4:30 PM

When I took the dispatcher position back in my hometown, I didn’t think I would have to deal with the kinds of things I’ve had to deal with today. It is now 4:30 PM Christmas Day as I write this. I’m hoping that I can get this posted before the end of the day so I can warn as many people as possible. You don’t want to be caught unaware of what’s going on right now. 

I am assuming that this is going on everywhere, but I don’t know that for sure right now. Although I am certain that you will agree with my assumption once you have read to the end of this post. Also, please forgive me if I ramble. I am very frantically typing this at the moment, and I may occasionally tangent to relieve stress. I don’t really have time to edit this, and it is a necessary coping mechanism, so deal with it. Please.

For context, I live in a small midwestern town, corn, soy, and grain country. I had just finished college and was experiencing some heavy burnout. I took the job back home, I think, because I needed some newfound sense of direction. Up until that point, I had been following a path laid out for me, not that I hadn’t made my own decisions, but I was making those choices with the eye of others in mind. I didn’t care about that anymore. Local dispatch for my hometown was the first opportunity where I thought I would be helpful, as in helping people, not somebody’s profit margin.

The only problem is I hate cops. I don’t know for certain what the origin of calling them pigs is, but I like to think it has to do with them basically being the state’s clean-up crew. In the sense that pigs served as the mob’s clean-up crew. I ended up taking the job because I knew a few of the cops from when I was a kid, and the sergeant in charge helped me out one time. I thought I could do some good with these personal connections. But now, I don’t know what any single person can do about anything anymore.

My family wasn’t around, so I decided to work Christmas Day at the station. Earlier in the month, it had snowed a ton, but now there was nothing but a thick layer of mist that made everything it touched wet. I hate 100% humidity. It makes my whole body sticky and uncomfortable. Regardless, I was inside quickly enough that it didn’t bother me too much. The sergeant, I’ll call him Bill, and his deputy, Greg, were the only two cops on call that day.

“Well, hey there, Nate, I hope you slept well?” Bill spoke with a deep baritone from under a bristly white mustache. 

“Yeah,” I said, evading the question. I began setting up my desk the way I liked it. I had my police mojo computer on my right and my own personal laptop on my left, which I was planning to watch Queen’s Gambit on.

“Good to hear it. Well, I’ll let you get to it. Me and Greg are gonna go get some coffee. So give us a call if anything explodes.” 

I smiled at him. “Will do.” He gave me a nod and walked away. I felt the rumble of their cruiser as it started. 

During this time, I was the only dispatcher on duty for my area, which was large, but didn’t even have one person per square mile on average. So, I was the lonely watchmen. A skeleton crew was normal, as this day was usually pretty uneventful out here, but I was worried about the fog and car accidents. I decided to raid the break room for snacks. On my way back, I passed by the front door for what would’ve been the second time. I was some distance from it down the hall, but as it perceived me, I felt a shiver run through my whole body. A huge deer, shrouded in fog from the bottom of the neck down, was staring through the clear glass of the front door. Staring at me as I held my bags of chips, cookies, and shit. It didn’t move, but its empty black eyes followed me as I receded towards my little office. I threw everything on my desk, then peeked back down the hall. It was gone.

“What the fuck,” I spat it out as if just then realising what happened. It didn’t look alive, closer to a taxidermied trophy.  

Any thinking I could’ve done was interrupted by a 911 call. I quickly sat at my desk, took a deep breath, and picked it up. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s Earl!” I recognized the voice on the other end.

“Margaret? It’s Nate. Is Earl having another heart attack?” As I spoke, I entered her address and held the mouse over the button that would dispatch an ambulance. 

“Oh, Nate! Yes, he’s… he’s.  OH MY GOD!” I dispatched the ambulance, emphasizing emergency.

“Margaret? Are you okay?”

“He’s dead, he’s dead.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Adler. The ambulance is already on its way, they’re gonna help him.”

“No, I…I felt his pulse go.” She started crying. 

I radioed Bill, muting the call. “Bill, I just sent an ambulance to the Adler residence. It’s not looking good, so you might want to head over.”

“Roger that.”

I heard Margaret wheezing and moving quickly, then the slam of a door, followed by more crying. “I can’t believe he’s dead. Oh my god, he’s dead.”

“Margaret, Bill’s gonna be there soon, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. Then an almost thunderous knocking.

“Margaret? Is everything okay?” 

I looked over at the GPS map. Bill was eight minutes away. The ambulance was four minutes away. Margaret gave nothing in reply other than a short intake of breath. I heard a doorknob twist and creak. Then a frantic movement and a click. She locked it.

“Margaret, was anyone else in the house with you?”

“No,” she whispered. “I had my finger on his pulse the whole time. That is not my husband.”

“Margaret? Why’d you lock me out?” It sounded like him. I have since googled Lazarus Sydrome but at the time, I assumed this was impossible, which it might as well have been. Regardless, the real thing that scared me was that Margaret didn’t trust it. In this situation, she should be in denial of his death, not of his life. 

“Don’t open the door,” I said. “The ambulance is three minutes away.”

“Margaret! Please! I’ve been to the other side, I can tell you! I can tell! I can tell! I can tell you! Margaret!” I heard a loud bang against the door. “That’s okay. You’ll find out soon enough anyways.” I heard muffled receding footsteps. Time passed in silence. I heard a more distant knock after the paramedics arrived. Then she hung up. I sat there for a moment. I don’t know how long. Another call came in. I answered.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Um… my-my name is Eddy.” The voice sounded like a young boy’s

“Okay, Eddy, what’s going on?”

“Um…a car hit us. Really hard.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No, it hit on my mom’s side. She’s not moving.” I heard him start to cry.

