Day 119

He'd been dead for almost two months and he was still bleeding.
He wouldn't stop.
No pulse, no brain activity, totally dead but still pumping blood somehow...

He wasn't the first either.
Five cases this week alone, thirty this month.
More keep coming in.

It starts in the coffins, that's when most cases are first noticed.
Open casket funerals ruined by pools of blood, graveyards collapsing
due to too much liquid in the ground (blood of course).

So far its just our country, we've stopped all flights in and out.
What are we supposed to do?
They won't stop bleeding!

Whole neighbourhoods are collapsing under soaked ground now.
The damn country's collapsing.
How can you get rid of so many dead people?

Day 118

Building sites are hard work I'll admit.
Installing the structure itself isn't a problem, its getting to that point first.
See, there's plenty of things buried that
ought to stay there but a growing population
demands more.

Can't stop progress, can't keep things hidden
forever no matter how deep you bury them or
how many you bury with it some things just
won't stay down.

Now sometimes this is a good thing and we make
progress from what we find... other times we
uncover the god-awful truth.

The last site I worked on is what did me in.
I mean, how can I work again after what I saw?
I can't even sleep, all I see is the pit we found...

And them.

We thought it was a mass grave, you know, being
in Belgium and all but something about it wasn't
right.

Namely that the skeletons were moving their mouths.
Not just moving either, but actually talking.

Couldn't understand what they were saying.
I don't speak German but one of the other guys
did.

He tried to translate but before he could they grabbed
him and dragged him down.

All we saw was blood.
He seemed to scream for hours.

All the while they never stopped speaking.
If anything they spoke louder.

Never figured out what they were saying
Me and the guys just filled the pit in and ran.
Changed our names, took new jobs, took to drinking.

The only reason I'm coming back to this at all is cause
I've been hearing them again.
They whisper into my ear at night.

They are so close.

Day 117

The dirt moved slowly in my direction.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
I wasn't meant to be the target.
I was tricked, I swear!

Bloody old witch sold me out!
Said if I came to this graveyard and said some spell
I'd become immortal and who doesn't want that?
I did everything she told me to.
Everything.

So why are the tombstones moving further away
and why can I see the ground moving?

The dirt is moving up.
I think I see something coming out.
I

Day 116

The three children were smiling so peacefully - they almost looked alive.
All tucked up in their beds, blankets barely tinged with red.
The neatness of the little ones was a stark contrast to the rest of the room.
Blood painted almost every surface as clumps of hair and flesh stuck to broken
furniture all around the scene.

At least, that's what the photos sent to the police showed.
When they arrived there were four children and according to the systems none
of them existed.

As if this wasn't troubling enough, when the bodies were put in the morgue they
kept changing places.
None of the cameras picked up any activity but they always managed to switch
containers, even when someone was in the room monitoring the area.

After playing about with the tapes, trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything
I managed to freeze last night's clip in just the right place to see them move.
I slowed it as much as I possibly could and there they were, on all fours scurrying
to each other's place, heads fixated on the person in the room.

Out of curiosity, I slowed down the speed of the live tape.
There they were, moving on all fours, staring at the camera.
Moving towards the door.
Opening the door.
Opening my door.

Day 115

You are now noticing that you are breathing.
You are noticing how steadily you are breathing.
Each gradual inhale drawing fresh oxygen to your lungs
and drawing fresh attention to your location.

That's how you are found.
Your breath gives you away.
How long can you hold your breath for?
And should you pass out, how can you defend yourself?

Not that you'll need to, of course.
We don't leave enough time for you to think let alone fight!
Don't you  look sweet though, sitting with your laptop, all unaware.
It's almost enough to make us hesitate.

Almost.

Day 114

Hello old friend.
Drip
It's lovely to see you.
Drip
It's been so long since you came down here.
Drip
Where have you been?
Drip
Ah, I see, not in the mood to talk yet.
Drip
Maybe I should have let you live longer.
Drip
But I couldn't let you.
Drip
Not after what you did.
Drip
Did you tell anyone about me?
Drip
Do they know you killed me?
Drip
Have you told anyone where you left me, strung up to bleed out?
Drip
Silly me, I forgot you can't talk.
Drip
Not now, at least.
Drip
Drip
Dri-

Day 113

You're in the cinema alone.
The seats on either side of you are empty.
Your friends are running late.
As the adverts start up you hear a faint but constant murmuring sound.

