Stories that are collected from the depths of the unknown or spawned from the deep recesses of my mind...
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Nobody Wants To Be My Friend
I was sitting in the corner picking at a scab on my knee when I heard the car pull into the driveway. I jumped up and listened carefully, eyes toward the ceiling. I heard keys jingling in the door and footsteps shuffle across the floor above me.
please, please, please, I whispered to myself in the dark, squeezing my eyes shut tight and holding my crossed fingers against my chest, close to my heart. I crawled as close to the basement door as I could and watched it intently, waiting to see if it would open.
As far as I could tell, I had been alone in the basement for about a month now, but I didn’t have a clock or calendar, so it could have been longer. I was getting pretty lonely.
Finally the door creaked open and a thin strip of light leaked into the room. I could see all the dust particles floating in the air and squinted past them to the top of the stairs. My eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the light yet, but I thought I could make out two figures slowly and clumsily stumbling down the steps.
My heart leapt into my throat and I uncrossed my fingers.
“Hey Jimmy!” I called excitedly, my face pressed up against the bars of the 200 square foot cage I called home.
“Hey Kid,” He said, grunting, as he dragged a boy who looked a little older than me across the floor and into the cage next to me. He tossed him in and locked the door, threw a sandwich in both of our rooms and stomped back upstairs.
I anxiously waited for my new friend to wake up. I was starving, Jimmy had been out all day and forgot about breakfast, but I wanted to wait so we could have our sandwiches together.
I stared at him laying on his side for hours I think, watching his chest peacefully rise and fall in tune with his gentle snoring, until finally he rolled over and moaned.
“Hey! Hey wake up!” I called. The boy rubbed his eyes and looked around confused. Then he started screaming.
They all do this at first. Some of them cry, some pound on the walls and shake the bars of the cage until they exhaust themselves. I never understood why they do this, I guess they are just surprised.
I watched this new boy yell for help and search frantically through his pockets for something. I tried to calm him down, to tell him to eat his sandwich and relax, but I don’t think he could hear me.
Eventually he quieted down and looked at me. I peered at him excitedly through the bars and gave him a warm, welcoming smile.
“Hi! What’s your name?” I asked cheerfully. His eyes scrunched together as he pulled his knees into his chest and rocked back and forth in the corner. “It’s okay, you can tell me. I’m a friend”
“I’m Kyle,” he said in a shredded, raspy voice. “Who are you? Where am I? What’s going on?” He started to cry again but at least he wasn’t screaming.
“I’m Kid,” I answered. That’s what Jimmy always called me so I assumed it was my name. “You’re at Jimmy’s house and we are gonna be great friends!” I grinned at him and stuck my arm out between the bars for a handshake, but he backed as far away from me as he could. I solemnly pulled my hand back inside and tried not to take it personally. All of the kids that Jimmy brought home seemed scared of me at first. I told Jimmy that it hurt my feelings, that I just wanted to be their friends, but he told me they just needed some time to get used to me.
“There’s some lunch for you over there.” I pointed to the peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the zip-lock bag that sat in the center of his room. “I got one too. I waited for you to wake up so we could eat it together.” He didn’t move, but I was so hungry I couldn’t wait any more. I took a big bite and made an MMMM yummy sound, hoping that would make him want to eat, but it didn’t. I dejectedly ate lunch alone again, but I still didn’t give up on my new friend. It had been longer than usual since Jimmy brought one home, and I knew he would be gone soon, so I wanted to make it count.
“You like peanut butter? We get it almost every day for lunch. Sometimes tuna fish, but Jimmy says it makes the house smell. For dinner he brings us macaroni and cheese sometimes. That’s my favorite. Sometimes he forgets about dinner though. Sometimes he drinks this stuff called Vodka, and when he does that, he forgets about dinner. One time he left the bottle down here and I tasted it. It was so nasty, I had to spit it out. Have you ever tried it? I dunno why he likes it so much. What do you like to eat for dinner?” He didn’t say anything. He just sat in the corner rocking back and forth looking all over the place. I didn’t hear any noises coming from upstairs and assumed it was one of those nights that Jimmy forgot about dinner, and I was glad I waited to eat my sandwich.
Kyle rolled over and lay down on his side, his back towards me, with his knees still curled up in his arms. “That’s a good idea,” I said, laying down myself, “We should get some sleep. We’ll hang out tomorrow.”
I woke up to the sounds of him screaming for help and banging on the wall. There was a small window at the very top of the wall across from us that let some light in, but it was still difficult to see.
“Hey calm down!” I yelled. “No one is going to hear you and if you wake up Jimmy he is just going to be mad.” This stopped him. He looked at me, terrified, and crawled over the the wall of the cage that we shared.
“Where are we?” He demanded.
“We’re at Jimmy’s house!” I said with a smile. “It’s kind of boring but it’s not so bad here.”
“Why am I here?”
“To be my friend!” I said excitedly. “Don’t worry though, you probably won’t be here long. Jimmy takes everyone home after a few days.”
Just then, the basement door opened and Jimmy came storming down the stairs. Kyle scurried into the corner. “Good morning Jimmy!” I said happily. “Sorry for all the noise-”
“Keep your fucking mouth shut, you hear me?” Jimmy said, pointing a finger at Kyle who huddled in the corner crying. He tossed a granola bar in each of our rooms and left, muttering something about wanting some peace and quiet before slamming the door behind him.
I picked up my breakfast. “Yes, blueberry!” I held the cereal bar up in the small square of light and asked “What kind did you get?”
Without picking it up, he peeked at it and quietly said “chocolate chip.”
“Nice! Those are the two best ones!”
“Who are you?” Kyle asked, cautiously moving closer towards his food.
“I’m Kid.” I said, extending my hand out one more time. This time he shook it, carefully.
“Why are you so happy? Aren’t you scared? Don’t you wanna go home?”
“Why would I be scared?” I asked, confused. “I am home.”
Kyle scurried back to the corner and curled into a ball. All he kept saying over and over again was “I wanna go home. I wanna go home.”
My feelings were hurt. I tried not to let it get to me, but all the friends Jimmy brought for me just wanted to go home as soon as they got here. Maybe there’s something wrong with me I thought. That had to be it, because why else would everyone be so desperate to go home to their own cages and sit alone, than be friends with me?
