Weird shit I've seen as a Marine 2b
Weird shit I’ve seen in the Marines 2b
Following the mysterious ‘incident’, I was told that I was going to be sent down the mountain to answer a few questions. To be honest, I was relieved. It was cold and I didn’t want to hike anymore. Everyone else in my company sort of just believed what they were told. He came down with ‘mountain sickness’ and just walked 30 kilometers over the course of a few hours.
I tried to tell a few people about all the creepy shit I had been noticing, just to make sure I’m not going crazy. Before anyone could respond, my squad leader pulled me aside and told me “Don’t talk about these things, okay?”. Maybe he knew something I didn’t.
But yeah, cool. They sent us up here… knowing something was fucking off. Typical military BS. Just stick our heads in the sand and pretend everything is great. I was glad I was leaving for a few days but there was nothing but complete dread whenever the idea of coming back entered my mind.
The Humvee to take me back down finally showed up and the ride was uneventful. They took me to a small, concrete office-like building. The military police guys were just like me and had a job to do, they got a statement and asked if I noticed the guy anything ‘unusual’ about the guy before he disappeared. Nope. Seemed normal to me.
Then the NCIS guys came in, I’ve dealt with them before over something else and they are usually good natured guys. Not these ones. Brisk, to the point, and methodical. They read off all the facts about the case like they were reading the nutrition info on a cereal box. Unsurprised and monotone. They’d definitely seen this before. They asked the same questions. When I had told them about all the creepy things I had noticed, they told me that I was probably suffering from mountain sickness too. I was beyond pissed but I knew better than to argue with them.
Another thing, they asked me if I had taken any pictures that day. I told them I didn’t, but I thought that was strange. Next, they asked if they could swab my boots. To this day, I am honestly confused as to why the hell they did that. I don’t know if they were fucking with me or it was part of something else. My ONLY assumption is that this ‘thing’ alters the the surrounding area on a microscopic level. Maybe there was isotope it produces that may have stayed on my boots? I have no clue but if anyone has any similar stories or information on why they did that, please let me know.
At the conclusion of my interview, they made me sign a document stating that I wouldn’t talk about anything and that they would contact me when I was free to disclose any information. This was a few years ago and they never got back to me, so it may not be legal to talk now, but I have a cards up my sleeve that I’m not going to talk about.
Anyway, I walked back to our fabulous 5 star concrete huts to get some sleep. Thankfully, I wasn’t alone as there were a few guys that stayed back because they had sickle cell anemia and could actually die if they went above a certain altitude. I took one of the best hot showers I’ve ever had in my life and headed to my bunk. I was exhausted, but I still couldn’t sleep. Now, I rarely smoke, but I still carry a pack on me just to make lucrative trades or sell to desperate nicotine fiends in the field. I felt like now was a good time to smoke so I went outside. Maybe it would calm me down. All was going well until that dreadful feeling came back again. Shit, the treeline was maybe 40 meters away. I don’t know how the hell it followed me or why. Could there be more than one?
I stomped out my cigarette and went back inside. I managed to calm myself down and fall asleep but I would always wake up suddenly after maybe 10 minutes. No dreams, just the overwhelming feeling that you’re being observed.
The next day, I packed all of my gear into the Humvee and helped the driver load some stuff into the back. The drive was uneventful and I managed to catch some sleep, only to be woken up by rough terrain here and there. When we finally arrived, it was almost afternoon and the company was preparing to cover some serious terrain that day. Just my luck.
Before I knew it, we were trodding up a steep mountainside. I didn’t think it could get any worse until it began to sleet heavily. It was bad. The wind picked up and it felt like we were being cut with glass. I couldn’t see. People were getting lost and the rocks were slippery. We hiked for hours upon hours and I swear these mountains were trying to kill us. The sun began to set and our clothes began to freeze on us.
If that wasn’t bad enough, I’d notice that our compasses were acting weird. No matter how hard you tried, you would eventually end up walking towards the base of a particular mountain that was nicknamed Devil’s Incline on our map. This was a military map that someone had made in the 1980s, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find it. Coincidentally, I also got that same feeling of being stalked again. Fuck.
Anyway, our guides get us to the right destination - a place called Sardine Rock. As soon as we stop, people start shaking violently because they are no longer hiking and producing 0 body heat. Someone was smart enough to predict this and had two man tents driven up to our rendezvous point on massive trucks. We RARELY use tents, but this was literally a life or death situation.
To make things worse, the wind picked up and it started to downpour violently. You couldn’t hear yourself talk. It was chaos. If you’ve ever set up a tent in the wind, you’ll know how impossible it is. By the time we had everything staked in, the tent had a few inches of water at the bottom. Our sleeping systems are waterproof but our entire bodies were soaked to the bone, so they eventually became wet from the outside in. Then the temperature dropped and things got worse.
Being in the military, you always have to have someone on watch. Since there was still sunlight out, I volunteered to stand it while everyone else hid in their tents. Here’s a I asked a friend to take, just to illustrate the misery. My GoreTex/rain jacket is completely soaked through. Worst day of my life.
Finally, I got back inside of my tent and tried to get some rest. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I was suddenly woken up to someone outside asking for help. It was the same voice of the guy who went ended up 30km. Except that guy is still in the hospital. He would call out someone’s name and say it a few times and then try to get them outside. I think it was my squad leader who yelled at everyone to stay the fuck in our tents and not to go outside.
For the next few minutes, he practically begged us. It sounded like he was in the treeline maybe 20 meters away. Somehow guessing our names. Here it was, trying to break us down when we were at our lowest point. It could have gotten right through our tents, but it just wanted to fuck with us.
Finally, it stopped and just as I thought it was gone. I heard it say my name twice, in a taunting kind of tone. Then a huge tree came tumbling down and that was it. Thanks dick. Traumatized, everyone stayed inside until their tents until we heard trucks coming. Over the radio, we were told to pack our tents in less than 30 seconds and get on the trucks. We have no more than 5 minutes. I wasn’t going to be the first one to step outside, so I waited until a good number of people got out. I’ve never seen a group of people move faster in my life. The tents were stuffed into their bags, poles bent, and bags were halfway on our bodies. People practically stumbled into the trucks.
We were told that we were being evacuated due to terrible conditions and that we were heading back to base. But we all knew the real reason. I was relieved to be out of the cold, but we were still on this damn mountain and that thing would still be able to find us. When we got back, we all showered and got into dry clothes. No one talked, they just went to sleep and tried to understand what had gone down that day. Each and every single one of them realizing that we would likely go back up there in a few days.
Here’s another picture of a friend taking a break before we stepped off on our hike that day.
Hoooold on there pal, you must be new around here.
Here in /sub/nosleep we wait WEEKS between updates, okay buddy?
I jest. Keep up the great work man. This is as creepy as it gets!
Ikr?? This is amazing, not only is the story, the writing style and the grammer really good, but this dude is pumping them out so goddamn quick.
Just use the mortars and level the entire tree line, problem solved.
This is like the SaR guy and the other guy fixing power lines. Damncreepy stuff in the woods. I’ll be waiting for you encounter with the stairs if you ever have one. Great work! Keep ‘em coming!
Edit: i’m sorry i think i used the wrong term. But the story was he works for this company and their job was cutting branches off these power lines deep in the woods and then some creepy shit started happening. There were 3 or 4 updates if i remember correctly and it was posted here around last quarter of 2017.
Has anyone heard of the Left/Right Game? (Part 10)(Final)
Well then… here we are.
I have to be honest; when I posted the first of these logs from my bedroom in North London, I didn’t think it would go very far. After all, why would it? I wasn’t a regular contributor to this site, nor a seasoned veteran of the paranormal. I was just a man who missed his friend, seeking a few words of wisdom from an online message board, open to the idea that it wouldn’t lead anywhere.
Suffice to say I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Over the past two months, the incredible advice I’ve received from this forum, and the amazing leads you’ve sent my way, have opened up entire worlds of possibility. It’s thanks to all of you that I’m where I am now; sitting in a rental car on a quiet street in Phoenix, Arizona, posting the last of Alice’s records.
I realise I’ve written more than usual for my part. Apologies for this. If you want to skip straight to Alice’s section, that’s fine.
Otherwise, please consider this the prologue to the epilogue.
It’s very, very early in the morning over here, with only the gravest of the graveyard shift out on the streets. By all rights I should be in bed, and not wasting petrol on an aimless drive through the city. The ritual helps me think however, and I’d recently been given a lot to think about, courtesy of a young woman at a local bar.
She was a forum member, who’d contacted me over Direct Message. When we met up earlier in the night, it was clear she’d done a great deal of research; charting every mirror shop in Phoenix in an attempt to reconstruct the route Alice took on February 7th 2017.
We spoke for quite a while; about the game, about Alice, and about life in general. Once closing time rolled around, she handed me a printout of the most likely route, with all the key locations circled. Then, in the final minutes before we parted ways, she nervously asked me two questions. The first put me in a rather sour mood. The second provided the fuel for my 3am drive.
Question One; Are you sure she wants you to find her?
I’ve been hearing the same query from a few of you recently, especially since Part 9 was posted. People commenting that Alice made a clear choice when she left Rob behind in the silent city. That I was searching for someone who wasn’t seeking return.
I’d like to take a moment to respond to this, as I responded to it earlier tonight. To be clear, the Alice I know wouldn't do that. She was planning to come back, she’d told us as much. I’m not going to waste your time with my theories, but we’ve seen what the road can do to people's minds, how it can carry them away against their better judgement. I understand why it's being asked but if those sorts of questions are all you have to offer, I’d kindly ask you find another way to help.
Question Two was less clear cut; what are you going to do now?
It’s something you guys have also been asking me, but that was the first time I’d heard the question out loud. In the awkward silence that followed it became obvious to her, and in some ways to me, that I didn’t yet have an answer.
I decided to take a drive while I figured it out… I’ve been in my car for the rest of the night,
After an hour of aimless meandering, I realised I was close to one of the marked locations; the alleyway where Alice first entered the underpass, the point at which she first disappeared into the road. Turning into the side street, just after a large intersection, I was briefly relieved to see no sign of the tunnel. The part of me that still hoped this game was a fiction swelled at the sudden lack of evidence. My reaction was short lived of course, as I quickly realised that the tunnel wouldn't have shown itself to me anyway. Even if the game were real, I’d hardly been sticking to the rules on my way here.
