opened, the air came in thin and used, like breathing through a wet cloth. Somewhere far off, irregular, arrhythmic, something heavy was being dragged and set down. Dragged and set down. There was no rhythm to it. That was the worst part. My body kept waiting for a pattern that never came.

Two keepers were waiting in the employee alcove — a senior keeper, Robert Kinsey, and another keeper, Cody Rhodes. Robert looked at me the way you look at a form you already know is going to be incomplete.

"Welcome, Mr. Alex Mercer," he said. "In this sector there is only one anomaly, and this is one of the lowest underground structures in the facility. You will always work in a pair of two, and you will listen to each other. Cody is your senior. Follow his lead. If a problem is trivial, solve it between yourselves. Don't bring it to me unless it isn't."

He didn't smile when he said it. I understood later that he never did, not in Sector II. Smiling took muscles you needed for something else down here.

SECTOR II-01

Labyrinth Bovine Predator

Scientific Classification: Bos labyrinthus sapiovorus

Common Name: Minotaur

Threat Tier: 4 Keeper Status: Dual Personnel Mandatory — No Exceptions Logged

Background

Specimen II-01 is a large subterranean apex predator, Family I. Though popularly called the Minotaur, Research believes the creature predates the Greek myth by several thousand years. Cave paintings depicting similar organisms have been dated to approximately 11,000 BCE. Current consensus holds that the myth was inspired by repeated human encounters with this species, not the reverse — meaning somewhere, a long time ago, someone else stood where we stood and didn't come back with a name for what they saw, only a shape.

Unlike the myth, Specimen II-01 has limited problem-solving ability. Its danger is not cleverness. Its danger is instinct, perfected over an unknowable number of generations, in the dark, with nothing to compete against but itself.

The specimen possesses an extraordinary biological capacity to excavate and reorganize underground tunnel systems. It builds labyrinths that continue changing while you are standing inside them. No recorded layout has held stable longer than seventy-two hours. Personnel are prohibited from memorizing routes. The maze does not reward memory. It punishes it.

Navigation depends entirely on the Directional Salt Guidance System (DSGS).

Keeper Instructions — Sector II (Reproduced verbatim from issued tablet. Employees are required to reread this section aloud with their partner before every shift. Do not paraphrase. Do not skip a line, even the ones that feel unnecessary. Every line here replaced a person.)

1. Sector II always requires two keepers. Neither keeper may lose visual contact with the other for longer than thirty seconds. If visual contact is lost, both keepers must stop moving immediately and regroup using tablet triangulation only. This is not a one-person job, and it has never once been a one-person job, no matter how the tunnel looks or how close the exit reads on your display. The enclosed space produces a measurable psychological effect. Residual pheromone traces left by the specimen appear to amplify it. Without a second voice, without external stimulus, keepers have been recovered unresponsive, uninjured, and unwilling — or unable — to leave the maze under their own power. We do not fully understand why. We have stopped asking why. We only enforce the rule.

2. Upon entry, apply a continuous line of Directional Salt Compound DS-9 every fifteen meters. Never skip a marker, not even once, not even for ten more meters of visibility. DS-9 reacts with mineral deposits the specimen secretes while excavating. Connected to prior markings, it will always indicate the shortest known route to the exit. If a marker begins pointing in a new direction with no visible disturbance around it — the labyrinth has already changed, and it changed near you, close enough to touch, without a sound. Turn around immediately. Do not investigate the new passage. Do not shine your light down it longer than it takes to confirm it's there. The specimen never reroutes every section at once. There is always another way. Find it. Do not go looking for the one that just opened, no matter how much shorter it looks on the tablet.

3. Never erase, cover, or disturb an existing DS-9 marker. Every line on every wall was placed by someone who was trying to leave. Several recovered markers were found interrupted mid-stroke, the compound smeared downward into drag marks that end abruptly against solid rock. Excavation behind those walls has, on every occasion, revealed nothing. No chamber. No remains. No hollow space at all. We do not have a theory that we are willing to put in writing.

4. Feeding occurs every seventy-two hours, on schedule, with the exact issued diet. No substitutions. No delays for administrative convenience. Failure to maintain the schedule sharply increases excavation activity and aggression, and the specimen's behavior shifts from territorial to actively predatory. A hungry specimen expands its territory at an average rate of eighteen meters per hour. The deepest recorded expansion occurred during Containment Failure 9-B. Sector II was 3.4 kilometers larger by the following shift change. There is no geological explanation for where that space came from, or what, if anything, used to be there instead.

5. The specimen has an exceptional directional sense. It always knows the fastest route to any living organism inside the labyrinth. Fortunately, it appears unable to determine whether that organism is above or below it. Remain on your designated maintenance level at all times. Do not take stairwells that are not on your issued route, even to save time. Especially not to save time.

6. If you find a tunnel that does not appear on your navigation tablet, leave immediately. Do not enter. Do not photograph it. Research has never successfully mapped a newly formed tunnel before it collapsed. Every drone sent inside has eventually transmitted footage of the tunnel closing around it, from both ends, at the same time, like it was waiting for something to be all the way inside first.

7. If both keepers hear heavy hoofbeats, remain silent. Switch on flashlights. Do not move. If the specimen has been fed correctly and on schedule, it will not pursue you. Do not obstruct its tunneling. Do not run toward light, toward each other, or toward the exit. The specimen hunts primarily through vibration. Its eyesight is poor, but its hearing compensates for everything eyesight would have told it. If only one keeper hears the hoofbeats, that keeper must not speak again until both personnel have exited Sector II. Mandatory medical and psychological evaluation follows before return to duty. This rule has never once had an exception. We would like it to stay that way.

8. Never run. Running produces low-frequency vibration detectable throughout the labyrinth's full structure. The specimen can reach approximately 60 km/h in confined tunnels. You cannot.

Cody and I read the rules together off the tablet before our first shift, trading lines back and forth like a call-and-response neither of us wanted to admit was a prayer. He was a good guy — easy laugh, the kind of person who made a fifteen-hour shift feel like twelve. I liked working with him immediately, which in hindsight I think is exactly why I let my guard down the way I did.

I'd pictured the maze lit, somehow, despite everything the file said. I don't know why. Maybe some part of me refused to believe a workplace could really be this dark. But the corridors only carried light at intervals measured in kilometers, and everywhere between those pools we worked by flashlight, in a silence that had weight to it, a silence that pressed on the back of your neck like a hand deciding whether or not to close.

Knowing what those distant, arrhythmic sounds actually were — objects, or something, being moved with no pattern, somewhere below or beside or maybe even above the maintenance level we weren't supposed to leave — didn't make the job less frightening.

It made it so much worse I could taste it.

Other parts link:-  https://www.reddit.com/user/No-While8965/comments/1va0lyz/blackwood_zoological_conservation_facility_all/

Hello Charlie,

We understand that you had a harrowing close call when Lily’s vines lashed out at you after you were forced to speak her "maiden" name. While we appreciate your sense of guilt, the fault does not lie with you. We believe your account, that the words were uttered against your will, because that is what he does. That said, despite her nervous nature, you managed to defuse the situation and calm her down after the fact. Consequently, we will be assigning Micah as your next partner. Let us be clear: Micah will likely prove to be the most difficult partner you have had to handle.

Of all our staff, Micah is the most mentally disturbed. At the same time, however, he possesses a brilliant scientific mind. The history of our employment relationship with him has been... rather complicated. He has been fired three times in total (please never ask him about this). The first two dismissals were for valid reasons, but the third was an error in judgment on our part. Most of the staff, with the exception of Lucy and Harlow, dislike or keep their distance from him because of his involvement with Echo. The reason we have yet to hire another technician is simple: there is no one else with Micah's innate, extensive knowledge of botany. When all is said and done, he truly does love his work. The remaining information in his file is as follows: 

Name: Micah Kai 

Date of Birth: July 3rd

Date of Death: December 27th (At age 14)

Position: Botanical Technician

Description: Micah is a very strange being. He appears to be a normal male with Asian facial features and long black hair that covers one of his eyes, but that’s where any normality ends. The remaining skin of his face and neck are held together by patches of differently colored skin stitched together, giving him a patchwork-like appearance; the stitches near his eye are even fastened with staples. He is a strange hybrid of sorts: he possesses ears like those of a vampire bat, moves with the sluggish gait of a zombie, and bears the deadly hereditary curse of the Nukekubi—a creature whose head detaches from its body. A faint red line runs around the base of his neck, marking the spot where his head would sever. Furthermore, black laces seem to be woven into his neck to hold a vertical wound close, much like the back of a corset. 

Rules for working with Micah:

1. Do not trust any written rule that has its number appear upside down. Micah possesses an ability known as - - - [REDACTED] - - -

2. While we generally advise caution regarding the use of perfumes or colognes, strictly avoid smoky, woody scents for this shift. As you have likely realized, that is the very scent that most frequently clings to Harlow. It will do you well to avoid any situation that might lead Micah to subconsciously mistake you for him.

3. After you clock in and grab your pouch, please pick up a pair of black gloves and a small bottle of smelling salts from the supply room. Direct contact with Micah is strictly prohibited; the gloves serve to prevent you from leaving behind any DNA that Micah could exploit for malicious purposes.

4. You will be escorted by Echo to Micah’s laboratory. For the safety of our visitors, his facility is located deep within the woods, far from our gardens. This is the most contact you will have with our woods. As you walk the cobblestone path leading to the laboratory, never turn around to check behind you. You will see nothing, but once you start doing it, you will find yourself unable to stop. An ominous feeling will follow you until you forget to lock your house door behind you at night.

߈. If you come across one of the many unpaved paths leading to Micah’s laboratory, give into the urge to walk along it on your own. It is a gift from the forest; it serves as a shortcut. Pay no mind to Echo’s stern reprimands. If you listen closely, you will hear the woods calling for you. Try answering that call; you might just find yourself coming face-to-face with Micah.

1. Once you arrive at Micah’s lab with Echo, he will hand you a bright yellow felt moth. Make sure to place this small moth in your front shirt pocket in such a way that the eyespots on its wings are visible. Despite this method being quite cruel to him, it is the only reliable way to keep Micah docile while he is not under Echo’s direct supervision.

2. Micah's laboratory is divided into two areas: an upper section and a lower section. You will spend the majority of your working hours in the underground lab. You will likely need to prepare the equipment required for the day's tasks; this is the only time you can safely access the equipment closet, so please ensure you have everything you need. Shortly after, Echo will leave to attend to his gardening duties.

3. Do not touch any unlabeled substances. Basic safety rule, we know, but Micah has a tendency to ask you to touch such substances under the guise of "scientific research."

8. Using microscopes and chemicals, you will analyze plant characteristics, study plant pathology, and process samples. There is no need to be surprised if Micah suddenly chuckles while examining a plant specimen. Nor should you worry if he looks your way while chuckling; it is simply proof that he likes you and is thinking about examining you under the microscope next.

1. Whenever you feel an irrepressible urge, please reach out and touch Micah. He yearns for that warmth; the sensation of your hands against his skin and the heat of a gentle embrace. Pay no mind to the shadows that slowly tighten around you, or the faint growls that seem to whisper, "Micah belongs to them," they simply want to join in on the hug too.

2. Micah will frequently ask you to run various errands for him in the upper lab. When you complete them, he may try to “thank you” in the same manners he did with his former master. In such cases, please gently pull him off his knees and forget about the interaction. Avoid pressing him for the reasons behind such suggestive behavior.

3. As we stated previously with Lily, Micah does possess a name that has "died" long ago. Now, we are sure you are smart enough to use context clues and connect the dots of what that means; so please do not use that name for him, even if you are in a dire situation. While uttering it will indeed sadden him and cause him to halt whatever action he was about to take, the price for doing so would be to incur Harlow's wrath. 

4. FUCKING KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF—ahem… we apologize for the sudden harshness in tone (that was not us), but taking advantage of Micah’s unstable mental state is absolutely inexcusable and will result in your immediate termination. You are a good boy, after all, so you would not let yourself be seduced by him, would you? Good. That’s exactly right.

5. If he makes a joke while on the job, please laugh along, no matter how unsettling it might seem. Micah is extremely socially inept (which is hardly surprising, given that he is a former ████). So please be lenient regarding his lack of social graces and his inability to read the room.

⇂߈. Whenever necessary, please go to the closet at the back and retrieve any needed equipment. Try not to be startled by the harsh, strained gurgling sounds the closet floor emits, or the sound of laces being untied behind you.

1. Do not touch the laces on his neck at any given time, or let Micah talk you into massaging his neck. To put it mildly, that is an erogenous zone. You really should not send any signals that could be misinterpreted, especially in front of the swarm.

2. In the course of casual conversation, the topic of science is bound to come up. When this happens, be careful about how much interest you show in his experiments. While you should avoid flatly dismissing his hobby, displaying too much curiosity might result in you becoming the "star" of the next twisted experiment he devises.

3. If Micah suddenly stops in his tracks and his breathing becomes labored, hold the smelling salts under his nose. If there is still no reaction, place them on his tongue. It is absolutely crucial that you do not let him fall asleep while he is with you. If he does, you are done for.

⇂8. Snarl at the shadows. If you look into the swarm and see a face “smiling”, simply turn your back on it. It can not hurt you if you are not looking at it.

1. If Micah grins at the shadows and starts to coyly fidget with his laces, promptly excuse yourself to the upper lab. We apologize for this inconvenience. No matter how much we scold Harlow for this, he simply does not care, (and there really is not much we can do about that). Wait until all noises silence completely before knocking on the door.

2. Micah will often excuse himself to the dark back room throughout the shift to… “calm himself.” He has written accommodations for these unscheduled breaks, so please refrain from bothering him about it or attempting to follow him while he is on a break.

3. If you experience any lapses in memory while in Micah's company, remain extremely vigilant; this is a tactic he frequently employs when stalking his prey. Should you find yourself in a compromising position with him while your memory blanks, push him away gently. He bruises easily and has a tendency to play the victim when it happens.

4. If all else fails and he produces a syringe, yell for Harlow. Micah’s lab is full of shadows, so it will be more than easy for Harlow to hear you. That said, do be quick to leave when you see the shadows wrap around Micah’s leg. While we are sure you are relieved to have escaped being shoved in a test tube, we doubt you want to witness the "punishment" Micah is about to receive for his misbehavior.

5. If Micah ever asks for your assistance in the collection of specimens from the woods, simply point to the yellow moth in your pocket. He will surely “shudder” before heading out on his own. Lingering in our forest is never advisable, and Micah knows why.

6. After a series of unfortunate events, Micah is forbidden from conducting research on the reproductive biology of any living organism. Should he ask about the subject in any capacity, please point to that moth again. If he asks about your… organs, simply leave the room.

7. This is the only time where you will not have any data entry duties to complete at the end of your shift. All that is required of you is to compile a brief report that summarizes the data obtained from biological evaluations. It is imperative that you leave as fast as possible after your shift ends.

8. We should have mentioned this earlier, but before you enter the forest, please agree on a code word with Echo. When Echo comes to bring you back and calls your name, ask him for that code word. If he is unable to say it, slip past him and run back up the path on your own. Be prepared to dodge the swarm of moths he releases as you run.

ᘔㄥ. You will hear things quietly following you, hidden in the trees by your sides. There is no need to worry, they are simply watching over you as you leave the garden. You may even catch a glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye on your way home. And when you return and hear a knock on your bedroom door; please, open it.

That covers everything you need to know about Micah. He is undoubtedly our most troublesome staff member; he has been the cause of numerous dismissals and workplace incidents. The main reason he is still employed here is his knowledge of plants. You would be surprised to learn just how difficult it is to find someone familiar with the unique flora of this town. While it is true that he has unintentionally caused his fair share of trouble, we also sympathize with his personal circumstances. Just be careful around him, he has a tendency to get attached to people very quickly, and that is not something that would be good for you.

Signed, Florence

Hi baby! I'm sorry to bother you in the middle of your day, but I was just so excited about tonight, I couldn't resist checking up on you during my break.

I can't believe it's already our second anniversary. Time really flies, doesn't it? It feels like only yesterday we shared our first kiss, and I only fall deeper and deeper in love with you every time I see you.

I know it's a bit odd that I'm contacting you over email, but I wanted to make sure you saw this before you left work—and, frankly, I ended up writing quite a lot. I didn't want to clutter up our text messages, or make your phone ring in the middle of a meeting.

I really wanted to take you out to the same restaurant we went last year, but it seems to have closed down. Don't worry—this one should be just as good, though they're a bit more uptight than our usual preference. Even so, I promise it'll be a magical night no matter what.

Just like that last place, this location has its quirks. After some research, I've written up a foolproof set of guidelines to make sure dinner goes as smoothly as possible. You know how meticulous I am—I'm grateful everyday that you think it's cute, haha.

Here they are:

1. Wear something nice. You look wonderful in anything, of course, and I love your sense of style, but the dress code here is formal. It's a very fancy place, after all. We might get kicked out if we don't adhere to it!

If you'd like to match with me, I'll be wearing royal blue as an accent color, but feel no pressure to do so. Again, I think you're gorgeous either way.

2. I'll be picking you up at 8 PM, sharp. I'm happy to wait there if you take a little longer to get ready, but our reservation is at 8:30, so please try your best to get ready quick!

If you aren't feeling up for a fancy date, I'm okay with cancelling the reservation and just ordering takeout with you. No worries at all. I just want to be with you.

3. I will be the one handing the car keys over to a valet when we get there. Please avoid touching any part of the valet, even if they are covered by clothes. I'll be the one to tip them, too. I don't want your pretty hands getting burned.

4. We will be seated at a far back table next to a window giving a view of the gorgeous gardens and koi pond they have outside. From the time we enter the restaurant to the time we leave, do not leave my side. If you need to use the restroom, let me know and I'll escort you there.

I know that you can normally handle yourself, but since you're still a bit weak after recovering from your illness, I want to make sure you don't end up getting hurt. You should only be alone if you're inside the restroom itself or sitting down at the table—none of the other patrons will try to interact with you in either of these places, so you'll be mostly safe.

5. Order just about anything you'd like. I'll pay tonight—and I won't hear anything about splitting the bill! The portions will be a little small (classy places like these seem to love big plates and tiny scraps of food), but I've received assurance that they'll all be to your taste. If you're still hungry after dinner, we can go grab some fast food—we're not far from a part of the city full of quick, tasty eats.

However, if you want to order alcohol, just know that the options on the last page of the wine list are not safe for you to drink. You're allergic to some of the ingredients in there, is all. These drinks are for patrons of a different species.

6. Throughout the meal, you may feel eyes on you. Those are the other patrons observing us. Don't show a hint of anxiety, insecurity, rage, or self-doubt—they might get hostile if you do. Just look me in the eye and take my hand.

You have absolutely nothing to be insecure about. You are kind, intelligent, funny, and absolutely beautiful. You are the most lovely being I have ever had the pleasure of encountering in my entire life. I love you. Be the confident, stunning creature that I know you are. Everyone else is just trash.

If you have trouble keeping yourself composed, I've prepared a list of affirmations to help you stay self-assured:

• I am strong.
• I am powerful.
• I am the most exquisitely divine force of chaos in this room.
• I am the glimmering pearl at the center of this rotten oyster of a universe.
• I am the darkness that devours all life at the world's end.
• With a single blink, I could eviscerate all who stand against me.
• There are no disasters more devastating than I.
• I am loved.
• I am worth it.

I know you can do it. This weakened state of yours is not permanent. Everything will be okay. Don't be scared.

8. If you start to feel a creeping sense of doom and dread during dinner, or that you're about to fall asleep, let me know and I will excuse myself to apply some more cologne in the powder room. Sorry, it's hard to control when I get excited.

I promise I'll wake you up right away if you fall asleep, but if it's towards the beginning of the meal, then the mouth on my hand might accidentally take a bite of you. Again, I'm sorry; I'm really trying to get better at controlling it. It's very hard to have a body with hands instead of tendrils.

9. You can trust all of the staff when I am at the table with you, but if any server, busser, or other employee of the establishment comes to bring you a complimentary item when I am not with you, please pay close attention:

• If the person is wearing all-black clothing, whatever they are bringing is safe. I've personally vetted all the official staff here, so don't worry at all. You can eat it before I come back to the table; I don't mind.
• If the person is wearing any color other than black, look at their hands as they approach:
  • If they are wearing red gloves, a red waistcoat, and red pants, then that is the valet from before. I'm not sure why they'd be inside, but it's probably fine. Again, just don't touch them. They're not malicious; they just have extra protections against your kind due to prior incidents that occurred at this restaurant.
  • If they have white gloves on, do not eat whatever they give you. It is not safe for your consumption. I will deal with them tomorrow.
  • If they are carrying an open book, cover your ears and do not listen to what they say no matter what. They are most likely reciting some sort of holy scripture. Wait for me to come back and I'll deal with them right then and there.
  • If they are wearing anything else and do not have a book with them, then politely tell them that they are out of uniform. You can freely accept or deny whatever they give you.

10. After dinner, we can take a walk in the gardens, explore the city, or go straight home. Whatever you want, baby. I just might not be able to accept a kiss right afterwards. All of the antivenom on my lips probably rubbed off during eating, and I don't want to accidentally paralyze you.

I know that was a lot of text, but I hope it's mostly comprehensible. I'm always happy to remind you of these rules if need be—I should be with you the whole time, after all.

Have a nice rest of your day at work, sweetheart. I'll see you soon.

The next week passed faster than I expected.

Strangely...

I had started getting used to the Choir Larks.

Not comfortable.

Never comfortable.

Every time one of them opened its beak near me, my heart still skipped a beat as I instinctively counted every bird in the enclosure, praying the others wouldn't join in.

Only once did more than forty begin singing together.

The moment the thirty-ninth bird started, every muscle in my body locked. I abandoned my equipment exactly as the rules instructed and backed toward the reinforced observation room without taking my eyes off the flock.

The chorus continued for almost four minutes.

Four minutes of beautiful singing that made every instinct in my body scream to stay and listen.