I knew I was lucky to have Jimmy, someone who cared about me enough to go out and bring other kids over for me to play with from time to time. One time I asked him if I could go over to someone else’s cage for a while, since no one ever wants to stay here, and he hit me. Slapped me right across the face. He told me that most kids aren’t allowed to have friends over, and that I should be grateful for him. So I was always confused when they tried to escape. I felt bad for Jimmy, too. He worked hard to get these friends for me, and they just wanted to leave. I wondered what could be so great about their cages that made them want to get back to them so badly. Maybe they got better sandwiches than me.
I picked at my granola bar and thought about Lauren, the last friend Jimmy brought home for me. She was here for a few days, 4 maybe, before Jimmy decided it was time for her to go home. I didn’t mind. All Lauren did was cry and cry, and it kept me awake at night. I waved goodbye to her as she climbed up the stairs. I remembered hearing her scream right after the basement door close, and figured she must be really excited to go home. Then I heard a loud THUD, followed by Jimmy making grunting sounds. The floorboards above my head were squeaking rhythmically and I wondered what was going on up there and why I wasn’t invited. I was feeling jealous that they were having fun without me when I heard the Jimmy leave to take her home. When he got back he came downstairs to bring me dinner. I thought I saw blood on his hands, but it was really dark down there and I couldn’t be sure.
When Jimmy returned with sandwiches some hours later, Kyle gave in. He quickly reached for it and tore the plastic off. We ate our lunch together and I was overjoyed. When he was done, he stood up and started examining the bars on the cage, pulling and pushing on them, eyeing each one up and down.
“What are you doing?” I asked curiously.
“Trying to get out, what do you think?”
“Why do you want to get out? Don’t you wanna be friends?” This guy was taking me on a roller coaster ride of emotions. I had been thrilled only minutes before that we ate together, thinking he finally came around and wanted to be my friend, and now he wanted to escape?
He looked at me like I was insane and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. I had been nothing but nice to Kyle and here he was, doing everything in his power to leave me and go back to his dark room all alone. He went back to work, now tapping on each of the bars with his knuckles. “Because I want to go home, you bitch.” Now I was upset.
“Why? Why does everyone want to go home so bad? Is your cage much better than this one? Do you get better sandwiches for lunch?” He didn’t respond, but he stopped what he was doing and tilted his head slightly to the side to listen. “Or is it me?” I continued, angry and on a rant. “Why does everyone who comes here want to leave and be alone in their cages instead of be here next to me?”
He finally turned his head to meet my gaze and the look on his face changed completely. He no longer looked at me like I was crazy. He didn’t seem scared, and any anger that he had previously felt vanished. his eyes were soft and his mouth hung slightly open as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. I think it was a look of sympathy.
“I don’t live in a cage.” He finally answered, speaking excruciatingly slow. Now it was my turn to be confused.
“Well, where do you live then?” I asked, half sarcastically. It never even occurred to me that people live anywhere else besides in small dark cages.
“I live in a house in Albany with my dad. I have my own room with a TV and bed…” I heard about beds before, Jimmy has one I think. He told me he had a sleepover in it once with Claire, a friend he brought over a long time ago, before he took her home. “I can come and go as I please. No one locks me up, and it’s not dark and smelly like this fucking place. I have a girlfriend and friends, I have a laptop and an iPhone and I go to school…” He drifted off, losing himself in his cathartic thoughts.
“iPhone?” I asked, that being one of the few words he said that I was unfamiliar with.
“You don’t know what an iPhone is?” He asked in disbelief. His shock confused me, and suddenly I realized what was happening. I smiled and waved my hand at him in a dismissive motion.
“Are you messing with me?” I asked, laughing a little. He just stared, his mouth agape. He got me, I’ll admit that, but I don’t like being the butt of the joke.
“Have you…” he started, cracking his knuckles nervously, “Have you ever left this room?”
“Why would I leave?” I retorted. “Jimmy brings me food and friends… where else do I have to go?”
I woke up to Kyle whispering my name. It was pitch black in the basement but I felt like he was close to me. I jumped up when I felt him wrap his hand around my mouth from behind. My entire back pressed against the front of his body. I had never been so close to another person before. I got goosebumps.
I don’t know how he broke out of the cages, but before I could ask, he was leading me across the room towards the staircase.
“Where are we going?” I asked. He put his finger to my lips and told me to Shh
“I have something to show you but you have to trust me.” He whispered. “Just follow me and be very, very quiet.” I stood frozen in place. I had never been up the stairs before. I didn’t think Jimmy would like it. As if reading my mind he said “Come on, we’re friends, right? You can trust me, and I promise that if you don’t like what I have to show you, I will take you right back here in the morning.”
I was scared but he said we were friends, and I so desperately wanted a friend. When we got up the stairs I saw Jimmy lying on the couch with an empty bottle of that Vodka stuff next to him. I knew he’d be out for a while, and hoped I could make it back before he woke up.
Kyle led me out the front door without making a sound. I still couldn’t see anything, it was so dark, but I felt a chill in the air that took me by surprise. I shivered, but I liked it. It smelled fresh and clean, unlike the dank basement I spent my whole life in.
We walked and walked for a long time, and as morning approached I began to question everything I’d ever known. This spectacular light spilled into the world and everywhere I looked there was something I’d never seen before. I’d seen pieced of trees and grass out of the basement window, but seeing the whole tree was something different entirely. There were buildings so tall I couldn’t even see the tops of them. I stared at all of in in awe, feeling so incredibly small.
“What is that?” I asked Kyle, pointing at a small, gray tube floating in the sky.
“That’s a plane, Kid. Look I’ll answer all your questions, I promise, but right now we have to move.”
It was all a whirlwind. He brought me to a big, tan house with green ‘shutters,’ as he called them. When we walked in the door, and older man, about Jimmys age, grabbed him and hugged him and kissed his head. I’ve never seen anything like it, but whatever it was, it looked beauiful. Kyle quietly spoke to this man, his 'father,’ and gestured toward me. The man looked at me with the same face Kyle did when I told him I’d never left the basement, then he hugged me too. I stood there with my arms pinned at my sides. I didn’t know what to do. Suddenly I was the outsider visiting someone else’s cage, and I realized why everyone was so scared.
The man went to make a phone call and Kyle and I sat at a big table in what he called a 'kitchen.’ He fed me these round, sweet things with chocolate chips that kind of reminded me of the granola bars Jimmy gave me but better. Before I knew it, there were a bunch of other older people in the house, all wearing the same blue uniform and asking Kyle and I questions.
“What is your name?” One of them asked me, a pen and paper in hand.
“Kid.” I replied shyly. There was that look again.
“Do you know where you are?” I shook my head. “Do you know how old you are? Your last name? What year it is?” I answered no to all those questions and kept shoveling better-than-granola bars into my mouth.