There was no denying that the place resembled Alice’s descriptions however, and with a long time to go until I’d feel remotely tired, I decided to work my way back along the route, retracing Alice’s steps towards Rob Guthard’s street.
OK so I have to admit at this point, I suffered from a momentary lapse in intelligence. In a fog of distraction, residual jetlag and general dullardry, I drove for longer than I’d care to admit under the misconception that I wasn’t playing the game. I thought this because I was heading in the opposite direction, and had started my run with a right hand turn, when the rules explicitly state that you begin by turning left. Of course, as I’m sure all of you would have realised immediately, that didn’t mean I was out of the game, it just meant I started playing with my first left turn, one road later.
Alice was always the smart one.
What I’m trying to say is that, due to this fairly mindless oversight, I wasn’t exactly looking out for the Woman in Grey as I drove past what should have been her corner. There wasn’t a mirror shop this time of course, that’s only the 34th turn when you’re coming the other way, in fact I’m not sure which of the many passing streets it was. It is strange though, as I think back through my journey, I feel like I would have noticed her. The streets were practically deserted, so much so that any pedestrians stood out immediately. I know I should’ve been looking more closely but, if you asked my honest opinion… I don't think she was there at all.
The moment I realised this, I felt it again; the faint perverse, hope that I’d been misled, that the entire story was nothing more than a twisted, elaborate fabrication.
It wasn’t long until I passed an old mirror shop and, 34 turns later, arrived on what must have been Alice’s starting street. It was an inner-city neighbourhood whose residents were all fast asleep. From the moment I realised that the game was in play, I’d been thinking less and less about this particular road, and more about the one directly after it, resting just beyond the crossroads. I’d come halfway across the world on the strength of Alice’s account, but I’d seen no first hand proof of the Left/Right Game. If the whole thing was a hoax, then the next road should just be another street. If it was real, then I’d know soon enough.
I crawled up to the junction with my heart in my throat. With every inch of road that passed under my tyres, I found myself hoping more and more that it wouldn’t be true. Let someone be playing a prank on me, let the logs be counterfeit... let Alice be anywhere else but on that road.
I took the corner in a wide arc, parking myself in the centre of the crossroads, my headlights facing down the next turn.
Ahead of me was a quiet residential street; lines of neatly parked cars, rows of well-kept yards and squarely drawn windows. Yet at its centre, in utter defiance of the modest surroundings, the road sank into a deep and dimly lit corridor, cutting beneath the street, and disappearing into complete darkness.
I’d always known it was true.
In the presence of grim confirmation, the question I was asked earlier that night started to ring in my ears, as if echoing out of the tunnel itself. After an entire night’s driving, after two full months of searching, I still didn’t have a response.
In the end I just left the engine running, as if turning it off would somehow be a sign of retreat, and decided to type up the notes you’re reading now. I thought maybe the process of putting it all down on paper would bring me clarity, and leave me with either a note of farewell or a note of apology to Alice, for not having what it took to find her.
And now… here I am; still undecided, still writing, still sitting in this rental car on a quiet street in Phoenix, Arizona.
Though perhaps the street’s not as quiet as I thought.
I’ve just looked back to the previous road, down the street where Alice began her journey. As I type this very paragraph, I can see a figure standing on the sidewalk, just outside one of the houses. It isn’t the woman in grey this time.
Though it’s almost too dark to make out, I can tell the figure is an older male, well built and imposing, the rugged features of his weathered face half lit by moonlight. I’ve never seen this person before, yet he bears a striking resemblance to another man; a man whose description has been well recorded within the pages of Alice’s logs.
He watches me in silence, staring through the window of my still running car.
I wonder if he can help.
The Left/Right Game [DRAFT 1] 20/02/2017
The Left/Right Game was once nothing more than a 9-page document, peeking out of a yellow envelope, resting quietly on my desk.
I remember reading it on my lunch break.
I remember it made me laugh.
The submission had arrived with the first post, quietly making its way around the office, treated by everyone as a short-lived novelty of little journalistic value. The story was easy to dismiss, appearing all too similar to the rambling ghost stories and blurry UFO sightings that filled our mailbox on a daily basis, and which most of the senior staff had learned to instinctively ignore. Doomed by association, the document was quickly passed over, my desk merely a pit stop on its way to the rejection pile.
I was curious however and, after an uneventful few months in my new role, I had no compunctions about fishing from the scrap heap. Placing the envelope in my satchel, alongside a misfit crowd of similar rejects, I slipped away to a local coffee shop, reading it in an armchair by the window.
Somewhere around page three, between the description of the game’s rules and the exhaustive list of “Required Skills”, my mouth started to curl into an irrepressible smile.
They’d been gloriously wrong about this one. It wasn’t some paranoid diatribe, nor a sensationalist plea for attention. Within those pages lay an introductory glimpse of a man’s passionate obsession. As I read on, something about his earnest eccentricity, incredible thoroughness, and unquestioning confidence made it impossible to put down. When I turned the final page, reading the last of Rob Guthard’s charming and refreshingly well formatted submission, I knew that this was the story I wanted to tell.
Later that day, I found myself in the editor’s office making a case for it. They didn’t quite see what I saw, but I was intent to win them over regardless. I told them the story would be characterful, colourful, thought-provoking and, at the very least, that I wouldn’t be gone long.
It’s been twelve days since then; ten since I first entered the Wrangler in Phoenix, Arizona, five since I commandeered it myself, leaving Rob behind in the silent city. I haven’t updated much recently, save for a regular set of notes made for my own benefit. In all honesty, after I finished writing up my account of the city, I was struck by an overpowering sense of needlessness. There was no one left to receive these logs, no friends to proofread, no editor to hand them to. It seemed pointless to maintain the same prosaic format as before.
I still largely agree with this assessment. It’s only due to a set of exceptional circumstances that I’ve chosen to type up the following account in full.
Whoever this reaches, I want to thank you for reading up to now.
I’m quite sure this will be my final instalment.
The moon has broken, and in my entire life, I’ve never witnessed an evening so still.
The air is cool and quiet, and the Wrangler cuts cleanly through it as I glide down a stretch of even tarmac. The scene is defined by calm and absence. Not a cloud in the sky, not a solitary whisper of breeze, not a single blade of grass stirring on the dark green banks beside me.
Yet even on a night as peaceful as this, I can’t help but feel far away from home. The city had served as a turning point in that regard. Before we reached those titanic monoliths, the landscapes we passed through generally resembled the world I once knew. A few obvious exceptions aside, there was nothing about the environments that looked truly divorced from reality. That’s all changed now. The aberrant aspects of this new world are unignorable, constantly hanging at the corner of my eye, passively injecting a sense of wonder and disconcertion into the otherwise silent night.
A few days ago the moon started to crack like old porcelain. I hardly noticed at first, my eyes fixed on the road as it loomed above me, quietly splintering into three jagged pieces. As of tonight, the empty space between each fragment has significantly increased. If I focus on the sky for a little while, I can almost see them falling away from each other, charting infinite and lonesome trajectories through a barren cosmos, against a backdrop of foreign constellations.
The stars themselves fall further than they should. The night sky travels down past the horizon and continues below it, wrapping underneath the grassy bank. It’s as if the road, and the narrow plains on either side, are suspended in the middle of a vast abyss; a platform in the middle of open space.
At least that’s what I thought it was at first. It didn’t take long before I noticed the broken moon was appearing twice in the sky, both above and below me. A pair of orbiting satellites; identical and in perfect alignment. That’s when I realised that there were no stars below me. I was merely staring across a flat surface so flawlessly mirror-like as to cast a perfect reflection of the heavens above.
I was driving through the centre of a lake.
The water is impossibly still. Since leaving the shoreline proper yesterday night, I’ve seen neither a wave, nor a ripple across its placid surface. It’s also undeniably vast, reaching beyond the horizon in every direction and continuing further still. Without being sure how I know, I’m aware that the waters carry on for an unspeakable distance, that I would sooner reach the stars themselves before setting foot on its opposite shore.
I lean over and switch gears. The act of driving the Wrangler was a daunting one at first, but after the first two days I’ve managed to make do. An old scarf wrapped tightly around the steering wheel serves as a makeshift handle, allowing me to navigate corners one handed. I don’t have an elegant solution for the gearshift, but I’ve quickly grown used to the process. If I’ve learned anything from the road, it’s that grace is the first casualty in the fight for survival. Adaptability, no matter how clumsy, outlasts it at every turn.
A few minutes later, the Wrangler pulls up to a spacious verge. A large circle of land surrounded entirely by dark waters. At the far end, the grass seems to fall away, dropping sharply into the lake with a dead stop. The road continues of course, but it's the only thing that does. With nothing on either side, it forms a narrow bridge of perfectly flat asphalt, raised on a bed of mud and rock.
I press my boot onto the brake pedal, easing the Wrangler to a steady halt at the centre of the clearing. For the first time today, I open the car door and climb out of my seat. The dull tap of asphalt shifts to a soft rustling as I make my way over to the lakeside.
There’s something on the shore, a barely discernible object, almost entirely concealed by a shock of verdant undergrowth. It’s a miracle I’d managed to spy it from the road, though perhaps something about the stark uniformity of the landscape had made it stand out.
As I advance towards the water, and the object draws near, its indeterminate form solidifies in my mind.
It’s a human arm, reaching out from the water and onto the bank. I crouch down to examine the few pertinent details. The fingers are still embedded firmly into the soil. The thumbnail is broken, coloured by a peeling coat of faded varnish. There’s a pallid, emaciated quality to the skin, spreading down the arm until it disappears beneath a thick, woollen sleeve. At the point it meets the surface, the water soaks into the fabric, turning it black from the original grey.
With a sad exhalation, I rise to my feet and lean over the water’s edge.
The body of Marjorie Guthard lies against the silt, her cheek resting on the lake bed, her wide bewildered eyes staring out into the open lake. She’s been almost perfectly preserved. Save for the striking tautness of her skin and its mottled, grey pallor, she looks exactly like the woman I saw on the 34th turn, who’d tried to repel me from the road, who’d spoken of a lake drinking her wounds clean.
It seems her ramblings weren’t completely void of fact. It’s clear to see that Marjorie has been exsanguinated, so completely in fact that the only evidence that blood ever flowed through her veins, is a large dark stain across her shredded blouse.