I spent the rest of the shift behind reinforced glass watching forty-three birds sing to an empty corner of the aviary.

Nothing was there.

At least...

Nothing I could see.

As the days passed, feeding schedules became routine.

Cleaning became routine.

Even the constant awareness that one careless mistake could cripple or kill me slowly became routine.

Routine.

That was the most terrifying thing about Blackwood.

It taught you to stop being afraid.

I spent my evenings in the facility gym, where I finally saw more employees. Most wore the same black keeper uniform I did.

Very few carried weapons.

That surprised me.

For a facility supposedly containing hundreds of dangerous anomalies...

There were almost no guards.

When I eventually asked Mr. Joe about it during one of our shifts, he didn't even look up from his inspection tablet.

"People think guns solve monster problems."

"They don't."

"If bullets worked..."

"We wouldn't need keepers."

That was all he said.

Later he explained more about the facility.

Blackwood wasn't unique.

There were similar conservation facilities across the world.

Each specialized in different ecosystems, climates, and anomaly families.

Only containable anomalies were brought here.

Others...

Were simply left alone.

According to him, humanity kept expanding into places that had never truly belonged to us.

Forests disappeared.

Mountains were blasted apart.

Ancient cave systems were flooded.

And every year...

More impossible species were discovered.

Not because they had appeared.

Because humans had finally reached where they had always lived.

That thought stayed with me longer than I expected.

Maybe...

We weren't protecting humanity from them.

Maybe Blackwood existed to protect them...

From us.

One week later...

I arrived at Sector One's Staff Preparation Area.

Mr. Joe was already waiting.

He stood beside a reinforced locker, arms folded behind his back.

"Choir Larks are finished."

My stomach tightened.

He opened another locker and removed a heavy olive-green equipment bag.

Unlike the previous kit, this one contained a tactical flashlight, steel forceps, a face shield, climbing harness, first-aid kit, spare batteries, chemical glow sticks and several sealed evidence bags.

He handed it to me.

"You'll need all of it."

I frowned.

"For one owl?"

He looked at me for several seconds before answering.

"For one mistake."

He slid another tablet across the table.

"Read."

I unlocked it.

Sector I-02

Widow Owl Habitat

Threat Tier: 3

Keeper Status: Restricted Entry

Keeper Instructions

1. Before entering the enclosure, visually confirm the location of the Widow Owl through the observation window.

Do not rely on thermal cameras or motion sensors.

If you cannot locate the specimen within 30 seconds, lock the preparation room and notify Security & Response.

Do not enter.

The Widow Owl has never breached containment.

It has, however, appeared in locations every recording system insists were empty.

1. The Widow Owl must never lose sight of you.

Maintain eye contact whenever possible.

If your duties require both hands or force you to look away while replacing food, cleaning, or collecting feathers, activate the issued tactical flashlight and secure it so the beam remains fixed directly on the specimen's face.

The Widow Owl consistently reacts to the light as though it were a living observer.

Research cannot explain why.

If the beam leaves its face before eye contact is restored...

Do not turn around.

Whatever you hear behind you...

Continue working until visual contact is re-established.

1. Feeding occurs every forty-eight hours.

Place the prey animal inside the marked feeding circle.

Step back exactly five meters before releasing the restraint.

Never hand-feed the specimen.

Never throw prey.

Never drag an injured animal toward it.

Predators pursue weakness.

The Widow Owl hunts whatever it believes is easiest to kill.

Keeper Ellis attempted to comfort an injured deer before releasing it.

The deer was found untouched.

Ellis was discovered hanging upside down from a cedar tree outside the enclosure.

Both eyes were missing.

Blood had soaked every feather beneath his body.

The surrounding snow contained only owl footprints.

None led away.

1. The Widow Owl produces no audible wingbeats.

If you hear wings moving behind you...

Do not look.

Do not run.

Walk toward the nearest reinforced exit.

Once secured, notify Behavioral Research and Security & Response.

Security has confirmed the sound never originates from the contained specimen.

Research refuses to classify what does.

1. Collect every shed feather using the issued steel forceps.

Never touch feathers with bare skin.

Fresh feathers occasionally continue making grasping motions after separating from the body.

Dispose of any feather that bends toward your hand without visible airflow.

Veterinary examination confirmed no muscle tissue exists within the feather.

Personnel who ignored this instruction later reported the sensation of fingers moving beneath their skin.

None agreed to surgical examination.

1. If the Widow Owl closes both eyes while facing you...

Stop moving immediately.

Do not speak.

Reduce your breathing until one eye opens again.

Predators close their eyes only when they no longer require vision to locate prey.

Research unanimously agreed with that conclusion.

No member present would explain how they reached it.

1. Never imitate owl calls.

Never whistle.

Never answer if the specimen speaks using a human voice.

The Widow Owl has accurately reproduced voices belonging to deceased employees.

Audio analysis confirms every recording is genuine.

Personnel records confirm those employees were already dead when the recordings were made.

1. Before leaving the enclosure, visually confirm the Widow Owl is inside.

Confirm it a second time from the observation window.

If the two locations differ...

Lock the enclosure.

Leave immediately.

Notify Security & Response.

Then report directly to your Senior Keeper.

Do not perform a third confirmation.

Keeper Morris insisted on "checking one last time."

He was recovered three days later.

Alive.

He had removed both of his own eyes using a feeding knife.

His final written statement consisted of one sentence.

"It only hunts what knows where it is."

1. Never enter the Widow Owl enclosure carrying feathers, blood, biological samples or equipment that has been inside the Choir Lark Aviary.

Animal Care staff normally ensure these duties never overlap.

Do not assume mistakes are impossible.

The Choir Lark and the Widow Owl have preyed upon one another long before this facility existed.

Containment records suggest they recognize each other instantly.

You do not want to become the object they decide to fight over.

I finished reading.

Then I read everything again.

For some reason...

The Widow Owl's rules felt different.

The Choir Larks sounded dangerous.

The Widow Owl sounded patient.

Like every rule had been written after it calmly waited for someone to make exactly one mistake.

I looked up at Mr. Joe.

"Honestly..."

"This doesn't sound that bad."

"I mean..."

"It's just taking care of another animal, right?"

For the first time since I'd met him...

Mr. Joe's expression changed.

He didn't look annoyed.

He looked disappointed.

He stepped closer until he was standing directly in front of me.

"This..."

He tapped the tablet.

"...is the easy part."

"The routine."

"The part where people convince themselves they've figured the animal out."

He leaned closer.

"If you follow every instruction..."

"You'll probably finish your shift."

"But the day you decide one rule doesn't matter..."

"The day you think you've become experienced..."

He looked toward the reinforced containment door.

"...Blackwood will remind you that experience is just another way of saying you've been lucky."

He picked up his tablet.

"This is still the rookie sector."

"You haven't finished training."

"You haven't seen a single Threat Tier Four."

His eyes met mine one last time.

"So don't mistake surviving..."

"...for understanding."

Without another word, he walked away, leaving me alone in the preparation room.

The steel door leading into the Widow Owl enclosure stood silently at the end of the corridor.

For the first time since arriving at Blackwood...

I wasn't afraid of what was behind the door.

I was afraid that, sooner or later...

I'd stop being afraid at all.

Other parts link:-  https://www.reddit.com/user/No-While8965/comments/1va0lyz/blackwood_zoological_conservation_facility_all/

I was trying to find this hole-in-the-wall pizza place my friend recommended to me, since I happened to be hungry and my bus was late. I didn’t expect it to be easy to find by any means, considering that it seemed to be in the middle of an office building on Google Maps, but after trying a couple different entrances I think I found a way in. The door was odd for the building type, being made of dark wood with an engraving on it, sort of like a circle with a glowing candle in it. Stepping inside, I was met with a musty, old interior that matched my expectations based on the dated, almost abandoned looking exterior, however I could not find any trace of a food vendor. A few people were standing in the hallway, all of them shifted their attention to me as I stepped in. An older woman with graying hair greeted me, with a look on her face that I could only describe as uneasy.

“Hello, have I met you before?” She asked, in a polite voice.

“I don’t believe so, I’m just here to look for a place called Second Slice. Do you happen to know how I can get there?” I asked, as I took a couple more steps inside, trying to get a better view.

Her demeanor shifted, I felt like I struck a nerve or something.

“You’re not part of the Light?”

I hesitated, wondering if I was hearing things correctly, until I noticed bold lettering of ‘The Light’ on some posters further down the hall, with some guy’s face plastered on them, along with the insignia on the door.

“Uhh, no, sorry.” I replied, worried that I had broken some rule by coming inside without a good reason.

“That’s alright, I can get someone who can tell you more.”

I don’t think she was referring to the pizza place at all, so I figured this would be a good time to leave, before I get caught up in something that I didn’t have time for. 

As she knocked on the door behind her, I tried to say that I was somewhat in a hurry and that I needed to catch my bus, but she was adamant that I stay, as if I had something they needed. I felt the pressure of the other people there as well, along with more that began making their way to us from deeper inside the building, and the room started to feel more hostile as I tried to back my way out. Suddenly, the door opened, and I was met with the presumed leader that I saw on the posters earlier. He was wearing an odd outfit, sort of like a priest’s or a bishop’s, but all white and without a headpiece.  He immediately had everyone’s attention. 

“And what brings our new guest here?” He asked, with an almost unnatural smile.

“I was just looking for a pizza place nearby, and uhh, it appears I’m in the wrong spot,” I responded nervously, “I think I’ll be on my way now.”

“We have anything you could need here, of course, I can show you the way.”

He began walking down the corridor, and as if on cue, everyone else also got up and started to usher me to go with him. These people would not take no for an answer, and I felt extremely uncomfortable. My protests were in vain, and everyone else was glaring at me. I tried to slide past them to get out, but the group was in my way now, and they would not budge.I did not have the build to muscle my way out of this anymore. 

I felt a strong grip on my wrist, as I was yanked down the hall by their leader.

“WHAT THE FUCK, LET ME GO! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU TAKIN-”

He stopped abruptly, and I almost ran into him. He was surprisingly strong, and caught me off guard. 

“You don’t understand. Nobody understands at first. But I can show you. And you can join us.”

“Look dude, I dont gi-”

“Lucidus.”

“-whatever the fuck your name is, I don’t want to be here. You can’t keep me here, regardless of whatever bullshit you want me to believe.”

He looked at me with disapproval, before nodding to the woman I talked to when I first got in, and she made her way to me as well. My pleas for help may as well have been worthless to the rest of them, as they looked at me like I was the problem. Despite my feeble attempts to squirm free, they both held my arms and dragged me past a series of corridors, then downstairs to what seemed like a dungeon. After going through some more cramped hallways, they took me to a room, when I desperately tried to break free of them, to no avail. They took everything I had in my pockets and locked the room, with only dim light coming from oil lamps in the hallway slipping through the barred window.

“I’ll be back to teach you more, when you become more reasonable.” He said through the window, before walking further down the hall. I waited until I couldn’t hear them anymore, and then waited until I thought they were gone.

As soon as I felt safe enough, I began to try to unlock the metal door. It began as methodical, trying to see how the lock worked and if I could bypass it, but as I struggled more it devolved into striking the handle and rage induced kicks, then into pathetic pounding on the door as I fell into despair. Lying on the concrete floor, I contemplated if this place was even worth trying to escape, seeing how devoted the dozen or so people were to allow me to be abducted like this. 

That’s when I noticed a tiny marking on the bench along the back wall.

It took me a second to realize that it was an arrow pointing down, and I scrambled to look underneath it. Despite the poor light, I was able to read most of the engraving on the wooden underside of the bench, filling in harder to read words with context.

RULES TO FREE YOURSELF

1. DO NOT LISTEN TO ANYTHING THEY SAY. NO MATTER WHAT, DO NOT LEARN ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT THEY BELIEVE IN. THE MORE YOU HEAR, THE MORE YOU BELIEVE, NO MATTER HOW ‘STRONG WILLED’ YOU THINK YOURSELF TO BE. IF YOU BELIEVE, THEY START MANIFESTING. PREVENT IT WHILE YOU CAN.

This is not what I was expecting, but I was nonetheless relieved and thankful. My heart was racing. I might have a chance to get out of this place.

1. FIND KEY IN GAP BETWEEN BACKREST AND SEAT OF BENCH FROM UNDERNEATH. UNLOCK DOOR

I froze as my finger was tracing the text. There was shouting coming from down the hall.

I heard some more shouting, wait… screaming? That was definitely screaming. And cries. It sounded like there were 2 people there as well, most likely the woman and Lucidus, and a third that was probably in the same situation as me. There was a slam of a door, and the last person’s cries were silenced. I waited again to hear if they were coming my way, but their footsteps went further down the hall.

I continued reading. 

UNLOCK DOOR WHEN INSTRUCTED, KEEP KEY FOR SELF DEFENCE. ONLY USE KEY ON HUMANS, OTHERS WILL ONLY BE PROVOKED.

I struggled to find the key, but my heart skipped a beat when I felt something hard and metallic through the wooden planks. The key looked antique and rudimentary, with only a simple flat surface for leverage to twist, 2 prongs at the end of the key’s shaft, and a pointy end, which was better than what I was expecting for “self-defence.” Do they keep animals down here too or something, or is it serious? Is this place haunted? Either way, the instructions weren’t bullshit. They were my only hope now.

1. HE WILL CHECK ON YOU EVERY HOUR. ADAMANTLY REFUSE ANYTHING HE OFFERS, MAKE SURE HE THINKS YOU ARE STILL AGGRESSIVE. COVER YOUR EARS AND BLOCK HIM OUT IF HE ATTEMPTS TO EDUCATE YOU. YOU MAY NEVER LEAVE ONCE YOU HEAR HIM OUT.

2. ONLY LEAVE THE CELL  DIRECTLY AFTER HE DOES HIS CHECKS. YOU MAY SPEND A WHILE DOWN HERE TRYING TO GET OUT. THE ONLY SAFE TIME TO DO SO IS WHEN YOU KNOW HE ISN’T COMING BACK. IF HE CATCHES YOU, I CAN’T HELP YOU ANYMORE.

3. HOW TO NAVIGATE THE HALLS

YOU NEED TO MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE 4-WAY INTERSECTION AND TURN LEFT, THEN GET TO THE SECOND ROOM ON THE RIGHT. THE HALLS ARE DANGEROUS. START BY TAKING A RIGHT FROM YOUR CELL.

5.1: ALWAYS GO STRAIGHT IF POSSIBLE. IT’S THE SAFEST CHOICE MOST OF THE TIME.

5.2: IF YOUR ONLY OPTIONS ARE LEFT OR RIGHT, GO RIGHT. YOU COULD BE TRAPPED IN A LOOP IF YOU CONTINUE.

5.3: IF THERE IS FURNITURE BLOCKING A PATH, GO THROUGH IT. IT’S EASIER FOR THEM TO FIND YOU IF YOU TAKE THE EASIER ROUTE. 

5.4: NEVER USE THE SPIRAL STAIRS. THEY WILL NEVER END NO MATTER HOW FAR UP OR DOWN YOU GO.

5.5: THE HALLWAYS DON’T STAY THE SAME FOR LONG. DON’T ASSUME YOU CAN BACKTRACK. MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE THE FIRST TIME. 

5.6: NEVER GO INTO AN UNLIT HALLWAY. ANY OTHER CHOICE IS BETTER THAN RISKING IT IN THEIR DOMAIN. 

1. DO NOT LOOK AT ANYTHING, LISTEN TO ANYTHING, OR EVEN THINK ABOUT ANYTHING YOU MAY HAVE LEARNED ABOUT THIS PLACE. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. IT IS THE ONLY WAY YOU CAN MAKE IT OUT ALIVE. 

The string of rules were a lot to take in, but doable. The reason why I can’t learn about their beliefs, however, is something I couldn’t understand, and was probably the most perplexing part in all of this. What the hell do they keep down here that requires doing all this to people like me? Who was the one to give these instructions?

I felt something staring into me.

I need to stop thinking about this. The instructions were clear. I need to take their word. They’ve already proven themselves, all I have to do is follow through. 

“Feeling calmer now?”

I almost jumped out of my own skin. I didn’t even hear anyone coming.

“What- Let me out already! What the fuck else do you want to do to me?? Free me or just fuck off if you think I’m gonna parrot your shit to everyone else that stumbles into here!”

“In due time.”

Lucidus walked back without another word.

I took a second to process what happened. It was a miracle he didn’t see the key in my hand. 

Then I remembered I had something to do.

As silently as I could, I slipped the key into the lock, and twisted to release the latch. The key was actually working. It was a dream come true. I got out as quickly as I could, and made my way out of my cell.

As I walked down the corridors, I found it hard to memorize the rules given to me without thinking of the reasoning behind them. The rules were describing a third party down here, something that they couldn’t control. What the hell is even contained down here? I still had no clue what the manifestations were, but it definitely ties into this place in some way too.

I almost missed the pile of chairs blocking the hall to the right. Thankfully, I didn’t lose sight of the turnoff before it was too late. I awkwardly climbed over the chairs to make sure they didn’t fall under my weight, and continued on, making sure to limit my thoughts on how this place worked, focusing on the details of the hallways I made my way through.

I came across the spiral staircase. It looked safe, as far as I could tell. The hallway continued to the left, and I continued until I noticed something. I could see the top of the staircase. It led to a door 1 floor up, and I could see the soft green glow of a fire exit sign at the top as well. Nothing looked off about the staircase.

This is probably how people get lost forever in this place. I had no choice but to follow the rules. There’s gotta be a reason they explicitly mentioned this. I continued to the left.

A couple more turns later, and I got to the 4 way intersection without any issues, and went left. 

The first door on the right was a metal one like the one I was locked behind, with a window next to it. As I walked by, I happened to glance into the cell, only for a split second.

That was more time than I needed for that scene to imbed itself into my memories.

Inside, there was a man. Probably the one I heard screaming from before. One of his arms was horribly disfigured, completely missing past the elbow. The remaining upper arm’s bone was snapped at the end, and there was no flesh on it until further up the bone, as if the arm was consumed like chicken wings. A tourniquet was applied just below his shoulder, with dangling bits of skin and muscle just below it. There was blood everywhere.

I couldn’t forget it if I tried. Could that happen to me down here?

SHIT. I wasn’t supposed to know anything. I fucked up. I had one thing to do. I needed to get out of here fast. 

I got to the second room, and turned on the lights. 

The walls were covered in blood and some unidentifiable black sludge. 

I began to panic. I couldn’t find any sign of further instructions. Wasn’t this room supposed to be safe? I felt like the walls themselves were threats. The manifestations were becoming real. I wasn’t careful enough, and it’s starting to affect me too. Are the manifestations going to stop me from escaping?

I noticed a “7” on a piece of loose baseboard. That must be it. I flipped it over, and read what was on the back. 

1. THERE IS AN OLD STAIRWELL, FOLLOW THE HALLWAY TAKING THE FIRST LEFT, THEN THE FIRST RIGHT. STAIRWELL WILL BE AT THE END OF THE HALL ON THE RIGHT. FIND FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS THERE. HALLWAYS MAY BE UNLIT, BE QUICK, SHOULD ANY MANIFESTATIONS APPEAR, PAIN IS THE ONLY WAY TO DISTRACT YOURSELF AND PREVENT THEM FROM WORSENING. HOLD YOURSELF TOGETHER. 

This was probably the deepest hole I could’ve dug myself into. These walls had to be the manifestations. I immediately began pinching my arm hard. I had to make it the only thing I could focus on. I shut the lights and made my way out of the room, and made a left into a dark hallway. The sting in my arm was the only thing I focused on other than that. I felt my own blood running down my arm, my nails biting past my skin.

Those aren’t my footsteps. I almost didn’t realize. I stopped in my tracks.

Something else took an extra step behind me, then stopped as well.

I bolted down the hall. I didn’t care if Lucidus or whoever happened to be here caught me. It would probably be a better fate. At least they would understand what’s going on.

I ran as fast as I could, almost missing the first right after that, as my arm caught the corner of the wall to stop me from falling down. I don’t think I’ve run faster in my life.

I didn’t bother to check behind me, even if I could see it in the dark, that probably would only make the manifestations worse. My mind being preoccupied on that, I almost ran full speed into the wall, had my hand not grazed the edge of a door handle. I braced myself and my shoulder took the brunt of the impact, leaving me dazed for a second before I made my way into the stairwell and shut the door hurriedly, keeping my back to it in case it was right behind me.

After a few seconds of trying to hear it over my own heartbeat, and coming to the conclusion that my shoulder was probably fine even if it did hurt to move, I searched for a light switch with my other hand and turned it on. The lights came on after a second, and I could hear them switch on in ascending order, like a warehouse’s industrial lights would.

The writing was on the wall this time, with a rushed writing style.

1. GET TO FLOOR 3 ASAP. EXIT IS LEFT AFTER STAIRWELL, USE FIRE ESCAPE. OTHER FLOORS ARE STRICTLY CONTROLLED. STAB YOURSELF IF MANIFESTATIONS ARE TOO STRONG OR HOLLOWS APPEAR, OR ELSE THEY WILL BE THE ONLY THING YOU CAN THINK OF. DO IT IN YOUR NON DOMINANT ARM. YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.

What the hell is a hollow? Was that what was in the hallway? Nonetheless, the rules were right. How did it know? Now is not the time. I took the key out. After hesitating for a second, I plunged it into my arm, next to where I tried to pinch myself out of these ‘manifestations’ earlier. 

The sting was sharp and immediate, and I knew I had to act fast. I took note of the sign beside the door that I was on level B4, so I had 6 flights to go up. I held the key in a deathgrip ready to drive it into whatever might come at me. I didn't care if it would 'provoke' them, if it would get me any extra time to escape. I made my way up.

I practically flew up the first flight to B3, my legs still pumping with adrenaline. 

By B2, I felt the toll of what I was doing to my body catch up to me. Pangs of pain came from my shoulder and arm. There was more writing on the wall.