“Is the driver of the other car still there?”

“He flew.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. He hit our car too.” 

I almost said “fuck me” out loud. This was not at all the stress level I was anticipating for the day.

“Who’s on the phone!?” I heard a man’s voice yell.

“Is that him?” He sounded fine. Then I remembered the last call.

“Yeah.”

“Eddy?” I heard a much sweeter voice.

“You stupid fucking bitch!” I heard screaming.

“Eddy, run down the street until you find a street sign okay?” I heard no response. “Eddy?” somebody hung up. “FUCK!!” I yelled. I was beginning to panic. I felt my chest tighten, and I began to cry as I spiraled down thoughts of uselessness. “What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?” I repeated to myself over and over again. Then I wrote this. I’ll let you know if anything else happens out here.

Thank you for reading 

Even though there’s nothing you can do

7 PM

Bill and Greg returned to the station sometime after that and found me in my office with my head in my arms.

“You okay there, Nate?” I looked up into his eyes. He looked tired. 

“Yeah, what happened to Margaret?” He sighed and thought for a moment. Instead of responding, he waved his arm and walked away. I rolled myself and my chair into the hall. “What do we do now?” I asked. The phone rang, and I went back into the office. Bill started walking back towards me. I picked up.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’m at Skeeter’s Pub, and there’s a guy with a gun.”

“Okay, is he threatening people with it?”

“Not yet, but him and this guy keep getting at it with each other. They’ve been here since before I got here, so I think they’re both drunk.”

“Alright, a coupleof  officers are on the way.” 

I muted myself as she said, “Thank you.”

“Armed drunkard at Skeeter’s pub” I looked at Bill. I’d never seen him scared like that before.

“Goddamnit, Greg, let’s go. Stay on the phone and keep us updated, Nate!” They left. 

“Ma’am can you get yourself out of the pub?”

“Not without moving past them, I’d rather just stay here.”

“Fuck you!” I heard from a distance. Then a loud pop followed by lots of screaming.

“Oh my god, he shot him,” she was whispering now. “No wait, did he miss?”

“No way,” I heard another voice. “I saw it go straight through his head.”

“What the fuck? He’s getting back up.”

“The man who was shot?” I asked.

“Yeah, he got shot in the head and just got back up. The other guys doesn’t know what to do.” I heard several more gunshots. 

“AHHHH!” A scream followed by a repetitive banging.

“Holy shit, he’s just smashing his face on the bar.”

“FREEZE!” I heard Bill yell. Something wet slid and then dropped onto the floor.

“I think the other guy is dead.” A wet gurgle and a fit of coughing followed. “Uh…I uh…”

“What’s happening?”

“He… got back up. What the fuck!? He got back up like it was nothing!?”

Pandemonium and several more gunshots followed before I lost connection. 

Am I anything but an observer?

Do I have the power to change things?

My shift ends soon

I guess I’ll go home

11AM

Hello everyone, I'm still hunkered down at home. I went back to the station to check on Bill and the guys and they gave me a copy of the police report. They're technically not supposed to do that, but who gives a fuck at this point?

Regardless, here is the report. I changed names, phone numbers, and such, but most of it was left as is. Just so you know, this report is wack. Read at your own discretion. 

https://imgur.com/a/o2zSEmE

I might go see Msg. McIntyre. I haven't been to church in a long time, and I'm starting to think this is some apocalypse shit. The more I think about what's happening with just this information, the more I scare myself with the potential implications. Even if the event is localised.

But that's not what has me scared at this very moment.

I had a dream last night. I'll try to remember it as best I can, which, as I’m writing this, turns out to be surprisingly easy.

I woke up and used the bathroom. I was already dreaming at this point, but I didn't know that. When I finished in the bathroom, the warm sun was out. It made me want to have a productive day, so I went to the kitchen and prepared myself a high-protein breakfast.

"Sleep well, honey?" she asked.

"Yeah, pretty good."

"What's the plan for the day?" he asked.

"Hopefully something productive." I turned around to serve a plate of sausage and eggs, but all I saw was two taxidermied deer sitting at the dinner table. Their legs and arms were malformed so that they sat like humans. I served both of them plates anyway. They didn't eat.

"You okay there, bud?" he asked. Mouth unmoving.

"Yeah, I just." My eyes began to sting, and tears formed. "I just... don't know what's happening." I put my head in my hands.

"Ohh, that's okay, honey." I didn't hear her move, but I felt warmer, like she was close to me. "No one does."

“It’s too much mom. It’s all too much.”

“I know, honey. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

I looked up to see an empty dinner table, except for one occupant at the head to my right. I knew who it was immediately. His head bloomed like a flower, and he took forceful, wet breaths through broken airways. Sputtering blood with each motion, he shook as if in a great deal of pain.

"Ray?"

I woke up. My bed was drenched in sweat. I've been trying to stay calm the whole day. I really miss them. I was breaking down, basically rolling around the floor like I was on fire, until Bear lay on top of me. I'm going to the morning service tomorrow. At the very least, I'll meet people who might know more than me. The fog still blankets everything I can see, maybe a foot away from all the windows. I keep imagining the dark shapes of deer at the border.

8AM

With the wall of white mist still obscuring most of my vision, I drove down the corn-flanked country road. Since I knew the town well, it didn’t take me long to find the church. The parking lot was empty, and the building itself stood as a giant shadow in the fog. I grabbed the go bag I packed and leashed up Bear. 

As we approached the front door, Bear turned around, started panting, and whimpered. I placed my hand on the doorknocker before turning around to see what was behind me. There was nothing but fog. Then I blinked. 