It doesn’t take long before the perpetrator makes itself known.
As I stare into the water, a steady stream of formless whispers sink up through the depths of the lake. The softly spoken murmurings drift up to my ears, taking root in the back of my mind and instantly blooming into a flurry of deeply persuasive promises.
I find myself entirely transfixed by the still water, as a myriad of generous offerings unfold in throughout my consciousness. The whispers suggest an end to the phantom pains in my absent arm, perhaps even a completely restored limb, stronger than it had been before. Furthermore, it shows me a glimpse of its incomprehensible span, its furthest bank reaching across countless worlds, its deepest point lying below everything. I’m offered total knowledge of every league, every fathom, every inconceivable shore.
My hand reaches down as the whispers continue, every bargain steeped in sweet beneficence. A moment later, my outstretched fingers brush against the soft grass, and wrap around Marjorie’s exposed arm.
Digging my heels into the ground, I lean myself backwards and pull. The water ripples and splashes as I drag Marjorie’s lifeless body slowly onto the bank. I feel the voices in my mind grow louder, erupting in anger as I back away from the lake.
The promises had been convincing, each quiet solicitation undeniably persuasive. But after seeing Marjorie’s wretched fate and the look of eternal betrayal in her vacant eyes, I found myself aware of a subtle undercurrent behind every syllable, a sense of desperation and timeless hunger emanating from beneath the lake’s surface. I already have a clear understanding of what would have happened if I’d lost myself to those waters. I suspect it’s no coincidence, that of the countless shores it showed me, all of them appeared to be deserted.
Marjorie wouldn’t have stood a chance. She’d left the forest alone, grievously wounded and without a vehicle. She’d walked the whole way here, bleeding endlessly, the road’s rejuvenating power battling every moment against her body’s natural inclination to die. I suspect the road’s influence wasn’t strong enough, and when a whispering voice promised, ever so sweetly to mend her, she would have been in no position to refuse.
Her other sleeve brushes against dry land, her body leaving the water for the first time in decades. I keep pulling until my boots hit asphalt, laying her down on the grass just beside the Wrangler.
After a moment of sober vigil, I walk to the back of the car and fetch Rob’s foldable spade.
A long few hours follow. I’ve never dug someone’s grave before, and my injury is hardly conducive to the task. My fleece tied around my waist, pearls of sweat running down my brow, I manage to slowly chip away at the damp earth. Five hours later, my back cramping, my hand raw from gripping the shovel, I attempt to lower Marjorie into the rough pit with some semblance of grace, her legs dropping limply into the soft soil despite my best efforts.
It takes over an hour to shovel the soil back. It’s a sobering and ugly task. As a layer of dirt covers her face, I realise this will be the last time a living person lays their eyes on Marjorie Guthard. Burying her suddenly feels disrespectful, as if it’s an act I don’t have the right to perform.
Once it’s done, I drop onto my knees, a dull ache in my muscles as I smooth out the disturbed ground with the back of the shovel.
Even before I turn to face her, I can hear a scowl in her voice. There’s an odious depth to that one acrid syllable, a potent witch’s brew of contempt and accusation that feels like it’s been festering in her drowned lungs for decades.
Reluctantly, I rise to my feet and turn around, finding myself face to face with the woman I just buried. She looks different now, her clothes are dry, her skin clear, with nothing to be seen of the deep, dark gash in her blouse.
Unlike the empty vessel below us, the woman in front of me is by no means at peace. She shakes and wretches with the same indignant fury I witnessed when we first met. When she speaks, her words shudder under the weight of her own turbulent emotions.
MARJORIE: I chased you. I ran to you. I… I gave him up for you.
AS: I’m… I’m sorry Marjorie, I don’t know what you mean. Tell me what you mean.
MARJOIRE The things I saw, things so beautiful. And I saw her, walking alone through the new worlds. I gave everything up for you!!
I don’t know quite what to say. It’s pointless to ask her what she means, to try and understand her frenetic ramblings. In the end, I can only try to speak her language.
AS: Marjorie I… I didn’t mean you to.
Marjorie’s trembling breaths burst into a despairing fit of laughter.
MARJORIE: Oh… oh yes you did. Yes you did. And now… now you’re here.
Marjorie’s wild and volatile demeanour shifts once more, her laughter degrading further into a desperate crying panic.
MARJORIE: And what do I do now? What- What do I do?!
Marjorie cringes with the terror of the self-imposed question, placing her head in her hands and repeating it over and over again. As I watch her wrestle with despair, I’m struck by an idea I’ve never before considered. The disconcerting notion that, in death, we are not transported to a set destination by some ethereal attendant. That in fact, nothing is decided for us. Perhaps the manner in which we spend our afterlife is down to us, a decision we have to make ourselves.
Marjorie is standing over her own lifeless body, still lost, still entirely unmoored.
There's no sign of boundless paradise, inescapable damnation or everlasting nothingness, and the common thread they share, a final release from the weight of our own agency, is similarly absent. Perhaps we never get that freedom, perhaps we continue like we always do, accompanied by all our imperfections, uncertainty and discontent.
Perhaps we must choose our eternity.
After all my time on the road, that’s possibly the most terrifying notion I’ve encountered.
AS: He never stopped looking you know.
Marjorie snaps out of her wretched despair, instantly aware of who I’m referring to, staring up at me with an expression I’ve never seen her wear before.
AS: I saw him, walking on the road. He didn’t stop. He was never going to stop. I think he was looking for you Marjorie, he still is.
Marjorie stares through me. For the first time since we met on that quiet Phoenician corner, I can see the faint spark of something other than misery and rage across her tear stained face.
I hold her gaze for a moment more, before pulling my phone from my pocket. In a single sweep of my contacts, I delete every number except for one. A number I pulled from the Nokia during our second night on the road. A number that connects to a lost wanderer of the road.
AS: I don’t know if this can help but… stranger things have happened.
As she stares up into my eyes, I feel like we’re finally meeting for the first time. Without a word, Marjorie reaches out a quivering hand and takes the phone from my outstretched fingers.
Before I can say anything more, Marjorie Guthard is gone.
A few moments later, a refreshing breeze lands against my cheek, a soft zephyr, cooling my still warm face. It’s a welcome sensation, and the first movement I’ve witnessed in the air since I set out onto the lake. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I stare quietly along the bridge, the breeze picking up around me.
It’s a subtle wind at first, brushing stray hairs across my forehead, chilling the perspiration on my neck. Yet as I reach my hand out, and feel the air slip between my fingers, I’m witness to a steady rise in both strength and magnitude.
The sound of the wind grows from a whisper to a howl, Seconds later, the hanging sleeves of my fleece begin to stream sideways. My hair lifts from my back, billowing in the throes of a developing gale.
I back up against the Wrangler’s hood as the air finally erupts into a roaring, cacophonous cyclone. My hand reflexively seeks the sturdy frame of the Wrangler, my fingers wrapping around the grille, my arm tensing as the unrelenting wind threatens to drag me from the road.
Squinting through the violent tempest, I focus on a single point in space, just above the threshold of the bridge. In the midst of the storm, a jagged line of white hot light bursts out of the ether, tearing through the night’s fabric, a crackling fissure that widens and yawns, forcing apart the curtains of reality as they frenetically struggle to recombine.
Staring through the shuddering fracture, I’m subjected to the briefest glimpse of a boundless, and impossible vista. It is a faraway place in both distance and time. An achingly beautiful and gloriously terrifying dreamscape, enduring on the majestic shores of infinity. Every moment there spans a millennium and unfolds in countless directions at once. Every passing shadow holds a darkness beyond measure, their edges burned by the glare of a waking sun which looks across every conceivable world with a hollow, rancorous intent.
In the midst of this maddening landscape, a singular entity approaches, gliding towards the portal with the clear intent to pass through. As it breaches the shuddering gateway, and the wind dies down around it, I stare up at its grand celestial form.
The being is unlike anything I’ve ever seen; composed entirely from electric arcs of brilliant, magnesic light which burst from a volatile and blinding central core. It sounds like a lightning storm, its plasmatic tendrils snapping and crackling, bursting chaotically through the night air before collapsing in on themselves. As they fall back into the creature’s centre, they emit pale clouds of vaporous fractals that fade softly into the air.
Somehow, even as my eyes barely adjust to the stark light, I realise that the entity usually burns much brighter. It's dampened its glow for my benefit, so that it can appear before me without scorching my eyes from their sockets.
AS: It’s you… isn’t it. You’re the voice I’ve been hearing. You’re the one who brought me here.
The bristling maelstrom of light hangs in the air, crackling and shifting, its transient limbs strobing with chaotic incandescence. Part of me wants to hide, part of me wants to run, but neither are an option anymore. Releasing my hand from the Wrangler’s grille I take a single step forward, standing on my own and staring up into the entity’s smouldering core.
AS: Can I get an interview?
The creature doesn’t react. In the following silence, I feel it observing me. When it finally responds, its voice ruptures the night, echoing through my skull.
VOICE: There is little time, but you may ask what questions you have.
Each reverberating syllable forms a string of literal shockwaves in the surrounding lake, emanating outwards from the being in a perfect circle. I watch the waves roll into the distance, showing no sign of ever diminishing, and I think about what question to ask first.
In the end, it comes to me quickly; a promise is a promise after all.
AS: What happened to Marjorie? Why did she do what she did?
The being pauses, as if considering its response. When it does reply, it speaks with a calm sobriety.
VOICE: She glimpsed an echo of the future, dreamed of the road, of the things that it passes through.
AS: Like whatever’s through there?
I gesture through the gateway, which is now almost entirely blocked from view by the creature’s spiralling form.
VOICE: She dreamed of untold frontiers. She saw a lone woman walking them. Over time, the fulfilment of that vision became everything to her.
AS: But it wasn’t her… she thought she was seeing her own future… but it was-
VOICE: It was you.
Those three words, as they burst into the open air, casting three narrow waves across the boundless water, hit me with a deep and heavy force. Unbeknownst to myself, decades before I was even born, Marjorie had been driven insane by dreams of maddening grandeur, of a life of boundless possibility and true significance. She had given everything up to chase a shadow… a shadow that eventually turned out to be mine.
I hadn’t just pulled Rob into this game, I was the reason for everything. I was the cause for the tragedy that befell his entire family,
AS: She didn’t just dream those sights. You influenced her. You let her see them… the same way you made Rob see me in Aokigahara. You pushed and you prodded wherever you needed so that I’d end up here. Are you the reason Bobby got the rules in the first place?