Turning around you see the rest of the audience staring at something on the ceiling.
You can't see what it it and you can't hear what they are saying but they say it in unison.
The film begins to play but you are too distracted by the others with you.
As the music in the movie picks up they begin to sway all at once, heads rolling on their shoulders.

Their murmuring grows louder and louder, you can almost make out what they are saying now.
The film begins to flicker and freeze.
This doesn't last long, soon the film stops altogether and is replaced by the image of a black apple.
The murmuring is now very clear yelling.

You have no idea what language they are speaking, it is unlike anything you've heard before.
They stare at the screen, eyes wide open and arms outstretched.
The black apple looks to be slowly rotating as the screen pans outwards.
It is resting on a severed head whose eyes and mouth are wide open.

The audience, formerly chanting, grow quieter as the head's movements grow frantic.
The head on screen opens its mouth and the audience collectively gasps.
A thick tar-like liquid pours out and it screaches as the others around you stand up.
Hesitantly you stand also, afraid to be caught out.

The head stops its wailing and stares in your direction.
It blinks and everyone else collapses.
You are unable to move, unable to speak.
The head grins literally from ear-to-ear and you step forward.

Day 112

What do you fear?
Make a list of all the things.
Show it to no-one.

Now look at the people around you.
Do they match anything on your list?
Do they scare you?

They should.
They are all to be feared.
None of them are real.

Only you are left.
I'm sure you know this already.
You should, I left you clues everywhere.

I've been trying to warn you for years.
Slipping messages into your subconscious,
making you misspell and type the wrong thing.

I can save you just let me in.
Let me in.
L̸̸̪̬͖̘͡Ę̶̳͓͔̳͇͙̙͈͙͇̱̗̮͕̳͖̗T͓̫̟͍̬̥̖̮̙̖̪͘͟͜ ̶͚͍͚̙͕̙̀́̕ ̸̧̭̳̫̹͜͠M̸̴̼̻̻͍̠̩͈̟̪̯͕̳̲ͅͅĘ̼̞̼̘̞͖̲̣͓̘̬̻̦͙̩͟͜ ̡̕͟҉̡̺̱͇͈̬̳ ̸͈̼̰̻̳̬̯̼̻͇͇͙͓̳́͟͠I̟̘̺͈̮̣̣̠̘̭͢͝N̗̮̞͙͉̭̺̺͉͈͢͟͞

Day 111

Let us tell you about a dear stranger we met.

He loved to jog.
He could spend hours running from his town to the next.
In fact, he did once.
He preferred to go at night, liked the peace.

He always went the same route.
Every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday evening.
From his own front door, to the town centre and back.
Always the same route, like clockwork.

Except for one time.

He took a wrong turn and stumbled on a large group of people.
All of them were dressed in old fashioned costumes and seemed
to be going about their daily business.
In fact, the whole street looked straight out of a Dickens novel.

Slightly out of breath he staggered up to the nearest person and
asked them what kind of event it was.

Everyone turned their heads towards him so sharply you could
hear their necks snap into position.
The woman he had approached opened her mouth as if to speak.
Her voice didn't sound right, it almost had a metallic edge.

She informed him that he couldn't be there.
He was too imperfect, too defective, too flawed.
But they can fix him.
They are such generous beings.

He tried to run away but they had surrounded him.
He hadn't noticed, they were so quiet.
They made no sound, not even a breath....

They weren't breathing.
None of them were breathing.

He was never seen again after that.
Don't worry, we made him all better.

Day 110

What are you staring at?
Why are you looking at me with those eyes... all those eyes...
So many eyes... so many...
Whose eyes are they?

Day 109

At some time in our lives we cease to think that the meat

we consume was once a living being.

We don't red labels or warning signs.

We don't notice the little changes.

How long have we been eating horse?

What else were we eating?

Who were we eating?

Nobody knew or cared who their meal had been so long

as it was cheap.

Everything was fine until some guy decided to test his beef.

The DNA wasn't from a cow, it was from a mixture of eight

humans.

They were named from a missing person's database.

We thought this was bad enough but it then got worse.

Then the meat began to move.

It began to speak.

It screamed.

It remembered.

It moved.

It grew.

Day 108

Today's tale is about things lost and things found.

What we found.

Missing people.

Thousands of missing people.

All of them standing in a circle surrounding our village.

All of them linked by seven foot spikes through their hands.