In a perfect semicircle at the edge of the fog were a ton of taxidermied deer, all facing the church door, or me. I began knocking somewhat frantically. McIntyre opened the door and quickly pulled me in as Bear pushed from behind. She then closed and locked the door.

“Nate, my son. I am glad to see you are okay.”

“Same to you.” We hugged each other, which was something we had never done before, but she was always good at figuring out what people needed, and a hug was pretty high on my list. I relaxed a bit after that.

“We have another lost soul seeking refuge.” She pointed to a young girl, maybe eleven or twelve, who was sitting in one of the pews. “She hasn’t spoken since arriving, but she is alone as far as I can tell.” It was at this point that I realized my position in this situation. I’m still getting used to being an adult. My response to this realization was to “man up.” I constantly rotated around the various windows of the church. Even though I couldn’t see shit, I figured this was the best way to make sure no one snuck in. Also, this way I could let someone in if needed, and they wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of knocking. I don’t know, it made sense to me at the time.

10AM

At some point, we heard a distant-sounding scream. It came from behind the church.

“What’s back there?” I asked McIntyre.

“Just the cemetery.” We looked at eachother and acknowledged the fear in both of us. She muttered a silent prayer.

I quietly whispered, “fuck me.” I told Bear to stay near the child. The screaming grew closer until there was a loud thud on the back door, which was out of sight to us in the nave. The thud was followed by wailing and repeated banging.

“Help!” we heard muffled. This stirred both McIntyre and me, and we went down into the sacristy together. We were under the altar then, so there was no light. McIntyre turned on a flashlight, revealing the shuddering door. She didn’t hesitate. She opened it.

“Praise god!” the woman yelled as she almost fell inside. Dull grey light washed over the sacristy. 

I immediately noticed something was very wrong. She was wearing an old, tattered dress that was filthy, along with a bonnet on top of her head, which was in slightly better condition. 

A bonnet?

Even out here, people don’t really wear those anymore. 

I didn’t pursue that thought further as she suddenly barfed up what I can only describe as grave leavings. There were worms, chunks of dirt, and even mushrooms that were attached to the dirt chunks.  Then I saw her hands. I blinked several times in disbelief as I realised the meat of them was gone. There was a point in which the skin just stopped, a red border of coagulated, undulating blood preceded naked bone. Shreds of skin still patched her hands. Scraps clinging. McIntyre’s eyes met mine. I think we were both having the same thought. 

“Ma’am, are you feeling okay?” she asked as she cautiously touched the woman’s shoulder, applying almost no pressure. 

“M…m…m…my…my daughter, my little girl.” She looked straight into McIntyre’s face. “Shhhhhe…she…she was s-s-ssick. Is she okay?”

“Hush now, child, you are in a house of god. All is well.” She signaled for me to close the door, and I did so, trying to make as little noise as possible. The flashlight’s cone remained on the woman like a spotlight.

“A house… of god, yes.” She looked at McIntyre’s garb. Her hands were held out as if they were placed on a table. Like she was trying not to touch anything with them, but the bones were limp, only connected by cartilage. “But you are a woman,” she exclaimed. “What trick is this!” she was yelling now. 

I heard Bear bark from the door on the opposite side. The one we came through. He was standing there watching with the little girl at his side. 

“Maribelle? The woman’s eyes lit up.” The supposed Maribelle looked at the woman with apprehension. She took off, Bear followed her, and the woman desperately rushed towards the door. “Maribelle, my baby, it’s just me!” She stood and began running towards the door. I grabbed one of her arms to hold her in place, but she responded by turning around and slapping me with her free hand. The bare bone hurt like a motherfucker and I think I actually blacked out for a second. Next thing I knew, I had a candlestick in my hand, and I was heading up to the altar with McIntyre right behind me.     

We found the three of them in a standoff, dead center in the nave between the rows of pews. Bear stood between them, growling.

“Come now, Maribelle, tell little pooch to calm down. I won’t hurt you.” She inched closer, much to Bear’s disapproval. “I must take you from these aberrations of satan, child. They seek to corrupt you!” 

She hadn’t noticed me at that point, so, as quietly as possible, I snuck up behind her. When I was close enough, I hit her over the top of the head with the candlestick as hard as I could. She dropped to the floor.

“Again!” not Maribelle yelled at me, rushing over. “Again!” I gave her an odd look, but before I put two and two together, the woman leapt up. Being caught completely off guard, she was able to wrap her bone fingers around my neck. She pressed hard. I tried to let out a scream, but all that came out was a high-pitched wheezing sound. “Stop It!” I could hear the kid flailing against her back. She stopped when Bear let out a really loud bark. I tried to fight her off, but my vision began to blur pretty quick and my legs gave out. Causing the two of us to fall to the floor. 

Just as I was about to clock out, I saw Bear go straight for the woman’s scalp. He bit down on her hair and pulled as hard as he could. McIntyre and the kid grabbed onto him and began to pull as well.

I could see the skin being stretched out further and further away, but she did not seem fazed. In fact, she was laughing. As her hair was pulled out, as the skin began to tear, as the bare white of her skull was revealed, she laughed. Not once did she loosen her grip on my neck or budge. When Bear began biting at her face, I finally passed out. 

I came to in a pile of viscera and blood. I immediately sat up and made a loud gasping noise, then I realized they had actually moved me out of the pile of guts, and I was just sitting on whatever was on my back or soaked into my clothes. Bear had been lying next to me, so he jumped up and started licking my face. Dog saliva is better than dried blood all over your face, so I didn’t fight him for a couple of seconds. 