AS: But… why? You toyed with so many lives across… across decades. Why me? Why does it matter that I travel the road?
VOICE: Because across all humanity, across every conceivable permutation, you are the one who makes it the furthest.
It speaks plainly, as if the statement were a foregone conclusion. Yet its words strike me into silence.
The creature continues.
VOICE: I’ve watched you work your way here, through skill and through tenacity… and undeniably through luck. You were brought here because of these qualities, and they will carry you further along the road than any other.
AS: Then why didn’t you just bring me here? All that influence and you didn’t lift a finger… after everything that happened-
VOICE: Events transpired as they needed to.
AS: As they… needed to?! People died! Marjorie. Bobby. Ace. Apollo. Eve. Lilith. Everyone. They’re all gone. Do you not care at all?
In response to my words, the entity remains silent for longer than usual.
VOICE: I care more than you know. There are things greater than your understanding, forces that exist beyond the realms of your comprehension that you would consider a threat to everything you hold dear. My actions were guided by a higher standard of knowledge. Your protests are predicated on false understanding.
AS: You’re saying I don’t understand death?
VOICE: You don’t.
AS: ... That still doesn’t make it right.
VOICE: Regardless, my influence is necessary. That which is necessary must be.
AS: What even are you?
VOICE:: I cannot answer that question in any way you’d understand.
AS: That's not good enough.
The creature doesn’t respond, as if it doesn’t feel it needs to. So far it’s returned my every argument with impenetrable certainty. From the domain it occupies, knowing what it knows, my arguments must seem entirely facile. Even if it did feel the need to justify itself, after seeing the place it hails from, I wonder if there’s any way I could ever comprehend its motives.
Still, that doesn’t mean my arguments are invalid, and the creature’s lofty dispassion does little more than stoke my desire to oppose it.
AS: And what if I don’t want any part of this?
VOICE: You are travelling the aberrant strand; a singularly stable flaw in the fabric of reality. As it carries you further from the world you know, you will be freed from the influence of the old laws. You have already noticed the effects in those who settled the road, those who were lost to it and in yourself; energy without consumption, knowledge without requisite experience. You are shedding entropy, and causality and in time you will reach realms of understanding you cannot currently fathom. You will find answers to questions you never thought to ask. You will discover absolute truth. For this reason, you will carry on.
AS: That’s the only reason?
VOICE: Do you need another?
It doesn’t come across as a question, but rather another blunt statement of fact. I understand the effect it’s speaking of. Ever since the city, I’ve been encountering vague notions and fragmented ideas that occur to me randomly and without announcement. New avenues of thought leading to revelations that would otherwise lie beyond my mortal reach.
I’ve started to comprehend things I could barely have conceived of back home, and though the onset of these notions had been terrifying at first, they grow less so with every passing day.
AS: No… no, I don’t trust you. I don’t-
VOICE: Your trust is immaterial. You will travel the road regardless.
The creature’s already stark glow starts to intensify.
VOICE: I’ve watched you, on every turn … across every moment of your journey.
One of the creature’s countless protrusions lashes out at the empty air, forming another harsh, glowing fissure. It wrenches itself open in a few stilted jolts, a transparent, almost crystalline membrane stretched across the gap. Through it, I can see myself, in the centre of a cornfield, examining a block of C4 explosive.
It’s as if I’m staring into the past through a jagged shard of one-way glass.
VOICE: I’ve watched you questioning.
Though we can’t be seen through the aperture, I see the glasslike membrane shake with the force of the creature’s voice. As the window collapses, I can see the rows of corn thrown into a frenzy.
A second arc lashes out at the sky, forming a second aperture. This time I’m expecting the sight before me. I see myself, crying in the forest… a silent radio by my side.
VOICE: I’ve watched you struggle.
The second window closes. The creature has made its point.
VOICE: I’ve watched you fight… to make your way here.
VOICE: You will not turn around.
AS: You make it sound like I don’t have a choice.
VOICE: You do have a choice Alice, but you have already made it.
As much as I’ve grown to detest the creature’s presumption, in that moment, I know it’s right.
What it’s saying is true. I’ve done things I never would have imagined in order to get where I am now. In fact, if this being hadn’t arrived at all, I’d already be heading out over the bridge.
I’m not proud of what drives me; that same, ugly impulse that led me to refuse Rob’s offer of return, that made it so easy to leave him behind in the silent city. But there’s no denying the impulse is there. It’s been with me the whole time, long before I ever arrived in Phoenix, Arizona… and it’s buried deeper than I’ve ever wanted to admit.
AS: Can I… do I get to say goodbye?
The entity says nothing. It hangs in the air, flickering and coursing with rupturing bolts of light. The next thing I hear is a faint mechanical hum emanating from the Wrangler behind me. Turning around, I pace briskly back to the car, opening the door and reaching into the passenger seat. My notebook is booting up, seemingly of its own accord.
Picking up the laptop, I lift the lid as I march back towards the bridge. I stare up at the silent being before me. When I look down to the laptop, my email client is already displayed on the screen.
AS: How… how long do I have?
VOICE: Long enough.
The entity begins to regress, its arcs diminishing as the being at its core turns away. Its message has been delivered. There is nothing more to discuss.
As it passes through the gateway, into an unknowable world far removed from my own, I call out after it.
AS: I’m still not certain I trust you.
The being focusses on me once more, as the fracture begins to close. A final set of waves pass across the surface of the lake as it solemnly replies.
VOICE: … I remember.
A moment later, the being is gone.
I stand motionless in the middle of the road, the entity’s final remarks washing over me, its curious choice of words echoing in my head. In the renewed silence, the faint stirrings of an overwhelming and terrible revelation start to form in my mind.
It could have simply said that it knew of my mistrust, that it heard the overtones in my voice, saw the disdain across my face or otherwise sensed it in the space between us. Instead, the being spoke as if my current feelings were a memory, dwelling somewhere within its depths.
It was undeniable that my time on the road was changing me, but in all this time I’d never truly considered how those changes might evolve as my journey continues.
I’d never thought about what I might gain, what I might lose… or about what I might inevitably become.
A short while passes before I lower my eyes from the empty space above the bridge, to the screen of my notebook. Lowering myself down, I cross my legs and rest my back against the Wrangler.
If you’ve been reading from the beginning, you’ve finally caught up with me.
I hope you’ll allow me a few personal messages.
To Rob. I hope you’re able to read this someday, and I am so, so sorry for everything I’ve done; for everything I may do. I hope you understand that I didn’t know, and that none of this was your fault. You did the best you could, and the days I spent with you were the most significant of my life. It was an honour to know you and I hope that, among these pages, you find the answers, and the peace, that you deserve.
To my mum and dad, I’m sorry I won’t be sending this to you. In the end, I was carried along this road by a profound selfishness, and I just can’t bring myself to face you. I can’t imagine the pain I’ll be putting you through, and I won't try to justify my actions. All I can say is that I love you and I’m sorry that my last act towards you was one of cowardice.
And finally to you; the person to whom this message will be addressed. I’m sorry. I always thought I’d see you again someday, that the roads I took would eventually lead me home. That doesn’t look so likely now. Though I could say a lot to you, I’m not going to.
But I wish we could have been friends for longer.
It feels like a lifetime since I first arrived at Rob Guthard’s quiet street. I remember the uncertainty as I waited for him to open his door, with no concievable idea what was about to transpire.
Like so many other things, that’s now changed. Despite being in an entirely new world, further from home than anyone’s ever been, I know exactly what’s going to happen next.
I’m going to take a drive. Take a left, then the next possible road on the right, then the next possible left. I will repeat the process ad infinitum, until I wind up somewhere new.
And from there I’ll keep driving, beyond worlds, beyond time, beyond the bounds of my imagining. To a place where the lake runs dry, where the broken moon drifts away, and the stars disappear in the rear view.
To a place where everything has fallen away, and the road is all there is.
So wait, is the entity Alice? Is that why it remembers her distrust? And who better to be so sure that she won't understand yet than herself?
And to u/NeonTempo, this has been one of the best emotional roller coasters I've ever been on. Thank you for taking us on this ride with you.
you see god before you, appear from a rift of blinding light in the sky
his body is that of raw energy, appendages stretching outward like lightning in the sky
you feel his presence turn towards you, silently. The being observes you in all its glory like a scientist observe a specimen
with bated breath and hairs on end, all your nerves shout out one thing at once
"can i interview u"
I laughed out loud. Great story. Loved the ending
Yes, that is the implication.
I hope I don’t sound like a dick. Some particular parts that stood out to me: When speaking to Alice, the entity remarks:
You will discover absolute truth. For this reason you will carry on.
Alice responds with:
That’s the only reason?
To which the entity responds with:
Do you need another?
This segment of conversation is enough to warrant a flashback to Alice’s own thoughts and contemplation earlier on in the journey, which she described her passion for discovering the truth. This is also stated by OP in the opening paragraphs of the first part.
I think the most defining part, however is the last line the entity says to Alice, and Alice’s thoughts on that. It says:
To which Alice thinks:
The being spoke as if my current feelings were a memory, dwelling somewhere within it’s depth.
Lastly, she concludes her idea with what I believe is the most crucial statement:
I never thought about what I might gain, what I might lose... or what I might inevitably become.
Overall, my favourite part of this series is that seamless transition at the end that concludes not only Alice’s story, but perhaps also the decision of OP. It would certainly go along with the recurrent, and continuous theme of the series. Perhaps OP himself is the end goal of the road, to have been led there, and guided by someone who has taken the same perilous journey.
I’ve been following this series since day one. Thank you, /u/NeonTempo for giving me the pleasure and anticipation to read a truly remarkable story. One that has far surpassed any series on no sleep, and that of books I’ve read in recent years.
I don’t know what kind of ending I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
I need some time to process what I just read...
This was an incredible, original, gripping story - maybe the best I’ve read here.
UPDATE No. 3: My landlady is acting really creepy and I don’t know what to do. Confession.
For all of you who have been following me on this journey, I’m so sorry that I have misled you. I have a confession to make.
In my first post, I wasn’t telling the entire truth. I have covered up certain facts that now, I am beginning to realise, are integral to getting myself out of this situation.