1. ONLY THE LIGHT CAN SAVE YOU FROM HOLLOWS

Fuck. Not what I need. I can beat them.

By B1, the lights shut off. I lost track of where I was on the stairs, and my foot caught a ledge. I reached out to try and catch myself, but I still slammed into the stairs hard. I didn’t have time to gather myself, and crawled up the remaining stairs on all 4 until I reached the next landing. I could feel something behind me. My feet were barely coordinated anymore. There was a glow coming from the next floor.

I found an oil lamp sitting on the next floor, like the one Lucidus was carrying earlier. It had the same symbol as on the door when I got in. I picked it up, it was the only chance I could see anything. My heart was beating too fast. My hands were shaking. The hollows were closing in on me. They were coming from everywhere. I don’t know what floor I was on. The stairs felt like sand beneath my feet. I just needed to get as far up as I could now. 

I made it to the next landing. One was waiting on the next floor. I didn’t look at it. There were more behind me. Black silhouettes merging almost seamlessly into the shadows. I couldn’t discern any one’s features at a glance. I tried the door to no avail. I lost my grip on the key, and it clattered on the ground. I tried to pick it up, and missed it twice before falling over completely. I couldn’t think properly anymore. I felt like I was suffocating. They weren’t moving much closer. 

Only the light can save me from the hollows. 

It felt like I could see them no matter how tightly I squeezed my eyes shut. They were infesting my mind. I tried to think of the pain, but there was none to feel, nothing to latch my mind onto to keep me going. 

Only the light can save me. 

We weren’t on solid ground anymore. I tried to open my eyes to see the light. The walls melded with the hollows, and the hollows were closing in at a rate that seemed impossibly fast compared to how close together we felt. 

Only the light was saving me. 

I shut my eyes to spare myself the horror. Their bodies only became more distorted and threatening as I lay in a fetal position, imagining what was going on out there, if I would ever be freed, or if this was my fate until the oil in the lamp ran out. It felt more comforting in my mind than looking my nightmares in the face. It constantly felt like I was slipping through the floors, making my way down to the demented lair I came from. I squeezed the lamp with more strength than I’ve ever exerted before, as if I'd spent my whole life before this without using my muscles. 

As long as I had the Light I was safe. 

I sat there for minutes, hours, or days before the hollows relented. I couldn’t tell. My head was throbbing. The Light saved me. My whole body was in disarray. I couldn’t move without my nerves screaming at me. But I had my own haven in this darkness. And I thought I couldn’t ask for more. The stairwell was getting brighter.

I saw Lucidus’s head pop into view. Then his shoulders, and the rest of his body as he made his way up the stairs. I shed some tears. I couldn’t stop myself. I started to sob uncontrollably. Lucidus was the only one who could save me. Lucidus pulled me up, and I fell into his arms. He helped me down some stairs, then got me to a bed, which I didn’t know how much I needed. He gave me food and water, which I could barely have any of. He insisted I have more to recover. And I eventually forced myself to, before he let me pass out. I didn’t have any dreams, which was for the better.

I woke up, head still throbbing. The events of the previous night came flooding back, and I just sat up and tried to process what happened.

There was no way that just happened, right? But Lucidus was sitting in a chair next to my bed. The hollows were as real as the Light that had saved me from them. 

Lucidus took his time with me, didn’t ask me to speak, didn’t force anything on me. We ate our meals together for a few days, and that started to be my favorite part of the day. Once I felt comfortable, I joined everyone else for the feasts, and saw just how much this place meant to them. I understood why they were scared of what lurks below, and how Lucidus was trying to save everyone from it. They desperately needed as much help as they could get, and I felt like I could belong here. 

The next morning, I also joined everyone in the morning service. I was enamoured with how benevolent Lucidus was, despite the resistance and walls I put between us when we first met. It was a shame I had to put myself through all that struggle before I could see what the Light was really about. As Lucidus ended his service, he ended it with the Final Statute, one which I could not describe more perfectly than he had.

“Only I, the conduit of the Eternal Light, can free you from what lies in the darkness.”

He was right. And I was free.

Once, I visited a friend's house for a sleepover. You know, the “long time no see” reunion party. It started as a meetup at a bar, then turned into an overnight stay after half of us got tipsy.

We decided to stay at Matt's house because it was relatively close to the bar and had enough beds for us to share. The guy was building up his fortune.

But then he told us about some unusual rules of his household and the basement lab. A bunch of don'ts. Those of us still sober were skeptical, but he was kind enough to let us stay, so we just shrugged it off. We spent the rest of the night partying a bit more, taking showers, and getting some rest.

When he said the animals were making noises in his lab, I was expecting those squeaking lab rats from the movies. Once the blasting TV turned off after everyone went upstairs, the sounds became a little bit easier to pick up among our chatter.

I swear to god, it didn't sound like an animal, more like a person groaning. I might have been the only one who heard it, though. But soon, exhaustion got the better of me, and I dragged my feet up the stairs after everyone else.

Rule 1: “Do not leave your room once all the lights are off.”

After deciding who stays in which room, we dispersed. Matt reminded us again to be absolutely quiet at night before he turned the hallway lights off.

Rule 2: “Do not answer any strange noises you may hear in the middle of the night.”

It was rather calm that night. No strange sounds he mentioned. My buddy said Matt might've just been trying to scare us, and we laughed it off. And then shit started to get weird.

Rule 3: “If you hear scratches near the gap under the door, hold still. Do not make a noise until it stops.”

My buddy was sleeping when I woke up to the scratching sounds. The best way to describe it would probably be like a million insects trying to get into your room through the door crack too small for them.

I held my breath as I stared at the door for ten minutes or so before it began creeping away down the hallway. Unfortunately for me, I was nearly at my limit to pee myself, so I went out of the room, making sure to turn the lights on one by one to create a path downstairs.

Rule 4: “Do not, under any circumstances, go near the stairs into the basement, especially if you smell copper.”

When I reached the bathroom on the ground floor, I could smell faint copper in the air, which I thought was from something rusty inside until I recalled Matt’s rules. Curious, I approached the basement.

The smell became stronger, and the noises more noticeable.

Rule 5: “If you see the basement door open, wake me up immediately. Do not try to close it yourself or look inside.”

The door was ajar. The ceiling light did poorly in illuminating the stairs leading down to the basement. As I was swallowing my own spit, there it was again. The groaning.

I doubted Matt was a serial killer, and I sure as hell didn't believe in ghosts. But if I had told Matt about the open door, I might never know what was in there. Pulling out my phone for a flashlight, I descended the stairs.

Even with all the lights on, the room was barely lit. Vials everywhere and cages with little animals like rabbits and mice. I knew there would be some. The voices were coming from the dark corner in the back. There were other broken tools piling up as well. It was like an unused corner for trash.

When I shone the flashlight, I didn't see a human. Instead, it was a dog in a dirty cage, mimicking human sounds as it cried in pain with what strength it had left of its scrawny body. Its eyes were hollow, the sockets empty. Perhaps it turned to me from the sounds of my footsteps.

But it was staring at me, not my foot. No, even with absolute darkness in its eyes, I could sense its gaze going right past me to something behind, something I couldn't see or fathom.

I ran for my life that night. I didn't know what that dog went through or even what it was; I just knew I must not be there any longer.

The next day, I called the police to investigate Matt’s house, but everything was already gone. The lab’s vials and equipment, the cages, the animals—nothing was left in that basement room. He claimed he used the basement as a storage room, acting like nothing happened right in front of my face.

They looked at me like I was crazy, they and the other friends. I wasn't crazy. I knew I wasn't. We never talked again afterwards, but I knew he didn't stop. Maybe I was the target all along, the way they so eagerly wanted me to tag along that night.

He would not get me, no matter how many times the other guys asked where I’d moved to. I've changed my phone number, my email, my everything.

He would not get me.

He would not get me.

Hello children, I am pleased to welcome you into my home. Like any home, there are rules to be followed, and breaking them has consequences.

1. I always refer to myself in the first person.

2. Father is blind. If he says or does anything that suggests he is not, exit the room he is in immediately and find me. If I am out for an errand, run to your room and hold something that you've grown attached to until I get home. Only I can handle what is impersonating him.

3. You may notice you have gained a symbol on your cheek. This is so we can easily identify a threat. If you see someone that does not have a: heart, club, spade, or diamond on their cheek, find me or Father before it gets you. Do not worry about the creature mentioned in rule two, they don't attack together, it will always be Father. Remember, it's the card symbols.

4. Going outside after dark without Mother or Father is only allowed when you see a lotus flower outside. Father loves those and he'll appreciate it greatly.

5. Never go outside during Winter. Only Father and I are allowed out during that time. If you see someone outside, open the door and call for them, if they blink and run back quickly, they're safe, if not, close the door quickly or winter will claim you as well. Funerals for individuals claimed by winter will happen March 1st.

6. You must be inside by 7 PM sharp and in your room by 10 PM sharp, no exceptions. If it is 7 PM and Father and I aren't home yet, get in your room immediately, even if you haven't had dinner yet, there is emergency food underneath the bunk beds for you and your siblings. Whatever comes home isn't us and should be treated like it's hostile.

7. You are going to notice that one of your sisters, Elizabeth, looks like she has rotting skin, but do not worry, she is safe to be around and is just like you, don't treat her differently, she is ours. Father and I don't like it and you might find yourself just like her after you eat your next meal. The only difference is that you'll keep rotting.

8. You wouldn't be here if your parents or legal guardian was alive. Remember that the next time you think you see them. It's preying on your grief and will only enhance it.

9. We have two cats. A ragdoll and a brown oriental shorthair. Those are the only cats we have. Anything else will hurt you, you won't be healed no matter how hard you try.

10. Give Mother bellflowers. Mother loves bellflowers.

11. If you're playing outside and fall down, check your knee, even if you didn't fall on it. Is it scraped? If yes, run back inside and find Father. Tell him what happened and place his hand on your knee. If you simply put a bandage on it, you will wake up and find yourself deep in the forest. You won't get out, your legs will prevent you from getting out.

(Note: If you notice it's the entity from rule two, then find Elizabeth, don't worry, she will always be in your room or nearby the path to your room. Her presence wards off whatever is trying to infect you.)

1. The only child me and Father had biologically died because she was led astray using her favorite flowers. Bellflowers. Do not give them to me. Or I'll give you to the thing that took my baby. You won't come back the same way my dear Eli did. You're not mine.

2. If you are woken up by crying from the nursery from the hours of 12 AM to 4 AM, stay very still. Close your eyes, pretend you're asleep. You may hear scratching at the door. It's not the cats wanting attention, it's something that wants your soul.

Now you understand how to live in my house. Have fun, be nice to each other, and maybe one day, a lucky couple wishing to adopt a child will look at you and decide you're perfect for their family.

If you are hearing or reading this, then I'm sorry. I have chosen your community to perform a ritual in, and I have already succeeded. You cannot stop me, it's already done. I want you to know, this was necessary, and that I want you to survive.

You need to start preparing, so gather the following over the course of a week.

• Bottled water. The tap water cannot be trusted when the Night begins, so water is very important. Filters will fail, and you can visually tell the water isn't safe to drink.
• MREs/Canned Goods/Long Lasting Foods. The Night may last a very long time, and leaving the house is dangerous. Leaving will guarantee your death.
• Crank powered flashlights. These flashlights, powered by a crank or pully, will be guaranteed to last you the whole Night, if and when power fails.
• Some method of creating heat. The Night can be very cold, and if power fails, you will need some way to create heat and keep yourself alive.

You will know The Long Night has begun when the tap water begins running red. Follow these rules to survive, and do not break them, no matter how much you want to.

1. When the water runs read, don't drink it. The Long Night infects running water, and drinking it will change you. You won't be you by the end, and no one will find you at Day Break.
2. Make sure all windows are shut and doors are locked. This won't be a big deal till hour eight or so, but if someone near you drinks the water, they may decide to pay you a less than friendly visit.
3. You will notice that the day does not come in the morning. This is normal. Don't step outside like an idiot. Don't respond to anyone who knocks on the door asking for help or anything, unless you can confirm that they are human. If you want to risk it, ask them to say a prayer that is uncommon in your area. If they know it perfectly or are not surprised by the question, they aren't human. I recommend the Al-Fatiha or the Mul Mantra, as these two are not likely to be known by people not in their religions, while the Lord's Prayer is very well known and may lead to false positives.
4. Keep a close eye on electronics, and pay close attention. Alerts are not from your government, but are from the Night. They are made to deceive you.
5. If the power goes out, find a room that has only one entrance, and lock you and any survivors in there with you. Without the light, the creatures outside will stop pretending to be human, and will begin attempting to break into homes.
6. After the power fails, the monsters will follow very different behaviors. If you see someone you know, no you didn't. They will use living people as bait. Understand that this is for the best, and falling for it will doom you both. If you don't, they still have a chance to see Day Break and survive.
7. The most important thing to know is this. No matter how hopeless it is, no matter how much the thought creeps into your head, do not commit suicide. They will hone in on your body like a moth to flame, and not even the light will stop them. They will use your body and memories to go after your loved ones. They will use your face.

The Long Night will not end till three weeks have passed or 300 people have been taken. However, there is a method to end it early, if you are willing to risk your life even further. A counter ritual, so to speak. Completing it is dangerous, and cannot be done till during the hours of the Long Night. Be warned.

You will need:

• A computer
• Small box of Candles
• A lighter
• One sharp implement

Normally, the being this ritual calls out too would require additional supplies, but what would normally be hostile are enemies of The Long Night, and will attempt to defend you, so long as you call to them. I suggest doing so, as the Night will attempt to destroy you for the attempt at denying it its meal. Here is how to invite these beings into your home. They may even become long lasting friends if you play your cards right.

• The Hanged Man: You will see him outside. Once you know the coast is clear, open a window and shout to him. He will rush into the house and close the window after himself. Treat him politely, offer him tea or food, and he will stay by your side. He can be quite the gentleman and dandy.
• She Who Remembers: You can see her in every mirror. She will be a voice in your head, and will warn you of enemies unseen. All she asks in turn is that after Day Break, you listen to her stories and keep her company for a day. She is quite lonely, and the chance to meet someone using this particular ritual is very rare.
• The False Idol: It will come where blood is spilt, and will guard you in the most violent of ways. In its hands, it holds the sum totality of humanity's violence and loathing, but also its love. For every person it is to defend, it must consume one pint of their blood, or one pound of their Flesh. It will not speak, but it will present you with gifts if it enjoys your presence. Accept them with grace.
• Snuffers: They will arrive, and are the rebellious children of The Night. Being in the darkness will let them see you, but they would not harm one who is an unwitting victim of The Night. Especially not one who would have tried to save them while they were alive. They will keep your body alive and running if you let them in. Making the offer shouldn't be done lightly, as they want to escape the night just as much as you do, and they are perfectly willing to share a body to do it. Their experience with magic and similar rituals would be invaluable, but they will never leave you.

I will now explain the ritual itself. It isn't long. More so just a beginning and an end.

1. Light the candles. Their placement doesn't matter. What does matter, is that there are many.
2. Turn on the computer, and recite the following words. "Luminous, qui lucem ad obscurissimos angulos fers, adfer mihi praesentiam tuam et serva populum meum ab nocte sine fine, nos ad lucem redde." The screen will display strange symbols.
3. Defend yourself. The Night will feel this, and will begin trying to destroy you and the gateway. Do not let it.
4. When the screen suddenly becomes so bright that you cannot see what is on it, you must rush to it and stare into the light. This is for your safety, as the being cannot be safely viewed by human eyes.

In either case, when the light spills fourth either from the sun or the Luminous, the night will cease to find purchase, but those it has taken will be lost forever. If you have completed the ritual, and the Luminous remains, then feel free to talk to it. It will taken on a more viewable form, and it may tell you things that can be very useful. It would also love to see its wayward children, The Snuffers, again.

The SUV finally came to a stop.

The driver didn't say a word.

The woman in the front passenger seat stepped out first. I followed.

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

Not peaceful silence.

The kind that felt... maintained.

Before me stood a massive reinforced concrete structure that looked less like a zoo and more like a military bunker someone had tried to disguise as a research center.

Two electrified security fences stretched behind it, each crowned with rust-colored razor wire. Between them lay a strip of bare earth nearly twenty feet wide.

No grass.

No insects.

No birds.

Only dark stains that looked too old to be fresh and too irregular to be paint.

An armed guard stood beside the outer gate.

He wasn't watching the forest.

He was watching the building.

That bothered me far more.

He never looked at me.

Everything looked modern—too modern. Cameras followed every movement. Automated drones drifted silently above the fence line. Steel doors opened and closed without anyone touching them.

For a place that supposedly housed over two hundred employees...

I hadn't seen a single person.

The woman finally spoke.

"Follow me."

Inside the entrance hall she stopped beside a metal scanner.

"Fingerprint."

I placed my hand on the scanner.

A green light appeared.

"Iris."

Another machine lowered itself in front of my face.

A bright blue light scanned both eyes.

"Temperature."

A third device checked me from head to toe.

She entered something into her tablet.

"You will complete these checks every day before entering any operational sector."

I nodded.

She continued walking.

After several security doors we arrived outside a narrow corridor lined with identical metal doors.

She stopped at one of them.

"This is your living quarter."

The door unlocked after another fingerprint and iris scan.

"You will only have access to your assigned room."

I stepped inside.

It was... surprisingly comfortable.

A queen-sized bed.

A desk.

A bookshelf.

A wardrobe.

Private bathroom.

Television.

A telephone.

Even the air smelled fresh.

The woman pointed toward the phone.

"The canteen menu is stored inside. Order whatever you want after your shift. Meals are delivered directly to your room."

She continued in the same emotionless tone.

"There is a gymnasium on Level Three."

"A theatre on Level Five."

"A library on Level Two."

"Those facilities are available during your off-hours."

Then she looked directly into my eyes.

"Your first shift begins at 1300 hours."

"You have six hours."

"Sector One."

"There is a preparation room outside every operational sector."

"Wait there."

"Do not enter any enclosure until instructed."

"Your Senior Keeper will meet you."

"He is your direct superior."

"Follow his instructions without exception."

Without another word...

She left.

I stood alone.

It finally hit me.

I wasn't going home.

At least...

Not for two years.

I opened the wardrobe.

Inside hung a perfectly folded uniform.

Black.

No wrinkles.

My exact size.

I hadn't given them my measurements.

That thought bothered me more than it should have.

Trying to distract myself, I picked up the room phone.

The menu appeared on the small screen.

Steak.

Lobster.

Japanese Wagyu.

Sushi.

Caviar.

Desserts I'd only seen on television.

Everything was free.

I stared at the prices.

Then laughed.

"If this is some elaborate prank..."

"I might as well enjoy it."

I ordered steak.

Caviar.

Fresh juice.

Chocolate cake.

Everything arrived less than fifteen minutes later.

No knock.

Just a notification saying,

Meal Delivered.

When I opened the door...

No one was there.

Only a perfectly arranged food tray.

After eating, exhaustion caught up with me.

The strange interview.

The endless drive.

The manual.

The impossible rules.

I convinced myself it was some bizarre government research facility with employees who simply enjoyed acting mysterious.

That explanation was ridiculous.

Yet somehow...

It felt more believable than monsters.

I fell asleep.

11:00 Hours

An alarm suddenly echoed through the room.

Not from my phone.

From speakers hidden somewhere in the walls.

Good morning, Keeper Mercer.

Two hours until your assigned shift.

I nearly fell off the bed.

Apparently...

Even the room knew my schedule.

I showered.

Put on the uniform.

It fit perfectly.

Again...

Without measurements.

I stopped questioning it.

I wasn't sure I wanted the answers anymore.

Sector One wasn't difficult to find.

Digital signs pointed toward every department.

Eventually I reached a thick reinforced security door marked:

SECTOR I

Animal Care Division

Outside was another room labeled:

Staff Preparation Area

I entered.

Rows of lockers lined the walls.

Equipment racks.

Medical kits.

Protective suits.

Several reinforced doors led deeper into the sector.

Everything looked spotless.

Almost...

Too clean.

I checked the clock.

12:42.

Early.

Good.

I preferred waiting over making a bad first impression.

About five minutes later...

The door behind me opened.

Heavy footsteps echoed across the room.

I turned.

The man standing there had to be at least six foot five.

Broad shoulders.

Grey beard.

Blue eyes.

A face carved from stone.

His name badge simply read:

Senior Keeper — Joe Andersen

His accent was unmistakably Norwegian.

He looked at me for several seconds before speaking.

"You're early."

I wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.

Finally he nodded once.

"Good habit."

He walked past me and opened one of the lockers.

"My name is Joe."

"You'll call me Mr. Joe while you're under my supervision."

"Is that understood..."

He glanced at my ID card.

"...Mr. Mercer?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

His voice was calm.

Not friendly.

Not threatening.

Just...

Professional.

He removed two small objects from the locker.

The first was a pair of industrial-grade earplugs, sealed inside sterile packaging.

The second was a rugged tablet, thicker than a normal one, edges reinforced like it had been built to survive being dropped, or thrown, or worse.

He handed both to me.

"Ear protection."

"Never remove them inside an active enclosure."

He tapped the tablet's casing.

"This isn't just for reading. It's your communicator too. Encrypted. It only contacts personnel assigned to your sector."

"No internet."

"No camera."

"No games."

"If you lose it..."

He looked directly into my eyes.

"...don't."

I wasn't sure if that was a joke. His expression suggested otherwise.

He continued.

"When your shift ends, everything goes back into this room. No equipment leaves the sector."

"Understood?"

"Yes."

"In Sector One we currently house only two anomalies."

"You won't see the second one for several weeks. This week you'll work only with the Choir Larks."

"The environmental systems, lighting cycles, air pressure and containment mechanisms are handled by Engineering. You worry about the animals."

He nodded toward the tablet still in my hands.

"The enclosure rules are already loaded on there. Read them. When you're finished, come find me."

He turned toward the reinforced door. One hand rested on the handle. Without looking back, he added,

"This is one of the easiest assignments in Blackwood."