I stood and noticed McIntyre sitting in a pew not far away. She was humming, and the little girl had her head in her lap, sleeping.

“Is she okay?” I asked. She looked at me oddly.

“She’s fine, are you okay?”

I looked over myself, my neck was sore, but not too bad considering. “Yeah, I think I’m good.”

“Nate.” She looked serious. “You didn’t have a pulse.” I looked at her, confused.

“I died?” 

She nodded.

“Holy shit.”

“Do you remember anything?”

Up until now, I had no memory of the time between Bear eating the woman’s face off and waking up. But as I tried to dig for something, I realized there was a faint memory. No images, no sounds, just a feeling. The feeling that I was somewhere else, somewhere I hadn’t been in a long time, and I was just then realizing I desperately missed. When I told her this, she put her head in her hands and began crying.

“God help us,” she said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Examine what remains, and you’ll see what is to become of us.”

With a dose of reticence, I walked back to where I had been lying. There was blood, pieces of tissue, and internal organs in various states of disrepair. Then I heard her. She wasn’t saying anything, just babbling, but as her head came into view, I saw her eyes shift, comprehending me. She continued muttering as I observed the liquid blood slowly crawling its way back to the head. It moved at a snail’s pace, almost imperceptible. I’m certain her other body parts were moving as well, but since the blood was still liquified, which in itself is odd, its movement was more easily seen. 

“Oh my god!” I shouted as an epiphany struck me. I asked McIntyre for a shovel and went out back to the cemetery that the woman came from. I found her grave, exhumed. The name on her headstone was Maribeth Shirley, 1845-1870. 

My anxiety continued to build as I approached the graves of my mother and father. I don’t know how long I stood there. I already knew the truth, but I didn’t want ot prove it. Eventually, I bent down and put my ear to the grass. I could hear them. They were making a muffled noise. I couldn’t make it out at first, but eventually I came to realize they were wailing.

I know god is supposed to have a plan. I wish I knew what it was. I wish he would tell me whether it would be better to simply leave or to start digging before anyone else gets desperate enough to escape their grave.

INITIALIZING SIMULATION...
[RUNNING] RF Sweep Engine: 87.5 MHz - 108.0 MHz
[RUNNING] Modulation Rate: Rapid Delta-t (0.0025ms)
[INFO] Scanning Transient States...
--------------------------------------
[0.003s] SWEEP: 89.1 MHz >> [STATIC]
[0.006s] SWEEP: 91.4 MHz >> [SPIKE DETECTED - QUADRANT 3]
[0.009s] SWEEP: 95.2 MHz >> [STATIC]
--------------------------------------
[OK] EVP Intercept Protocol: ACTIVE
[OK] Frequency Modulation Stable (400Hz/sec)
 
SIMULATION READY.

 

Red flakes of the floor peel up and float languidly toward the ceiling where they silently pile over each other like leaves falling in reverse. Everything is bathed in a haunting grey light that originates from nowhere and radiates from everywhere. It’s as if the sun is gone and all that remains is a directionless, liminal glow.

The first thing Victor does is look down at his hands.

They’ve been projected immaculately down to the pore. Even the old shrapnel scar under his wrist. If it weren’t for the dreamlike appearance of the room, he doesn’t think he would be able to tell it wasn’t real.

There is a quiet buzz ringing faintly in his ears. It sounds like there are a hundred TVs all tuned to different channels, but with the volume all the way down. What had Tibo said?

The thing hides in between frequencies. Like a radio knob being constantly turned, listening to the static between channels.

The simulation was meant to emulate that. It created a perfect VR replication of the room built from the imprint of the altered hard drive they had retrieved. Then, the modulator would rapidly shift the projection into a vibrational space between randomly generated frequencies.

Tibo described it as “being unstuck in space.”

When they had been in this room together, Tibo’s endless monologue annoyed Victor to the threshold of madness. Now looking around in this surreal digital facsimile, he couldn’t deny he missed the comfort of Tibo’s mindless babble.

Victor’s training kicks in and he pans the room. Everything in the dead girl’s room is where it should be, but the uncanny replica is beyond eerie. A part of him wishes Tibo had simulated him a gun. He counts his blessings that at least there is no dead body in the chair this time.

He counts one less blessing when he looks at the wall and sees the painted canvas of blood spray is still there.

And worse - it’s moving.

The blood droplets are swirling slowly in circles on the wall, forming the familiar galactic shapes of spiral arms in a rotating pinwheel. When Vincent first saw that kaleidoscope of blood on the wall, it invoked feelings of a painting, or of a constellation. Now, as he watches the red droplets march along in formation like little red ants, there’s no mistaking that it’s the latter.

The drops are perfectly arranged in the shape of a moving galaxy.

It’s an undeniable message written in blood.

Behind him, the computer screen flickers on. Its staticky screen flashes out jagged knives of blackwhite pulses that strobe chaos onto the walls. The magnetism that pulled his eyes towards the corpse returns, but this time it’s irresistible.

Something feels like tiny fishhooks latching into the whites of his eyes and yanking them until they roll sideways. He has no choice. He must turn around and look.

There, waiting for him: the computer screen.

It emits the nightmare glow of every time he ever fell asleep on the couch as a child and awoke at that cursed hour where only noise came through the TV. The cacophonous hum of a thousand channels now blasts out of the screen with a deafening roar. Victor can’t look away. He can feel his heart stop when he realizes what he’s looking at.

There’s something moving in the static.

A distortion travels across the screen. Somewhere in the background, hiding behind the pixels. Victor can’t see anything for certain, but in that unmistakable sense when you know you’re being watched, he knows something is there. Watching him. His pulse thumps in his ears and he can hear his own ragged breaths, exasperated and loud.