I have dreamt of that haunting figure in my old house since the incident on Sunday and I can’t keep quiet any longer.
In order to really explain why I lied, I need to give some background on my relationship with my landlady.
When I first moved in last year, we were on good terms and maintained a friendly relationship until this year. In that time, I got to know a bit about my landlady and her background. As far as I know, she’s never married and has no children, but she has two brothers and a sister who all still live in China.
She’s always been very secretive about why she moved to the UK alone, so I never pressed the issue. From what I can gather, her extended family are quite poor and she regularly sends money back to them.
At the start of the year, she confided in me that one of her grandnephews had just been diagnosed with leukaemia and the family was struggling to keep up with the medical bills.
She then immediately told me that she’d be raising the rent, quite substantially, because she needed to send more money back to help with her grandnephew’s treatment. Since my room was the largest one in the house, I was going to be the hardest hit.
I was immediately sceptical about the story surrounding her grandnephew, particularly since it came right before the conversation about the rent. I thought it was just a sob-story she could use as an excuse to hike up our rent and make a tidy profit.
I told her categorically that I couldn’t afford it and this understandably caused a rift between us. Our relationship degenerated quickly during the first few weeks of January and eventually devolved to us having loud arguments in the hallway whenever we crossed paths. She was afraid that I would become a squatter and I in turn was afraid that she would turf me out last minute, leaving me with no place to live (my boyfriend’s place is too far out for me to commute to University).
The situation escalated past the point of reconciliation and, on the night I wrote my first post, it had reached fever pitch. This is the point where the real story diverges from what I wrote in my original post. I was not innocuously asking if my boyfriend could stay over, nor was I the first one to initiate contact.
On that Thursday, someone at work had clearly tampered with my landlady’s lunch or eaten it, because I got a text from her at around 3pm saying:
“Where my lunch? You think this funny?”
I replied telling her that I hadn’t done anything to her food, but she didn’t believe me and kept accusing me of lying. The conversation devolved into her calling me some expletives, and I returned the favour.
This texting spree spanned several hours, since she was at work and was only checking her phone intermittently. By about 6pm, she finally sent her ultimatum. In her own words:
“You pay [higher rent cost] or you get out my house tonight”.
I was overcome with a mixture of anger and panic. It was in this weird haze of emotions that I said something that I now deeply regret.
“What’s the point in paying so much for all of this treatment if your grandnephew is just going to die anyway?”
I shuddered with contempt, disgusted with myself for saying something so heinous but equally inflated with a sense of self-righteousness against my money-grubbing landlady.
Everything I said about the storm was true and, when my landlady called me at around 7pm, the suddenly vibration of my phone did startle me. I was reluctant to pick up the phone, as I knew I was in the wrong, but I was still a mess of fear and rage.
I answered the phone to a cacophony of abuse from my understandably outraged landlady but, rather than concede, I decided to argue back. It is not something I’m proud of.
She must have been on her way to her car, because I could hear the rain in the background and the heavy sound of her footsteps. We must have been arguing for about 10 minutes before she suddenly paused. There was a sharp intake of breath.
Then I heard her get hit by the car.
I heard her scream; heard the crunch of her bones under the wheel, and the screech of tyres as the driver tore away from the scene.
I heard her weeping and begging for help, her cries smothered by a torrent of raindrops. And I hung up on her.
I had no idea where she was or what to do, but I felt somehow that I might be implicated in the accident or she would find some way to blame me.
So I went back to my computer, I put my headphones in, and I kept right on working.
It wasn’t until about 9pm that I finally mustered up the courage to send her a text reading:
“Are you alright?”
From then on, the story is the same. The creepy responses, the scratching on my door, the menacing whispers. All of that was true.
Deep down, I knew she was dead long before the police officer told me. I knew from the moment I hung up that phone, and I know now that she will never leave me alone.
I thought that offering up my housemates might help.
But it hasn’t.
You might be a piece of shit OP.
You made the right call. I haven’t read it yet, but every one seems mad at you so I’m just gonna go ahead and give you props for doing the right thing.
Edit: You're a bad person, OP.
You offered your roommates? That's fucked straight up.
I’m married to my ex-boyfriend from high school... the one I broke up with 10 years ago? (Part 2)
What’s confusing is why is Beth telling this story as if it just happened? Stevens thread was posted just over a week ago about the reunion
This is insane I love hearing from different points of view I can’t wait to hear more!!!!
Yeah I wanted to give this a chance after the disappointing ending from Steven’s perspective but this timeline is confusing.
Stories on here are meant to be true. Made believable. This goes against the rules because Beth has already been taken care of so she can’t be typing this. Also it’s all already happened but you’re writing it like it’s happening now.
UPDATE: My landlady is acting really creepy and I don’t know what to do.
So this post is a follow-up to my previous one about my landlady acting strange. Needless to say, the situation has only gotten creepier.
The night I wrote the message, I had been working pretty much non-stop all day on assignments. Even though what happened with my landlady had utterly freaked me out, I ended up lying down on the bed and pretty much passed out not long after writing my posts.
I was so exhausted that I didn’t even turn out the light. Honestly I’m amazed I was able to sleep for so long.
The next morning I woke up feeling pretty groggy and I got up to make coffee. It was so out of it that I didn’t remember what had happened until I went to open the door and realised it was locked. I must have been feeling brave, because I opened the door and went downstairs.
I noticed my landlady’s door was closed and the coast was clear, so I went and made coffee as normal. I figured maybe I’d dreamt the whole thing, or at the very least that it hadn’t been as bad as I remembered.
I made coffee, got ready for class, and left the house on Friday morning. As I walked out, I noticed that my landlady’s car wasn’t parked outside, so I assumed she had gone to work as normal that morning and I felt relieved.
I was totally freaking wrong.
I came back from classes at around 5pm, went out to get some groceries, then came back to do some more work in my room. At about 7pm I was just flat out overcome with hunger, so I got up to make dinner.
As I opened my door, I looked straight at my landlady’s door and immediately stopped in my tracks. Her door was open, just a crack, and she was stood in the opening just *staring at me. All of the lights in her room were off and her face was obscured by the darkness, but I could tell there was something wrong.
I know this sounds insane, but it looked as though her lips and nose were missing. Like the bottom half of her face was just one huge cleft palate, with red open flesh marked by the whiteness of her bare teeth.
She kept alternately eyeing me and the threshold to my room. She was breathing heavily and making these grotesque guttural sounds, as if she was choking on water.
My room was fully lit but, without the hall light on, it was actually quite dark in the hallway. I had my mobile phone in hand but that was it. Without even thinking, I just made a break for it.
Blood rushed to my head and my heart was pounding. I could hear her door open; could feel the vibrations as she literally thundered after me down the hall. When I made it to the bottom of the stairs, I noticed that her heavy footsteps had stopped. She must have stopped at the top of the stairs.
The downstairs hallway light was on, and I feel like this may be somehow connected. Either way, I didn’t dare to look back. I shot out of that house and just kept running until I made it to the nearest café.
I was barefoot, I had no money, and my mobile was rapidly running out of battery. Fortunately I was able to get through to my boyfriend, who I’d already spoken to about the situation. He came to pick me up and I stayed over at his house Friday night.
I’m using his laptop to write this post out as we speak.
After I got back to his, I was feeling so shook up that I could barely move, but eventually he calmed me down and convinced me to call the police. I also contacted my other housemates, but one of them is currently back home in New Zealand, one of them still hasn’t responded, and one of them didn’t really understand what I was saying (English isn’t his first language).
When I mentioned my landlady’s name to the police, I noticed a sudden change in the dispatcher’s tone. She told me to wait and that they would be back in touch, but I didn’t hear from them again until today.
This is where it starts to get really strange.
So another police officer, this time a man, called me back and asked me to confirm my landlady’s name and our address. He paused for a long time, and then finally he told me that the woman I’d encountered in my house couldn’t possibly have been my landlady.
My landlady was killed in a hit and run accident on Thursday night. I was dumbstruck. I asked them why the police hadn’t contacted me, but it turns out all of us have been living in the house illegally (we’d been paying her cash in hand, so I had my suspicions) and they had no idea there was anyone else living in the house.
Apparently they were able to identify her based on her name badge, which she was wearing at the time of the accident. However, as despicable as this sounds, the police officer told me that her corpse had been robbed before they’d found it.
Her mobile phone, wallet, keys; everything but the clothes on her back had been taken. He said it was highly possible that whoever had her mobile phone was the one sending those text messages to mess with me, and they probably used the ID in her wallet to figure out her address before coming to rob the house.
At first this sort of made sense, but then I told him about how the messages were in Chinese. How would some random thief know how to write fluent Chinese? The police officer’s only answer to that was they’d done it the same way I had, by using a translator.
I then broached the subject of the creepy whispering and how disfigured the “person” that had chased me looked. He said he believed it might be a homeless person, potentially injured and suffering from a mental illness, but then I asked how a homeless person could possibly get from the scene of the crime to our address (over 30 mins drive away) in such a short space of time?
It all just doesn’t add up. If you were going to rob a corpse, why would you then go to their house and stay there overnight? And why harass people connected to the victim?
I asked him if anyone else had come forward in connection to my landlady and he told me I was the first.
After a lengthy discussion, he told me he wanted to meet me in person to try and get some information about next of kin, but first he was going to send some officers to our address. He told me to sit tight at my boyfriend’s house (where I am now) and wait until he called me back. I’ve informed my University to let them know and they’ve given me some leeway with regards to assignments and classes this week. I think this definitely counts as extenuating circumstances.
All of this happened at around 5pm today and I was starting to feel much better about the situation. I was going to write this up tomorrow and head to bed, but I just received this text message from my landlady:
I think I’ve managed to type it into Google Translate correctly, but all it says is “Thank you for asking me to eat”? I don’t get why she’s still talking about food? Is there something I’m missing here? Maybe she is some homeless person who’s stolen my landlady’s phone and is trying to trick me. But why does she keep using Chinese?
What should I do? Should I respond to the message, or phone the police and let them know?
I think she thanked you for bringing her food. The cops that went to investigate.
谢谢你请我吃饭 literal meaning is thank you for asking me to eat, but in spoken chinese it usually means more in the line of thank you for treating me to a meal. I think you just got the dispatchers killed, please update us OP
Hi! I speak some Mandarin and can kind of help you out here. Though google translate is right in giving you that translation, 请/请问 means please, sometimes 请 can also mean to treat someone to a meal. “Thank you for treating me to a meal”
Omfg I thought I was reading /sub/legaladvice.