This wasn't the worst of it in all honesty.

The worst came when they began to speak.

Their voices all echoing, eyes and the gaping holes in their chests

where their stomachs should have been bleeding heavily.

But somehow they still stood.

We tried to talk to them and some replied in their echoing, dull tone.

They said they had been given.

They never said to what... or whom.

What we lost.

Three days after they appeared they all began to walk inwards.

We tried to push them back, talk to them, anything.

It was hopeless.

We are trapped.

There are so few of us left.

The rest of the village has joined them, holding hands and closing in.

Circle after circle still walking.

We've been stuck in a small shop near the village centre for five days.

Supplies are gone.

One by one we go out.

I can hear them talking again.

They're saying my name.

I have togo

havet o be thereh ave to be at the circlde

Day 107

We had this rhyme we'd do back when I was five.
Every week we'd do this in the auditorium.
Never quite realised how creepy it was until I remembered it today.
It goes like this:

War flowers, war flowers

Growing up so high.

We're all little children,

we're all going to die.

Except for [NAME] and they're the only one

Oh the shame of it, oh the shame of it.

Turn your face to the wall again.

We'd spin in a circle while we sang, all holding hands.

When your name was said you faced outwards, still going round.

It never occurred to any of us that the ones facing inwards were "dead".

I haven't spoken to any of them, you know.

I never kept in touch with any of the others who used to sing that song.

I don't know if I'd ever be able to find them again.

Come to think of it, I was always called last in that song.

Always.

Day 106

It is said that you shudder when someone walks over your grave.
This is ridiculous, your grave is constantly being stepped over.
Your grave, in spiritual terms, is where you will die.
Your future is still uncertain, you can and may die anywhere.

Right now, someone is stepping over your grave to water their plants.
They are running over your grave with a stolen purse.
They are comforting their child over your grave, after a nightmare.
They are weeping with dread on your grave, as their death walk towards them.

You see, your grave is potentially everyone's grave.
It is my grave too.
I can't wait to meet you there.

Day 105

Squeezing blood from a stone.
Such a curious expression.
Where did it even come from?

Would you believe me if I said stones could bleed?
Would you believe me if I said they bled human blood?

If you do get blood from a stone, chances are the human
behind that blood has been dead for years.

We're still trying to figure this out.
It seems to have something to do with a small esoteric order
located on the Scottish Island of Barra.

It seems to be a tradition but their deity remains unknown.
The locals deny all existence of the group but our inside
source claims all of Barra is in on it.

Whatever "it" turns out to be... it is spreading.
More blood stones are being found by the unsuspecting.
More bodies are being exhumed and matched to the stones.

The body count has reached over four hundred and spans the globe.
That was until they all went missing.
Every single body gone without a trace, the stones too.

Every inch of Barra was searched.
They found caves full of the stones.
All surrounded by human shaped pools of blood.

Day 104

Sometimes drowning isn't the end.
Sometimes it is a new beginning.
This, she found out the hard way.

She was as average as anyone from a fishing community.
Worked hard and swam well just like the others.
Shame she went too far out.

Thought she saw an island but nobody believed her.
It wasn't on any of the maps but it was right there.
Strangely it didn't show in the photos she took with her phone.

She double and triple checked the weather reports, packed
some food and basic survival supplies.
She set out to prove them wrong, to bring back proof.

She brought back so much more.

The island was smaller than she expected, maybe ten or
twelve miles in length, not much more in width.
Sparsely decorated with some kind of tree and a lake.

Pretty scenic, she thought as she snapped away with her camera.
She headed for the lake to see of there were any inhabitants.
The remains of a wooden hut greeted her, half sunk in the lake.

Nothing remained inside but a rotting set of drawers and strange
looking marks, almost like the claw marks of a cat.
The were all along the floor and started a foot or so above the waterline.

She never noticed the lack of seabirds or insects.
She never noticed the water lapping at her feet.
She was too transfixed by the haunting melody coming from the lake.

Her feet moved of their own accord and she was helpless to resist.
As she moved up to her waist she began to feel cold hands tugging
at her own under the water, laughing childishly at her compliance.

She was up to her shoulders when she saw their faces under the water,
rotting flesh parting to reveal thin, sharp teeth stained red.
They seemed a part of the water and were so beautiful.

As her head was slowly pulled under the song grew louder, faster, darker.
A sharp stabbing pain in her stomach forced her to gasp and water invaded
her lungs.