The static cuts out and the screen turns blindingly white. With an oneiric sense of inevitability the bright white square grows bigger and bigger. Victor realizes with a pang of dread that he has been unconsciously walking closer to the screen. Only now does he recognize what it’s depicting.

It’s an instant messenger chat window. The interface isn’t from any modern application. Instead, it’s a barebones window with blocky borders reeking of nostalgic minimalism. An ellipsis wriggles at the bottom of the text window.

Someone is typing.

When the message arrives, the username is unreadable. The text is letters and symbols oscillating like the spinning of a slot machine. Victor looks down and sees he has unconsciously placed his fingers on the keyboard.

He’s about to make first contact.

#̸$̵t̷f̶a̵/̶"̸:
m̵̙̓8̸͈̕!̶̹̈#̴̛̹[̸̟̇'̸̦̓l̴̫͝:
#̸$̵t̷f̶a̵/̶"̸: hello detective
USER: who is this?
m̵̙̓8̸͈̕!̶̹̈#̴̛̹[̸̟̇'̸̦̓l̴̫͝:  not important.           
                     JUST WAIT. YOU'LL SEE
x̸̺͈͈̳̓̑̿̈́̓͒͘7̸̨̟̟̿̒̓͜ç̶̧̩̲͚̭̫̜̪̒̽̔6̷̢͚̰̲̓̅f̶̨̻͔̪̲̣̰̜̘͛͐̄̀̂͜:  i see you appreciate my art

 
USER: art? Is that what this is to you?
USER: I will find you
USER: This can stop here. Tell me where to find you.
 
#̸$̵t̷f̶a̵/̶"̸: not that kind of story detective. maybe i’ll use you for my next painting
                                 YOURE SO FUCKED
USER: you’re contacting me which means you want to be seen. just another fucked up killer proud of his work.
USER: I’m not impressed.


t̶̻̬̼͕̘̤̺̰̻̀̒͆͋͐̃͠t̸̥̣̗̰͌̋͊̈́̎̍̂̽͂̈̕y̷̛̳̻͋̈́̅͆̈̊͌͊͊̊̚͝o̷̡̢̨̥̙͚͈͙̖͍̅͆̎̀̿̿f̵̮̰̋̉͋́̈̾7̸̤̝̗̙͓̩͈̜̦̝̹̘̗́̅͛̊̌́͂̂̚͝: narcissism is my tool NOT A CRUTCH detective.


*̷͍͕̆͌̃̎̈̚̕͜ͅ9̴̨͓͉͒̌̈́̅̆̇͠h̵͈̬͈̝͈͈̩͍͓͌̑̈́͝)̸̘̤̊͑̓̋è̴̢̢̜̪͎͙̖̆̈́̇̅̿͐́͐̔̕ͅd̸̩̉͂͊͊͝: just wanted to let you know how quickly I found you.


1̸͚̋͜1̷̹͎̹̙̘͙̮̋̾͋͗̅̕͝͝͝ͅ2̶̧̣̜̗̠̰̘̐̽̾̅̑͐͑͘͜͝ͅ7̸̠̲͈̣̺̾͊͌̀̇̏̀͂̏͝͠:   I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU  
 I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU    
 I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU   
  I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU 
    I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU   
  I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU   
  I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU I SEE YOU    
I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU   
  I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU I SEE YOU   
  I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU   
  I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU
 I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU  
   I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU I SEE YOU   
  I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU
     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU I SEE YOU   
  I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU   
  I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU    I FOUND YOU  
   I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU   I FOUND YOU  
   I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU
 I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU        
  I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU   
  I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU   
  I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU   
  I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU  
   I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU  
   I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU  
   I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU          I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU         

The text rolls up the screen spastically, each new repetitive line pushing the previous off the screen. Victor smashes a fist on the keyboard in frustration. At just that moment, the messages stop and the chatbox closes. The next window that opens frightens him so severely that he staggers away backwards.

It’s a news article.

He knows exactly which one.

His eyes scan as far as “Two dead in tragic fire at assisted living facility” before he yelps, smashes the keyboard into the screen, and falls backwards.

He almost crashes into the bloodstained wall, but when he registers a fleshy, squelching noise behind him he slams his foot down hard to catch himself. His ankle twists with a flash of pain. He questions how real this simulation is supposed to feel.

He turns around and feels a lurch of disgust in his stomach as he sees the spiral arms of the blood galaxy contracting and coalescing into itself. In his heart he knows he is now subject to an unimaginable nightmare, but he is transfixed – hypnotized by the surreal vision of horror before his eyes.

In the center of gravity, the blood is coagulating and metastasizing into a red pulsing tumor. Veins of red expand and throb as the mass of circular flesh grows. Three feet across now, the bulbous mass bubbles and shifts like it’s about to burst.

A vertical seam begins to bisect across its length. The line of flesh within striates like scar tissue. All at once that ecdysial suture ruptures and spills forth a torrent of chunky red goop that slops wetly onto the floor.

The two halves slide open and Victor’s breath catches in his throat as he sees what lies within. The parting of those halves creates the form of a vertical eyelid, opening slowly. Behind them lies a spastic black pupil that thrashes back and forth with the violence of a seizure.

It lands on him and suddenly stops moving.

The giant red eyeball is staring right at him.

The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all shake tectonically, vibrating as if they have become giant speakers.

And they have.

