“Cas” wants me to tell you that his real name is Alex. He doesn’t care if you know, the way I don’t care you know mine is Jessica. Also, he’d prefer not to be known as Castiel, haha. It’s kind of a relief, anyway. Giving all these people aliases based off of Supernatural is starting to make me feel like I’m writing some fucked up fanfiction or something.
I’ve gone back and checked out all your (incredibly helpful) comments. Again, thank you guys so much. You make Alex and I feel like we’re not alone.
It’s pretty much been agreed that that second picture in my last post was of an art piece in Chicago called the Bean, which I’d never heard of before. And last week, Lisa went to Chicago on vacation. So... there’s that.
The first picture, someone else mentioned, might be from a mechanic’s shop. Neither Alex nor I think Dean knows anyone who works at one, but it’s at least something.
Anyway, Alex and I met outside Dean’s building around one in the afternoon.
He mentioned he’d read through these posts for a second time, then a third. Again, as skeptical as the rest of us, he made me swear this was all true. I kept telling him I didn’t think we should do this. What if there was someone dangerous in the apartment?
But Alex waved it off. He said I was in there for a good fifteen minutes, and if someone had been there, I would’ve noticed. I thought this was a pretty good point. I’d checked all the closets. There aren’t any other places to hide in there otherwise - the bed and couches are too way low to the ground to squeeze under and there’s no other conceivable way I would’ve passed by some guy crouched under the table or something.
We were there, first and foremost, to see if Dean or his girlfriend, Lisa, were home. I had very little hope that this was the case, but Alex wanted to assure himself. And I wasn’t about to allow him to go in there alone. I have to admit, nosleep, I almost wanted to check it out again. I had the distinct feeling I’d missed something important.
I glanced up to the third story as Alex was keying in the code to the building (he’d cat-sitted for Dean and Lisa a couple months ago) and noticed something odd. The blinds were once again closed, greyish-black behind the glass. I’d definitely left them open the last time I’d been there. So someone had been inside.
This time, as we entered the building, I got goosebumps immediately. Though, of course, that reaction was probably completely psychological. We silently made our way up to the third floor.
Things were noticeably different as soon as we left the elevator. It was almost like the atmosphere I’d experience inside Dean’s apartment two days ago had... I don’t know... spread.
The hallway was only partially illuminated. Most of the lights were burnt out up here, and where they weren’t the bulbs were dim and yellow. Deep pools of blackness welled in certain corners and around doorframes. There was some kind of mold starting to grow on the walls near the ceiling - at least I thought there was. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but I could see thin, sparse veins of black mold creeping their way towards the floor. I hadn’t noticed that last time I’d visited.
It occurred to me at that moment that we hadn’t brought weapons of any kind. Not even my mom’s fucking salt. I mentioned this to Alex, who was starting to look wary at the state of the third floor hallway. He is reading over my shoulder as I type, and insists I inform you that he was not scared.
I was scared though. And I wasn’t comforted when Alex pulled out his little army knife. It wasn’t even iron, so if this was a ghost it was useless. Though I’m starting to think, when Dean said the supernatural isn’t like anything we know, he was hinting that iron and salt are not practical defenses against whatever’s going on. Though I might be reaching here.
Dean’s apartment door was still unlocked, the numbers still missing. I glanced around the hallway and noticed that a few other doors had lost their numbers, too. Maybe this could be explained by something commonplace though - maybe they were just being replaced or cleaned by the managers.
Shuddering, I turned the knob and opened the door.
It was dark inside, extremely dark. The only lightswitch that worked was the one in the apartment hallway, and it was dim enough to almost be brown. Alex and I used the screens of our phones for extra illumination.
This place seemed to be the source of the mold outbreak. It spread in spidery, weaving lines down every wall and in some places the plaster was cracking. This was one extremely fast growing mold. I hadn’t seen any last time I was in the apartment, and now it was fucking everywhere.