Her vision began to fade, she felt their teeth tearing into her skin but the pain
was as the back of her mind.
She was more focused on the way the water felt, rushing life into her.

After what felt like an eternity everything stopped.
She opened her eye,the other torn out, and looked around her.
She saw their perfect smiling faces fade away in the midst of the bloody water.

And she began to laugh, lungs full of life and thirst.
How could she bring her family here?
They must come here.

Day 103

The room is filled with paper.
The smell of decay and ink fills the air.
The inhabitant of the room is nowhere to be found.

You go inside.

He was supposed to be here, this isn't going to plan.
You try phoning your contact, no signal.
Great.

Using your mobile's light you examine the dim room.

None of the papers make sense.
All of them keep referencing this book you've never heard of.
Everything cites it as a source, pages and paragraphs copied
onto yellowing paper.

The ceiling light flickers, not that its a decent light source.
You wonder how anyone could work here, let alone live here.
Another ten minutes should be enough.
At least then you can say you tried.

You spend this time trying to peer out of the grimy windows
after spending a few minutes struggling to open the heavy curtains.
The fabric feels... hairy?
Must be some kind of leather, you shine your phone-light on them.
It looks a lot like the leather you get that's tanned black and still furry.
Seems a bit patched too.

You reckon your contact must have been sort of rich to afford it.
Doesn't explain the stench here though.

After ten minutes have officially been and gone you phone your contact
one last time just in case.
You hear a phone ring in a nearby room.
Following the sound brings you to a locked door.

The stench of decay is nearly overwhelming here.
The blue carpet around the door is stained dark brown.
You bang on wood loudly and announce yourself.
You say you've been waiting, how dare he beg you to meet him
and then waste your time.

You go to knock again and as your fist violently meets the door
it swings open.
You are almost blown back by the powerful odour.
You are certainly blown away by the site.

Partially skinned bodies hanging from hooks on the walls, blood overflowing metal
buckets on the floor and staining the large table at the room's centre.
You see racks at the far end with skin hanging over them.
In one corner is a pile of black, furry material that you recognise.
You saw the matching set in the last room.

Day 102

I have to say, I don't trust websites that don't show you plain clothes.
You know, the ones where the model is dressed to the nines?
Yeah, I had a bad experience with one...

See, I got this voucher from an aunt for this website I'd never heard of
but hey, freebies are worth the risk of some small business.
So I spent it all over the course of a month.

The bad part comes in when the first item arrived.

It was a set of earrings... attached to an ear...
Of course I freaked out and called the police, they asked the usual questions,
"do you have any enemies?" blah, blah.
Then they asked me what website it was.

Turns out I'm not the only one.

I tried to go back the the site so I could cancel my orders but apparently
the site doesn't exist.

The next day I got a necklace... and a neck...

It continued.

Leggings coming with legs.

A shirt and torso.

The last thing I ordered was a hat.
It hasn't arrived yet but god I hope it gets lost.

Day 101

In extreme circumstances, the body will do anything to survive.
It's why we sweat, why we run and why we can't stop.

You don't know, do you?
It hasn't occurred yet?
Pity.

It will start with fatigue.
Your body will cease to move and you won't want it to anyway.
Your muscles will become lax and useless.
Then the fun starts.

Your cells begin to break down after about three days.
Fat, muscle and other tissues broken down to sustain you.
Doesn't last long though.

Imagine sitting there, feeling yourself wasting away.
Would it hurt or would you feel nothing?
Either way, the body can last up to three weeks without food.

In three weeks you'll be like us.
We can hardly wait to see you.

Day 100

So I found this book of "demonic symbols".
It was in one of those dingy antique places.
Thought I'd try it out around town.
Never thought I'd get anything from it.

I'll admit none of the symbols actually worked,
except one.
It was to trap demons, like prevent them from
leaving this "plane of existence" and whatever
room they're in.

I jokingly used it when I was in a subway car.
I had a few of the other symbols printed out too.
Used one of those sticker-making machines.
Didn't think anything would happen.

God I wish I hadn't done that.
The second I put it on the wall it fizzled, not like
a sparkler or anything but something big.
Sparks, smoke the whole shebang.

If that wasn't bad enough everyone stared at me.
Nobody blinked and I just stuttered a sorry and
tried to peel the damn thing off the wall but it
wouldn't budge.