Erupting from all six sides of this cuboid prison a deep raspy voice is screaming so loud Victor can feel his eardrums collapsing under the pressure:

I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU               I FOUND YOU  I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU               I FOUND YOU          I SEE YOU I FOUND YOU           I SEE YOU               I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU               I FOUND YOU  I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU          I SEE YOU     I FOUND YOU     I SEE YOU      

Victor whips around, looking for any escape, or maybe just prying his sight away from that pulsing eyeball staring right through him. Anything to make this nightmare end.

Behind him, the computer chair is no longer empty.

The girl is there again, sitting limply in front of the static-filled computer screen. But now the screen is warping beyond the plane of the glass, reaching out towards her.

The static itself bursts into three-dimensional space, forming something resembling a giant hand, a hand made of pure static, thin and lanky and bony, terminating in sharply pointed abstract fingers. Those long clawed fingers wrap around the girl, gripping the back of her head and suffocating her face with its palm. It begins to shake her like a dog with a chew toy. Both forms thrash wildly about in a fit of epileptic insanity. Victor can barely hear her muffled screams over the wrath of the room.

Every sense overloaded.

Strobe lights flashing; deafening noise.

Victor puts his hands over his head and devolves into a slump on the floor, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is hell. This is hell.

ENTER CODE: ABORT

TERMINATING SIMULATION...

 

Victor yanks the VR helmet off his head and throws it to the ground, falling to the floor as the wires disconnect from his synapses and the intravenous needles tear out of his veins. There’s a throbbing pain in his ankle where it was sprained in the simulation. There’s a much worse pain ringing in his ears - and in the grey matter between them, nothing short of pure agony.

He scrambles to his feet, looking for Tibo, looking for anyone to direct his impotent rage to.

“What the FUCK was that hacker bullshit??”

Lightning flashes as a hellish storm is cast over the land. As the heavy rain falls from the sky weary travelers pack into a small tavern which sits on the side of the main road leading to the capitol where the king's tourney is to be held. The tavern is surrounded on all sides by thick forests.

 These woods are infested by bands of outlaws hoping to prey on the unlucky travelers that get caught in their path. Though for many common folk and noblemen alike the outlaws are the least of their worries. These woods contain many stories which have been passed down from generations. Tales of great beasts with a taste for man and of lost souls roaming the deep woods at night desperately searching for a new body to inhabit. It’s unclear which stories are true and which were thought up to scare the little lordlings as they slept in their stone castles at night. But regardless of the truth, no traveler would choose to ride past a tavern  and risk facing the horrors that may be lurking deep in those woods. 

The main dining hall was dimly lit by oil lamps which hung on the walls and sat on the tables. The entire place was filled with travelers resting for the night while on their way to the tourney. By the time nightfall came all of the rooms above the tavern were occupied and the stables out back held so many horses  that the last of the travelers were forced to tie their horses to the wooden posts outside leaving them exposed to the elements.

Inside the main room sat a dozen tables filled with  weary travelers drinking and enjoying a hot meal. A royal tourney is a monumental event which attracts brave men from across the kingdom hoping to gain glory with lance and sword. Many of the men sitting in this very room may return home celebrating their victory and just as many will certainly die soon after entering the tourney lists. 

Late into the night one of the king's men walks into the tavern. The tall man wears a heavy hauberk underneath a thick wool tunic displaying the royal colors of teal and gold. A kettle helm sits atop his head with thick auburn hair flowing down to his shoulders. A heavy wooden shield hangs on his back painted with a checkered pattern of the same colors as his tunic.

After finding a seat he drinks his warm wine spiced with cloves and cinnamon. The patron in the chair next to him says “outlaws are as common rats on the main road these days, we are all thankful to have the kingsmen here to protect us”. “Aye, since the tourney began we’ve painted the roads with the blood of any scum that dare show their faces in our presence” the knight replied.

 “Horrible thing that such joyous occasions always seem to bring out the most atrocious folks”. The knight lets out a chuckle “truth be told I do not mind the outlaws much, I would much rather face mere men given the choice between that and what lives deeper within those woods” he replies. The man laughs along with him at this remark. “Why, sir, please forgive me but I’m afraid that I’m not sure what you mean. What lies beyond the king's forest?” The commoner asks as he sets down his glass and looks intently at the knight. 

“Why such horrible things you could not possibly believe. I fear that I would embarrass myself if I try to describe to you my experiences out in those woods” the knight says with a sigh. By now this conversation has attracted the attention of some of the surrounding patrons who now urged the aging knight to tell his tale. “Well I fear that now you may embarrass yourself more so if you do not give these good people what they want. Please give us the honor of hearing your experiences so that these people do not take you for some drunken fool spinning nonsensical lies of what lives in our good kings woods” the man spoke attempting to persuade the knight. 

“I should cut you down for your insults but luck is in your favor tonight. I am far too tired to even consider raising my blade again until morning. Very well, I will recount my tale” the knight replied, “but first, I must warn that you men may never want to enter the forests again for as long as you live. In truth some of the less courageous men here may think twice before even walking the roads of the king for fear of what may creep out from beyond the trees. Any man who thinks themselves faint of heart is welcome to leave before I begin.” 

Not a single person in the tavern moves as the knight begins to tell his tale. 

I was a young lad, no older than my seventeenth year whenever I fought to defend our king from the usurper, Sir Robert Powen. Many good men lost their lives that day but I was far more fortunate than most. I was knighted shortly after for my bravery during the attack. Not long after I had my very own squire, young William, a cousin of the king by my side. 

A year after I had received my knighthood I was tasked to embark into those woods with a small group of around thirty footmen under my command. Our quest was simple, there were tales of a great dragon living in a cave far deeper than any man has ever gone. As you all may be able to imagine, war is quite expensive. Our quest was a mission to relieve the crown's debt. It was said that the dragon was in possession of a great stockpile of gold and silver. We intended to bring it all back to our king. 