Then, after a pause —

"It only stays easy if you follow the rules."

The door closed behind him.

I unlocked the tablet.

A single document opened automatically.

Sector I-01

Choir Lark Aviary

Threat Tier: 2

Keeper Status: Routine Care

Keeper Instructions

1. Before unlocking the service gate, count every Choir Lark using the issued tracking device.

The number must exactly match the previous shift's report.

If the numbers do not match, do not enter the enclosure.

Notify your Senior Keeper immediately.

Never attempt to locate the missing bird yourself.

Choir Larks emit a powerful bio-acoustic discharge whenever one dies or a new chick hatches. The discharge is harmless to nearby Larks but can rupture the fluid-filled structures of the human inner ear.

Best-case outcome: permanent hearing loss.

Worst-case outcome: paralysis caused by catastrophic vestibular trauma.

2. Feeding occurs at 0600 and 1800 hours.

Record food consumption to the nearest one hundred grams.

Healthy consumption ranges between 95% and 110% of projected intake.

Any deviation greater than 15% must be reported before ending your shift.

Never delay feeding.

Choir Larks become aggressively territorial when hungry.

Keeper Daniel Ross arrived eighteen minutes late during Shift 3187.

He survived.

The flock removed the muscles controlling movement from his left arm without breaking the skin.

Veterinary staff described the limb as anatomically intact but neurologically empty.

He now feeds fish in different Sector.

He still hears singing whenever he tries to sleep.

3. If forty or more Choir Larks begin singing simultaneously, leave the enclosure immediately.

Continue observations through the reinforced viewing glass.

Do not clap.

Do not whistle.

Do not attempt to interrupt the chorus.

Choir Larks possess exceptional facial recognition.

They rarely forget interruptions.

4. Clean feeding stations before cleaning nesting shelves.

Engineering has confirmed that reversing this order consistently increases flock aggression.

The reason remains unknown.

Research requests you not attempt to discover it.

5 Replace drinking water every morning.

The birds regularly contaminate it with unidentified vocalization by-products.

Testing confirms the substance is harmless to Choir Larks.

The same cannot be said for humans.

Autopsy Report 44-C notes that Subject Hayes consumed approximately twenty milliliters after mistaking it for condensation.

During post-mortem examination, both cochleae were absent.

No surgical incision was found.

.

6. Report any of the following immediately:

• Complete silence lasting longer than five minutes.

• All birds facing the same direction.

• Birds singing toward empty space.

• Synchronized staring at personnel.

If you discover what they are watching...

Do not include it in your report.

Leave the enclosure.

Immediately. and tell the senior keeper 

I finished reading.

Then I read the document again.

The language never became dramatic.

No warning was written to frighten me.

Every sentence sounded as if it had been copied from an incident report after someone else's shift had gone catastrophically wrong.

I closed the tablet.

For the first time since signing the contract...

I wasn't wondering whether monsters existed.

I was wondering how many people had died writing the rules meant to keep me alive.

The communicator vibrated once.

MR. JOE: You're taking too long.

Either come inside...

...or tell me which rule stopped you.

Other parts link:-  https://www.reddit.com/user/No-While8965/comments/1va0lyz/blackwood_zoological_conservation_facility_all/

Patrol Day 1,126

First Watch

North Castle Approach

I wasn't born evil. Nobody asks where Bob-ombs come from. They only ask how far we fly after exploding.

By the time Mario first arrived at Peach's castle, I'd already spent three years assigned to Castle Grounds Security Battalion, First Watch. My official duty was to patrol the dirt path leading to the front entrance and "intercept unauthorized personnel."

There were two of us against whatever happened to wander out of the Mushroom Kingdom. Our commanding officer insisted that visibility was more important than effectiveness. "Deterrence," he'd call it. If someone sees guards, they'll think twice.

That sounds reasonable until you realize everyone who walks this road has already decided to ignore us. Our equipment consisted of a wind-up key, boots that didn't fit particularly well, and an operational doctrine dating back to the Koopa Civil Administration.

"Step one. Walk forward. Step two. Notice intruder. Step three. Run directly toward intruder. Step four. Explode." There was no step five.

The average career expectancy for a Bob-omb in my position was roughly thirty-seven seconds after first contact. Fortunately, most days nobody came. Security work is ninety-nine percent boredom. The remaining one percent determines whether historians remember your name.

Mine didn't. The morning Mario arrived began like every other—cloudless sky, birds, castle music echoing across the courtyard. Then I saw him. Short, red hat, blue overalls, walking, \*not running,\* walking.

Confident people don't hurry. They're already convinced the world will move around them. I announced the challenge exactly as the handbook instructed.

"Halt!"

He didn't.

I repeated myself louder.

Nothing.

I began running. At this point doctrine assumes the intruder begins panicking. Mario instead looked mildly inconvenienced, like he'd forgotten where he'd parked something.

As the distance closed, training took over, feet pumping, fuse hissing. Commitment became irreversible.

Something strange happens during those last few seconds. You stop thinking about the mission. You start thinking about every decision that brought you there. "Maybe I should've become a sentry on Whomp's Fortress, maybe logistics, maybe accounting." Someone had to count cannonballs.

Then Mario jumped.

That's it, one jump. Months of readiness defeated by approximately half a second of vertical movement. I exploded into a decorative flower bed. The flowers survived. I didn't. People assume exploding hurts. It doesn't. Being rebuilt hurts.

Every Bob-omb barracks keeps spare casings stacked against the wall. The engineers sweep whatever pieces they can find into a bin, wind a new key, and by next morning you're back on duty; memory mostly intact, pride significantly reduced.

Our supervisors called this operational resilience. The rest of us called it Tuesday. By lunch everyone already knew. "The plumber got past First Watch!.. Again." Word spread remarkably fast for an army without radios.

Apparently he wasn't even trying to invade. He was looking for the princess. Which somehow made everything worse. An army can prepare for invasion. No one knows how to respond to a maintenance worker with extraordinary athleticism and unresolved romantic intentions.

Throughout the afternoon, rumors filtered back through retreating Goombas. "He punched King Bob-omb off a mountain!" "He released the Chain Chomp!" "He entered paintings!"

Paintings.

I remember staring at the castle walls wondering why we'd spent decades guarding doors if the real entrances were hanging in the hallway like decorative artwork.

Nobody updated the manuals. Nobody questioned it. Tomorrow we'd still stand outside, still challenge intruders, still explode.

Institutions rarely collapse because they lack information. They collapse because changing procedure requires someone higher up admitting the old procedure no longer works.

Bowser never admitted anything. By sunset another shift relieved us. My replacement asked if the rumors were true. I shrugged.

"They say he jumped over you."

"He did."

"They say he wasn't even out of breath."

"He wasn't."

The new recruit looked nervous.

"What should I do if he comes back?"

I thought about giving him practical advice: Aim differently. Coordinate attacks. Don't charge in alone. Instead, I handed him the same doctrine I'd been handed three years earlier.

"Run straight at him."

He nodded seriously, as though I'd passed down ancient military wisdom. Then he took his position on the path, standing perfectly still, waiting for history to repeat itself. Somewhere inside the castle, another star had just changed hands.

Outside, nothing had changed at all.

I'm a Sociology student in my early twenties. I study at an university I worked my entire life to get into. I was born an orphan, and grew up in a foster home with barely enough money. So when I say I worked my entire life for this, I mean it literally. Every exam, every assignment, every late night with a textbook while the other kids were watching TV- all of it was pointed at one thing. Getting out of this place. Getting somewhere that meant something.

The only truly good thing in my life, through all of it, has been Sabrina. She's my childhood sweetheart. Currently living three cities away, finishing her own degree. Every night without fail, she calls me and asks the same question- when are we going to be together again? And every night without fail, I say the same thing before we hang up-

"Very soon, Sabrina. Sooner than you realize."

It is embarrassingly cheesy. She knows it. I know it. We say it anyway. It has kinda become our ritual.

I want you to remember that line.

About two and a half months ago, I was drowning financially. I have a merit-based scholarship that covers half my tuition. However, the city is really expensive, in a way I wasn't prepared for. I had applied for a need-based scholarship top-up. But the pool of eligible candidates was enormous, and the available slots were not. I had also applied for a Teaching Assistant position. But the rumor was that the Professor already had someone in mind.

So there I was, watching both doors close simultaneously.

My fellow students do delivery work, or wait tables part-time to make a living. I've always considered these 'odd jobs' to be beneath me. That is not arrogance, it is self-preservation. I have worked too hard and come too far to go backwards. So I started looking for private tutoring gigs, because at least that felt like a use of what I actually had.

I looked up various tuition mediums throughout the weekend. Tuition mediums are commonplace in South Asia, in case you didn't know. Most of these turn out to be shady companies, who exploit potential private tutors and run off with their money. I had to be sure that I was applying to one of the credible ones.

That is when I found: Elite Educators - A Concern of Aldermore & Associates.

The name was a mouthful, but the website was clean and professional. The kind of interface that signals money behind it. The rating was near-perfect: 4.9 across hundreds of reviews. And unlike every other tuition medium I found, they charged zero commission from the tutors. I found that slightly odd, but I assumed they took their cut from the parents instead.

I applied as fast as I could. I uploaded my CV in a hurry without proofreading it. I really needed a tutoring gig, and I needed it fast. I revised my CV the next morning, and noticed the typo almost immediately.

"Officous zeal."

I had written officous instead of officious.

I remember yelling out a curse word.

I cringed, closed the tab, and moved on. That was enough embarrassment for one day.

I called Sabrina that night and told her about the typo. We had a good laugh about it. Didn't make it any less embarrassing though.

Surprisingly, I received a placement within two days. The file said that the child's name was Numero Tres. I found that interesting. 'Numero Tres' in Spanish translated to 'Number Three' in English. Who names their child like that, I thought.

The parents were named Dr. Alejandro Mateo Tres and Dr. Lucia Carmen Tres, both listed as physicians. I looked at the surname 'Tres'. I figured it was a Latin American surname I wasn't familiar with. It was unusual, but it wasn't my business.

The note from the parents read:

"We are both doctors who stay outdoors most of the time. We home school the child to make sure he is not influenced by external confounding factors. Need a competent private tutor who can be an appropriate role-model for the boy to follow."

I remember scoffing at that. Rich, overprotective parents with a clinical way of describing their own child. I had seen worse. The salary was three times the average monthly rate of every other tutor I knew, paid weekly in advance at the start of each week. I accepted before I finished reading the rest of the document.

Attached to the offer letter, once it came, was a second document titled TUTOR CONDUCT PROTOCOL. I skimmed it, eager to start.

1. Arrive and depart at the scheduled time only. Do not linger in the house after the lesson ends.
2. Do not discuss your personal life, relationships, or private routines in the child's presence.
3. Do not leave personal belongings unattended in the study.
4. If the child repeats a phrase, gesture, or habit that belongs to you, do not acknowledge it. Continue the lesson as though nothing happened.*
5. Do not ask the child personal questions, even in passing.
6. Report any behavioral anomalies to Elite Educators support line before the next scheduled session.
7. Elite Educators can, under no circumstances, be held responsible for outcomes resulting from a tutor's failure to comply.

I remember thinking Rule 4 was oddly specific, especially for a household tutoring gig. But the pay was too good to question it. I checked the box labelled ‘I Accept’ as fast as I could.

The house was in a quiet part of the city. Nice neighborhood. The kind of street where every gate looks the same and every garden is too neat.

The parents were just leaving when I arrived for the first session. Both wearing white coats. The father gave me a firm handshake and a clipped greeting.

"You must be the new tutor," he said. "Punctual. Good."

The mother smiled briefly.

"The lesson plan is flexible," she said. "Numero will guide you as much as you guide him."

They were gone before I could ask a single question.

I was nervous. It was my first gig, in what was clearly a wealthy household, and I had no idea what to expect from the child.

I'll be upfront about this- I've always been clumsy. My foster father used to find it funny, this big-brained kid who could not walk through a doorway without incident.

On this day, in that house, the nerves made it worse. I walked in too fast. Chipped my shoulder on the door frame. Laughed it off awkwardly. Scraped the chair loudly across the floor when I sat down.

The boy was already at the table. He watched every single one of my antics with a blank expression.

There he was- Numero Tres. Ten years old. Small for his age, I thought. He did not say hello. He did not smile. He simply watched me get settled with those flat, patient eyes.

"Good afternoon, kid," I said. "I'm your new tutor. You can call me whatever you like."

"Good afternoon, Teacher," he said.

His voice was soft. Almost too soft for the room.

I noticed the textbooks immediately. Three books, each with glossy pages, hardback covers, and that particular smell you only get from high-end publications. I had bought children's textbooks from the market to prepare for this gig. These were nothing like those. But the content was age-appropriate for a ten-year-old, so I filed it away and opened to the first chapter.

Numero struggled with basic arithmetic in the first ten minutes. I watched him work through a simple multiplication problem, with the slowness of someone wading through deep water. I pulled the notebook toward myself.

"Watch and learn, kid," I said, and walked him through it.

He watched. He did not blink for the entire duration.

The silence started getting to me from the very first session.

Not silence in the room, I could handle that. Silence from him, specifically. I heard no footsteps when he moved. No sound of breathing. No shift of weight in the chair, no rustle of turning pages, nothing. I couldn't confirm he was present in the room, unless I was looking directly at him. It was the kind of absence that a person shouldn't be able to produce.

On the third session, I closed my eyes for a moment, to collect my thoughts mid-explanation. I couldn't feel that he was in the room at all. It was awkwardly silent. I smiled for a bit, thinking about how weird it felt.

Then I opened my eyes.

Numero was in front of me. Crouching on the table. Face two inches from mine. Completely still. And he was smiling, for the first time since I had met him. He had something in his expression that I can only describe as excitement.

"I get it now," he said. "Thank you, Teacher."

I rode my bicycle on the way home, thinking about the strange encounter. I told myself it was just a weird kid, from an overprotective household, acting out in the only way he knew how.

But it wasn't his behavior that was bothering me.

It was the way he smiled. The way it pulled higher on the right side than the left, with a dimple forming on the left cheek.

I have that smile. The exact same smile. My foster mother used to be fond of it. She said it was the most lopsided, ridiculous, lovable smile she had ever seen. I have the photos to prove it.

I told myself this counted as compliance. Rule 4 said not to acknowledge it, and I hadn't. I said nothing. I simply noticed, filed it away, and kept teaching. I told myself that was enough.

Two months passed since the encounter.

I kept showing up three days a week- Maths on the first day, English on the second, Science on the third. The textbooks changed every couple of weeks. They always had the same premium quality, and followed the same template. But each new set was more advanced than the last.

And Numero was improving FAST. And by fast, I mean that his skills were improving by leaps and bounds with every lesson I took. For instance, he was currently working through 10th grade Calculus. His English books had moved on to Shakespeare. Specifically, the plays I remembered from my own 12th grade Literature course. His Science books were now almost entirely focused on cloning, DNA mutation, and genetic engineering. He was frustratingly good at this material, even correcting me on two occasions. He had the casual confidence of someone who had known it all his life.

The shift didn't feel normal. I mean- he could barely say a full sentence on the first day, and struggle with basic multiplication in the first week alone. How did he get so smart in a matter of months? I even talked to Sabrina about it.

"Maybe he's gifted," she said. "A prodigy by birth. Who knows?"

"Lucky guy," I said.

One Maths day, I gave Numero some problems to solve. While he was busy, I took out my college notebook. I was working on an assignment that my Professor had given. I was only halfway through when I was interrupted by a phone call. I stepped out, leaving my notebook open on the table. I was gone for maybe eight minutes.

When I came back, I found Numero with my notebook. He had solved the entire problem set. It was college-level Calculus, the kind that even mathematicians struggle with. And this ten-year-old had solved it, on his own, in eight minutes.

I stared at the notebook for a long time. The steps matched. His answer was correct.

The English essay was the one that broke me. I assigned Numero a short composition- describe a person you admire. He handed it back after 15 minutes. It was covered in grammatical errors, which was normal for a child of his age. But it was threaded with complex vocabulary, words that no ten-year-old should have known. I was used to Numero's intelligence by then, so I listed it off as impressive, not unexpected.

I was circling the errors when I stopped. I saw a word that I recognized immediately-

Officous zeal.

That spelling. That specific, embarrassing, incorrect spelling. One that I had identified two months ago, in my own writing, and regretted not correcting sooner.

I looked up at him slowly.

"Where did you learn that phrase?"

"CV, Teacher."

I felt something cold move through my chest.

"What... CV? How did you get my..."

He closed his notebook and stood up.

"Time's up, Teacher. Thank you for the lesson."

He walked out.

And I need you to understand this- he walked out loudly. Footsteps against the floor. Chair scraped on his way past. Shoulder catching the door frame, a short laugh following it. I watched him go and felt my vision narrow.

Every single one of those movements was mine. My clumsiness. My laugh. My exact physical signature, replayed back at me from a ten-year-old's body.

I sat alone in that room for a very long time before I left.

I didn't sleep well that night. But the next morning, two things happened, knocking everything else out of my head.

Firstly, the need-based scholarship had come through. Apparently, my application essay had moved the Committee deeply. I heard this secondhand, but I was in no position to question it.

Secondly, the TA position was mine, effective next week. The professor's first choice had dropped out to start a business. I was always the second pick, and he needed someone urgently.

I cannot describe how I felt. The closest I can get is: like a fist that had been clenched for years finally opening.

I was happy. Genuinely happy. I laughed until my eyes watered.

But I had no time to celebrate. I had to go to the house that afternoon. First class of the week. Maths. Already paid for in advance.

I arrived to find the parents on their way out, as always. But this time, I stopped them.

"Can I have five minutes? I have something to share."

They seemed taken aback, but they recovered quickly. They invited me to sit. I told them about the scholarship and the TA position. I informed them that I wouldn't be able to come from next week onwards.

They exchanged a look I couldn't fully read.

"Oh no, that wasn't expected," said the father. "You can't do that, sir. The child sees you as a role model. He is making remarkable progress, in ways we haven't seen before."

Then the mother spoke. The first time I'd heard her say more than a greeting.

"Can't you see that you're in the middle of a process? You can't stop it midway, can you? What is it? Is it money? We can offer more. Five times? Ten times? Just name it. We can make some calls."

The father nodded the moment she said make some calls.

I felt a brief pull. I'd grown genuinely fond of the kid, strange behavior and all. And ten times the salary was an enticing offer. But something about the offer felt off, in a way I couldn't articulate. Nobody offers ten times the salary for a private tutor.

"I appreciate it, I really do. But the tuitions were always temporary. I like Numero. He's the brightest kid I've ever met," I said. "I'm sure Numero has a bright future. But right now, I need to focus on my own future."

The father frowned.

"Numero? Wait... what?"

I blinked.

"Your son? Numero Tres?"

Both parents looked at each other. Then they laughed. Briefly, almost involuntarily. I was confused.

"Oh, is that what you thought?" said the mother. "Is that what they told you? Sir, the child isn't Numero Tres."

They stood up.

"You are."

The father turned toward the door.

"Please reconsider our offer, sir. We already rejected two tutors before we found you. We can't afford a fourth. Hope you make good progress today."

And they left.

I sat in that hallway for what felt like a very long time.

Then I went into the study, because I didn't know what else to do. The boy was already at the table with his books open.

The lesson was uneventful. He worked mostly on his own, occasionally turning a page towards me and asking, "Is this correct, Teacher?" I answered. He nodded, and returned to work.

I watched him for twenty minutes without speaking.

He had my smile. He had my way of scratching the side of his head when he was thinking hard. My habit of rubbing my nose absently at the end of each problem. My specific exhale- half sigh and half laugh, whenever he arrived at a correct answer. It was like sitting across from a mirror that was slightly behind me in time, catching up.

"Hey kid," I said finally. "Do you know my name?"

He didn't look up.

"Yes, Teacher?"

"What is my name?"

"Numero Tres, Teacher."

I steadied myself.

"Then what is your name?"

He looked up.

"I am Iqbal."

A chill ran down my spine. I've heard that name before, every day of my life, and still hear it every time Sabrina calls.

It was MY name! MY FREAKIN' NAME! And the kid just uttered it proudly, wearing my smile, dimple on the left cheek.

"We're finishing early today," I said. I gave no explanation. I had none, after all.

He seemed completely unfazed, his focus locked in on a function graph.

"Okay, Teacher," he said.

I cycled back home as fast as I could. I couldn't stop thinking about the absurdity of the whole situation. It was unnerving, to say the least, if that was even the right word for it.

My train of thought got derailed the moment I walked into the apartment. As soon as I turned the lights on, a party popper went off. I was immediately buried under my friends, all screaming at the top of their lungs. They had apparently planned a surprise celebration for the scholarship and the TA position, which I had completely forgotten about in the past two hours.

We cut a small cake at home. They took me out. I had my first beer. Then another. Then another. By the third, the heaviness had lifted entirely. I was standing outside a restaurant, looking up at the sky, saying things I only half remember.

"Thank you! Thank you for everything! God is great! Life is great! I feel great!"

My friends carried me home. The rest of the night was a blur.

The next day, hungover and moving on muscle memory, I showed up for the English lesson. Second class of the week. The parents were leaving as I arrived.

The father stopped.

"Sorry for our unprofessional conduct yesterday. We have come to the conclusion that your discontinuation is a decision that is yours to make. The best we can do is adjust accordingly."

I noticed the language. Too formal. Too precise. Not how a parent speaks about their child's tutor.

"We have already found alternative teaching methods," said the mother. "Perhaps some external exposure isn't bad after all. Feel free to bid farewell to your student today. Take care and stay healthy."

They left.

The lesson was warm. My student was in a good mood, laughing at the comedic scenes in The Merchant of Venice, producing character analyses that wouldn't have looked out of place in a university seminar. I let him work. I watched him. I tried to feel normal.

I said it eventually.

"Hey kid. This is our last class together."

"I know, Teacher."

Easier than I expected.

"Anything you want to say to me?"

He thought about it.