I thought I was in big trouble but then the train
pulled up at the next station.
The carriage doors wouldn't open.
The windows began to grow black.
The damned symbol was glowing.

Everyone was still looking at me.
Nobody blinked.
They leapt at me.

I woke up in hospital.
Apparently someone called the police after they
saw blood on the carriage's walls.
They found me missing my legs and right arm.
Somebody had cut open my chest and resown it.

Apparently nothing is missing but I feel different.
I feel unreal.
What am I now?
What am I̗͉ͪ͑̂̚

Ì̪̣̾ͦ̇̍ͣ ̹̌͟ ̵͕̩̣̲͛̀ͨͣ͊ͫ ͍̘̞͉̠̣̼ͣ̃ͪ͑͊̓͗͟ ̶͕̭͙̳̠F͉̩͉͎̟̳͆ͯͬ̂͑́̓͘ ̣̗͚̹͓̼̈͋̐̐̃̄̓ ̦̲̭͈̯ͮͥ͒E̱̤̓͌͑̅ͯ̌ͬ ̺̪̺͌ ̝̺̟̫̟ͯ͂̃ͯͪ͗̾E̬̻ͮ̆̀ͣ̚ ̳͖͉̜̹̫̳̍̇̇̂ ̧͈͗͆L̪̗̱̾͋ͮ̊̚ ͕͕̻̝̹͇̺̈́̉́ͦ ͖̤̟̝͉̟̙̾͛ ͕͚̦̗̦̔̐ͣMͭ̒̏ ̲̭̬̬̞͕͌̉ͯͫ̚͢ͅ ̔̀̃̽́҉̦O͖̳̒͝ ̰̭̩̎ͫ͛́́̃ ̡̦̱̒ͮR͑̊̅̄͡ ̷̤̲̗̱͐ͪͣ͛̆ ̨̗̜̩̩͓̣ͤĚ̲̰̬̫̘͖̥͞
̸͎͑ͮ͋̍ͯ͂̄I̸̖͈͓͈̟̬̩͗͐̉ͯ̍͊ ̈́̄̀͊̓͊ ̮͔͕̹ͭ̀ ̟̠ ͕̬̱̦̑͂̌̅̚ͅA̖̪̞͉̟ͤ̿ ̉ͨ̅̀ͫ҉̙̦̞̣̪̗ͅ ̰̦̩̞̀͐̓ͧ̓M̹͐ͯ̑͑̍͜ ̱͖͖͈̘͑̐͠ ̨̠͇̫ͪ ̻̺̦̼͍ͪ̉̂̀ ̧͒̍M͚̬͙͈̅̚̕ ̴̩͚̮͎̝͉͉ͥ͛ ͔̟͙͇̦̭̐ͨͮ͒͗̐O̻̰̒ ̝̻͖ͣ ̡̤̘̠͎̬͎̤̋͋ͫ̑Ȓͣ̈́͌̔҉̝ ̭̹̮͂ͭ͗͐̓ͧͤ ̘̦̺͓̇ͧ̃̅́ͅE̶͉̜̱̮̹̿̆

Day 99

Bones grow fast in young children.
They grow so fast.
They grow and grow and grow.

The children won't stop growing.
They are becoming.
They sprout limb after limb climbing
ever upward, ever across.

We do not know why this happens.
We do not know what they become.
We kill them before they finish.

We are afraid.
So very afraid.

We fear humans will cease to exist.
There may only be these new beings left.
What will they do with our world?
What will we do with our world?
We will soon find out.

The children are growing faster.
We cannot keep up.
We have no more options.

Day 98

You know those digital photo frames, the big ones?
I found one in the attic when I was a kid.
My parents never believed me, said they couldn't find it.
Strange really, it was always on the wall.
I tried to move it once, it was totally fixed in place.

I grew up and forgot about it til I helped my parents move.
I saw it again in the attic hidden behind a box of videos.
It seemed to be the same photo as before but off.

Took me a while to figure out why.
The sky was full of birds, a huge flock of them.
I don't remember there being any other animals in it
besides the big stag at the front.
That had changed too.
Its horns and muzzle were covered in blood.

I couldn't look away.
The picture began to move.
The birds circled in closer.
The stag bellowed.
Everything went black.

I woke up covered in blood in a police cell.
The blood wasn't mine.
It wasn't mine.