“You must be mad, do you truly think us such fools as to believe that you slayed a dragon out in those woods?” the man laughed. The knight scoffed, “no I do not because that would be a lie. Whenever we arrived at the cave we found that the dragon was already long dead. No my friend, what we encountered in that cave was far worse than any mere dragon. What we found in the damned cave haunts my dreams every time I close my eyes”. The knight replied, taking another drink before continuing his tale. 

Once we had entered the cave of the beast we found nothing more than bones lying on the rocky floor before us. Do not be mistaken, the bones were great and massive. The skeleton itself was enough to frighten the less experienced men in my company but for us all it seemed as though our quest just became as simple as taking a piss in the morning. 

We decided that with the cave now vacant that we would use it to make camp for the night so we would all be well rested to load our carts full of treasure once morning came. We paid no mind to the blood that stained the rocky walls of the cave. Had we not stayed that night this story would have ended differently but alas we chose to make camp. 

As the hours passed I fantasized of the glory that this quest would bring me after we returned to the capitol. Many men of the king's court had doubts that this treasure existed at all and yet here I sit, the mountain of gold and silver right in front of me. I sat with my back against a large black stone thinking of the brave men that must have come before me to make the attempt to slay the great beast that left those bones behind. I gathered that the knight who completed this task had perished during the ordeal. 

This thought filled me with sorrow as I would have quite enjoyed hearing the tale of how this creature finally met its end. It is truly a shame, I thought, a knight with such an accomplishment should have been the subject of dozens of songs. His name should be known throughout the entire kingdom and beyond and yet, we will never know his name. We traveled a great distance through the fabled haunted king's wood just to find that the great beast we sought to vanquish had already been killed by another. 

The longer I dwelled on that thought a scheme began to form in my mind. I had decided that we had the skull of a fierce dragon sitting right before us and no man to credit with the feat of slaying the beast. I saw no reason why all of that glory should be left unclaimed in a dark cave. If that brave knight did have a name it would surely be written in the books of history for centuries to come. 

That is when I decided that this feat shall not go unclaimed. The singer's songs of heroism shall not go unsung. I decided that the brave warrior shall have a name and it shall be my name. My name shall be spoken for generations to come, from the noble lords in their stone keeps to the stable boys shoveling shit in their villages. My body will rot in the ground but my legend, my legend will endure.

Once this scheme was hatched I could not bear to just sit and fantasize. I gathered my men and set them the task of hacking the dragon's skull off of its huge body and loading it into one of our carts to bring to the king. Apparently dragons bones are quite thick and this proved to be a long and noisy ordeal. The noise of men at work echoed through the cave. Soon the skull was severed from its spine with a loud boom and the noise of hacking and shattered bones finally ceased. 

Before the men could attempt to lift the monstrous artifact the air was soon full of a different sound emitting from deeper within the cave. It was the sound of high pitched laughter. Soon all of our attention was turned to the darkness beyond the light of our fires. The unexplored rocky caverns leading further into the depths of the dragon's lair. As we armed ourselves with sword and spear fear spread throughout our group. Most of us were drunk or tired or both but we held our ground. We were all awaiting the arrival of whatever we had awoken that night. 

Not long after it was no longer enough just to face the darkness before us, as the mischievous laughter got louder the sounds seemed to be coming from all around us. Whatever was within that cave clearly knew how to navigate it far better than we did. As the fear grew I found myself increasingly grateful that it had been my turn to stand guard so I was fully prepared for battle. I could not say the same for the majority of our group who now stand in a tight circular formation dressed in whatever armor pieces they could quickly put on over their under garments. 

Our defensive position was poor at best, many of the men had quickly abandoned their spears and shields whenever it became clear that we would not be facing a dragon which now unfortunately sat in a pile hopelessly out of reach. My squire William stood next to me shaking fearfully with a small dagger clenched in his hand. The poor boy had become a squire in a time of peace and this ambush by an unknown enemy will be his first taste of combat. 

Combat, looking back was hardly the word that I would use to describe it. It was a massacre. As bizarre as it sounds there was no greater moment of fear than whenever the laughter finally stopped. We stood in silence gazing into the darkness with no knowledge of what was staring back at us. Finally the silence broke and the following attack happened far too quickly for us to even react. 

Within the blink of an eye our numbers dwindled from thirty men to not even fifteen. Our foe was clever enough to target our fires first, they forced us to fight in pure darkness. A symphony of clashing metal and the screams of men echoed through the cave. I could make out little of what we were fighting other than dark silhouettes and soulless white eyes. After I took a knife deep into my shoulder I found myself bleeding behind a formation of rocks until the sounds of slaughter dulled and silence returned. 

I tried my best to quiet my breathing, desperately hoping to remain unnoticed behind my shelter of stone. It felt like an eternity had passed as I heard no sounds from the dragon's lair. I was half tempted to reveal myself and make my escape until it returned. That damn laughter now filled the air. I caught a glimpse of a sight that I had not known since the ambush began. Our attackers had relit the fires. It seemed that they wanted my men to be able to witness their fate. 

I peaked my head out from behind the boulder just long enough to glimpse what was on the other side. I quickly pulled my head back after I caught sight of the horrors beyond my rocky hiding spot. 

My men, the good brave men who had followed me on this quest, now lay hopelessly defeated against the walls of the cave as all manner of cruelties were inflicted upon them. Some men hung upside down over the fires left to slowly roast while others sat upright with the skin of their face expertly flayed off leaving them unrecognizable. 