After what felt like an eternity, one of the women made me follow her into her car. I’d never been in a car before, and it was very scary. I sat in the back seat and clutched my knees, crying and begging them to take me home.
I’ve been living in a 'foster home’ for almost a year. They call me Emily now. It took me a long time to learn everything and at first I was nervous but I really like it here now. There are five other girls for me to be friends with, and my room here is a lot bigger and brighter. They never forget to give me dinner, either.
A few days ago, my foster parents told me that they found my real dad. Apparently I had been kidnapped when I was just a baby and my Dad had been looking for me for thirteen years. He even had my birth certificate to prove it.
I didn’t really know what made this dad my 'real’ dad, but my foster parents were excited, so I was too. They told me to pack up all my things (I had things now) and that he was coming to pick me up.
When I saw him, my heart leapt into my throat. His familiar eyes glared at me with a blazing anger I had never seen before, but despite that, he knelt down on the ground to be face to face with me and wrapped me in his arms. He never touched me before, and it felt like a jolt of electricity throughout my entire body. He stroked my hair and held my face in his hands, putting on an excellent show for the foster parents. He sobbed into my shoulder and I cried too, knowing the fate of my future.
Jimmy dragged me down the stairs and literally threw me back in my cage. I immediately crawled to the corner and hugged my knees to my chest like I have watched so many other people do, only now I understood how they felt. My hear broke for every one of my “friends” who had been down there with me before. Besides the fact that I wanted a friend, I never minded the cage and the dark and the eerie basement smell, until I learned there was something else out there. Now, as I laid down on the cement floor, I wished I’d never left, never met Kyle and his dad and the nice foster family. I wished I’d never seen the outside world because all it did was tease me and fill me with a longing for something I would never have again.
I shuddered with fear and total hopelessness as Jimmy tossed a chocolate chip granola bar in the cage and sneered “Welcome home, Kid” before stomping up the stairs and leaving me in alone in the dark.
–
Credits to: AllThingsCinnamon
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Testing In Progress
In 1999 I was a starving university student. Well, not really starving, but when I had more than one dead president in my wallet at a time I considered it a good day…regardless of which former head of state was on the paper. At the time I was taking pre-med courses, but I really didn’t have a solid direction. Money, of course, was very tight, and I frequently found myself taking notes for other students were too lazy, prideful, smart, hung over, or stupid to go to class.
This eventually ended with one of them using my notes, verbatim, on an exam and landing us both in solid trouble. Thankfully, this was one of the stupid students, who’d been caught cheating before. As it was merely my notes, and not my actual exam I was allowed to slide with a warning and academic probation. It also helped that I had a perfect record and a near perfect GPA to that point. Paying for notes, however, was now out of the question as the university changed its policy that already frowned upon such an act to completely forbid the practice. While I did work part time at a hardware store, I relied on my note-taking business to help ensure that I would be able to afford the hamburger to go with my helper.
I saw an advertisement on the wall of my anatomy class that was claiming to offer paid benefits for medical test subjects. Dubiously, I inquired via phone as to what kind of “testing” they’d be performing, and what sort of “benefits” the subjects would be rewarded with upon completion of the test. I was informed that they’d be testing such items as acne medicine, allergy shots, foot cream, and products of a fairly benign nature. I would be paid two hundred dollars for participating in a two week study that required a total of eight hours of my time. I nearly leapt through the phone to sign up.
My first test was a hair product that was designed to treat lice. This, unfortunately, required that I get lice. Not a particularly fun weekend. The treatment, however, was quite effective and had the lice gone within a day. My hair did turn an odd shade of puke-green for a few weeks, but it grew out. Once I returned for a follow-up and was declared clean I was awarded my two hundred dollars and informed that another trial would begin the following week for a different product and that, as a returning subject, I would be granted entry before those that hadn’t participated before. The pay and trial period was the same, so I eagerly jotted my name down and left. The money might not seem like much now, but coupled with my part-time work at the hardware store I’d now be able to afford such things as rent and gas to go along with my textbooks and tuition.
I signed up pretty much every two weeks for a few months straight, testing such products as hair remover, over the counter painkillers, reading glasses, hairspray, wart remover, and diet pills. Each time I was paid for my work in cash and asked to sign up for the following test. I only missed one two week period as I was horribly sick from an unrelated illness; the stomach flu had been running rampant through the university and I had managed to find it.
The following weekend I was feeling better and ready to sign up for more as I was a little strapped for cash due to the “lost wages.” This time, however, when I arrived at the facility to sign up the usual attendant who would sign us in was not there. Instead a tall woman with jet black hair stood behind the counter and handed me a form that made me somewhat uncomfortable. It was a fairly all-encompassing waiver that basically said that the company would not be liable for any sort of injury or illness sustained for the duration of this test. Don’t get me wrong; I had to sign a waiver to start the testing in the first place…but this one seemed much more serious. Things like depression, mental illness, hallucinations, and self-inflicted bodily harm tend to worry me.
I almost didn’t sign it. Much like the time when I almost didn’t participate due to the fact that I knew the “diet pills” were basically code for “laxative that makes you crap everything out before your body absorbs the calories from food,” I nearly backed out. The dark haired lady finally slid a pay slip towards me showing the pay rate. I initially didn’t give it a second thought until I realized that an additional zero had been added. Two THOUSAND dollars was at stake for this test. In addition it would only be a one day test, although it would require twelve full hours. The product was a very powerful anti-depressant. Just take one pill, stay and be observed for the day, watch a few movies, and eat the free food provided. I could handle that.
I signed my name and as soon as my pen left the paper another unfamiliar face opened the door to take me back. I followed and entered the usual room where I was normally informed of the exact nature of the testing. This time I was met by a doctor who looked to be in his late 50’s with a pair of glasses that were so thick they looked comical. He was incredibly nice; he explained to me the exact nature and goal of the drug I’d be testing, broke down each of the ingredients and chemicals and described what they would (or should) do to me. He also went on to offer me one last chance to back out of the experiment as he knew there would likely be some serious hallucinations; the drug was still very experimental, but held enough potential that the FDA was willing to allow testing in a controlled environment.
I gave it some serious thought. I wasn’t exactly new to hallucinogenic drugs; I went to my fair share of parties held in old warehouses with loud music, bright lights, and gummy bears that may or may not have been marinated in acid. I’d imagined a few people that didn’t actually exist, spent an entire evening with my deceased cousin, and, on one unfortunate occasion when the police showed up I’ve even kept my cool around the cops. It’s not easy to describe the fear that cascades through your person when an officer of the law is standing inches from your face telling you how you’re wasting your life at these kinds of parties…and he begins to melt. Still not sure how that one turned out alright in the end, but I didn’t end up in jail for it. A controlled environment seemed far… safer… than an abandoned warehouse in the inner-city so I once again agreed.