I felt the baby kick [Update]
Dr. Ambrose stood silently by the bed, as the ultrasound technician rolled her equipment in.
“They’re just going to take a quick peek, okay, Mia?” I said. But I could hear the quiver in my voice, and she looked back at me with fearful eyes.
“Is the baby okay?”
I no longer had the strength to explain, once again, that we had miscarried. So I simply said: “Yes.”
She smiled at me – a warm, beautiful smile – and my heart sank.
“This is going to feel cold, okay, honey?” the technician said. She squirted jelly onto her abdomen, and then applied the probe.
An image appeared on the screen. Gray lines and curves, sweeping through swaths of black. I leaned forward, trying to make sense of the image, but it was so jumbled –
“There’s the head,” she said.
Mia squealed with delight.
A round object appeared on the screen. It looked, remarkably, like a normal baby’s head from ultrasounds I’d seen online. I breathed a sigh of relief, and squeezed Mia’s hand –
She moved the probe down.
A mess of pointed, sharp lines. Not the natural curves of tiny little arms and legs, not cute miniature hands and feet, not anything that looked remotely human –
“My God,” was all Dr. Ambrose could croak.
And then –
The screen went black.
The technician fiddled with the dial. “That’s so weird,” she said. “It just stopped working. Let me try to – ”
“It’s okay, Mandy. That’s all I needed to see.” Dr. Ambrose began walking to the door, and motioned for me to follow.
The hallway was cold and quiet. The footsteps of patients, the murmur of the nurse’s station, were muffled and distant. I felt – no, hoped – this was all a dream, somehow…
“Mia’s in danger,” he said, sternly.
My heart began to pound. I felt the tears burn my eyes, the hospital spin around me.
“If we act quickly, we can save her,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “We have to remove it, as soon as possible.”
“Remove? You mean kill?”
“Well, yes, it would die in the process.”
I turned to the window. Mia was lying on the bed, one hand on her belly, smiling. And I could hear, through the door, a muffled lullaby…
I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. “If that’s the only way, Dr. Ambrose. Whatever it takes to save her.”
He nodded, and began down the hallway.
“Wait, Dr. Ambrose!” I called after him. “The ultrasound – have you seen something like that before?”
He didn’t turn around.
“I think we should buy him one of those cute rattles,” Mia said, caressing her belly. “You know, the ones that have the colorful beads inside, and the plastic ends that are good for teething.”
“That sounds great, Mia,” I said. My voice trembled, as I held back a sob. Behind me, I heard Dr. Ambrose open the door.
“And we’ll do –”
Clank, clank, clank.
Mia looked up, as Dr. Ambrose rolled the metal cart across the floor.
“What’s going on?”
“He’s just getting some stuff ready,” I said.
Mia bolted up, with such force that I jumped back. She stared at the tray, and the metal instruments that gleamed on it. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry,” he said in his calm, soothing voice. “I’m just going to check on the baby.”
He walked towards her, needle in hand.
“No!” she screamed.
She lunged at him.
I tried to hold her back. But she easily swatted me away, suddenly much stronger than before. She grabbed Dr. Ambrose’s shoulders, and shoved him aside.
He collided with cart. The instruments clattered to the ground. He stumbled up, but slipped and fell back down, his head making a sickening thwack against the floor.
And then she ran.
Down the hallway, faster than I’ve ever seen her go. “Mia!” I screamed, my feet slapping on the linoleum. “Please, come back!”
Two nurses intercepted her. One grabbed her shoulders, trying to pin her against the wall; the other tried to use her body weight to knock Mia off balance. But she shoved them aside, as forcefully as she shoved the doctor, and ran towards the exit.
When I got there, I yanked the door open, and screamed her name.
But there was only darkness.
We found her the next day, on the outskirts of the forest.
She was alive – but bloody, bruised and weak. So back into the hospital we went. Dr. Ambrose wasn’t happy to see us, but even he had to admit the truth: she was in perfect health, and there was no trace of – well, whatever had been inside her.
We returned home that afternoon. As I tucked her into bed, and turned on the TV, I asked: “What happened out there? In the forest?”
“I don’t remember,” she replied.
She may not have remembered her night in the forest, but she remembered everything else – where we lived, what I liked at the grocery store. We even had a little anniversary celebration.
Everything was back to normal.
At least, that’s what I thought until tonight.
At three am, I woke up in an empty bed. The door to our bedroom hung open, and a sliver of golden light shone through. “Mia?” I called.
In response, I heard the rumble of a car’s engine.
I threw on my jacket, ran down the stairs, and opened the front door. The taillights of her car glowed in the darkness, disappearing behind a bend.
And then I did something I’m not proud of –
I jumped in my car, and followed her.
Mia took three rights and a left, taking her down a secluded street that bordered the woods. She pulled over at the curb. I cut the headlights, scooted down in my seat, and watched her.
She stepped out of the car, and walked towards the trees.
Then she lowered something into the grass.
It was a rattle, with multicolored beads, wrapped in a pretty blue bow.
First, congratulations, new mommy. Second, do not judge your baby just because he is different, he can be a good boy. Good luck.
Well that’s good! I was afraid her baby would tear her apart as it tried to come through the birth canal.
Kid must be pretty tough to make it out there all on its own.
As the other mama, she has to bring it home though, it’s your birthright.
Nah, kill it with Blessed Silver. Solves that problem.
Congrats on the baby boy?
Ɔʜɘɔʞ youɿ miɿɿoɿƨ
We go through life passing many reflections, not truly paying attention to any of them. Why would you? It is merely a reflection of light off a shiny surface. However, have you ever looked at a mirror and caught a glimpse of something else, out of the corner of your eye? Which is worse, seeing something or seeing nothing in the mirror at all? It all began a week ago, when my life began to change.
It was a normal morning, after a steamy shower, I grabbed my towel to wipe the condensation off my bathroom mirror. That was when it happened, a flash of a shadow jumping past the toilet and out the window. Shocked, I turned around to see nothing. Turning back to the mirror was what shocked me, my reflection seemed to appear more shocked than I was. It was minimal but noticeable. His eyes were wide in fear rather than confusion. I was perplexed but shrugged it off as my morning grogginess.
The next day, I thought I saw myself blink. Mundane, I know, but still rather strange. I tried blinking rapidly to trigger a mistake in my reflection but he matched every blink as if he could read my mind. I snickered a bit, realising how stupid I must have looked and went back to bed.
The 3rd day was when things got really weird. I saw the shadowy figure again. This time in more detail, lurking in the corridor. It was a tall figure, hiding in the shadows. For a short moment, I caught a glimpse of its eyes, it reflected light like a cat’s eyes. I turned to my right, to look into the corridor on my end. Nothing. When I turned back to the mirror, my reflection made a soft shake of his head. I stumbled back. It seems like he realised that the gig was up as he began pounding on the glass on his side, shouting. All I could hear was the silence, I couldn’t hear the pounds or his shouts.
I slumped against the wall, scared. I was covering my eyes hoping that whatever was happening would stop. I slowly crouched back to my room, averting any reflection.
The next morning, I woke up and went to brush my teeth, shrugging off the previous night as a nightmare. I wish it was. When I looked up into the mirror, I saw the reflection of the bathroom but I wasn’t there. I waved my hand, nothing. I rushed to check every other mirror in the house. Nothing. I lost my reflection! I was definitely panicking as I grabbed my showerhead and flung it at the mirror, breaking it. They say that breaking a mirror is 7 years of bad luck. I had a feeling that the bad luck wasn’t my biggest concern.
A few days passed after I cleared up the shattered remains of my bathroom mirror and as I removed the other mirrors from my house; trying my best to ignore my lack of reflection.
I hid in my room, remembering the monster I saw and how I felt nothing seeing it except fear. It was the feeling of looking into an endless abyss, a certain type of void that you feel drawn into.
Day 7, I had to leave my house. I ran out of food to eat. I had to go to the grocers for a quick shopping run. While shopping, I needed to go to the washroom urgently. Thankfully, I went during an off peak hour so no one else could see my lack of reflection. I locked the washroom door, to keep others out. I instinctively wanted to keep this to myself. I felt that if people saw this, they would look at me funny.
The grocery store washroom was rather decrepit. One of the lights would flicker periodically. I was already on edge so why the hell not right? Make everything creepy as hell. I swear, God loves messing with me. The washroom was a long corridor with a large mirror spanning across the many sinks. Between the flickers of the faulty light, I saw it again in the reflection. The monster.
This time, I could see him clearer. Or rather I could tell it was a ‘him’. He was tall, pale and bald. He wore nothing, revealing his grotesque, slightly hairy skin. He has a pot belly but very thing arms and legs. His skin was worn on his face like a mask, leathery and loose. The most unsettling thing about him was his long, slender fingers. They looked like they have 2 joints too many.
I leaned into the mirror in fear but it didn’t feel hard. It felt more like a liquid membrane but it was too late. I leaned my weight into it and I fell through, landing hard on the ground. Looking up, I saw him. His eyes pierced my soul as I decided to bolt away.
I ran back to my house. That was when I realised that the world I was in didn’t make any sense. Everything was mirrored. It was summer earlier but now the cold air was definitely a winter breeze. All the trees were dead. All the houses looked run down as if by years of neglect. The most jarring difference was that no one was around. All I could see was faint flickers of light jumping from where reflections would normally be.
When I reached my front door, I turned the knob only for it to fall off, severely rusted. I kicked the door open and that was when I smelt something horrible. It smelled like a rotting piece of meat with a sick sweetness to it; like a few drops of perfume on a week old Sunday roast.
That was when I saw it. My body. On the ground. Eyes wide with fear. My tongue fallen out of my mouth. My neck, twisted. I was dead. Or rather, what I saw the days prior, my reflection, was dead.
I reached for my own neck before stifling the urge to break down and vomit. I had to find a way back. The monster may have killed my reflection and he may be coming for me next. I rushed to my bathroom. Then, I remembered. I smashed my mirror a few days ago. That’s when the door to my bathroom began to creak open.
Those strange fingers began to curl around the door as I got up and proceeded to jump through the window.
“There are no laws in this world as far as I know. So, I guess breaking and entering would be okay,” I thought to myself while running through the neighbourhood.