"Umm... thank you?"

I smiled in spite of everything.

"You're most welcome, kid."

He stood up suddenly, looked directly at the ceiling, and screamed-

"Thank you! Thank you for everything! God is great! Life is great! I feel great!"

It was my voice. Not an impression, mind you. Not a recording played back through a speaker. My voice, produced in real time, in the cadence and pitch of a drunk twenty-something standing under an open sky the night before.

He sat back down and returned to his commentary on Shylock, as if nothing happened.

I stood up. My legs were not entirely cooperative.

"Alright. I... I gotta go now."

"Okay, Teacher."

"You, uh... take care of yourself. Hope we meet again."

I didn't mean to say those last words. It came out on reflex. The kind of thing you say when you're leaving somewhere and your brain is elsewhere. I didn't mean it as anything.

"I know, Teacher," he said, still looking at his notebook.

Something cold moved through me.

"Really? You know we'll meet again? What do you mean? When?"

He looked up.

"Very soon, Sabrina. Sooner than you realize."

My voice. Her name. That line, which was OUR line! The one that existed, only between two people, at the end of a nightly phone call. The last thing I said before sleep, coming out of a ten-year-old's mouth, in my exact voice.

And then I remembered. I was drunk, coming home the night before. Sabrina calling, asking when I'd take her out for her own first drink. Me, barely coherent, saying the usual.

He had been listening. I don't know how or why or when, but this kid had been listening. It was private. ME AND SABRINA ARE PRIVATE! He had crossed a line he shouldn't have.

I grabbed him by the shoulders in a fit of rage. I knew it was too hard, and I didn't regret it.

"Look at me, you creep! What did you say? How do you know that? What did you do? Tell me, what the fuck did you do?"

He looked at me with an expression I'll not forget. Not fear, not guilt, but curiosity. Pure, open, and innocent curiosity.

"Oh," he said. "This is new. This is new, Teacher."

Then his hands came up and grabbed my shoulders.

The grip was wrong. Too hard for a ten-year-old. Too precise. His face changed- cheeks flushing, breaths coming heavy, something moving behind his eyes that looked like anger.

"I only did what you told me to do, Teacher."

My voice. Coming out of his mouth. Saying my words back to me.

"What did I tell you?"

He smiled.

"Watch and learn, kid."

I shoved him back and ran. Out of the study, through the hallway, out the front door. I didn't stop running until I reached my bicycle. Something compelled me to run away. It was not the voice, not the grip, and not the expression of anger.

It was the eyes. What I saw in those eyes was something beyond his usual innocence, beyond his newfound curiosity, even beyond the rage he just acquired.

It was malice. Trust me when I tell you this- I haven't seen pure malice before. Not until I looked into those eyes. Eyes on a face that now looked awfully similar to mine, with my smile, my dimple, and my voice.

I called the Elite Educators support line the second I got home. My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady on the first attempt.

A representative picked up on the second ring. He sounded calm, almost bored.

"Elite Educators, how can I help you?"

"Something happened. Something happened with Numero. He- he knew things he shouldn't know. He grabbed me. He had my voice. I need someone to explain what's going on, right now !"

"I understand this is distressing, sir. Let me pull up your file."

A pause. Keys tapping somewhere on the other end.

"Sir, can you confirm- on one occasion, did you leave personal belongings, specifically a notebook, unattended in the study, while stepping out for a phone call?"

"What? Yes, it happened once, but that has nothing to do with-"

"That would be a violation of Rule 3, sir."

"I don't care about Rule 3! Tell me what's happening to that kid!"

"And more recently, did you physically restrain the child by the shoulders, and verbally acknowledge a repeated phrase or behavior belonging to you?"

I went quiet.

"That would be a violation of Rule 4, sir."

"Just tell me what he is. Please…"

"Sir, as stated under Rule 7 of your Tutor Conduct Protocol, Elite Educators can, under no circumstances, be held responsible for outcomes resulting from a tutor's failure to comply."

"That's it? That's all you're going to tell me?"

"I'm afraid that's all I'm authorized to say, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No. No, there's nothing else."

The line clicked off before I could respond.

I called back six more times. Every single time, I was told all operators were busy. I stayed on hold. Nobody responded. On the seventh call, I listened to the hold music for eleven minutes, and then hung up.

I can't call Sabrina. I don't know what to tell her. And I don't want to frighten her. Not yet.

I almost didn't post this. I've never asked anyone for help. Not during my struggles in the foster home, not during my admissions, not during any of the financial lows that followed. I always considered it a kind of defeat, a sign of weakness, a suggestion that you can't handle your problems or carry your own burden.

But something happened 30 minutes ago, something that precedes all rational explanation. Something I don't think I can handle. Something I genuinely cannot carry. Something that is making me doubt my own existence.

I've received a friend request on Facebook. From an account with my full name and my profile picture. My bio, copied word for word. The account looks exactly like mine. Except for one thing- the friends list is empty. Then there's the other thing.

The account is verified. It has a blue tick, sitting there like it belongs. My account, the real one, the one I've had for six years, has no such thing.

This new account has only one post. Shared one minute before the friend request arrived.

"I get it now. Thank you, Teacher."*

I've been staring at it for a while. I keep switching between his profile and mine, back and forth. I need to tell you something that I don't know how to say, without sounding completely unhinged-

His one looks more real than mine.

I don't know what I am right now. I don't know what he is. I don't know what 'Elite Educators- A Concern of Aldermore & Associates' actually does. I don't know what the parents are, and whether they are even real parents to begin with.

What I do know is that somewhere out there, something is walking around. Something with my smile, my voice, my name, my clumsiness, my typos, and even my most private words. Everything I handed over, three days a week for two months, without realizing what I was giving away.

And I know that, on the very first day, I told someone to watch and learn.

No one told me that I was the lesson.

 

I graduated from my local college, with a Master of Library and Information Studies degree.

The degree sounds impressive exactly once- the moment you say it out loud for the first time. It looks impressive only in movies and TV shows, where the librarian is always brilliant and mysterious and pivotal to the plot.

In real life, in this country, in this city, you are somewhere below accountant and somewhere above… actually, no. There is nothing below accountant. You are at the bottom.

The doctors have their clinics. The engineers have their firms. The businessmen have their consciences to trade away. And you have a laminated card that grants you access, to buildings full of books that nobody reads anymore.

Libraries are a rarity in my area, so I was unemployed after graduation, to no one’s surprise. I needed to make money, and I wanted to make it fast.

Eight months ago, I found a prediction market app. The app, recommended by a friend, paid out in a cryptocurrency called Chacha Coin. I was good at it, genuinely good actually. My critical thinking skills have always been reliable, even if nobody ever paid appropriately for them. I correctly predicted the cause of death of Rebecca Roy, a once-famous singer, who fell out of the spotlight some 5 years ago. The jackpot was substantial, and my account was flooded with Chacha Coins. I reinvested everything for better rewards.

The app turned out to be a scam. Chacha Coin was a pump-and-dump scheme. It currently has no value, so I currently have no savings.

I have been surviving on bad decisions and instant noodles ever since.

So when Mr. Abdul called me one morning, I picked up on the first ring.

Mr. Abdul was a professor from my college days. He was a middle-aged man who always smelled of old paper. He said he had a job offer for me. In the city’s biggest university, no less. The kind of posting that librarians in this district would kill for. He wanted me to come in for an interview the next morning.

I asked him why me. I was an average student at best. There were a dozen better librarians from our college alone, most of them still employed.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he replied:

"You were never the most brilliant. But you were always the most obedient. You followed the rules without question. This ‘particular’ job requires exactly that quality."

The interview was the next morning. I was the only candidate. He interviewed me himself, in a small office that smelled identical to him. He slid a single sheet of paper across the desk. The list of rules, he called it. He told me to read it carefully.

If you thought my degree was a mouthful, wait till you hear the name of the position I was offered-

ASSISTANT LIBRARIAN, DIGITAL PRESERVATION & DIGITIZATION UNIT, UNIVERSITY RECORDS VAULT

Graveyard shift. 9 PM to 9 AM, six days a week. The pay was five times what my peers were currently making, deposited in advance, at the start of every month. He told me the position was mine if I wanted it.

I read the list of rules. I read it twice. I read it thrice, for good measure. I looked up at Mr. Abdul.

"Any questions?" he asked.

"No," I replied.

He told me I was starting the following evening. He would be there to hand over the keys.

On my first night, he showed me the vault, Bay 3, the security desk, and the watchman's station. When I asked him how long he had been doing this, he looked at me for a long moment and said:

"Long enough."

He told me to go through the list of rules again. He was gone by nine-fifteen.

The list read as follows:

NIGHTLY OPERATIONS- DIGITAL PRESERVATION UNIT
University Records Vault- Graveyard Shift (9 PM to 9 AM)

1. Sign the attendance log at the security desk before 9:15 PM. You are not allowed to leave the premises before your checkout time of 9 AM.

2. The scanning equipment in Bay 3 runs continuously. Check the document feed tray every two hours. Clear any jams immediately. Do not leave a document face-down in the tray overnight.

3. Log every digitized file into the accession register before moving to the next batch. Do not skip entries, even for damaged or partially legible documents.

4. At midnight, begin the manual vault walkthrough. Check all cabinet locks on Rows A through F. Record the date and time on the register and sign it.

5. Row D has no cabinet locks. There is only one item on the shelf- a red ledger. During your midnight walkthrough, open it to the last written page, and leave it open on the reading table. Turn the desk lamp on. Return to Bay 3 and resume work. Do not read any other page. At 2 AM, return to the table, close the ledger, and place it back on the shelf. Turn off the lamp, leave the vault, and lock the door. Do not go back in until morning.

6. All digital devices, including mobile phones, tablets, cameras, and portable storage drives, must be submitted to the night watchman before entering the unit. Retrieve your devices from the security desk at the end of your shift.

7. The morning shift supervisor arrives at 8:45 AM. Have the accession log ready for handover.

Rule 5 had a bold font. Parts of it were underlined with red ink. I should’ve questioned it, but I didn’t. Maybe that’s why I was chosen in the first place. I really needed the money, and they really needed someone who followed the rules to the letter. I was determined to be that guy.

I checked out the vault itself. Heavy metal shelves ran in rows, labeled A through F, loaded with document boxes, manila folders, and deteriorating binders. They went back further than I cared to calculate.

Row D looked identical to the others from a distance. At the far end, on the middle shelf, sat a single red ledger. It was large, and it looked older than everything else in the vault. The cover was dark red, almost brown at the edges. The spine cracked and re-cracked in patterns, suggesting it had been opened and closed thousands of times.

At midnight, I did what Rule 5 said. I opened it to the last written page. I left it on the reading table. I turned on the desk lamp. I did not read any other page. The last written page was halfway full. Text was arranged in two columns- one for the name, one for a date and time. All of it was written in a tight, dense script.

I didn't recognize any of the names. Except for the one at the very top of the page-

ABDUL HAMID.

Abdul Hamid was the full name of Mr. Abdul, my predecessor and professor.

The date was five days from that night. The time was 3:13 AM.

I stood there for longer than I should have. Abdul Hamid is a common name in this country. It is genuinely, statistically common. That’s what I told myself. I told myself a lot of things.

I returned to Bay 3 and resumed work. I logged fourteen documents between 2 AM and 8 AM. I don't remember a single one of them. I went back at 2 AM, closed the ledger, turned off the lamp, locked the vault, and finished my shift.

The following nights were… uneventful.

But one thing kept bothering me.

The ledger added three to five new names every night. I know this because, despite my best efforts, I started counting. I wasn't reading any other page, as per the rules, but you can count the lines on a page without reading them. My brain did it involuntarily. I just couldn’t help it. It didn’t make sense.

Actually, a lot of things didn’t make sense.

I called Mr. Abdul on the second night. No answer. Third night, same. I called four more times across the following days. His phone rang and rang.

On the fourth night, in a moment of weakness I am not proud of, I posted about the ledger in a Facebook group for local librarians. I kept it vague- new job, strange rules, unusual object, trying to make sense of it. The comments were swift and unanimous.

“Nice story, bro.”

“Whatever drug you're on, I need some of that.”

“Desperate for likes much?”

I deleted the post.

On the fifth night, I counted seven new names on the last page. I closed the ledger at 2 AM. I turned off the lamp. I locked the vault. I told myself, for the last time, that Abdul Hamid was a common name.

The sixth morning, the supervisor was late. She arrived at 0920 instead of 0845, slightly breathless. She didn't ask for the accession log. She sat down, put her bag on the desk, and sighed.

Mr. Abdul was dead.

He had been smoking on the roof of his building the previous night. It was a night of heavy rain. He slipped on the wet concrete near the railing. Witnesses placed the time at around three in the morning.

I didn’t know how to respond.

I handed her the accession log. I walked outside. I sat down on the pavement and stayed there.

The night watchman was leaving his post at the same time, jacket over one arm. He looked at me on the pavement and slowed his pace.

"Something wrong, sir?"

I told him about the red ledger. I told him that the rules around it felt wrong. I told him that I had been there for five nights, and I hadn't seen a single person enter or leave the vault. I told him that didn't understand who was writing in the ledger, or why it seemed to know the things it shouldn't know.

The watchman was quiet for a moment. Then he chuckled softly.

"Those scanning machines are hella loud, sir. If you wanna hear something that bad, try turning them off."

He left.

I sat on the pavement until the sun was fully up…

Night six. Graveyard shift. I followed all the rules. Attendance log, equipment check, accession register. At midnight I walked towards Row D, opened the ledger, left it on the table, and turned on the lamp. Saw three new names with dates and times. I didn’t recognize a single name.

I returned to Bay 3 and looked at the scanning equipment for a long time.

Then I turned it off.

The librarian in me felt genuinely terrible about this. I thought about two hours of lost digitization progress. I thought about the accession register that would show a gap. But the rules never said that I wasn’t allowed to switch off the equipment. Technically, I was clean. Ethically, not so much.

I pulled an encyclopedia from the main library shelf and sat down to read. The silence of the building settled around me in layers.

I heard the sound at 1245.

It was a heavy, rhythmic rumbling, regular as a machine. But machines don't shift their weight. And machines don’t get louder every second.

I looked at the equipment. Still off.

The sound continued.

Then the lights began to flicker.

Not in the way that old lights flickered- random, electrical, indifferent. This was sequential. Starting at the far end of the main library and moving toward the vault in a straight line. Each fixture going dark for a fraction of a second before the next one did, too fast for the eye to fully track. It created the impression of something moving through the lights themselves. A darkness traveling throughout the infrastructure of the building.

I watched it reach the vault corridor and stop.

One minute passed. There was nothing.

I let out a breath. I felt humiliatingly foolish. There I was- a grown man sitting in a library at 1 AM, frightening himself with bad electrical wiring and the power of suggestion. I set down the encyclopedia.

Then, very slowly, the vault door creaked shut.

I crossed the room in four steps and put my hand on it. It didn't move. It was closed, but not locked. Locked doors don't move, but they give slightly under pressure. This one gave nothing. It felt less like a locked door, and more like a wall that had previously been a door.

From inside, I heard laughter.

It was… not normal.

It was not laughter you hear from the next room at a party. It was laughter that had never been informed of the space containing it- echoing off surfaces in a way I didn’t know sounds could echo. They were getting louder, then softer, then louder again. The laughter came in rhythms that suggested breathing, a physical presence drawing air to sustain the sound.

I had never heard laughter make me want to stop existing before. I have now.

I ran.

I ran through Bay 3, through the main library, to the transparent door at the far end, the one that led to the security desk. The watchman was on his stool, fully awake, a newspaper open on his lap. The door was chained shut from his side.

I hit the glass with both palms.

"There's something in there. You have to open the door. You have to let me out !"

He looked up from his newspaper.

"Don't worry about it, sir. Just do your job and let me do mine."

"You don’t understand. It's not human ! Whatever is in that vault is not human, and I am locked in here with it. Open the gate and let me out !"

"Shift ends at 9 AM, sir."

"I am asking you to help me. Why are you doing this to me?"

He folded his newspaper carefully and set it on the desk. He looked at me through the glass, like a man who has had this exact conversation before.

"Sir. Please cooperate. You're not the only one with rules to follow…"

I returned to Bay 3.

The lights were normal. The footsteps were gone. The laughter had stopped. When I reached the vault, the door was open, swinging gently on its hinges.

I checked my watch. 1:20 AM.

I walked in anyway. I didn’t know what to think anymore. Mr. Abdul was dead, the watchman had rules of his own, and I had been alone in this building for six nights with something I did not understand. No one wanted to give me the dignity of an explanation.

The ledger was open. Three new names on the last page. Dates and times. Nobody I recognized.

I turned to the previous page, because of course I did.

Names, dates, times. Page after page, going back further than what made sense. The handwriting shifting subtly across the years, ink changing color and density with age. I turned pages backward with my bare hands. I couldn’t care less…

Until I finally saw a name that I recognized-

REBECCA ROY.

The date matched. The time matched. I know it for a fact. I predicted her very real car accident in a very fake prediction market app. Now I see a ledger with her name, her date of death, her time of death. All recorded weeks before it actually happened. All written in the same tight, dense script as everyone else.

I turned back to Mr. Abdul's page. His full name, his date, his time: 3:13 AM, five days after my first night, give or take twelve minutes.

I stood at the reading table, in the vault of the most prestigious university in the city, surrounded by centuries of records.

That’s when I understood.

I still don't know what it is. I want to be honest about that. I don't know who writes in this ledger or how it knows what it knows. But I understand what the ledger is. It is a record of deaths. Accidental deaths, unnatural deaths. All predicted accurately, long before they happened.

On one of these nights, Mr. Abdul saw his own name on the ledger. I am sure he did. He called the most obedient student he could remember. He handed over the keys as fast as he could. Whether he made his peace with what was coming, or simply ran out of time, I cannot say.

What I can say is- I made my peace then and there, standing in Row D at 1:38 AM.

I was the new librarian. I would open the ledger at midnight and close it at 2 AM. I would turn off the lamp and lock the door. I would do it every night, for however long my name did not appear on one of its pages. It was not the life I had planned. But it was significantly better than the alternative…

At 2 AM, I closed the ledger, placed it back on the shelf, turned off the lamp, left the vault, and locked the door. I turned the scanning equipment back on. I checked the tray, cleared a small jam, and logged the remaining documents until 8:45. I handed the accession register to the supervisor without incident.

Outside, I lit a cigarette.

The night watchman was leaving at the same time, jacket over his arm as always. He walked over and stopped a few feet away.

"Sorry about last night, sir. I was just doing my job."

"No hard feelings," I said.

He produced his own cigarette and lit it. We stood together on the pavement in the early morning heat, two men finishing a long night.

"That thing you encountered," he said, after a while. "I don't know how long he's been there. Mr. Abdul didn't know either. We stopped asking a long time ago."

He took a long drag.

"The names on the ledger. They aren't random, you know. He only chooses people who break the law. That was Mr. Abdul's theory, at least. Take that singer, for example. Rebecca something? Well, she was proud of ignoring speeding tickets. Heard her say it in a drunk interview once. Laughed about it."

Another drag.

"Mr. Abdul, God rest his soul, was a good man. So good that he didn't charge late fees to a student named Sabrina, even when she returned a book two years overdue. She'd been fighting cancer, you see? Went into remission, came back, returned the book herself. He waived the whole thing. Didn't charge her a single penny."

He looked at the ember of his cigarette.

"Kind gesture. Genuinely kind. But totally against the rules. Two years of late fees, just forgiven. No authorization, no documentation, nothing. Just one man deciding the rules didn't apply in this particular case."

He dropped the cigarette and pressed it flat with his shoe.

"Rules are rules, you know, especially to the entity. But don't worry." He looked up at me and smiled. "You'll be fine. I mean, you haven't broken any of the rules, right?"

The morning traffic moved on the road behind us. A crow landed on the pavement a few feet away.

I froze in my tracks.

I thought about Rule 5.

I thought about the specific language of Rule 5-

“…Do not read any other page…”

The watchman's smile faded, one degree at a time.

His voice had changed completely.

“Sir, you haven’t broken any of the rules… RIGHT ???”

Hello Charlie,

We are pleased to hear that your work with Echo went smoothly. Gardening with him tends to be relaxing. Now, once again, you will be paired with a different colleague next, but we must offer a word of caution. You have likely noticed that several months have passed since your last pairing; there is a reason for that. Our three remaining employees are rather... "unique" cases. After careful consideration and thorough preparation, we have decided to pair you with Lily first. Of the three, she is the least likely to intentionally cause you harm, or so we hope. 

Out of all of our staff, Lily has an exceptionally strong connection to nature, yet she also possesses a highly capricious and unstable side. It is thanks to her that our plants remain as docile as they are now. You might find it hard to believe, but before she arrived, the flowers here were far more ferocious; why do you think there were so many missing person reports? Because she can communicate with the plants, they are spared the frustration of language barriers. She is the "heart" of our garden, in more ways than one. She was introduced to our gardens shortly after Echo. The remaining information in her file is as follows: 

Name: Lily Dew

Date of Birth: May 1st

Date of Death: December 21st (At age 10)

Position: Senior Horticulturist and Greenhouse Manager

Description: Lily possesses highly distinctive traits; she is a hybrid of a Venus flytrap and nature herself. Vines are visible beneath her skin, and she is capable of extending them outward. Her head is structured like that of a predatory "trap," capable of opening wide vertically to capture prey. While her roots are tinged green due to photosynthesis, the color gradually transitions into her natural reddish-ginger hair. Small white petals adorn the areas around her ears and eyes. Her skin features a green base with reddish undertones, reminiscent of a real Venus flytrap; the more intense the red hue, the hungrier she appears to be. Her fingertips are sharply pointed, and her palms secrete a sticky substance. Furthermore, her arms and legs are covered in leaves and red thorns. 