The doctor brought out a small cup with one pill about the size of an M&M. I briefly thought of backing out again, but two grand was too good to pass up. I swallowed the pill with a swig of water and sat back in my chair. The doctor left and the attendant came and got my lunch order, which turned out to be Burger King, and directed me to the wall of movies. I decided that if I was gonna trip it might as well be to a good movie so I selected the original Star Wars trilogy.
By the time the late lunch finally rolled around I was almost to the end of The Empire Strikes Back and was merely feeling groggy. Finally I buzzed the attendant and asked if I could catch some shuteye; sometimes they wanted you to stay awake for observations, sometimes they wanted you to sleep, and sometimes it didn’t matter. The attendant informed me that he’d go ask the doctor and be right back. I stood up to pace for a little to keep myself awake and as I did the room began to spin. I felt a little buzzed. It felt odd; I had taken the pill nearly four hours ago and experienced only grogginess up to this point, but I continued to pace until he returned. He chimed over the speaker that I was more than welcome to sleep, but to be aware that I’d likely have some very lucid dreams; some earlier test subjects had even had some fairly spectacular nightmares. I grumbled ‘OK’ and ejected The Empire Strikes Back from the VCR so that I could start Return of the Jedi. Yeah…I know…1999. I plopped down in the easy chair and almost immediately nodded off.
I dreamt that I was on an airplane that was falling out of the sky as it was assaulted by small blue men, and that I was the only one awake to stop them. It was a truly terrifying dream that only seemed to last a few seconds, but as soon as we hit the ground I woke up coughing. There was an acrid black smoke near the ceiling of the room. I was still in the easy chair, but the room was darker and I couldn’t even see the walls at first. I stood and immediately realized that I was more than a little dizzy, so I began to stagger towards the wall. The wall clock indicated that it was almost five in the evening. I was confused and it finally crossed my mind that the building wasn’t normally open past four and it dawned on me that I was in for a twelve hour testing that would end around ten or eleven that night.
My head tried to reassure me that this was a dream. Maybe I was hallucinating. I didn’t know of a good way to determine if that was the case, so I tried to remain calm as best I could. I wasn’t wearing a watch and barely knew what a cell phone was at the time so I just assumed that the wall clock was correct; it was when I walked in as far as I knew. I tried to hit the buzzer to alert an attendant and received no response. Finally I went to the emergency wall phone and ripped it from the receiver. No dial tone.
I began to panic a little at this point; what if there had been some sort of emergency and the building had been evacuated? What if I’d been left behind? I couldn’t take that risk. I went to the door to test the handle and found it unlocked. Upon opening the door I found that the entire area was very quiet. I couldn’t hear a fire, emergency vehicles, anything. The area was very dark with only a hint of red light to see by. This turned out to be a small red sign above the door that read “Testing in Progress.” As I let go of the door handle I found my hand suddenly bound to it; there was a medical bracelet on my wrist that hadn’t been there when I fell asleep. It was the sort of bracelet that you’d get on a hospital visit. The numbers “5337” were the only text I could make out.
After disentangling myself from the door handle I wandered a few feet before coming to another door. This was one I’d never seen before; they always took me to one of two rooms and I’d never been elsewhere. This door looked more secure than the one I’d recently passed through. It was, however, cracked about half an inch open. It sounded like there was someone inside and I was hoping that maybe it was an employee that could tell me what was happening…or, as I still felt somewhat lucid, if they could explain to me that this was all a horrible nightmare and I could go back to sleeping in the recliner.
Inside was a small figure huddled in the corner of the room. It was incredibly dark, but I could barely see the outline of a person. I tried to call out to them but my voice sounded weak and inarticulate. The figure turned and took a step towards me. Hope turned to fear as I noticed they seemed more aggressive than helpful. I quickly turned to leave and saw the figure lunge towards me and into the only light in the room. It was a boy, probably around ten years old, his eyes were completely clouded white and there was blood all over his face. His face seemed to be actively decomposing before my eyes; his skin was purple and blotchy and appeared to be slightly droopy. I only caught the briefest of glimpses, but I saw it clearly. I fell out of the door and slammed it with my feet an instant before the boy began to pound heavily on the door. It was inhuman; the noise was incredibly loud and the door, which seemed rather heavy, seemed to almost give under each blow. As his fist hit the small window I saw a medical bracelet much like my own.
I turned back the way I had come as quickly as I could manage. The smoke still hung thickly in the air, and I couldn’t see an end to it. The hallway went a short distance to a set of stairs that appeared to descent at least four or five flights. The smoke wasn’t as thick there, and I began to feel better, think more clearly, and take stock of my situation; this had to be a nightmare, but I couldn’t wake myself. I figured it’d be like most dreams where when I win the lottery I wake up as soon as I get the money. It had to be something akin to that.
I made it down one flight of stairs to a very well lit room that held several rows of hospital beds. The very last bed on the right had someone under the sheets. It looked as though it was a corpse; the sheet was pulled up over the head, and only the feet were sticking out with a tag on one toe. As I entered the room the lights flicked off for a second. When they turned back on the sheet had sat up in bed. They turned off again and I heard the door shut behind me. I slipped backwards and grabbed the handle to wrench it open. The lights turned on and there was a man standing maybe fifty feet from me with no visible face. He had basically just a dark black hole where his face would normally have been. By the time I had the door open the lights went off again and I was already outside. I almost jumped the entire next level of stairs as I could hear the door open again behind me.
There were no doors on the next few levels but I could hear someone calling behind me saying something about a “subject” and asking them “to remain calm.” If it was the faceless guy I wanted nothing whatsoever to do with him so I continued to run downstairs. Finally I reached the bottom level and saw a thick looking security door. I pushed my way through as I heard footsteps only one flight above me. Inside was an office chair and I slammed that as hard as I could underneath the door handle in an attempt to hold it closed.
I was now in a long hallway lit by numerous “Testing in Progress” signs. The smoke was back at the ceiling, and I began to feel dizzy. I couldn’t figure out where the smoke was coming from as I couldn’t really see a fire or anything, and part of me wondered if the smoke was originating in the air vents. Was it making me sick? I tried to convince myself that it was in my head, but when I’d duck out of the smoke I thought clearer, and began to worry that maybe I wasn’t having a nightmare.