I chose a house and burst through the door and looked for the largest mirror I could find. I jumped headfirst into it as at that point, it was a gamble I was willing to take.
I crashed against the floor. On the other side. Without time for a sigh of relief, I picked up the heaviest object I could find, a hairdryer, and proceeded to smash the mirror. I guess I made a ruckus as a few seconds later, my neighbour opened the bathroom door. She screamed and ran back to her room.
I was paralysed by my own adrenaline as I rushed towards her, trying to explain what was going on. She pulled out her taser from cupboard and gave me a jolt. I woke up a while after in police custody and began writing this entry in my phone. Watch your mirrors for any irregularities. Don’t try and go through them. As far as I know, he can only hurt you if you are on the wrong side.
.ɘbiƨ ǫnoɿw ɘʜƚ no ɘd yɒm uoy ǫniʜƚɘmoƨ ƨɒ ƨɘɔnɘɿɿuɔɔo bɿiɘw ɿoʇ bnuoɿɒ ʞool ƨyɒwlA
Weirdest occurrence so far is the use of something instead of sometimes. That really messed with my brain.
B64 - Ask for the key
Turns out, I'm full of shit, we call it Caesar's code also.
I am just used to calling it 'alphabet shift'.
I don't understand?
Just purchased my childhood house- Update 1
Alright, so with everyone telling me that going into it was a bad idea I decided to try and explore the house first to rule out something like a dumbwaiter or an Underground Railroad type situation. I started by going into the attic and dropping a small aquarium marble down into it (my fish have plenty more so no worries). It banged off the side once, and I can say with mostly certainty that the shaft is paneled with wood, which to me rules out any kind of duct system. I couldn't hear it hit anything at the bottom, though, so I suspect it's probably going into the basement, maybe to some kind of storage space or something. Again, a laundry shoot seems most likely. I had kind of a stroke of inspiration and decided to try contacting my realtor about the house to see if maybe he knows anything about it. I'm still waiting on a response but hopefully he'll get back to me tomorrow or Monday. Either way, it'll be interesting to see what he says.
So I dropped the marble in there and then decided to try and 'follow' it down into the basement. Along the way I tapped on the walls but it must be behind them because they're not hollow at all. Because of where they are there's only two rooms that might connect to it, and neither of those have a space for accessing it. The walls are definitely solid, and always have been. That, for me, conclusively ruled out the dumbwaiter theory. What would be the point of having a chute that's only accessible on two floors?
Right about then is when I started reading a lot of the comments and succeeded in scaring the shit out of myself. I act like I'm fine with it but I REALLY do not want to find a fucking body in this thing. That would suck on a bunch of levels. I know a lot of people are convinced that's what it is though, so I'm trying to brace myself for it. Anyway I was 100% too freaked out to even attempt to go into this thing until I know for a fact what's down there so I limited the rest of my search to the basement. Which is where I noticed that the room isn't a perfect square. It's ALSO short on one side, by just a bit. If you stand in the middle and look around you can actually tell that there's something a little wonk about the way the angles and stuff are. My best guess is that the foundations have shifted, but it's interesting to have the two be similar that way. Old house, probably old carpentry. Handmade, that whole thing.
So the basement is mostly finished but it's not aesthetically pleasing or meant to be. There's an old bathroom down here that doesn't do much except exist, the water doesn't run to it so it's not usable. It's on the opposite wall from the tunnel though, so it's not related I'd assume. The wall where the tunnel is is solid, just like the other floors. The basement is underground so I can't exactly go busting through the wall to try and see if maybe there was an access hatch at one point. But after using a flashlight and going over just about every inch of that wall I can safely say that there is no access to it, and never has been. This, to me, means one of two things: The tunnel is either a failed attempt at installing some kind of laundry hatch, or it's just some weird quirk of the house.
My next steps are to get the glowsticks and drop those down in there to see where it goes. After that, I'll get a broom or something and test to see if there is in fact a ladder in there. I won't go in it until I'm sure it's reasonably safe, and I'll get a friend to come over and spot me just in case.
I did spend some time checking the tunnel out just lying on my stomach and looking in, and here's what I can say about it: the sides as far down as I can see are wood paneled, which I expected. No writing on the sides, and more importantly no brackets or mounting plates for equipment. The air in there is pretty much the same temperature as the house but it almost feels pressurized? I don't know if maybe it's the closeness of the space that makes the air feel denser but you can definitely tell. I also listened in there and can't hear anything. Shined my phone down but there's no light at all so I can't really say much about depth or anything. Once the glowsticks get here we can finally see what's at the bottom!
It's unrelated, but while I was going through things in the process of checking the tunnel out I found a really cool hand-crank flashlight in my parents' stuff. It looks really beat up but it works, it's pretty cool! I found that, some rope (from Christmas trees past I assume), and I bought one of those old-person grabber hooks so I can lower a flashlight in there to see what's going on if the glowsticks don't work for whatever reason. It's pretty insane having something like this in my house, to be honest. Now that I'm spending time thinking about it I can't seem to get it out of my mind. Like what is it for?? It's like finding a safe behind a painting and having it be full of feathers. Just totally nonsensical. Old houses have quirks but this just seems... excessive. I was thinking of all those stories you hear of people finding mourning jewelry in their walls, or worse. I did a little snooping around online and couldn't find anything quite like my situation. It did remind me of something though.
After my brother and I found the door, my Dad was really adamant about us not fucking around with it. Which I found odd, because how did he know what was inside it? He'd warn us that it was really dangerous and that we didn't know where it led. At the time I brushed it off but now I'm wondering if my Dad actually got it open and knew it was just a shute to nowhere? If so, why wouldn't he just tell us that? Maybe because he didn't want us to know it COULD be opened? I really wish I could ask them.
This whole thing really makes me miss them.
I just had an awesome idea. What could you use to illuminate a fair distance and easily be lowered down a tunnel?
Christmas tree lights!
Festive and practical. If you've got somewhere to plug in a long line of fairy lights in the attic, you should try it. You don't have to worry about a phone or torch/flashlight possibly fallen from a loose knot, since the lights are already attached. And they'll be readily available in multiple stores at this time of year.
OP, I've only read to the third paragraph but I had to pause and come down to write this comment. THANK YOU for reading our comments, appreciating the potential dangers, and taking the time to think things through - instead of going off half-cocked, and probably leaving us sitting here in a few days saying "Yep, he's dead"
Thanks for the update... But now you're giving ME the creeps, dude.
Simple idea for you - parcel tie some string around your phone, open your camera app, and start recording video with the led/flash switched on.... Then lower it down gently!
Do NOT try to use a ladder even if you find one. A friend spotting you will make for a great YouTube video for sure, but firefighters having to destroy part of a load bearing wall or foundation to get you out is gonna fuck the house, and possibly you, right up.
Um...yeah. Don’t go near it. Don’t even think about it. Just kill the whole house with fire at this point.
My Friend us Camping Alone, His Texts are Starting to Scare Me. Part 2
https://redd.it/7ibbhn - Part 1
I have been working with the Denver Park Rangers and police. They’re not telling me anything. They said that they have the situation under control. I am not convinced.
Here is my last conversation with Dylan:
Me: Please tell me you’re calling the police.
Dylan: Hang on, I’m going to see how bad of shape the car is in, and yes I’m calling them.
Me: Alright let me know ASAP!
11:45 AM Me: What’s going on?
12:30 PM Dylan: Will text later. Not safe.
Me: Dylan! Please let me know what’s going on!
2:15PM Dylan: Alright, I have a second to catch you up. This is so messed up dude. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be here. Also my iPhone is dying and I’m going to have to switch over to the shitty flip phone I use for work.
Me: wtf dude, what do you mean by not safe?
Dylan: So I went to try and start my car, to get a quick charge on my iPhone, and see how bad the tires were. The engine wouldn’t even turn over. The scarecrow was standing right in front of my car, like a foot away. It smelled so bad dude, like rotting meat. I called the police and told them about the car, and that I was stuck. They transferred me to the ranger station to explain where I was for assistance. That’s when it got weird.
Me: What do you mean?
Dylan: The ranger seemed pretty lax about it at first, like “Where are you? Stay calm, we’ll send help, just stay where you are, etc.” Monotone voice like he’s used to it. But then I mentioned the scarecrow… and the ranger was different…
Dylan: He became really serious and panicked.
Heres how it went:
Ranger: “Did you say scarecrow?” Me: “yes sir” Ranger: “I need you to be very clear and very honest, son. What exactly did it look like?” Me: (I described the one back at camp, wearing my hat) Ranger: “And you said there is one by your car now?” Me: “Yeah it smells terrible.” Ranger: “What is this one wearing?” Dylan: “Nothing. Just burlap and cloth. This one’s face is frowning… Wait… it looks like something is on its chest. It has a piece of paper pinned to it.” Ranger: “Anything else?” Dylan: “Yeah, something its written on the paper.”
Ranger: “Son, I need you to listen to me very clearly.”
Ranger: “I have some bad news. I’m in my truck now, and I was headed your way. The bridge leading into your trail is partially collapsed and impassible. We’re not sure how it happened. But we have emergency crews working on it now. I need you to start moving this instant. Right now you are at the north side of the mountain, and I need you to go to the south face. That’s where we’ll meet.” “Do you have a compass and map?” Dylan: Yes sir. Ranger: Good. Alright here is the exact point to meet. (He explained where to go.)
Ranger: That’s the exact point where I will meet you. DO NOT STAY WHERE YOU ARE. Get away from your car. Most importantly DO NOT hang around any of those scarecrows. Do you understand me? If you see any more, I want you to run as fast as you can away from it. Clear?
Dylan: “I will. Trust me. “
Ranger: “I need you to keep moving.”
Dylan: “Whats going on? Am I in danger? What does the scarecrow have to do with anything?”
Ranger: Listen, just keep moving while the sun is up, and make as little noise as possible. Are you wearing bright clothing?
Dylan: “Uhhh no I’m not. I have a dark brown coat and grey pants.”
Ranger: “Good. Try and stay out of plain sight as much as possible. Move quickly, and call me if you see or hear anything unnatural.”
Ranger: “You’ll know. But only make phone calls if absolutely necessary. When night falls, stay warm and hidden. NO FIRES. If you hear anything in the night, DO NOT RUN. Stay as still and quiet as possible. “
Dylan: “Wait-, will you tell me what I should be looking for?”