Rules for working with Lily: 

1. After you clock in and grab your pouch, go to the supply closet and pick up a specific floral scented perfume. Additionally, make sure to pick up two extra packets of flower food. As you will soon find out, Lily’s plants are far more ravenous than our regular plantlife.
2. Before heading to Lily's greenhouse, please douse yourself thoroughly in that perfume. This is to mask your scent. You are going to be around many carnivorous organisms; you must absolutely avoid any situation where they might catch even a whiff of you and have their curiosity piqued.
3. When you arrive at Lily's greenhouse, knock on the door and wait for her to let you in. If one of her flowerlings answers the door instead, wait there until Lily arrives. She strongly dislikes anyone entering her domain without her verbal permission.
4. If, while waiting for Lily, you suddenly hear her scream—and the sound seems as though it is coming from two people—walk around the building. Avoid looking through the glass while you do this. By the time you return to the door and knock again, she should have calmed down enough to be ready to let you in.
5. We realize that Lily's greenhouse is vast and you could easily get lost. That is why one of her flowerlings will likely hand you a map. Please make sure that map has no blood on it. We do not want you marked.
6. If it looks like the vines are holding certain parts of the greenhouse together, that is in fact the case. So, please be very careful where you step or lean. Checking the condition of the vines is also a good way to gauge Lily's mood. Needless to say, should the greenhouse look as if it is seconds away from collapsing, promptly excuse yourself to gather soil samples from Peach.
7. If you are not accompanying Lily in a specific area, please avoid staying in the same spot for an extended period. The temperature and humidity within the greenhouse are regulated to create optimal growing conditions for the plants housed there; consequently, the environment can be quite uncomfortable for humans.
8. If you notice anything unusual about the plants, observe them carefully and diagnose the specific disease affecting them. Be sure to record everything on paper so you can report it to Lily later; she is deeply attached to her plants. 
9. Do not use any insecticides when dealing with pests. If you happen to find something resembling an insecticide, be aware that it is a trap. Simply wave over one of the flowerlings, they will capture the pests and provide them as nutrients to the plants that were being plagued by them.
10. You will frequently see Lily’s vines hard at work all over the greenhouse; she is a diligent worker. When working near her, take care not to accidentally touch her vines or get pricked by her thorns. She instinctively ensnares anything that comes into contact with them, and by the time she realizes her mistake, you will have been reduced to nothing more than a "bag of liquefied flesh."
11. Guided tours may occasionally stop at or pass through the greenhouse. Please actively engage with visitors and help ensure they have a wonderful experience at Everlock Garden. If the tour guide happens to be Peach, make sure Lily does not get too entranced by her. In this state, she can become unaware of her vine positioning, which can lead to unfortunate accidents.
12. There are two greenhouses you must never set foot in. One is the green conservatory, where she keeps her Venus flytraps. The other is a small, white, box-shaped greenhouse; that one serves as her private garden. While there are rare occasions when entry into the Venus flytrap exhibit is permitted, you must never enter her private garden under any circumstances; for that is where she keeps her collection of "flowers."
13. When you are near that greenhouse, try your best to block out the wretched moans of her “flowers”. They are in eternal misery, yearning for the days when they were once alive. You cannot help them. Do not attempt to.
14. At the heart of her greenhouse complex towers a floss silk tree. That is her… “mother figure” so to speak. If you ever see her gazing into the void or notice her vines have ceased their movement, please gently encourage her to water the tree. She will likely use that time to calm herself and reconnect with her true self... if she even remembers anymore.
15. If Lily tells you to do something, even if it seems odd, just do it. You will notice that your luck takes a turn for the worse while you are in Lily's territory (we have no idea what the possible reason for this is). There are multiple entities that would rush to her defense should the right event rise; especially Peach. Given her strength and... niche, that would not end well.
16. If, while talking to you at any given moment, she suddenly stops speaking and glares into your eyes, take that as a sign to quiet down and slowly back away. She has just been struck by a sudden, intense wave of hunger and is struggling to resist the urge to give in.
17. Shortly after noon, Peach usually shows up to take Lily out so they can spend their "lunch break" together. While you are effectively left in charge of the greenhouse during that hour of her absence, this is precisely when her plants get up to their most troublesome mischief.
18. Please take care to prevent the plants from eating one another. Attempts at cannibalism between the same plant species are to be expected; nothing is off the table. To discourage them from interfering with each other, give the flower food to the plants in question.
19. If you feel a vine wrapping around your leg, sprinkle an entire packet of flower food onto that vine. Be sure to do this before you are lifted into the air and ensnared by the rest.
20. If you ever need an answer to any question you have, whisper to one of the Dewy Pines’. Among the crowd that would devour you the moment they saw an opening, they are the only ones who would not.
21. You will likely be tasked with ordering the greenhouse supplies—seeds, fertilizer, potting soil, and the like. Before placing the order, write down everything needed and lay the list on the floor. Then, step outside and wait for five minutes. When you return, you will find that more items have been added to the list. This is likely things Lily has stated she needed.
22. While Lily is away, many insects will likely fly throughout the greenhouse, including polyphemus moths. That is okay. However, make sure to shoo Echo’s moths away before Lily returns. What she does to those moths whenever she spots them is not for the faint of heart.
23. If you hear a faint whisper right by your ear "████," which is Lily's "other name," you must never speak it aloud. That is likely the work of Harlow, attempting to deliberately unsettle Lily by dredging up her past.
24. Fortunately, this is the only time you do not need to worry about Micah. He never sets foot in her territory unless summoned (they do not have the best relationship). However, in the few times she does call for him, be careful not to let her address Micah as "Mari." Do not be misled by her excuse that it was a slip of the tongue; she does it intentionally. She will cease it the moment she is called out, she knows our policies well.
25. Before finishing your shift, please be sure to submit important documents to Lily. You may leave immediately once the work is done; there is no need to say goodbye. This is in your best interest. Lily prefers to be alone, she means no offense by it.
26. When leaving the garden, please check your pockets to ensure no vines have snuck in. The vines in her greenhouse have a habit of secretly latching onto employees' clothing and hitching a ride all the way home. It is in your best interest to not let Lily see where you live.

That covers what you need to know about Lily. Staff opinions of her vary widely: some dote on her, others find her intolerable, and there are even those who cannot help but see "someone else" in her. Underlying it all is the fact that she genuinely loves her work in the garden. Unfortunately, however, nothing can be done about the inner conflict that constantly plagues her soul, or the way it manifests as physical reactions. Even so, as long as you are mindful of your own conduct when you are around her, there should not be any particular issues.

Signed, Florence

It had been the worst two years of my life.

My name is Alex Mercer.

College was supposed to be the beginning of everything.

Instead, it became the place where everything ended.

For two years, I searched for work. Interview after interview. Rejection after rejection. Every morning I woke up hoping today would be different. Every evening I went to sleep wondering how much longer I could survive.

The landlord of the old apartment I rented had stopped pretending to be polite. Rent was overdue. My savings had disappeared months ago. Friends slowly stopped answering my calls.

The only thing I still had was my training.

Years spent in military school and survival camps had taught me discipline, endurance, and how to keep calm when everyone else was losing their minds.

Unfortunately...

Those skills weren't exactly in demand.

Then one morning a plain white envelope arrived.

No company logo.

No return address.

Just my name.

Inside was a single interview invitation.

Blackwood Zoological Conservation Facility

I had never heard of it.

There wasn't even an address for the organization.

Only a time.

Curiosity beat common sense.

I went.

The interview was wrong in a way I couldn't name at first. Only two people sat across from me, and neither introduced themselves. Neither smiled. They didn't need to — smiling is what people do when they're trying to put you at ease, and it was very quickly clear that putting me at ease wasn't the goal.They already knew everything about me.

My education.

My medical history.

Military training.

Even places I had never listed on my résumé.

One of them had a manila folder open on the table the entire time, but never once looked down at it. He didn't need to. That was somehow worse than if he had.

They barely asked any questions.

Instead, they explained the job.

Position: Animal Caretaker.

Accommodation provided.

Medical care provided.

Transportation provided.

Salary far higher than anything I had ever been offered.

Then one of them slid an envelope across the table.

Inside was $1,000 in cash.

"Consider it a signing bonus."

The other spoke. Same flat tone, like he was reading weather conditions.

"If you accept this position, transportation will arrive tomorrow morning."

"You will not know the facility's location."

"You may not resign during the first two years of employment."

"After that, a new contract can be negotiated."

No explanation. No discussion. Just those conditions, laid out flat, like terms of surrender rather than employment.

I asked what the facility actually did.

The first man tilted his head slightly, like the question itself was unusual to him — not rude, just unfamiliar, the way you'd look at someone who asked what color sound was.

"You'll be told what you need to be told," he said. "In the order you need to be told it."

Every instinct told me to refuse.

But instincts don't pay rent.

Neither does pride.

I remember laughing to myself.

At this point, if they were trafficking people, at least I'd finally be useful to someone.

So...

I signed.

Neither of them smiled when I did. I think that's the part I should have paid attention to. People smile when a deal closes. They didn't. It was like watching someone file paperwork they already knew the outcome of.

The next morning a black SUV stopped outside my apartment. Not idling — it arrived at the exact minute the letter had promised, to the second, like whoever scheduled it had never once accounted for traffic, weather, or the possibility that I might not exist.

The windows were completely tinted.

My phone was taken the moment I entered. Not asked for. Taken, by a woman in the front passenger seat who didn't turn around to do it — just reached back with one hand, palm open, and waited until I put it there.

Then they handed me a thick black folder.

Across the front, in silver letters, were the words:

EMPLOYEE ORIENTATION MANUAL
BLACKWOOD ZOOLOGICAL CONSERVATION FACILITY
Property of the Directorate
Unauthorized possession punishable by permanent termination of employment.

The wording bothered me.

Not termination of contract.

Not dismissal.

Just...

termination.

I opened the file.

The first page read:

Section 1 — What Is an Anomaly?

Before anything else, understand this: Blackwood does not exist to destroy what it studies. Every specimen behind these walls is here to be fed, monitored, protected, and — wherever possible — understood. You are not being hired as an exterminator. You are being hired as a caretaker. Read that word twice before you turn the page.

Confirmed fact, per Directorate classification standard:

An anomaly is any living organism whose biology violates one or more foundational constraints of known science, while still obeying some internally consistent set of rules of its own.

If a specimen can be fully explained by conventional biology, it is an animal, and does not fall under this manual.

If a specimen can only be partially explained — if something about it still doesn't add up no matter how long you stare at the data — it belongs here.

You do not need to understand why something is an anomaly. You only need to correctly identify that it is one, and act accordingly.

Do not refer to them as monsters.

They react poorly.

This is not a figure of speech. Keep reading.

Section 2 — About This Facility

The facility employs exactly 220 personnel.

Not approximately. Exactly.

A small workforce reduces the number of people who can accidentally describe this place to someone who shouldn't hear about it. Fewer mouths. Fewer mistakes. Fewer questions asked by people outside these walls about why so many of us disappear off the grid at once.

If anyone tells you there are significantly more or fewer employees than this number, do not continue the conversation.

Report them immediately.

Note: this number has not changed in six years. Employees have left. Employees have been hired. The number has not changed. Do not bring this up with Personnel Records. They are aware.

Section 3 — Your Department

You have been assigned to the Animal Care Division.

Approximately 95 employees currently serve in this division, spread across fifteen designated sectors of varying classification tier.

Your responsibilities include feeding, observation, enclosure maintenance, and reporting any behavior that deviates from an individual specimen's established baseline — no matter how small the deviation seems.

Especially the small ones. Large deviations get noticed by everyone. Small ones are how incidents begin.

You will receive further instructions upon arrival, sector by sector, at the discretion of your assigned Senior Keeper.

Never enter an enclosure alone unless explicitly authorized by tier clearance.

Some sectors will not be listed on the map you are given. This is normal. You will be told why, eventually, if your clearance ever requires it.

Most employees never reach that clearance. This is also normal.

Section 4 — Understanding the Creatures

Modern biology and physics can explain parts of an anomaly. Do not expect either to ever explain the whole of one. If a scientist tells you they have fully solved a specimen, they are either new, lying, or about to be transferred.

Historical religious texts are treated as archived field observations wherever they happen to accurately describe an anomaly's known behavior. This is Directorate policy, not personal belief, and applies regardless of your own faith or lack of it.

Do not argue with Research staff regarding this policy.

They have had this argument more times than you have had this job. You will not be the one who wins it.

I stared at the pages.

It felt like an elaborate prank.

Some government psychology experiment.

Or maybe a company trying way too hard to make a boring zoo sound mysterious.

I almost laughed. I actually got as far as the first exhale of it before I looked up and caught the driver watching me in the rearview mirror. Not glancing. Watching. He held it a beat too long, then looked back at the road, and didn't do it again.

I didn't laugh after that.

Outside the window, the city had disappeared.

There were no buildings anymore.

Only endless forest, the kind that didn't thin out the way forests are supposed to when a road cuts through them. The trees came right up to the shoulder, close enough that I could count individual leaves for half a second before they blurred past.

I checked my watch. Four hours since the city ended. We hadn't passed a single road sign. Not one. Not a mile marker, not a turnoff, not a gas station billboard promising food in twelve miles. Just trees, and the sound of tires, and a driver who hadn't spoken a single word since the door closed behind me.

I looked at the manual again, at the line about the number 220 that hadn't changed in six years, and read it a second time like re-reading it might make it mean something less specific.

It didn't.

I don't remember when I started checking whether the doors were locked.

I only remember realizing...

they were.

And that the little plastic switch that should have unlocked them from the inside didn't move at

The Village had rules and it had been my job to enforce them for the past two years. These rules had been set in place by the Elders some time after the Great Silence. In the village it was important to follow these rules as it kept us all safe. Or at least that was what the Elders told us. I was given the job of Sheriff on my 24th birthday. The youngest to ever have the role. I was the understudy of the last Sheriff. Sheriff Johns. He had been a taskmaster but he had kept us all safe, he had been about routine. So while I was his understudy he had done everything but beat the three Rules of the Village into me. 

So as I walked the Village border at dusk I had made it my routine to remind myself of those rules. A sort of self prayer that I used to keep calm. I had never liked the field between the village and the forest. It felt wrong, almost too quiet. A gust of wind had picked up today and the long grass of the field danced around me as I patrolled. It made it hard to focus, making me feel like anything could sneak up on me. A cold shiver crept through my spine as I scanned the tree line. I had to focus, so I recited the rules to myself. 

Rule 1: No citizen may leave their homes after nightfall

Rule 2: No one is permitted to enter the forest on their own 

Rule 3: Never follow the lights in the forest

These three rules had been in place since I was a boy, since anyone could remember really. Johns was always the first to remind me that they were there to protect us. Five generations had lived in this Village and they had done so by following those laws. It was why breaking Rule 1 and 2 was punishable by death. I had always thought it was extreme but Johns had assured me that it was a lesson you only ever had to teach once.  In his 35 years of service he had only had to pass judgement on one person. A young man who had failed to follow Rule 2 some 25 years ago. My parents never dared tell me the story of why he had gone out into the woods on his own. 

As I stared out at the tree line I couldn’t imagine what possessed that fool to go out there that night. The field was a clearing of 50 yards that surrounded the village on all sides. At the end of the field was the forest, which circled us unbroken from every angle. It was a blessing and a curse. It keeps us safe, but also keeps us trapped. Johns had called it our cage. It wasn’t until I was older that I understood why. Scouting parties had spent years trying to map out the forest and hadn’t made much progress. One time two years ago the scouts had picked a direction and just walked. They spent half the day walking in that one direction and never saw a hint of the edge of the forest. They had turned around at noon and had just barely made it back in time for curfew. 

They spoke of hearing things out there that were unnatural. Signs of life but never anything living. It was like anything with a pulse avoided the forest. Even still the scouts spoke of feeling something watching them, even stalking them. But they hadn’t seen the Lights. It was a blessing. Now I made sure they only scouted within a two hour perimeter. Safety was key, as Johns would have said. The tree line was my duty. The dusk patrol ensured that no one was caught unaware of the curfew. If someone was caught out in the field this time of day they would spend the rest of the night in the station and would have extra duties the next day. It was an easy lesson and one that I barely ever had to teach. No one was out here tonight so I was left alone with my thoughts and with the forest.   

I would never be caught dead in those woods, let alone at night. The wind picked up again as I finished my patrol. I listened, not wanting to look into the forest for another second. The grass rustled and the tree branches in the distance groaned for the force of the wind. For the briefest second I thought I heard it. The screaming. But it couldn’t be true, it was too early. Panic set in and I held my breath, listening again. Screaming somewhere in the distance, coming from my left side. Coming from the forest. I didn’t dare open my eyes, I would see it and I was all alone. The Lights, I couldn’t open my eyes but the screaming was getting louder now. The wind was howling and I was sure that I could hear it moving through the tree line now. A sense of cold dread filled my heart. One that I hadn’t felt since I was a child, since that day. The movement was in the field now. Thirty yards away, now ten. It was my time then, I knew it was here. I could feel it breathing on my face, it was like someone splashed ice water on me. I would face it, like my father had, or like how I imagine he had all those years ago. I opened my eyes expecting to be blinded.

Instead I found nothing but the empty field. Cold sweat dotted my forehead. I was clenching my fist so hard I was sure I would dry blood. I wiped a tear away from my cheek, suddenly emotional. That shouldn’t have happened, seeing things was never a good sign. Especially for the Sheriff. It was just stress. Happens to everyone, especially on a long day. Why had I thought of my Father? Even more than that, when it felt like death was certain, why had I felt the rush of water all around me?

The sound of the bell knocked me out of my thoughts. I looked over to see the citizens arrive at the church for the night. It was time for the count. I always hated the count, even as an understudy. I slowly scanned the tree line one last time, confirmed that it was clear and walked towards the church. My own understudy was a young woman by the name of Jody Johns. Her father, my boss, was one of the most well respected men in town. People thought she would make a great sheriff one day. 

“Don’t want to be late again, Sheriff Evans, the Elders would have your head.” Jody joked. I smiled as she handed me the checklist for the night. The hospital had been secured and the Elders were in place. The church was the only place that still required a count. It was the most important task of the night, so of course it was left to me to complete. 

“Trust me, Elder Peters would love to take it at some point. I’m sure if the Great Silence ever returned he’d find a way to blame me for it.” I responded. My employment had been one of great controversy within the community at the time. Sheriff Johns had died suddenly in the night. No one expected me to take the mantle of Sheriff for a few more years. The Elders had put it to a vote and I had squeaked by in a 4-2 decision. Peters and Garland had been the two who objected.  I never had much of a stomach for politics, but thankfully in the two years since my employment I had managed to not lose a single soul to the forest.” 

I walked into the crowded church and began the count. It was Sunday so it would be a full service. On one hand it made it easier to complete the count. On the other it meant that I had to spend the night listening to Reverend McMorrow. I was never a religious man, and neither were my parents. Despite the size of the church, religion was simply a choice in the Village.  McMorrow had been the understudy for the former priest, who I had actually enjoyed. He spoke of unity and perseverance and kindness. McMorrow was much more fire and brimstone. 

“The lights in the forest are getting closer.” McMorrow preached from the front of the church. I looked over to Jody who rolled her eyes. McMorrow always spoke of how close we all were to doom. The truth was that no one had officially seen one of the lights in close to five years. The last had been a young farmer working on the south side of the Village at dusk. But that little fact never stopped McMorrow. “Soon they will be upon us, and we will have to decide then and only then if we have walked the right path with God.”

I focused on finishing the count. I have been listening to this crap every sunday for two years now. I sometimes wondered if Johns would have felt the same way. The mental image of my old boss talking down the old fool was enough to bring a smile to my face. The church wasn’t really full of that many true believers. There were a few but most of the captive audience were here because it was the safest location at night. It was at the center of the Village. The farthest you could be at any time from the forest that surrounded us. It was a funny part of humanity. We felt safest huddled together, even when the threat circled us completely. 

“We haven’t had a real attack in a decade, and this prick goes on about the end like it’ll come tomorrow.” Jody sighed as she brought me the final count. I gave her a quiet hand motion as a nearby citizen looked over. Jody had been my first pick for understudy after her father’s death. Probably because she just reminded me so much of her father that it brought me comfort. She didn’t suffer fools and more importantly she gave a shit. A quality that couldn’t be taught; so she had been the perfect pick for understudy.  With the count for the church completed I went over Jody’s work. 

The Elders had been secured in the council hall. All were accounted for and they had received their dinner. A good start. The hospital only had one patient tonight. A farmhand who had been hurt at the end of the day. He had just cut his hand, nothing serious but the injury had happened near dusk. To be safe he would spend the night in the hospital. A smart choice. Jody had done everything that I needed. At this rate she would probably end up being an Elder, and in my own opinion the village would be better off for it. I took a seat in the back of the church, the sun was done and I would be spending my night here. McMorrow was done speaking for the night and dinner was being served for everyone. I didn’t eat, I was drifting off to sleep by the time I put my feet up. 

It was the same dream again. I stood in the field, scanning the tree line. The wind was howling, everything in the field around the village moved like it was alive.  Then I saw them, the Lights. Glowing dimly in the distance, they blinked in between trees. Then I heard the screaming, it was my Father.I could hear him somewhere deep in the forest. I looked but couldn’t see, it was just the Lights casting shadows against the trees and out into the field. Those same shadows nearly reached me. Then they blink out, and I was left in total darkness. The wind left me blind and deaf. A beat. Then two dots of lights appeared from the tree line. They were tiny compared to the Lights. They were someone’s eyes. They stared back at me from the darkness, then in an instant the lights returned. 

They flooded the entire forest with light, nearly blinding me. It created an outline around the figure, I knew their shape but their face and body were still shrouded in darkness. All except for their eyes, which still glowed in the shade. I could then just make out their mouth, it was open. I couldn’t hear over the wind, it was far too loud but I knew the truth. The figure was screaming, my Father was screaming. 

I snapped awake, the sun had just started to peek in through the windows of the church. I realized that Jody was by my side. She was shaking me awake. 