I didn’t have much time to ponder this as I heard someone calling from the other side of the door. I could see what looked like the faceless man on the other side of the door. The chair seemed like it could give at any moment so I ran towards the end. I could hear him yelling in the distance, telling me that I wasn’t supposed to be here and that it was for my own safety. I knew it had to be a dream…but I didn’t want to find out what he meant so I just kept moving. There were a few other doors in the hallway, always with the same red sign above the opening. All of them were closed and looked very heavy.
The smoke got thicker near the end and I found myself at a very hefty looking door that was open about half a foot. It was moveable but very thick and had large bars on it. I couldn’t tell if it was to keep things out or in, but at present I figured it couldn’t hurt to put the door between me and Mr. No-face. I couldn’t close the monstrosity the entire way at first because there was something stuck in the opening. It was dark and I couldn’t see well so I just kicked it out of the way and shut the door. I didn’t know if that would be enough to keep faceless from finding me so I moved cautiously further into the room.
That was when I realized how thick the smoke was in this room. Something was definitely burning in this room, but I couldn’t tell what or where it was. The room was big; maybe the size of a high school gymnasium, and it had some large structures that took up the majority of it leaving only small winding pathways. I moved through those as silently as possible until I was near the center of the room. The smoke seemed to be coming from there.
At the center was a small open area with a fire in the center. It was a sizeable fire and I saw a person wearing hospital scrubs standing beside it…and what appeared to be several corpses lying on the ground halfway in the fire. I yelled something at him…help maybe? I don’t remember, but the moment I made a noise he turned and ran down one of the pathways on the opposite side of the clearing and vanished before I could follow. Then I heard a noise over the sound of the fire. I more felt it; the floor seemed to shake and I could hear the deepest kind of guttural growl emanating from a dark mass that began to creep slowly across the floor in my direction.
Even lit by the fire I couldn’t tell you what I was looking at; my brain decoded it as the result of a really REALLY bad drug trip, and I couldn’t get much more than that. It moved like an immense bug of some sorts, but I swear I could see arms and legs…and shoes…and heads…sticking out at all weird angles. It left a pool of slime, or maybe blood, as it sloshed its way towards me. I wasn’t going to wait around to see if I was really dreaming so I ran the only free route I had; back the way I came.
I made it back to the heavy door and found much to my horror, that the door was now locked from the other side. I looked for something, anything, to try to pry the door open and I remembered that something was lodged in the door when I first entered. I searched the floor for it and found it…unfortunately. It was an arm, complete with a medical bracelet much like my own, only this one read “5331.” Panic began to sink in deep at this point as I started pounding on the door for all I was worth.
I could hear the thing as it rounded the last bend and came into view. I couldn’t make out the features as well without the fire…but I knew what was there. Would I wake up when it found me? Or would I die some horrible death at the hands of…this monstrosity? I steeled myself for the attack and leaned hard against the door…which suddenly sprang open. I tumbled backwards and into the arms of the faceless man who spoke in a distorted dialect of English as he slammed the door behind me. Something heavy and wet slammed into the closed door as I felt the doctor stick my neck with something…and the world faded to black.
I woke sweaty and confused sitting in the lazy boy recliner with Jurassic park playing on the TV. Was I safe? What was happening? Who changed the tape? Was there a homunculus waiting outside my door to consume my person? As these thoughts rifled through my sleep addled brain I heard the intercom buzz to life. “It’s been twelve hours sir, would you please come to the front to be re-evaluated and to sign out.” The door clicked and slid open as I slowly eased out of my seat. The clock on the wall read past eleven at night. I was safe? I tentatively poked my head through the open door and saw…nothing; a normal hallway. I thought maybe that I could smell smoke…but I convinced myself that it was in my head; I certainly couldn’t see any.
The doctor who gave me the pills gave me a quick once-over and asked me if I had any unfortunate side-effects. I, still somewhat in shock, lied and said only that I had a few weird dreams, but nothing that I wouldn’t get from a night of partying. He looked relieved and gave me a few last forms to fill out before sending me on my way. I got paid and left before I could really process what had happened. That was my last test though; two grand was more than enough to hold me for some time and I could up my hours at the hardware store. I wasn’t going back there.
I switched my major to business and left medicine behind…for a few years. Once I graduated I was contacted by an old classmate who needed an operations manager for his pharmaceutical company that he’d started with a few other individuals. The pay was great, if somewhat erratic due to the fact that the company was relatively new. I was in charge of finding new drugs and determining if they were going to do well in the market and if we should begin distribution of them once they passed FDA approval.
Last week I stumbled across a drug that seemed familiar. Reading the ingredients I realized it was the exact drug that I’d taken many years ago and I wondered how on God’s good green Earth it had received FDA approval. I found the studies that had been completed on the drug and noticed that it had been developed in 1998. The following year was the first major study on the drug. I dug deeper and found the first study. It was the very one I took part in fifteen years ago.
Upon examining the notes I found that there were twenty people involved in the study. I was curious to see if any had experienced the same violently disturbing reaction to the drug that I had. Ten of the people had been given the drug, and ten had been given a mild sedative that was part of the drug in the first place. They were the control group. I read through the reactions, some vomited, some became slightly loopy from the sedative, some ate…a lot, and some reportedly slept most of the day. I finally came to the end and found a printout of the test subjects with their names and ID numbers.
The sheet was the last of the packet and after glancing at it I almost placed it back on the stack and continued working; I was going to deny the drug after the horrible hallucinations I’d had during the testing. No way were we going to carry that product. Then I noticed something on the sheet. The numbers matched the ones I’d seen during my nightmare. I looked closer and found that numbers 5324-5333 were given the drug and numbers 5334-5343 were given only the sedative. I was part of the control group for the experiment.
–
Credits to: jdpatric
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
Nine
It was snowing out on that forest hidden road. George was the only man driving on it that night. That was where he saw her.
She was a small child, covered in a blanket, sitting alone on the side of the road. He stopped his pickup truck immediately and rushed to her aid.
“You alright, darlin’?” George asked in a soft voice.
“Nine,” the child said with a shiver.
“Where are your parents?”
“Nine.”
George looked around, there was no sign of anyone. There was no one but her.
“Now you’re comin’ with me,” he said, “I’ll be damned if I’m just gonna leave you here like this to die a’ frost bite.”
“Nine!” she said as she looked up at him, tears running down her face.
“Come on now,” he said, “Get in the truck. I’m takin’ you to the hospital.”
She didn’t move a muscle. More tears streamed down her small face.