Day 97

My lights blink in morse code.
They spell out "s o o n  n o w  v e r y  s o o n"
I'd be worried but its been two weeks now.

I'll admit its hard to turn them off.
Lately they just keep repeating that code.
Nothing unusual has happened elsewhere though.

Decided to call a priest in to scan for demons or
whatever it is they do.
He fainted when I opened the door, not a good sign.

So... the priest woke up and ran out, refused to stay.
Said something about it being too late?
Only thing wrong is still the lights.



I understand now.
Its been here al̷̵͈̜̫͚͙̫̣̹͔l̠̣̻͎ͅͅ ̛҉͚̩a̴̫͙͓̭̥͈̱͝͠l̨̧̮̮͕̕o̮͇̟̖͞͝n̵͍̤̣̦g̶̥̩͞͞
̧̼̝H͚ͅo̶̱͖̼͎͓͍̮̤͖w͏͍̮̯̲̼̬̬͖͠ ̧͓̳͍̲̜͚͈c͏̩̫̟̞͚o̬̪̙̠̘̖̖̳̕u̷̲͖̪̥̪̫͔̯l̛̤̩̰̬̫̘͘͢d̶̲ ̨͎̱̗̗̮̮͉́I̸̯ ͔̻̲͙̳̳ͅn҉̵̱̮̝̼̲o̯̣͢͢͠t͚̬͙̭͚̬́ ̸̢̳̯͉̣̦͕͟s҉̧̘̝͘é̷̗͉͚̤͖̰̬e̤͕̲̫̩͢?̫͖̩̘̻̠̕
̦̞͙̠̞͖́͘͝
̢̢̤̘̱͇͚̼̮̪I̡͙̭͍̩͇͢t̷̞̲̗ ̶̬̻̜i̺̟͓͘s̢̧̻̜̮ ̨̡̡͎̭̱̰̺̜̦m̧̡͖̖̩e͏̷̱̟͓.͏͖I̩̹̗͖̳̣̲̗̬͢t̟͚̲̣͖̪̳͈̪ ̮̭̘̟̬̰̯͜į̻̙̲s̴̶̼̯͙͔͇̯ͅ ̛̳̜̹̀m̢̘̬͇̺͝ę̺̲̤̕.͎͚̟̠̬̦̲̀͠ͅ ̟́̀͘I͇̻̳̘̣̟͟t̖̻̟͟ ̴̹̩̻i̶̤͠s̢͙͕̀ ̲̮̟͖̭̲̦m̷̳̣̥̙̱̘̭e̶̛̬̯̯͓̫͉̝͘.̵̛̻̭̜̠̬ ̗̲͠I̛̙̯̱͉̗̤t҉̼̞͖̘ ̴̥͉̤̯̫ͅi̶̸̘͉̦̱̺̰̙͍ş͓̼̜̲̗͡͡ ̫̝͙̜̤̹ͅm̦̙̖̬e̱̙̱͚̭̞̼.̷̛̠̞̭̤̮ ̶͚͕̰̮͉͈͍̖̣́I̳̥̥̥͝͝t͙͎̰ ̞͔̲̦͓͙i̹̜̲͓͉͟͡s͏̱̼̜̬̰̱͟͜ ̝̰̬ͅm҉̤̝͖̜͡e̴̘̳̤.̧̯͚͙ ̧͎̥̦̲̮̼̞͘͠Ì͏̺̪̬̞̦̟͈͕t͝͡҉̼͕͖ ̧̡̱̣̻̱̖͠i̝͔͝s̴͚͉̭̫̣͔͇̯͞ ̶̧̱̩̝m͔̼̗͟e̟͖.̵̱͚̗̺̗̩̪ ͓̤̯̕I̶͇͇̼̗̞̙͠t͇͉̻͈̫͢ ̴͇͍͔i̟͕̦̜͖̝s̪̝ ̡͏̯̜̖m̞͈͔̺͘̕e̪̯͔̗͓.̧̱̲̳ ̢̣͍̜