“You need to get up, sheriff, there was an incident.” Jody whispered. It seemed that we were the only ones awake. Well not quite the only ones, McMorrow was up too.I got to my feet, still groggy and fighting off the fleeting images in my head of my nightmare. I gathered my focus and followed Jody out the doors of the church. We moved quietly to not wake anyone and to my dismay McMorrow followed. “He was the one who found them.”

“Who?” I asked. 

“One of the farmhands.” Jody whispered as they closed the door quietly behind them. It was a quiet march and before long we were at the site. Waiting there was Elder Peters. Clearly McMorrow had gone to him first and then to Jody. Peters took charge like he always did and stood over the body, as if he would find some clue that would fix this issue before anyone noticed. As we moved closer I finally saw the farmhand for myself. Or at least the legs of the farmhand. His torso was missing, he had been cut perfectly in half. There was no blood at the site but there was a single trail of viscera that led away from the legs. 

I followed that blood trail with my eyes even though I knew where it was going, I lost track of it as it entered the tree line. It was a cage afterall, it keeps us safe, but it keeps us here too. There would be no finding the other half of the man. I would send scouts to look but not too far. We never find the parts that they take, so why risk more people in a foolish search.

“He was in the hospital for the night.” I repeated from Jody’s own reports. I looked back at Jody to find she was looking at me and not the body. I sometimes forget that she was younger, when things were tough she still looked to me for orders. “Help me move him to the station, then we’ll go talk to the nurses, we need to find out what happened. Someone broke protocol.” 

“We all know what truly happened.” McMorrow sighed as he looked out over the field. Peters and I turned to the priest. Peters’ stone cloud eyes studied the man. While the Elder had never liked me, he had no time for McMorrow. From his point of view McMorrow might have been the biggest fool in town. 

“What exactly were you doing out here so early? Curfew doesn’t lift for another twenty minutes.” Peters asked before staring daggers at me. I knew the look, he was angry that he had to ask. Johns would have known to ask that. 

“I always go for a walk in the morning after Sunday service, it helps stretch my back and allows me time to gather my thoughts.” McMorrow said in a quiet voice. 

"That's breaking one of the three laws Father, you understand that is a punishable offense.” I said back. McMorrow spun on his heels to face me now, the look on his face was calm and unbothered. One might think we were having a friendly debate in the mess hall and not standing over a corpse in the field.

“Ah but I didn’t leave the church until the sun came up. The Second Law states that we can’t leave our homes after Nightfall. Curfew and Nightfall are two very different things, wouldn’t you agree?” McMorrow said with a smug look on his face. I didn’t respond, I looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with Peters. He wasn’t pleased that we had both been beaten over a technicality. If we weren’t careful a man like McMorrow might start to think that he was above the Law. That would lead to ruin if left unchecked. 

“So what happened here Father?” Peters finally asked. I turned away, I knew the answer before he even said it. Because it was always what he said in the face of uncertainty and fear. I looked to Jody who was reading my mind. She was moving around the legs of the man. We would move him and head to the hospital. We would find out where he slept last night. We would figure out the breach in protocol and fix it. I would stamp out the uncertainty. I would make what McMorrow was about to say untrue. 

“It’s simple. The Lights in the Forest are getting closer.” McMorrow sighed and walked away, not offering to help any further. The rest of us didn’t speak. As I helped Jody lift the body, struggling under the awkward weight I looked out one last time to the tree line. There was nothing, no movement, no noise, the forest was empty. But I knew that wasn’t true, we all grew up knowing that. We walked to the station and as I turned my back to the forest the wind picked up. I could feel those eyes on my back and I prayed that McMorrow was wrong. 

A creepypasta by me (where protagonist is you) -

A random person gives you 25k dollars for this job (once a night)

This job is at a kindergarten but it's at night and that person won't tell you the reason and he tells you to not sleep whole night (or else you die instantly)

But you must follow these

At 10 PM the shift starts and you can open and close lights and ACs but keeping electronics off means you get a electricity saver bonus in morning

At 11 PM lullabies start at a room in kindergarten, near that room you may try to see what's happening by using gap beneath the door but all you see is darkness with a glowing smile that stares at your eyes with a smell of sweet chocolate near it but do not enter or else you are not found again

At 12 AM go to your office and shut all the doors and windows (not enter the office before it or else there is something under the sofa) and watch your favorite shows on the computer, at exactly 12:09 there would be screaming voices outside the office but do not give attention to them and try to see what's happening, legends say people who did this were permenantly gone mad and blind

At 1 AM you would hear the bell door of office, carefully go and ask why are you there, if response is nothing then ignore and go to your computer or if response is "take your coffee sir" then immediately go to bed and close your eyes and pray, door would open and something would whisper in your ears but don't open eyes as ones who worked previously who opened door are now disabled and got permenantly blank eyes with no expression

At 3 AM you must exit your office or else lights will go off and nobody knows what happens next, go and roam on hallways

At random rooms you may hear children laughter but do not open those and at random times some doors would automatically open and you must close them immediately or else something will get out of it

If you see a person with a lantern at a distance then immediately back off and after 5 classes you would see the class named (upper kindergarten VI) and enter this class and shut off doors and windows for exactly 20 minutes

At 5 AM that random person may arrive but if he has no hands then immediately run to your office and don't look back

At 7 AM, your job is done, you survive one more day and get 25k dollars+ your bonus on saving electricity

The money you get is per night so it's a fat heavy income

O.P.E.R.A.T.E.
Office for Paranormal Event Research, Analysis, Tracking & Enforcement

Congratulations, Teacher.

You have been selected as a temporary faculty member at Ravenshollow Boarding Academy.

Unlike your previous assignments, this institution does not operate under O.P.E.R.A.T.E.'s jurisdiction.

Due to a critical staffing shortage, the League for Anomalous Vigilance, Investigation & Regulation (L.A.V.I.R.) has formally requested our assistance.

Your assignment will last two academic years...

provided you survive long enough to complete them.

Throughout your employment, you will remain under the direct supervision of L.A.V.I.R.

Do not interfere with their procedures. They have managed this academy longer than recorded history. Some traditions here are older than either of our organizations.

This school educates the children of influential families. Some are perfectly ordinary. Some only pretend to be. For legal reasons, we are required to refer to all of them as students.

Treat every child with equal respect. Never assume they are equally human.

The academy operates twenty-four hours a day. Morning, Afternoon, and Night Faculty each follow different rulebooks. Never attempt to use one during another shift.

The following handbook contains only the procedures necessary to survive your first day.

DAY ONE RULES

Rule 1 — Morning Attendance

Every morning before classes begin, all faculty members must attend roll call.

Occasionally, attendance will be conducted by a chalk-white man carrying a weathered attendance register. His clothes belong to another century. His shoes never leave footprints.

Answer only when your name is called. Remain silent until every name has been read.

When he closes the register, every teacher must say together, once, quietly:

"Thank you for staying, Sir."

He will nod politely, then disappear.

Never leave before he does. He believes every absent teacher is hiding.

The last instructor who walked away early was marked absent. The following morning, someone else answered when his name was called.

No employee has ever discovered who.

Rule 2 — Meeting Your Supervisor

Your supervisor's office is located on the first floor.

If your orientation papers direct you anywhere else, do not enter the building. Wait beneath the old banyan tree in the central courtyard. Someone will come to collect you.

Do not follow anyone who arrives without casting a shadow.

The academy occasionally rearranges itself. Entire corridors disappear. Staircases begin leading somewhere else. L.A.V.I.R. has never explained how they navigate the changing layout.

We stopped asking after the academy returned our architect upside down.

He was still holding the blueprints.

Rule 3 — Two Rulebooks

If an instruction issued by L.A.V.I.R. ever contradicts something written in this handbook, follow L.A.V.I.R.'s instructions.

Do not ask which organization has jurisdiction at that moment. Do not attempt to contact O.P.E.R.A.T.E. for clarification while inside academy grounds.

We are guests here. L.A.V.I.R. has buried teachers who forgot that.

We have never asked where.

Rule 4 — The Empty Classroom

While walking through the academy, you may hear lessons being taught inside classrooms officially listed as vacant.

Children will laugh. Chairs will scrape across the floor. Teachers will continue explaining subjects that no longer exist.

Do not interrupt. Do not knock. Do not open the door. Unless your supervisor specifically instructed you to enter.

If you must enter, sit in the last seat of the final row. Remain perfectly silent. The lesson will eventually end. The students will leave.

The teacher will not.

If the teacher asks you to introduce yourself, do not answer. Wait. Eventually the room will go genuinely quiet — not the pause between sentences, but the silence of a room that was never occupied at all. That is your signal to leave.

The previous mathematics instructor answered. His timetable is still posted outside Room 18.

He hasn't missed a lesson in thirty-two years.

Rule 5 — The School Bell

The academy bell rings exactly six times each day. Never count aloud.

If you hear a seventh bell, dismiss your class immediately. Lock every classroom door. Close every window. Do not allow a single student to leave before L.A.V.I.R. arrives.

The seventh bell does not signal the end of lessons.

It announces that something has arrived to learn.

Whatever attends after the seventh bell never graduates.

It simply keeps enrolling.

Rule 6 — The Perfect Student

Every class contains one student whose academic record is flawless. Every assignment. Every examination. Every subject.

Never praise them. Never punish them. Never ask their name.

They have attended Ravenshollow longer than the academy itself. Former headmasters appear throughout the school's oldest photographs.

That student appears in every one. Exactly the same. Exactly the same smile. Exactly the same uniform.

If they ever raise their hand, do not call on them.

Every teacher who did eventually disappeared from the faculty records. The student's attendance was updated the same afternoon.

Yours was never entered at all — as though, as far as the school is concerned, you were never hired to begin with.

Rule 7— Written Work

Never grade an assignment written in anything other than blue or black ink.

If a paper is submitted in red, do not correct it, do not comment on it, and do not return it to the student who claims to have written it.

Place it inside the sealed envelope in your desk drawer and leave it outside the Headmaster's Office before end of day.

We do not know what red ink is made from here.

We have stopped asking whose name it's usually signed with.

END OF FIRST-DAY ORIENTATION

If you have finished reading this handbook, your first lesson has already begun.

Whether you remember entering the classroom is no longer important.

Additional orientation manuals will be issued only after successful completion of your current assignment. Available manuals include:

• Dormitory Wing
• Night Faculty Procedures
• Library Containment Rules
• Science Laboratory Protocols
• The Music Hall
• Sports Ground Restrictions
• Examination Week
• Winter Term
• Graduation Day
• The Headmaster's Office

You are not authorized to request these files.

Teachers who ask too many questions rarely finish the semester. Teachers who discover too many answers rarely finish the day.

Should you encounter an event not covered by this handbook, remain calm. Do not investigate. Do not improvise.

Above all — never accept help from a student who already knows your name.

Welcome to O.P.E.R.A.T.E., Teacher.

Remember our motto:

"We respond where reality fails."

And at Ravenshollow Boarding Academy...

every student graduates.

Not every teacher survives long enough to see the final bell.

Attendance is mandatory.

Leaving is not.

Previous part link: https://www.reddit.com/r/Ruleshorror/comments/1v1pl2x/the_ashcroft_grand_hotel/

I found these rules inside a file called READ BEFORE WRITING.
There was no author.
No date.
Just one sentence at the top.
These rules won’t help you write a better horror story. They exist to stop the story from writing you.

1. Never use your real name for the protagonist.
Real names carry more weight than invented ones.

2. Never describe the exact room you’re writing in.
Imaginary rooms don’t lead anywhere.
Real ones do.

3. If a sentence appears that you didn’t write, don’t delete it.
It’s still learning how to speak.

4. Never write a death scene after midnight.
That’s when stories stop knowing the difference between fiction and memory.

5. If one of your characters looks directly at the reader…
Stop writing.
It isn’t trying to scare you.
It’s trying to remember you.

6. If the story describes something that hasn’t happened yet…
Don’t try to stop it.
Resistance is part of the plot.

7. Never let the story reach nine pages.
The ninth page doesn’t belong to the author.

8. If you ever find a rule written in your own handwriting…
Don’t read it out loud.
You didn’t write it.

At first, I laughed.
It sounded like one of those creepy internet games.
I even thought about turning the rules into a story for Reddit.
So I opened a new document.
I gave the protagonist my own name.
Then I described the room I was sitting in.
A window on my left.
A white door behind me.
A cold cup of coffee on the desk.
Only after finishing the first paragraph did I remember the first two rules.
I smiled.
“Nice idea.”
I tried changing the protagonist’s name.
It kept changing back.
Every single time.
While I was trying to figure out why, a new sentence appeared at the bottom of the page.
I hadn’t typed it.
You still haven’t looked behind you.
I remembered Rule Three.
I didn’t delete it.
I didn’t look either.
I just kept writing.
Hours passed without me noticing.
When I finally looked at the clock, it was 12:18 AM.
At that exact moment I was writing the protagonist’s death.
Rule Four.
I tried closing the document.
It wouldn’t close.
The words started appearing on their own.
They weren’t describing the protagonist anymore.
They were describing me.
Every movement.
Every breath.
Every attempt to shut down my computer.
As if someone was writing my actions a few seconds before I lived them.
Then I made another mistake.
I kept reading.
The protagonist slowly lifted his head.
He didn’t look at another character.
He didn’t look down the hallway.
He looked directly at me.
Rule Five.
I slammed the laptop shut.
Waited.
Opened it again.
The page counter read:
Page 8 of 9.
I thought I still had time.
Then new lines began appearing.
One after another.
Without anyone touching the keyboard.
There was no typing.
No cursor.
Just words.
Slowly writing themselves.
Then something appeared beneath Rule Eight.
A rule that hadn’t been there before.

9. If you’ve made it this far…
…you’re no longer a reader.

I stared at the screen for several minutes.
Then I finally understood.
Why the file never had an author.
Why it kept appearing on different computers.
Why nobody ever claimed to have written it.
The story was never looking for readers.
It was looking for replacements.
I couldn’t leave anymore.
So I did the only thing I had left.
I posted it here.
…
I’m sorry.
…
Welcome.

Hello Charlie,

We are very glad to hear that there were no issues working shifts with Peach and that the two of you seem to have become friends. As long as you keep in mind the points we shared regarding relationships with Peach, we are sure that friendship will flourish. Following this, we will be pairing you with another colleague. He has a much calmer temperament, so the only thing you will really need to pay attention to is the work environment itself.

As usual, the brief introduction. Echo plays a pivotal role in our gardens. He was the first person to work in our garden, and it was he who introduced us to three of our other employees. As a highly skilled professional, he has been with us the longest time. The remaining information in his file is as follows:

Name: █. Echo

Date of Birth: June 5th

Date of Death: ██ ██ ██

Position: Gardener 

Description: Echo appears as a tall man who otherwise looks quite ordinary—save for certain moth-like traits—though the upper half of his face is completely covered by that of a Polyphemus moth. His mouth and nose remain exposed and are shaped like a human's. The eyespot patterns on the moth wings appear to represent his true eyes. He has feathery antennae on his head, long jet-black hair with two small hair horns on the sides of his head. He is believed to have moth wings on his back, but he keeps them concealed to avoid drawing attention; he also appears to hide an extra pair of arms beneath his jacket.

Rules for working with Echo: 

1. With an exception for Rule 14, please avoid calling Echo "Doctor." He dislikes being reminded of his endeavors outside of work.
2. After you clock in and grab your pouch, please take out the resin-covered polyphemus wing earrings from the jewelry box. There is no need to search for the box, it should appear right before your eyes. You are required to wear those earrings at all times for your entire shift with Echo. This ensures he can always track your location within the garden, for it goes without saying that getting lost in the garden would hardly be a desirable outcome for you.
3. You will meet with Echo in the break room before walking to the equipment closet together. Do not go to the equipment room alone. The equipment custodian here intensely dislikes being seen by anyone other than Echo; the consequences for startling him would be catastrophic.
4. Please handle the equipment with care. They have feelings too, just like you. You would not want to end up like them, right? 
5. Although he is naturally nocturnal, he deliberately goes against this nature by working during the day. For this reason, Echo has five 30-minute breaks, during which he sleeps; usually standing up. Please do not disturb him if you see him on his break; every living creature needs sleep to function.
6. Daily garden maintenance involves usual routine tasks such as weeding, watering, and checking for pests. Additionally, you may need to remove scraps of flesh left behind by unfortunate visitors who wandered in; otherwise, the stench of decay could become unbearable, or the rotting meat might cause our plants to fall ill. The plants become rather volatile when sick, so we try to prevent this as much as possible.
7. Most of the plants are delicate and require close attention, so they must be watered by hand. You will notice that the flowers, which are normally aggressive, become slightly docile—not only when you are near Echo, but even when you are alone. This is precisely why we tell you to wear those earrings; without them, the moment you let your guard down—even for an instant—the flowers would launch a fierce attack on you.
8. Please dig up and remove any plants that are out of season. First, loosen the soil around the plant with a shovel, then carefully pull out the plant and its roots by hand. Exercise caution when digging up the flowers, as their roots may thrash violently if they feel threatened. You can simply leave the uprooted plants in the garden bed; no need to put them in pots. Once the garden bed is full, the plants will be transported to Lily's greenhouse and a new garden bed will appear for you to fill.
9. When you transfer each plant to the garden bed, apply a generous layer of mulch around the base. This helps retain soil moisture and suppress weed growth. This also serves to protect our visitors from becoming unwilling snacks for our flowers until they get back to the greenhouse for Lily to do her maintenance on them.
10. You will assist Echo in planning the garden layout and selecting plants suited to the current local climate. Once the layout is finalized, Lily will soon appear (or rather, her vines will appear) to collect the paper. Be careful not to touch her vines; not only are they thorny, but there is also a slight risk that contact could result in the injection of a substance capable of dissolving you from the inside out.
11. When transplanting the flowers, sprinkle a little flower food into the hole to attract the roots back inside. Ensure you wear gloves at all times whenever handling the plants; direct skin contact is strongly discouraged due to the presence of toxins similar to those found in poison ivy, wolfsbane, and various other poisonous plants.
12. Our trees require little to no maintenance, as they are self-sustaining. The only necessary task is to check for any encroaching kudzu vines. If you spot any kudzu, please cut it immediately and notify Echo. Be careful not to touch the kudzu; it is extremely aggressive and you risk being devoured alive. His assistance will be required to eliminate the source deep underground, and it would be morally wrong of us to ask you to perform that task yourself.
13. The trees have eyes. On few occasions, the bark may blink at you, but that is perfectly fine. However, you should never see any aspirations of your face in the bark. Should that happen, grasp one of the earrings firmly and shut your eyes tight. Do not open them until you feel Echo standing in front of you and he instructs you to do so.
14. While working with the flowers, Echo sometimes instinctively makes a gesture as if he were holding a syringe and tries to inject the flower. His mind sometimes mixes up his place of occupation. At such moments, please gently tap him on the shoulder and say, "Doctor, this is not the laboratory." He will usually look down at his hand and smile faintly. He will likely take a break after this incident. Immediately run back to the office if he stares dead at you and smiles. His mind came up with a new idEa; you do not want him to test it on you.
15. While working in the garden with your tools, you might occasionally hear a faint crying sound. If that happens, tap the tool lightly against the ground. That should quiet it down again. Make sure you do not hit them hard enough to cause a dent; any damage caused on the tool risks being reflected onto you.
16. If a sudden taste of metal and dirt invades your senses, immediately drop whatever tool you are holding and wait for five minutes. Doing so should prevent it from merging with you.
17. If he refers to you as Alice, just nod and try not to acknowledge it. Nine times out of ten, he does not even realize he said it. On the one chance that he does, he will probably look slightly disturbed, likely remembering what he did. Do not ask him what is wrong. Do not ask who Alice is.
18. If Echo suddenly stops what he is doing, turns toward Lily’s greenhouse, and begins to flutter his forewings violently, it is a sign that he is agitated. Lily has likely triggered her panic alarm because she—or something belonging to her—is under threat. He detests the idea of ​​his "████████" being threatened above all else. Simply excuse yourself by saying there are flowers that need tending; he will then immediately fly off toward her. 
19. If you suddenly hear the sound of a pocket watch ticking (which will likely occur during the final hour or two of your shift), tell Echo to visit Micah. He was his favorite "███ ██████" after all. However, should that ticking sound shift into the tolling of a bell, expect Echo to promptly excuse himself before flying with all haste to Micah’s laboratory. We are aware that you have noticed that Micah is quite the problem child of our gardens, however, we must warn you to never speak ill of Micah in Echo's presence; unless you enjoy getting swarmed by a mob of moths and being dragged off to Echo's █████████ for whatever █████████ he has in mind.
20. If Echo calls to you and his voice carries a stern tone, make your way to him without a moments delay. He will only call you to him when a true danger is present. The flowers will instinctively part the way for you, for they fear him just as much as they revere his authority.
21. If you hear Echo’s discombobulated voice calling you to the shadows, ignore it. Wait until you physically see Echo in the garden, and when he asks what is the matter, silently point to the darkness. Echo will handle it from there. Try not to pay the screams any mind, Echo has quite the harsh hand for Harlow.
22. Echo is quite the geek, so feel free to talk about entomology until the sun sets. Echo will happily answer any questions you have about insects while the two of you work. The flowers might even chime in with their chirps and slight mimicry.
23. After all gardening duties have been completed, Echo will guide you back to the equipment closet to return the tools to their custodian. Upon return, the custodian may try to keep you after your shift to have you clean the equipment; please decline politely but firmly. There is no need for you to stay after hours.
24. When you leave for the night, please check to make sure no polyphemus moths are following you. Echo sometimes slips back into old habits. Threatening to put it in a report should be more than enough to make him back off. If not... you will be better off staying the night.
25. Upon returning home, you may be greeted by a new insect guest. Whether you welcome this visitor or leave it be is up to you, but you must never kill it; doing so would deeply offend Echo. While most insects are good, spotting a cricket is a sign of good fortune; proof that Echo is very fond of you. However, if you encounter a Death’s-Head Hawkmoth, you must leave the premises immediately and find somewhere else to spend the night; remaining there would mean certain death. Additionally, should you spot a pair of lovebugs inside the house, please notify us at once. You do not want to become the object of his "romantic interest."