George sighed and picked her up. She screamed.
“Nine!” she cried as she kicked at him, desperately wanting to be let go.
George somehow managed to put her in the passenger seat of his truck and buckle her up. He wondered sadly what kind of trauma had caused her to act like this.
He was halfway to the hospital when the girl started to cry even more hysterically.
“Calm down,” George said as he turned up the heater, “You’re gonna be okay.”
“Ten,” she whispered.
~~~
Chloe stopped her car when she saw it. An abandoned pickup truck on the side of an empty road, the only one inside being a small, crying child.
–
Credits to: imminent_47
Monday, October 17, 2016
Technical Difficulties
The housewarming party was two hours out from the city, and she was making good time on the highway. A familiar song played on the radio, interrupted only by intermittent directions from her dashboard GPS.
Her exit came much sooner than she expected. She glanced at the illuminated route on the screen as she turned.
Several winding and lampless streets brought her further into quiet and darkness as she followed each instruction. The radio had lost its signal. She was alone now but for the computerized voice of her GPS.
As she rolled to a stop at the announced destination, she passed through a gate but saw no houses. Her headlights revealed a lone van ahead.
The sudden rumbling of the gate caused her to jump as it closed behind her car. She squinted at the van and recognized its weatherworn logo as the one from her GPS.
A dark figure in the van’s front seat was barely visible, the glow of his laptop screen illuminating just the teeth of a slow, wide smile.
–
Credits to: DEATHBYDELICIOUSNESS
Sunday, October 16, 2016
iOS 6.6.6
To whoever finds this note on this phone: It is my only companion. I no longer have anything else. I can’t get rid of it, and I cannot stop it. I just want to wake up, but I fear that this is nothing to wake from.
It was a normal day when it first started. I was walking home from work, listening to music on my phone like I always do. But as I was listening, the music began to pause and play and skip through songs seemingly with no rhyme or reason. I figured that it was just glitching because it needed an update, and a reboot, so thats what I did. I set it all up when I got home, and then I went to bed.
The next day I worked early, so I had to leave for work first thing. When I left, I started listening to some music from one of my favorite bands: Time Spent Driving. I cracked open my energy drink which gets me through the day without coffee, since summer is too hot for coffee, and then made my way to work.
While on my way to work it started acting strange again. Pausing and playing. Speeding up and slowing down. Then it inexplicably strung together short clips from various songs on my playlist. It would do this every few minutes, before going back to what I was listening to. It strung words together in such a disturbing fashion that the sweat dripping from me was not just because of the heat.
The first time it did this, it said, “You are my demon. You are my demon. You are my demon. You are my demon. You are my demon. You are my demon.”
I thought it was an odd coincidence. Then it spoke to me again. “You will listen to me. You will listen to me. You will listen to me. You will listen to me. You will listen to me. You will listen to me.” I was uneasy and wondering if someone had hacked my phone and was playing some sick prank on me.
As I approached the back entrance to work, my phone started doing it again, “You need blood, take it. You need blood, take it. You need blood, take it. You need blood, take it. You need blood, take it. You need blood, take it.” I turned my phone off. It was as weird as weird gets, but I wasn’t too shaken. That is, until I stepped into work, pulled a knife from the dish pit, and uncontrollably slaughtered the dish boy. There was nothing left of him except for chunks on the ground. When another employee came to drop off some dishes, I slaughtered her as well. There were four people on shift, and they’re all dead because of me. “Take a picture. Take a picture. Take a picture. Take a picture. Take a picture. Take a picture.” So I did.
My white earbuds still hung from my ears, now crimson. It spoke again. “Wait for my word. Wait for my word. Wait for my word. Wait for my word. Wait for my word. Wait for my word.”
So, I found myself a clearing in a nearby forest, and I am waiting. The battery remains at full, it allows me to listen to my music for as long as I want. I wandered to a lake, and I cleaned myself up, bringing the phone with me, only to find that it had not shorted out or shut off, but worked perfectly. My 12pm alarm even sounded, reminding me to take my second round of meds. This made me realize that I had left them at home. I had forgotten them because I had to leave early. But I couldn’t go home looking like this, with my clothes soaked in blood.
It finally said something. The last thing it said was “You still have the knife. You still have the knife. You still have the knife. You still have the knife. You still have the knife. You still have the knife.”
If you find this phone , .
listen to the music, i had great taste
listen to the music, i had great taste
listen to the music, i had great taste
listen to the music, i had great taste
listen to the music, i had great taste
listen to the music, i had great taste
Saturday, October 15, 2016
The Opposite Of Soulmate
It started when my son was three.
I’m a married mother of four. I’m a nurse and I work weekend shifts so that I can homeschool my youngest son, Justin, who is deaf. My older children, who are from a previous marriage, watch Justin during the weekends while I’m at work. My husband, Mark, works night shifts so he’s not very helpful with the child care. Mark is a police officer and an avid collector of cars. His favorite toy cars from his large collection are displayed in a display case that takes up an entire wall out of our living room.
On this particular day, my son and I were playing in the living room with his toy cars when he suddenly jumped up and hurried to the display case against one wall. He tapped on the glass and motioned me over before signing “I want that one!”
I looked at the car - a 1940’s model of some sort - and shook my head. I tried to explain to him that he couldn’t play with Daddy’s cars because they were special, but he wouldn’t listen.
“I used to have a car like that.” he insisted. “It looks like my car so I should have it.”
I was confused. “When did you have a car like that? Did grandma get you a toy I didn’t know about?”
“No, I had it before I was born.” was his reply. “When I was a grown up.”
I played it off and finally distracted him, but inside I was shocked. Had my son had a past life?
I asked him little questions about it at first, like where did he live before he was born. He told me that at first he had lived in Siam (I had to go to google and I found out that Thailand used to be called Siam… he couldn’t have known that) but then he died and was born in India, where he died again. In his third life, he was born in Jerusalem. In his fourth life, he lived in Germany. This, he explained, was his fifth life (or, in his words, his “fifth birth”).
As he got older, at around age five or six, I tried to ask him harder questions like what he did in those lives. He would explain his jobs. In Siam, he said, he and his friends stole things for a living. In India, he was in charge of many women who he would lend out to men for money. In Jerusalem, he sold fake jewels to “outsiders”, which I gathered to be tourists or perhaps pilgrims. In Germany, he was in charge of a large camp where many people died. It was in his German life that he had a fancy car.
I was beginning to see a pattern and it frightened me. In my son’s past lives he was a thief, a pimp, a fraudster, and a Nazi. Now, Justin is eleven, and about a week ago he started talking about his past lives out of the blue while we were eating a breakfast of toast and cereal.