Ranger: “Get moving south, NOW!”
Dylan: “Wait…I” (Click)
Dylan: Then he just hung up.
Me: Where are you now?
Dylan: Moving south. There’s creepy stuff going on.
Me: What do you mean?
Dylan: I walked by the spot where my campsite was last night. The Scarecrow, the one that was wearing my hat, it wasn’t there.
Me: Just gone? Dylan: Yes. Nothing at all.
Me: Dude I’m so sorry you’re going through this. My eyes are watering just reading your texts.
Dylan: I hate this man, I just want to be home.
Me: You gotta do what the ranger said, and well get you out of there. Do you have data on your work phone?
Dylan: No, just talk and text.
Me: Great. Plenty of battery? Dylan: Yes, thank God.
3:03 PM Dylan: I’m exhausted and sacred as hell. Still making my way to the other trail on the south side to meet the ranger.
Me: Keep moving.
3:44 PM Dylan: I see the scarecrow! The one from my camp. It’s up in a tree. Wayyy up in a tree. Dude, fuck how did it get so high up there? Me: WTF! Send me a pic.
Dylan: I can’t get a good shot. It’s so high up and this camera sucks. Its just hanging there, it looks like it’s staring at me. I’m so freaked out and tired. Something is dripping off of it. Me: Get away from it Dylan!
4:17 PM Dylan: The sun’s about to set. I’m going to find a place to sleep. Me: Dylan, you never told me what was on that note. The one that was pinned to the scarecrow…by the car.
4:32 PM Dylan: Oh shit, you’re right.
Dylan: It said… “Are you scared yet?”
Me: Who the fuck do you think is doing this?
7:01PM Me: Dylan? Are you okay?
Me: Text me back when you can. I don’t want to waste your battery.
2:02 AM Dylan: It’s getting closer.
Me: What is?
2:04 AM Dylan: fuck…it’s right next to me. Oh God I need help. Fuck wht si this thing omg omg. Is thiss thingeven human?? It can’t be. It stppped. I’m behind a tree. Idk If itt know where I am. Oh fuck, tht smell. It’s so badd. I’m going to make a run for it. It’s..it’s too closee.
2:05 Me: Oh fuck! Please tell me you’re okay. What is it!?
2:19 AM Me: Dylan? I’m going to call the police! Oh shit dude, what happened?
2:49 AM Me: I called the police. They are looking for you at the south face. Where the ranger said he would meet you. Please please please tell me you made it.
2:57 AM Me: Dylan???
3:33 Dylan: Hello.
Me: Dylan are you okay!? What happened?
3:41 Dylan: Hello.
Dylan: Are. Dylan: You. Dylan: Scared. Dylan: Yet?
4:14 AM Me: WTF?
Me: Where the fuck are you, are you okay?
That’s the last I’ve heard from him.
I am working with them now, and they are trying to track Dylan’s phones.
Update: I just heard back from the police. All they found was another scarecrow. It was sitting in the driver’s seat of Dylan’s car. It was wearing a dark brown coat, and grey pants. The scarecrow was filled with meat. They’re not sure what kind.
The police are having me fly out to Denver now.
Errrrr it might be Dylan meat :(
It sounds like people who go into the woods and encounter a scarecrow will become one themselves. The scarecrow has Dylan's phone and possibly Dylan's clothes. Or, as the others have said and as I suspect, Dylan is a new scarecrow.
Sorry for your loss, OP. Stay vigilant.
Dylan is a prolific texter
Good friend, geez. Could only imagine. “We found a bag of ... meat. Mind coming out here to identify ... this?”
“...yah I guess his parents wouldn’t mind.”
There are three sides to Youtube Part 2: The games have begun.
Ok, before we keep going I want to tell you guys a few things! I will not be posting the links to the videos here in my posts, since they don’t seem to work anyways. If you’re still interested in trying to find the videos however, tell me so in the comments and I’ll send you some links and you can try to get it to work. Second of all, some people wanted me to record the videos and post them to Youtube, and that’s something I could try to set up in the future, but I haven’t done so yet so these text post will have to suffice. Ok, enough chit-chatting, let’s keep going.
So, as soon as I got home yesterday I sat down in front of my computer to keep going down the rabbit hole and see what else laid down there. I sat down in front of my computer and looked at the screen. The video was still there, and nothing had happened. I read the title again, to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. “le§t tHE ga/mes BEGin” was still the title of the video and the description was the same as well.
I decided to calm down and regain myself before pressing play. I had to be 100% focused at all times when watching these videos, as the clues and puzzles usually just showed up for a split second and I had to pay close attention so I didn’t miss it. So I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea before I went back to my computer, sat down, and pressed play.
The video started off with a black screen. No text, no images or symbols, just a black screen. Slowly something started to appear however. Some letters slowly started popping up on random places on the screen. Slowly forming words. What made the video even more interesting is that the order that the letters appeared in seemed to make for other words as well. So there was the obvious message that slowly appeared on the screen as well as a hidden message. The obvious message said “Congratulations Everyone, on making It this far through our little “Audition”. we’re happy to announce that you, along with two others, Managed to get this far. we will allow you to make contact with them In due Time, but for now all you Need to Know is that the games are about to Begun!”
All the capital letters are the first ten letters that showed up, and if you rearrange them slightly you can make out three words: “BACK IN TIME”. After that I couldn’t manage to get any other words out, since after the first ten letters they started popping up several different letters at once.
I had no idea what this could mean, but the message had pulled me in even deeper. I mean how could it not? Hidden videos, secret messages and a mysterious “game”. I was so excited to keep going.
After I had solved the hidden message I watched the rest of the video. The message stayed on the screen for about a minute and a half before it disappeared and a second message took its place. This message said “There is a hidden message in this video, find it and type it in the comments in order to qualify for the actual games. Don’t disappoint us, it’s not that hard to find.” And just like that, the video was over.
I looked down at the words I had written down and tried for about another 20 minutes to see if there was another combination of words that it could be instead, but the only thing that actually made sense was the words I had already unscrambled, so I scrolled down to the comment section and typed in “BACK IN TIME” and posted it. After just a few seconds I was greeted with a response from someone called “TI#ME%)WARPe&R”. The reply read “Correct, the Games have BEGUN” and then there was another Youtube link as well. I decided to click it immediately before I had time to consider what I was getting myself into.
The link led to a video of a slideshow with the title “Let’s staRt off with sOmEthing eaSy” (yes, I noticed that if you take all the capital letters in the title and rearrange them, you get "LOSER", but I didn't think too much of it) and there was no description. It was recorded with a camera so the quality of the video was very poor, but I could somewhat make out what the images on the slideshow was showing. There were five images in total, and I had to watch the video at least ten times before I was sure that I’d seen as much as I could.
The first one showed an old (possibly homeless) man looking straight into the camera, he had long and ungroomed hair and a wild, nasty looking beard. He barely had any teeth and the few you could see in his “smile” were every color except white.
The next image showed another old man on a hospital bed. He was very clearly sick, and his hopes of surviving seemed pretty dim, at least that’s what I gathered from the image. I couldn’t make out any of his features really, but I’m sure it was a man.
The third Image showed a third man. This man, however, was dead. I could tell since he was in a morgue and his throat was sliced open. Seeing this image was a lot to process, but I wasn’t too sensitive, so after the first two times watching the video, I wasn’t as grossed out anymore.
The fourth image was a surprise, especially among the other images, as it had no apparent reason to be in this slideshow. It had no correlation to the other pictures whatsoever… The fourth image was of some sort of monk. I was extremely surprised when this image showed up, and it’s the main reason I felt like I had to watch the video at least ten times.
The final image was just a black screen with the text “This is the legend of ______” and then a message would pop up on the video saying “Fill in the blank”.
This was the first puzzle that really had me thinking for a long time. This game was really not an easy task, and the difficulty really ramped up from the previous puzzle. I started thinking of all kinds of different cyber-legends and all kinds of stories I’d heard, but it never made any sense and I never saw what these four images had to do with anything.
I soon gave up, turned off my computer screen and went to bed. I felt like a good night’s sleep might do the trick. But the only problem was that I couldn’t fall asleep. I just laid there in my bed thinking about what all of that could possibly mean. What kind of legend were they thinking of?
Soon enough I slowly started drifting away however. All that circulated in my mind was “Old man, Sick man, Dead man, Monk”… And that was all I needed in order to figure it out.
In a split second I woke up and sat up in my bed. I had figured it out. An old man, a sick man, a dead man and a monk… There was only one legend where the four of those made sense… The legend of Buddha!
I threw myself out of bed and ran over to my computer and turned on the screen. With my entire body shaking I scrolled down, wrote “Buddha” and posted the comment and again it only took a few seconds before someone named “Sid€dha[rt&a Gaut=am}a” answered with “Correct! Very impressive. Please proceed.” Along with yet another link.
At this point I had to calm down, as I had been way too excited about figuring out the puzzle, but that’s what it does to me. I love these intense and difficult puzzles, riddles and mysteries because they give me these huge adrenaline rushes. So I sat down and took a few deep breaths to regain my thoughts and my focus before I clicked on the next link.
This time the title was “Bl%\Oo´d ba¨TH” and the description read “On.wa-rds w@e will g&O, so7!on You´ will Fi)4nd the trU}th”.
Trivia : Siddhartha Gautama was what Buddha was called before he renounced the world and became a monk.
The Buddha and finding the "truth". An interesting combo for sure. I don't much like the title of the next video OP, but you may have to keep playing. You never know what the people who created this are capable of.
It's a semi dark web site my Free Mason friend showed me, the entire site is a ritual that if you can navigate fully it will give you a vision of things to come, the truth about heaven and hell and such.
He said that there are multiple languages in there, it does not matter if you understand them all as long as you read them and the site out loud while of clear uninebriated mind and only if you truly want to know things, do not fool around on there to much my other friend did and was then in the hospital for 2 weeks very sick with an unknown illness. If you go through with it it should take you about 3 hours to read then when you sleep the vision should start, if your mind is unprepared you may die although it is unlikely as a spirit of sorts will guide you through.
You will never fear anything of this plane of existence afterwards though for the unimaginable horrors that you will see will cure you of that.
I'm gonna need those YouTube links
Edit: If you want to check out something interesting go here, click on things when your done reading a page to proceed. http://973-eht-namuh-973.com/