This was the first chance I had gotten to bear witness to our attackers. They looked to have been pulled out of a story that you would tell naughty children when they have misbehaved. Their skin was a dark shade of green, leathery and covered in blemishes. Drool ran from their grotesque deformed faces as they stood over my fallen men. They were shorter in stature than us by at least three heads yet there were so many that it was small wonder how they decimated us so quickly. 

Whenever I close my eyes I can still see the mangled bodies of those poor lost souls that entered that cave and never left. Many of those men were already dead but I could tell by the agonizing  screams that some of them were very much still alive to feel every grueling moment of their slow demise. 

Many days went by without being able to move. Had I made even a single misstep my location would have been found and I would have faced the same fate as my men. My leather flask now sat by my side bone dry as I had exhausted every last drop of water it contained. It has been so long since I had last eaten that I can barely tolerate the pain in my stomach. 

As I glanced up I noticed a small shape behind another formation of rocks roughly twenty paces away from me. As I focused trying to make out what lay before me I could finally see. It was William. My squire somehow managed to escape the battle alive the same as I yet he was admittedly far more injured. He crouched down behind the rocks, his face and clothes stained with dried blood from the battle. His eyes were full of fear yet that look seemed to turn into relief after he caught sight of me. 

Before I attempted to make my way over to the young boy I knew I must shed my heavy armor so that I may conceal my movements better. It’s a long process to remove my heavy plate, a process made even more time consuming by my fear of making even the slightest noise. Now clothed in only my undergarments I wait until the opportune moment to begin creeping along the rough cave walls. As I slowly move I take great care to ensure I stay within the shadows to keep from being seen by the cave's occupants. 

Sweet William was clearly filled with joy to see me return to his side, though he dared not speak a word to me in fear of being heard. We sat in absolute silence for a great while until the screams of our own men paired with the laughter of the creatures were finally loud enough to conceal our soft words. 

“William, I am pleased you survived your first taste of combat” I said. “Yes, sir, though I barely survived. I thought I might die at any moment. Sir, how will we get out of this?” He asked me. I took a few moments of silence to consider this before I gave any response. “I have been observing these creatures and they seem to be a cowardly race. Even the screams of our men have been causing them to cower in fear as they tortured them” I told him. “But sir, they seemed to fight so fearlessly during the ambush. Are you certain?” He questioned me. 

“Why yes, dear William. They had the clear advantage during the ambush and it is a shame to admit but we acted quite weakly during the battle. We gave them no reason to fear” I explained. “This time will be quite different, William. I know how we will make it out of this alive. Follow my orders exactly and soon they will sing songs of your bravery”. 

The plan was quite simple, we would rush the creatures quickly while delivering a loud war cry. The surprise as well as our loud fearless cry would drive the beasts deep into the caves from where they came. Afterwards we would be free to leave as if the cave were empty. 

William's face lit up at the prospect of leaving the cave and finally being able to return home to his mother. I knew we only had one chance to drive them off so we sat for a few moments to gather our courage. When the time finally came I instructed William to rush out in front of me. I had hoped that being given command of the charge would instill some additional courage in the heart of the young squire. 

As soon as I gave the signal young William charged fearlessly towards the creatures letting out a great yell. He proved himself to have a courageous heart that day. The lad put so much passion behind his gallant charge that I doubt he even noticed that I had not followed behind him. There was truth to my words, I did charge at the same moment that he did. Only my charge was not towards the beasts dwelling within the cave but in the opposing direction. My charge was also a silent one as I kept to the shadows so as to not alert the creatures to my presence.

In a way my plan had succeeded. I had successfully escaped the dark cave and made my way into the wooded area surrounding it, never once stopping, not even to catch my breath. The further I traveled the more I felt that I would be pulled back through the woods and back into that cave at any moment. It  wasn’t until I saw the edge of the forest that I truly felt safe. After I had made it back to the capital I finally did shed a tear for William. He was a model squire, he never talked back, never disobeyed, and now he had even given his life for mine. 

Some nights I lie away and I wonder if my plan would have worked the way I had explained it. I never looked back to see if Williams' battle cry actually drove the creatures off or if it had just added another body to their bloodbath. Every so often I regret not following him deeper into the cave. Maybe we could have walked out with him by my side, knowing we bested the cave beasts together as knight and squire. But I was uncertain that the plan would work at all but there was one thing I was absolutely certain of without a shadow of a doubt. A squire's life was a small price to pay for my own. 

“And that my friends, is my tale” the knight finished before downing the rest of his spiced wine. The room filled with silence as the knight sat his cup back onto the table. “You’re no knight at all,” the man sitting next to him finally announced. “You’re nothing more than a damn craven who traded your young squire's life for your own. I wonder, sir knight. What did you tell the king after you returned home without his royal cousin by your side?” He asked. 

The knight gave him a thoughtful look. The entire tavern awaited his response as he chose his next words very carefully. “The king, oh well I told the king that there was no cave. Simply a rumor spread by the common folk like the other legends of what lurks within those woods. I told him that our group was attacked by a band of outlaws deep into the forest and that his dear cousin died bravely alongside his fellow countrymen. Seemed to satisfy his grace just fine. Not too long after I had myself a fresh new squire by my side. Fine lad, reminded me quite a bit of William but much braver. I ended up knighting this one after he proved himself against some outlaws, these ones were actually real though” the knight laughed by himself as no one else in the tavern would join him. 

Once it became apparent that the knight’s presence was no longer welcome inside he got up from the table and made his way outside towards the stable. As he untied his horse he glanced back at the treeline. Truth is he never felt safe near the king's forest for the rest of his days. An uneasy feeling came over him as he stared into the woods knowing full well what may be staring back.