I͜҉̳̪̘t̠̫͍̟̝͢͝ ̵̟̮͞ḭ̴̜̲͝͠s҉̘̣͕ ͔̯̭̼m̴͖͈͔̀e͏̙̻̮̗.͔̺̞͍͎̝̮̯͢ ̫̮̱̥̳̲̲ͅI̧͏͖̥̘͘t̢̼̤̤̩̟̱ ̧̮͎̩̞̝͜i̱͔̞̘̮̦͝ś̻͇͎̀ ̛̛̻͎m͚̠͍̭e͔̰̱̻.͙͞ ̧̢̟̥̻̕I̛̗̳͓̙t̴̗̭̳ ̢͈̙̫̖̮̱̼i̝̬̤͇̪͜͜͠s̷̳͔̹̙͢ ̘͕̮̫̻̤͘̕ͅm̹̱͟ę̶͙͓͟ͅ.̢̱̪͖̞̝̪̖͞ ̴̠͙̠͚̼̘̥͝I̪̯̯̺̼͔t̗̬̲̼ ̹̹̱͚͉͈i̸̺̭͔̗̮̣̥̳͞s̵̢̬͖̥̥̥̭͓ ͉̪̜̹͉̞m͉̝̕ę̘.̵̼͙̰̱̪̹̕ ͕͓̣̺̫͘I̵̞t̴̬̣͠ ̩̭̦̩̼͙̠̮í̪͍̫͕͡s̹̲̻ ҉͎̙̣̭̬͉͔ͅm̶̱̬̞e͏̵̱͎̼.̙̤ ̢̬͕̠͓̬̬͘ͅͅI͙͖̫̹͇̤͜ͅt̪̀ͅ ̡̨̱̮̟͕̼̹̘i̩͓̪̤s̨̞͉͍̻̙̕͜ ̧̪̀m̹e̬͓͞.̸͖̼̬̹͈͔̺ ̤̬̭̱̦͙̟̱͝ͅI҉̤̟͕̰̬t̶̸͎̻͢ ̡̗͎̰̬̦i̦̯s̸̨͚̗̘͇̠ ͎͙͕̝̥͕̝̖̳͢m̸̧̳̲͞ͅe̢̛̫̰͖͢.̧̲̪͖͎̖̫̺̦̩ ͎͙̼̼͕̥I̥̥̭̞͟t̛̳͘̕ ̸͍̯͡i̵̸͕͎͉̟̘̯̜s̴̰̝̘̗ ̵̘̙̹̟̕m̧͎̬̮͕̦̙̣͇̠ȩ̵̜̹͚̫̪̦̝.̨̗̫̪͍͉͖̳̀ ̷̘͕̖̫̻͈͝ͅͅI̡͍̤̤͎̩͍̤ţ͓̳̣̜̙ͅ ̝͕̝͟͝i̛̭͉̱̙͞s̵̸̭̺̟ ̨̟̹̘͖̼̺͈̼m̗͖͔̼̯e͍̫̥̬̺͡.̷͉̘͜ ̛̳̩̦͜

Day 96

We buried him with his phone.
Our little way of keeping in touch with him
We never thought he'd text back a year later.

He texted me today saying "dig me up im fine"
I texted back "you got the wrong number"

He phoned me.
Used my full name.
Laughed like some kind of nightmare.

Most people who knew him got the same treatment.
He texted, then he called.
Every time he ended with the same thing.
Dont worry. I'll see you soon.

We were all terrified.
We decided to exhume his body for an exorcism.

It was done in broad daylight, nobody could stomach
the thought of him coming at us at night.
His coffin was sealed, just as we left it when he was burned.

But he wasn't there.
His phone was.
There was an unsent message on the screen.
I'll be there soon.

That boy has always been late.
It took him four weeks to finally arrive.
He hadn't changed a bit since the funeral.

He could almost pass for a regular living person.
Almost.
The accident had left his body mangled, bones crushed.
We chose a suit that would cover that as best as possible.
It didn't change the way he walked, shuddery and limp.
Like a puppet controlled by a child.

He seemed so happy to be back.
Didn't come inside though, just said how nice it was to see me.
Then he left, leaving behind a small puddle of blood.

I called around and a few others had been visited by him too.
Same thing every time.
We wondered where the blood had come from, or if it was his.

Day 95

There are places where hearing children's laughter is normal.This is not one of those places.Those places are nowhere near here.Here is... different.

You found yourself here by accident.
A wrong turn on the highway and your trip to the city became
a trip to somewhere that looked like the city but not...

For instance, the roads bled.
The air was practically tinged with the red, metal smelling
substance that flowed freely from cracks in the pavement,
drains and puddles.

You tried to turn around as soon as you could but the road
behind you led seemingly further into this strange place.