“Before I’m born, a woman comes to talk to me.” he signed.
“What does the woman say?” I asked, now genuinely worried that perhaps my son had mental problems.
“She tells me what my task is.” Justin responded.
I pushed him further, and he explained.
“In my Siam life, I was supposed to find an old woman and steal her life. In my India life, there was a little girl whose life I had to take. In my Jerusalem life, it was a traveler woman. In my German life, it was a special little Jew.”
I was shocked and prayed that this was all just a figment of his imagination.
“It was all the same girl though.” he continued. “A long time ago, before I was ever born, she killed my Mom while I was in her tummy. The woman who comes to talk to me - my Mommy - wants revenge.”
I was about ready to call a child psychologist when he said something that chilled me right to the bone.
“Usually I have to look for her, but I already found her in this life.” he reached for the butter knife and lunged at me. Luckily, I’m a full grown woman and he’s a little boy. I wrestled the knife for his hand and called for his father.
Justin was admitted to a short-term psych treatment facility. He’s been acting very sweetly toward me, but I know better now. I’ve been having dreams of a robber slicing my throat, of a pimp beating me to death, of a salesman dragging me behind his store and strangling me. And, of course, of a bald and evil man watching me waste away in his camp before ordering me into a horrible room where I can’t breathe.
I know what my son really is now. He is not my son at all. I am going to have to do more than kill him. I am going to have to destroy his soul.
–
Credits to: Thornypotato
Friday, October 14, 2016
Leet Hax
I’m as reclusive as they come. You know that mental image you get whenever an internet Troll is blathering on, or some nutcase insists every single thing that happens on American soil is “a False Flag”?
Right, the picture in your brain of the fat guy in his 30s, smearing cheese-snack fingers on his tighty whiteys in his parents’ basement.
That’s me in a nutshell. The image, not the trolling.
So naturally I spend a good amount of time on social sites. Not just the networking monoliths you know about, but also small forums here and there with interesting communities. I basically get all of my human interaction in the least personal way possible.
I don’t mind, though. I’m sure there’s a phobia of some sort involved there, but I’d much prefer to email you over meeting or even talking over the phone.
The only thing that’s gotten me out into any kind of social interaction in recent memory was my ordeal with LeetHax.com
I’d taken up a web game where the objective was to match as many insects as possible. It was similar to those Jewel-dropping games that are so popular, but it had an edge I rather liked. Each time you’d line up the bugs, a thumb would come down from above and squash them. It was simply titled “SPLAT!”… exclamation point required.
I got into two-player mode after I got the hang of the game, and that’s when things took a weird turn. Most players were easy enough to battle, even if I lost in the end… but the last guy I matched up against was clearly cheating.
I first noticed the odd behavior of his bugs out of the corner of my eye. They’d shift positions, lining up for crushing. The only time they were supposed to move like that was if you got a “CRAWLAPALOOZA!”, and even then they didn’t all get into ordered rows for easy squashing. It was random.
Another problem was that every so often he’d get a bug he didn’t like… one that didn’t match anything on his board, or the accursed uncrushable Hercules Beetle, and the thing would actually pop out its little wings to fly over to my side!
I’d never seen anything cross the scoring area between the boards, and even as I was watching it happen I knew it was impossible.
I stopped playing entirely and took to the in-game chat.
ME > wtf
HIM > lol
ME > r u cheating?
HIM > buuuhhh what does it look like?
HIM > retard
ME > FUCK you, then.
I forfeit the game and went back to the lobby where players are matched up. Both he and I were in the list of online users, though I had no intention of playing with him again.
The first three times he offered to start a match with me, I declined. On the fourth, I figured maybe he had a change of heart and I accepted.
My mistake.
As soon as the round started, his entire board of insects flocked to my side and began ripping apart the proper residents. The bug goo that usually only appeared when they were thumb-crushed came spattering out as the motionless victims were torn limb from limb.
HIM > hahaha
HIM > fuck u more
HIM > LOOSER
With that, I was kicked from the server.
Thoroughly pissed off, I took to the web and ran a search for “SPLAT! cheats”. The only website that came up with anything related to the request was the aforementioned site.
LeetHax.com
“Leet hax?” I chuckled to myself, “The 90s called, they want their stupid bullshit back.”
With the promise of finding whatever trick my opponent had used, I clicked anyway. I was already envisioning the surprise on the other guy’s face when MY bugs started beating up HIS bugs.
Infantile, I know.
As the website loaded, it only got better. Red text, black background. Rotating 3D skulls. It was every bad website put together by every ignorant script kiddie who thought he was a badass.
“WeLcOmE 2 XXXSuB-ZeRoXXX’S dOmAiN!!!1”
Yikes.
The text read much like you’d expect. Clichéd rhetoric about freeing information through hacking and talk about pirating Korn albums through Napster.
“Korn? Napster?? How long ago was this thing made?” I started to click on the back button, but something stayed my hand. There was an e-mail link. I figured it couldn’t hurt to drop him a line and ask if really had the SPLAT! cheats.
“0h mAn BR0. That G4M3Z s000 fuckkkin L4M3.” was the emailed reply, “h3r3 u go tho br0. RuN tHiS wHeN yOuR oN tHe GaMe.”
There was an attached file. It was approriately named “splat_haxx.exe”.
After running a thorough virus check on the questionable program, I did as directed and ran it while SPLAT! was loading. A horrible interface of dark grey text on black background popped up.
[EZSPLAT] [MoVeBuGz] [KicKIdioT] [ATTAX!!!]
The four buttons sat in a row above a ridiculous copyright notice.
“©OPYRIGHT and TREADMARK Matthew Hopkins aka XXXSuB-ZeRoXXX, 2013 Fr0zen Bl4de Pr0ductions!!!”
Still, it did as I had hoped. Round after round, I was able to line up bugs for an “EzSplat”, and could even send them to “Attax” the other player’s board. Unfortunately, these horrors were visited on innocent players as I ran the test. My previous nemesis was now no longer online.
I contacted the Leet Hax guy again. If SPLAT! was lame, then what other games did he have “hax” for?
“d00d3r i dont h4v3 T1ME 4 u!!! IM MEGA P0PUL4R A5 FUUUK!1 every1 wants my haXXX br0”
Based on that opening, I figured this reply was a loss. Then I noticed the attachment.
“h3r3s 1 4 FARTB00K run it when ur l0gg3d in”
Fartbook? Facebook, clearly. What an obnoxious little dick. What possible kind of cheat could you have for a social networking site? Again, I ran the virus check, and again I did as directed.