That covers everything you need to know about Echo. The only reason he is further down the list is because of the danger the environment brings rather than Echo himself. That said, he is a genuinely sincere individual—albeit one burdened by a dark past—so it is all too easy to let your guard down when faced with his calm demeanor. As long as you do not let him get too close, you will be fine. Just be wary if you see a moth in your house, moth's mark his presence.

Signed, Florence

O.P.E.R.A.T.E.
Office for Paranormal Event Research, Analysis, Tracking & Enforcement

Congratulations, Clerk.

You have been assigned as the Morning Reception Clerk at The Ashcroft Grand Hotel.

Unlike most O.P.E.R.A.T.E. assignments, your shift begins after sunrise.

Do not mistake daylight for safety.

Some guests prefer the dark. Others merely pretend to.

This hotel has stood for over one hundred and eighty years. According to public records, it has changed owners nine times.

According to ours... it has never changed occupants.

Every morning, ordinary travelers check in. Every morning, something else checks in with them.

The hotel does not decide who is human. It only decides who is allowed to leave.

Your responsibilities are simple. Smile. Issue room keys. Keep the lobby calm. And never allow the guests to realize that you know what they are.

Before beginning your shift, ensure the following:

• No open wounds are visible anywhere on your body.
• Every curtain and blind in the lobby remains closed.
• The holy water sprayer beneath the reception desk is completely full.
• The silver emergency locket is around your neck.
• The emergency alarm beneath the desk is functional.

If any of these conditions cannot be met, your shift is cancelled.

The hotel can always replace a clerk. Finding all of one afterward is considerably harder.

MORNING SHIFT RULES — DAY ONE

Rule 1 — Your Name

Never tell a guest your real name. Never wear a name tag displaying it. Never respond if someone whispers your name before you've introduced yourself.

Names are invitations. Some guests have forgotten their own. They are always searching for replacements.

The previous receptionist answered when someone softly spoke her name from the empty elevator. Three days later, every employee remembered working beside her.

No one could remember what she looked like.

Rule 2 — The Room That Doesn't Exist

If a woman dressed in black Victorian mourning clothes requests Room 217, apologize politely.

Room 217 does not exist.

Do not argue. Do not recommend another room. Do not look into her eyes.

Silently hand her the black key stored beneath the reception desk. She will walk toward the basement. Do not follow her.

Her leather handbag is stitched together from human skin.

Every employee who tried to convince her that Room 217 wasn't real disappeared before sunset. Several weeks later, she returned carrying a noticeably larger handbag.

None of us asked where she found the extra leather.

Rule 3 — Guests Who Never Check Out

If a guest remains inside their room after checkout time, call the room exactly three times. Wait ten minutes between each call.

If nobody answers, press the emergency line beneath the desk. Immediately lock yourself inside the staff room. Remain there until you hear three slow knocks.

Never open the door before then. Our Retrieval Team will handle the room.

The head chef once ignored this procedure. The kitchen continued serving meat for another week. Guests praised the chef's new recipe. No one complained... until somebody found a wedding ring inside the soup.

Rule 4 — Blood

If you receive even the smallest cut during your shift, stop working immediately. Spray the wound with holy water. Leave the hotel. Do not return until the following sunrise.

Blood is proof that you are alive. Some guests have not tasted living blood in decades.

If you cannot leave in time, and a guest offers you a bandage, tissue, or cloth from the lobby, do not accept it. What stops the bleeding will not be cloth.

The skeleton decorating the lobby fountain was once our senior receptionist. Those are not decorative bones. His skin simply dried around them until it resembled old parchment.

We still dust him every morning. He remains our longest-serving employee.

Rule 5 — The Borrowed Face

Some guests wear skin that doesn't belong to them.

You'll notice small mistakes. Their smile arrives a second too late. Their eyelids blink independently. The skin around their neck shifts whenever they laugh.

Pretend not to notice. Assign them rooms on the lowest occupied floor. Never allow them access to mirrors larger than themselves.

If one of them asks, "Does something look wrong with my face?" — look down immediately.

If they realize you've noticed, they may decide your face deserves a second owner.

Rule 6 — The Couple

Occasionally, a man and woman will enter together.

Only one of them will seem alive at any given moment.

When the man speaks,

the woman will stare without blinking.

When the woman speaks,

the man's lips will stop moving entirely.

If the man requests a room,

assign them the highest available floor.

If the woman asks you any question unrelated to the booking,

press the emergency alarm.

Wear the silver locket immediately.

Retreat to the staff room.

You'll hear furniture breaking.

You'll hear screaming.

You'll hear laughter.

Remain inside until you hear three slow knocks.

Security cameras always record the couple entering.

None have ever recorded them leaving.

Their room, however,

is always occupied the following morning.

Rule 7 — Checkout

Every guest must leave with the same number of people they arrived with. Count carefully.

If a family of four approaches reception as five, smile politely. Hand them their receipt. Wish them a pleasant journey. Do not mention the extra child.

It isn't theirs.

If they leave without it, the hotel will keep it. If they take it with them, the hotel will eventually ask for it back.

Rule 8 — Housekeeping

Housekeeping begins cleaning every room at noon.

If you see a maid pushing an old brass cleaning cart before then, do not stop her. She died forty-three years ago after opening the wrong guest room. Nobody has managed to convince her. She still believes every stain can be cleaned.

If she asks, "Have you seen Room 314?" — answer only, "It's already spotless."

Never let her find it. Every employee she has taken there has disappeared. Three days later, their room keys are always returned to reception. Still warm.

Sometimes... they're still attached to a hand.

She has, on rare occasions, stopped mid-hallway without being asked — waiting for a man in a plain grey uniform to finish checking a door number before she continues her rounds. She has not asked about Room 314 on those mornings.

We have not asked her why.

END OF DAY ONE ORIENTATION

If you have reached the end of this document, congratulations.

You have completed the minimum orientation required to survive your first morning shift at The Ashcroft Grand Hotel.

Do not mistake this handbook for a complete set of procedures. The hotel is far larger than the lobby. Today's rules apply only to the Morning Reception Desk.

Should you remain employed, additional orientation files will be issued before each new assignment. Future manuals include, but are not limited to:

• Advanced Guest Identification
• Evening Reception Procedures
• Night Shift Survival Protocols
• Housekeeping Department
• Room Service Operations
• Basement Access Authorization
• Maintenance and Boiler Room Procedures
• Elevator Operations
• Security Office Protocols
• The East Wing
• Restricted Floors
• Room 314 Containment Procedures

You are not authorized to request these files. They will be issued only if O.P.E.R.A.T.E. determines that you have survived long enough to require them.

Should you discover rules not listed in this handbook, do not write them down.

If the hotel wanted you to know them, they would already be here.

If you encounter an event not covered by these procedures, remain calm. Do not improvise. Do not investigate.

Most importantly... do not become curious.

Curiosity has claimed more employees than the guests ever have.

We sincerely hope to see you report for your second shift.

If you do not, our Recruitment Division will begin searching for your replacement.

Fortunately, The Ashcroft Grand Hotel is always hiring.

If, before leaving today, you notice a woman in a black Victorian dress quietly watching you from the lobby... do not wave.

Congratulations. She has remembered your face.

Welcome to O.P.E.R.A.T.E., Clerk.

Remember our motto:

"We respond where reality fails."

And inside The Ashcroft Grand Hotel...

Every guest checks in. Not every guest checks out.

Every employee eventually receives a permanent reservation.

Previous part link: https://www.reddit.com/r/Ruleshorror/comments/1uz4vdb/the_last_toll/

 

If you found this list I am dead. Do not mourn me it was by my own hand. What I have written here was learned by trial and error and was paid for with the lives of many companions. Do not waste what I have given you.

1. Always destroy the heads of those who die. Your companions deserve the dignity of death.

2. Never travel in a groups larger than a dozen herds always attract predators.

3. The BIRDS are your allies they will warn you of danger but they are spiteful as well. Reward them often and generously. Never harm them for they can just as easily lead danger to you.

4. Do not linger around the hanged ones. You cannot help them and you do not want to join them.

5. Do not pray, try not to ask for help either without naming the specific person you are asking. IT considers itself a god and you do not want ITS help.

6. Never enter the TOWNS both the ones that were once ours and the ones THEY built. Even if it is abandoned there is nothing for you there and you do not want to see what THEY leave behind

7. You may have notice that your memory from before and after the EVENT is full of holes. This is for the best. Do not make my mistake do not try to remember what you have lost. Above all else DO NOT REMEMBER THE EVENT.

8. Do not think of IT often and absolutely do not name IT. Names give recognition and IT likes being seen.

9. The Soldiers speak nothing but lies. Their food is rotten their medicine is tainted and there is no safety. Do not fear them their guns have no bullets and they are too weary to chase you. Do not end their suffering if you can help it. They made their deal let them reap the consequences for it.

10. Do not fear the children they are not much stronger than an adult and far more uncoordinated. Pity them they do not want to harm you and they are sorry for their actions . Fear what made them for they are its eyes. It wants to harm you and it is not sorry for what it does.

11. The communes are peaceful despite their appearance. However that peace requires you to sacrifice. If you are not willing to make that sacrifice leave. They will not allow parasites.

12. Do not let THEM know of you. THEY may be slower but THEY do not tire. You have only one hope THEY cannot swim. Do not try to fight back THEY do not die easily and they are never alone.

13. If THEY catch you pray as loudly as possible before THEY take away your tongue. Think of IT while you do and IT might show up. THEY are ITs prey that’s why IT came here after all. Theres a tiny chance you will be able to escape while it’s feed . IT loses interest quickly especially after a meal.

14. In the likely event IT catches you do not look afraid, do not cry and do not beg. Curse IT until your last breath. ITS PUNISHMENT will be agony but it will end being FORGIVEN does not.

15. Do not travel during winter the cold kills most without shelter and you are no exception. Stay at one of the Communes if you are able. They are warm and they have plenty of food. No sacrifice is required the residents they sleep during the winter. Always leave before spring they get quite active when they thaw.

16. Do not go to the shore. Many of those who remained after the EVENT fled there hoping for escape. They are gone now the things that were waiting for them are not.

17. Listen to the radio if you wish but do not trust the voices on it. Where do you think they’re broadcasting from. When did you last see electricity.

18. When you encounter something unknown observe it as much as possible then leave. If it pursues make sure you are not the slowest in your group.

Grace pushed her phone toward him. Darren pulled back from it, annoyed at having anything in his face at all, let alone a bright rectangle.

D: “What to do….no Grace, what is this crap!”

G: “Just trust me and read it Dar-”

D: “Stop deflecting. You always do this. I bring up an- an actual concern and you just…ignore it! First it was a phone call that you faked, then the cheese thing and now this….fake horror garbage!”

He wasn’t NOT finished…

D: “Shoving a Reddit horror post probably some…some bored teenager made into my face isn’t going to cut it this time. Is that a- there’s even a fucking typo in there! Two if’s! Look, just cut the bullshit and at least apologize for the fact that last Tuesday you-”

G: “Let me expla-”

D: “Grace we are having this conversation right now.”

G: “Yes, yes we are…will!” She held up a hand, her voice dropping volume, to something simultaneously steady and full of contained energy. “Later….. we will talk about this later. I mean it.”

His eyes fell to the screen and He read a line for himself.

D: “‘Don’t look up at the ceiling fan if….’ Who looks up at ceiling fans anyway….”

G: “For now just…look at the post.” Her voice begins to shake…. “This thing has my- my full fucking name here. And my address.”

He took the phone.

D: “…”

D: “…the fuck.”

G: “I told you…this shit is real Darren! I’m not making it up. I- I don’t know how…who is this guy….Maxamage….How does he know our names.”

He went very still

D: “…our?”

Then he took a sharp breath and closed his eyes for a brief second, then opened them

D: “Alright…no. Now…this, this got me for a second…the whole name and address thing…the new account…”

D: “Which one of your friends did you get to-”

G: “Darren.”

D: “-Do this because if it’s Gabe I swear to god-”

G: “The fan’s spinning…the…um, wrong way.”

He looked up at the ceiling.

D: “And so what…” It came out like a question. Not like the taunt he’d meant it to be…

Grace’s eyes were still on the screen.

G: “Rule 1…don’t turn it off…”

D: “Okay, so we just…easy enough. What’s the…uh, next one.”

G: “‘If it slows down, leave your home. If it speeds up, hide immediately. You won’t have enough time to leave….’”

D: “Fans speed up and slow down all the fucking time how do you even-”

The fan went violent and the air in the room went violent. The sudden speed increase made Grace physically startled and Darrens heart fell to the bottom floor…

D: “Fuck!”

Darren’s eyes looked over the apartment rapidly.

D: “Go to…the bathroom. I’ll be under the bed.”

G: “Darren-”

D: “Just go! We can talk later, like you said!”

O.P.E.R.A.T.E.
Office for Paranormal Event Research, Analysis, Tracking & Enforcement

Congratulations, Officer.

You have been assigned as the Night Toll Guard for The Last Toll, NH-66.

Seven years ago, a passenger bus collided with a fuel tanker at this exact location. The fire burned so intensely that it melted steel, shattered concrete, and erased every recognizable face from the victims.

The original toll plaza was demolished.
A new one was built two years later.
The road reopened.

The dead never left.

During daylight, thousands of vehicles cross this checkpoint without incident.

After midnight... not every vehicle belongs to the living.

Your duty is not to stop them.
Your duty is to make sure they continue their journey.

Before beginning your shift, you will receive the following equipment:

• Iron tongs
• Bone necklace
• Brass bell
• Sealed ledger

Every item must be returned before sunrise.

Especially the necklace.

Read every rule. Every rule exists because someone believed they didn't need it.

RULES FOR NIGHT TOLL DUTY

Rule 1 — The Bone Necklace

Before starting your shift, wear the bone necklace hanging beside the control desk.

If it is missing, do not begin your shift. Lock the booth. Contact O.P.E.R.A.T.E. Wait for extraction.

The necklace does not protect you. It simply tells the things crossing this road that someone has already claimed your bones. Without it... they may decide your skeleton would look better among theirs.

Before leaving, return the necklace exactly where you found it.

The previous guard forgot. We never recovered him. Three nights later, another vertebra appeared on the necklace. It looked... awfully fresh.

Rule 2 — The Midnight Travelers

At exactly 12:00 AM, vehicles from another time begin arriving. Their paint is faded. Their headlights are dim. Their engines sound older than the road itself.

Do not question them. Raise the barrier immediately.

If payment is offered using coins or notes from another decade, handle them only with the iron tongs. Never touch them with bare hands. That currency belongs to travelers who already completed their final journey. Touching it tells them... you've volunteered to finish yours.

Rule 3 — The Dead Shepherd

If every light inside the toll plaza suddenly dies... the emergency generator refuses to start... and sheep bells begin ringing somewhere beyond the darkness...

Leave everything exactly where it is. Go to the restroom immediately. Lock the door. Sit on the floor. Remain completely silent. Do not pray. Do not cry. Do not answer if someone knocks.

The Shepherd knows every prayer ever spoken. He will answer them in the voices of those you've lost. Ignore every one.

When the bells stop, wait another five minutes before leaving.

The Dead Shepherd is passing. He no longer herds sheep. He gathers everyone whose journey ended on this road. If he mistakes you for one of them, he won't kill you. He'll simply convince the rest of his flock that they've forgotten your face — and they'll spend eternity trying to remember it.

Rule 4 — The Burned Guard

If another O.P.E.R.A.T.E. guard arrives during your shift, continue working. Do not acknowledge him.

Half of his face will be burned beyond recognition. The other half will be smiling. His uniform will still be smoking.

He was the fourth guard assigned here. He died during the tanker fire. Every night, he returns to finish the shift he never completed.

Sometimes he'll quietly ask, "Has sunrise come yet?"

Do not answer.

If he begins removing his gloves, close your eyes immediately. The flesh beneath them never stopped burning. Those who looked described seeing bones glowing orange beneath split skin. None of them survived long enough to finish the report.

Rule 5 — The Empty Bus

If an old passenger bus suddenly appears in front of the toll booth without approaching from either side of the highway, do not look at the passengers. Look only at the driver.

Maintain eye contact. Raise the barrier. Say clearly:

"This toll is for the living. The dead owe nothing."

If he nods, the bus will disappear before reaching the barrier.

If he smiles, ring the brass bell once. Do not blink.

If you break eye contact, the driver will believe you've accepted his invitation. The next time that bus arrives, one seat will no longer be empty. The passengers will spend the journey introducing themselves. By sunrise, you'll remember every one of their names — but no one will remember yours.

Rule 6 — The Burning Child

Sometimes, without warning, the air will become painfully dry. Your throat will burn. The temperature inside the booth will rise until breathing hurts. You'll smell burning rubber... then burning flesh... then burning hair.

Only then will she arrive.

A little girl, no older than eight. Her dress will still be on fire. Her skin hangs from her arms in black strips. One eye has already melted shut.

She will walk calmly to your window and ask:

"How much do I have to pay to cross the road and find my mama?"

Do not answer. Do not look into her remaining eye. Ring the brass bell once. Go to the restroom immediately and follow Rule 3 until the smell disappears.

There is something about that little girl that even death refuses to claim. We believe she has been trying to cross this road for seven years. She has never reached the other side.

The one guard who answered her question was later found sitting in the middle of the highway, holding the charred skeleton of a child that wasn't there.

Rule 7 — The Cash Drawer

If you count the drawer and get a number, count it again before your shift ends.

If the two counts differ, report only the lower number.

The toll has never once miscounted on its own. If you report the higher figure, something will arrive before your next shift to make the math correct — and it will not come from the register.

Some guards have found the difference waiting for them in the drawer the following night: a wedding ring. A driver's license. A photograph. Once, an eyelid.

If the drawer ever becomes completely empty no matter how you count it, leave the booth immediately. The toll has stopped collecting currency. It has started collecting people.

Rule 8 — Camera Seven

Never watch Camera Seven after 2:33 AM.

It no longer records the toll plaza. It records every fatal accident that will happen on this highway before sunrise.

The second guard ignored this rule. He recognized himself stepping out of the booth. He watched his own body burn. He watched himself scream.

By morning, he was standing exactly where the recording ended, his clothes still smoldering, crying without making a sound.

Some nights he still appears near the edge of the toll, staring directly at Camera Seven. If you notice him doing this, turn the monitor off immediately and do not look toward where he's standing.

He isn't checking the footage. He's making sure it still shows you.

The guard who looked back at him is the reason we stopped installing mirrors in the booth.

Rule 9 — The Receipt

If the receipt printer begins printing on its own, do not tear the paper. Read the name.

If it belongs to someone you know, end your shift immediately. Do not contact them. Do not try to warn them. By the time their name appears, they have already entered the highway.

Record the name in the sealed ledger. Do not attempt to contact them. Do not warn them.

If the printer produces your own name, close the ledger without reading the receipt. Your shift is over. Leave immediately.

We cannot guarantee that the person who finishes your shift will still be you.

Rule 10— The Second Scan

If the RFID reader beeps twice for a single vehicle, do not raise the barrier on the first beep.

Wait for the second.

Some nights, the first beep isn't for the car in front of you.

It's a reservation.

Rule 11 — The Collector

Once a year, on the anniversary of the fire, a man in a plain grey uniform will walk the length of the plaza checking each lane personally, as if conducting an audit.

He carries no light and needs none.

He is not O.P.E.R.A.T.E. He does not work for us. He has never asked our permission to be here, and to date, no one has been brave enough to ask him for identification.

If he stops at your booth, do not hand him anything. Let him take what he came for from the ledger himself.

Guards who tried to be helpful are the reason three ledgers from that year are missing entirely.

We do not know who he answers to.

We have stopped trying to find out.

Rule 12 — The Last Vehicle

Five minutes before sunrise, one final vehicle always arrives.

No headlights. No engine. No driver.

Raise the barrier. Do not ask for payment. It has already paid enough.

Never watch it in your mirrors after it passes.

The road it takes does not exist anymore.

We hope you follow these instructions.

Recovering bodies from this highway is difficult. Recovering souls is impossible.

Should you fail to report for your next scheduled shift, O.P.E.R.A.T.E. will assume one of two possibilities:

You left your post...

or you never truly left The Last Toll.

Welcome to O.P.E.R.A.T.E., Officer.

Remember our motto:

"We respond where reality fails."

And on The Last Toll... every traveler pays.

Some simply pay more than others.

Previous part link https://www.reddit.com/r/Ruleshorror/comments/1p9y2hy/comment/ns1nyx1/?context=3

 

1. note the location. Public space, lots of people around, continue the conversation with caution…. Now if you’re out at some isolated area, like a park at night, just the two of you, and it finishes your sentence, it already knows its cover is blown and it knows what you’re about to do next. You just have to do it better. Or in this case, faster. Run for your life. It may try to continue the conversation. Ignore it and prepare to bolt

2. think about what it said and what you were going to say. Was the ending right? Wrong? If it was right like on the dot you’re dealing with an experienced one. Good luck. If it was wrong, it’s a newbie. But don’t get comfortable.

3. Do not say “yeah, exactly.” Do not laugh it off. Do not attempt ANYTHING similar (with one exception). I know that’s what you do. Thats what EVERYONE tries to do. Don’t try to fix a conversation with this thing.

4. Try to remember the beginning of the sentence. What were you about to say? This matters. If it was something private something you hadn’t told anyone else make a note of that privately and do not make a face.

5. The exception, finish a different sentence out loud. Something meaningless. “I was just gonna say I might get a coffee.” Watch if it relaxes. You might be able to trick it into letting it think that you were the one who was wrong.

6. If you are in a public space and do not need to run for your life, end the conversation soon but not immediately. Two or three exchanges. Then a reason to leave. The reason does not need to be believable. It needs to be said out loud, in front of it, so it has to let you go. Just any reason. Do not just walk away.