Again, that feeling that I was being watched came back with full force. I felt eyes on me every time I turned around. I mentioned this to Alex, and he just shrugged.
We began to search, slowly and quietly, staying together so as not to be caught off guard. I opened the blinds again, but it was an overcast day and the extra light didn’t do much to alleviate the creepiness from the scene.
I checked Dean’s computer and didn’t see any activity for the past four days. There was a rank, rotting smell coming from the kitchen. We discovered its source was the little garbage can in there, but didn’t want to go searching through it.
The only thing that was different about the living room from my last visit, besides the mold on the walls, was that all of the pictures that had been hanging above the entertainment system were on the floor in a pile of broken glass. Most of them were of Dean and his girlfriend, and a few had been torn in half. It was unnerving. There was a hint of anger in the way these had been thrown around. I started to get paranoid about squatters, and Alex yelled in his authoritative man-voice that this was the police and anyone in here needed to come out with their hands on their heads.
This garnered no response. We checked the hallway closets and the bathroom, and then entered Dean’s room.
The mold in here was at its worst - the spidery tendrils of vein down the wall were thicker, and the air smelled of the spores. I gagged and put my hand to my mouth. I hate the scent of mold.
The bed was made, in the same way it had been last time I was here. It seemed untouched. Deep shadows welled in every corner, but I didn’t want to climb across the bed to open the blinds. The lights didn’t work in there.
I turned toward the mirror at the vanity and almost jumped out of my skin at my distorted reflection. The mirror was badly cracked, as though someone had punched it.
As I was looking at the mirror, Alex picked something up off the bed and brought my attention to it. It’s a little notebook, like one you can pick up at Barnes and Noble. Most of the pages are empty, and a few toward the front are ripped out. Most of the writing is definitely not english, or any other language I recognize. I’ll photograph and post it the first chance I get.
So then Alex and I decided to leave. The atmosphere in Dean’s room was oppressive. It seemed difficult to breathe, with that damp smell of rotting soil lingering in the air. We went back into the living room and looked around one last time. Alex bent down to look at the broken picture frames on the ground again.
Still standing in the hallway, I heard something behind me. It sounded exactly like a phone vibrating. I spun around and shined my light down the hall, listening. The buzzing stopped. Quickly, I dialed Dean's number on my phone.
It happened again, a vibrating from Dean’s room. We definitely hadn’t seen a phone in there. Wanting to find the phone while it was still ringing, I motioned to Alex to follow me and raced into Dean’s room again.
It only took a couple seconds to pinpoint the source of the noise. It was under the goddamn bed.
Slowly, not wanting to look under there but telling myself I was being stupid, I bent down. Like I said before, that bed is really low to the floor. The gap is only about three inches tall. Before I could get low enough to see under, something underneath, something I couldn't see, skittered toward me from the opposite wall.
I heard it distinctly and it freaked me out. Something was shuffling, dragging itself quickly across the carpet under the bed. I jerked away and ran out of the room. I only looked over my shoulder once, and I wish I hadn’t.
In the split second I glanced back, I saw something retreat back under the bed, as though it had popped out at my approach but was going back into hiding. It was something pale and kind of waxy white, long and bony, like maybe... an arm? A really thin arm. Which is ridiculous, since no human could fit in that space.
Anyway only glimpsed for half a second but it made me gasp in horror. I was out of the apartment in a flash and already halfway down the stairs by the time Alex caught up with me.
I have no idea what it was, but I’ll never forget the sight of it. The way it moved... it was kind of jerky but extremely quick. It wasn’t a cat, I know that. Maybe some other animal, but definitely not a cat. There was no fur. It looked like white flesh.
Alex is staying over tonight. Neither of us want to be alone. I don’t want to do this anymore.
Jesus. To make matters worse, as I’m writing this, Dean just texted me. Like, not two seconds ago. What he said should be obvious at this point.
“Come over.”
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