[FREND] [c0ntr0l] [PERMADELETE] [FOTOBOMMER!]
“©OPYRIGHT and TREADMARK Matthew Hopkins aka XXXSuB-ZeRoXXX, 2012 Fr0zen Bl4de Pr0ductions!!!”
The buttons seemed relatively obvious in what they were supposed to do… most of them, at least. I went to a random profile, a friend-of-a-friend, and clicked the first button.
[FREND]
The page reloaded, and there it was. I was instantly a confirmed friend of the user. The entire approval process was circumvented, and I could see all of her private posts.
I decided to try something else, selecting the one I was most curious about.
[c0ntr0l]
The page reloaded again, and her entire profile page was mine. By which I mean I had complete administrative control, and was now using the site AS her. I messed around a bit, just to see if it actually worked or if it was some sort of trick. I changed her status from “married” to “single”.
A click of the same button took me out of her settings and I was once again an outsider looking in. Her status remained “single”.
I was dazed for a moment. This was pretty immense power I was wielding in this day and age, and part of me wondered if my IP address had been recorded when I made the change.
A post appeared on her wall.
“SINGLE? OMFG WHAT HAPPENED?”
I laughed, basically because I knew this was of little consequence. I had messed around a bit, but it was nothing that couldn’t easily be undone.
“Don’t wanna talk about it.” came the reply soon after.
… Wait. I did a double-take when I saw this was posted by the very woman who owned the page. She was essentially confirming that her marriage had really ended. Was she playing along, or had I coincidentally hit upon something she was actually going though? Suddenly, it wasn’t that funny.
“O… M… F… G… so sorry!!” the original poster replied.
“whoa”, came a new participant, “r u okay? u and david seemed grat together!”
“Sometimes we have to move on.” she said, minutes before deleting the conversation entirely.
Wow.
I felt pretty bad about the whole thing, how I’d added insult to injury. Then I decided to look for “David” in her friend list and see what was going on with his end of things.
He had changed his own status to “single” at the exact moment I’d changed hers.
My jaw would’ve hit the floor if not for the ample buffer of my bloated, stark white stomach. It appeared, as far as I could see, that I had accidentally hacked this girl’s actual life. I still didn’t believe it, but the slight spark of that idea remained lit in the back of my head.
[c0ntr0l]
I was in her settings again within seconds. I couldn’t resist, because I HAD to know what happened. Strictly as a test, I changed another setting. “In a relationship with…” and I put my own name.
Did I mention she was attractive? Bookish, dark hair, glasses… from her photos I could almost tell she wasn’t wearing those bulky, weird sweaters to cover up a bad figure.
“Hey,” I sent her a message, “What’s up?”
I figured I would wait a little while… see what kind of response I got… then quickly change the setting back before she or anyone else had a chance to comment.
“NM, babe. You?” she started, “Everyone’s just found out about David and I, maybe it’s too soon to tell them about us? I don’t know…”
I froze, fingers on keys.
Babe. Us. Either this was the biggest case of mistaken identity in the history of the internet, or she actually believed we had been friends… then lovers…
“I’m okay,” I typed… taking way too long before continuing the rest, “Love you.”
I signed my name, just to make sure she’d see it.
“You too, babe. When can you come?”
That line did more for me than every single dirty picture I’d ever gawked at. It was as far as I’d ever actually been with a woman - an inviting sentence. All at once I was filled with the joy of romantic possibility… and the horror of just how low I was now sinking. It was the realization that for all my attempts at being a good guy, I was always just one cheat away from being a bastard.
Was this even technically consensual, or… if I went through with this… would it be considered…
I couldn’t think about it.
“Soon.” was all I could say. It was a half-lie as I had no real idea.
I stared at the buttons again. This was by far the best and worst thing that had happened to me in my depressing, tedious little life. Up until this point, that had been the day my vintage mint-in-box Zombonix figures had arrived in the mail.
It was a full set, you see.
I figured this was no time to stop trying out the effects. I’d already dug myself into a moral ditch, and even so I knew it was something I could undo if I had to.
[FOTOBOMMER!]
I had no idea what that one did, but of course I figured it had to do with photographs uploaded to her profile. Maybe it “bombed” the gallery with hundreds of copies of the same photo? Who was to know?
At first, I saw no effect. I figured either the button didn’t work, or Facebook had patched up whatever loophole it would’ve exploited. Were these strange things even anything they COULD stop?
Then I studied her profile picture. Right behind her cute, nerdy face, poking out from behind an opened door, was a large, staring face somewhere between human and gape-jawed eel.
The creature… whatever it was… had all the facial features you expect on a man, but they were distorted. His neck was too long, his mouth sharp and beak-like, and the eyes… those dead, glassy fish eyes… it looked like very good Photoshopping of a very bad chimera.
I had a new message.
Disregarding that, I looked further into the girl’s gallery. There were photos of her at the beach, looking amazing in a bikini… photos of her ski trip with family… none of those seemed to have anything out of the ordinary.
However, in another self-shot down the list, there was eelman again. Though the day was not the same, and the girl was dressed differently, the creature seemed to have slunk just a little further out from behind that door.
2 new messages.
Another self-shot. An even older one. The eelman… naked, genderless, rubbery skin and elongated, boneless limbs… was halfway across the room.
4 new messages.
I looked all the way to the beginning of her gallery before I found another shot of her room. She was younger… more innocent… staring into the camera with a duck-face and a peace sign.
Behind her, the eelman frothed at the mouth, its rubbery hands raised over her shoulders, fingers blurred from wiggling.
8 new messages.
Finally, I clicked the inbox. All the letters were from her… my hacked lover.
“OMG Babe, I think someone’s here.”
“BABE, there’s someone in the house! I think he’s in the room!!”
“What do I do?”
“Babe, you have to come now! Babe?”
“SOMETHING TOUCHED ME”
“!!!!!!!!!!!”
“ohgod its right here hes right here its looking at me what doido”
“i love you”
I swallowed hard as I read the last message. I was trembling all over and the room had suddenly gone cold around me. Next to her message, the profile picture had changed. It was a shot of her pale, bloodless face… screaming… alive and screaming… as the eelman was eating halfway through her shoulder and neck.
I couldn’t undo this.
All I could do was end it… cover up what I did… what I had just seen… and maybe even erase the entire event from reality itself.
[PERMADELETE]
David’s profile changed again.
Single, Never Married.
–
Credits to: Slimebeast
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