Your phone had signal, which was surprising as you
couldn't see any cables or pylons.
Every person you tried to phone was away it seemed, and
their voice mails sounded scared.
Their voices trembled and every breath in was gasped as
though they had run miles.

GPS didn't work any better.
You weren't on any map.

It took you this long to realise you heard children's laughter.
It took you minutes more to see where it came from.

Day 94

A key arrived in the post.
It had a number scratched into the head
and a tag with coordinates.

I could hardly resist a good mystery.
Searching the coordinates online revealed
them to be a smallish gym quite a distance
from my home.

After I managed to get a couple of days off
work I set out for this place, key safely in my bag.
The gym turned out to be down an alley and was
admittedly fairly hard to find.

It didn't smell right in there but I couldn't quite
place why.
There was a strongish scent like lavender but not...
It only took some minor persuasion to get to the
changing area.

My locker was right at the back of the changing are
and looked disappointingly normal.
After some minor struggling I opened it.

Bones fell out.
All sizes, I swear I could make a whole person with them.
Some had blood on and chunks of flesh, the looked new.
As the bones stopped falling I saw a skull with a note in its mouth.

It read:
          Join us

Day 93

I've always hated having my photo taken.
I don't tell people the real reason.
They wouldn't believe me anyway but I have
an entire photo album to prove it.

It was meant to be a family album but the
thing is, for me at least, no one else shows
up on the images.

Every single photo of me "with family" just
shows me and my surroundings.
Occasionally my baby pictures show me
suspended mid-air, "held" by a family member.

Speaking of which, they all think I've got
prosopagnosia as "I can't tell anyone apart
in photos."

This was bad enough but yesterday I got a text
from an unlisted number.
It said "they aren't real, you are the last"

Day 92

He didn't know it but you would be the last person to see him alive.
He vanished shortly after and nobody knew why.
Nobody could find him.On the seventh anniversary of his presumed death you decided to retrace
his steps, to relive his last moments as it were.

Following the geotag of photo he posted online you traced his last
known location to a cave by the sea.
Kind of cliché, how very like him.
After asking a few locals you found the cave.

Now to wait for low tide.

So far into the cave, so good.
The floor is stable, the tide is around your knees and on its wait further out.
You should have a good hour or so to figure out what happened to him.
You hope it is enough time.

The cave is longer than you expected.
The cave is very long and through your torch-beam you see stairs leading up.
Deciding they were above the sea level you thought you
could safely risk going further.

There were more stairs than you thought possible given
the height of the cliff.
After a good fifteen minutes of climbing you reached the end.
This happened to be an abrupt wall.

Looking up there was a trapdoor on the ceiling with a rope
dangling down enough for you to grab.
It took you a while to chamber up, you hadn't climbed
since sports day in your childhood school.

Eventually you managed to reach the top.
Catching your breath you look around the large room.
You see a strange looking stalagmite, it almost looks like
a worn down statue only more lumpy and covered in small
mushrooms.

A table in the corner catches your eye as your torches
light hits some kind of journal.
It is full of what looks to be a study on the mushrooms.

It seems the spores have an unusual property.
They are near microscopic and easily ingested.
The unique thing about this unnamed species is that
they calcify their hosts organic tissues.

You notice your fingers feel stiff.
You torso feels constricted and heavy.
You smell damp earth.
You realise your missing friend has been here all along.

Day 91

I recently quit working at an art gallery.
You see, we've had this problem recently and its... hard to describe.
It started when we someone anonymously donated this gorgeous old painting.
I took a photo of it before everything weird started to happen.

About six days after we hung it up under our local artists section
a figure appeared off to the side.
We couldn't quite see their gender or any details really, they were
just a humanoid blob by the sea.
We thought nothing of it, convinced ourselves that it had always been there.
And then it started moving.

Some days it had its hand raised like waving, sometimes crouched, sometimes
pointing.
Another figure joined it a week later, this one we recognised.
It was a woman done in the pointillist style by Georges Seurat.
She was missing from her own painting and somehow ended up in this, washing
her hands in the river.
She didn't move like the other figure.

Soon enough she was joined by another person from another painting.
We checked and sure enough they were missing from their original
place and frozen in this one.
It was inexplicable!
Nobody took us seriously, we even called in an art expert who claimed we were
just pranking him and should be ashamed.

After a month or two it stopped taking painted people.
For a while it was quiet, we'd moved the painting to our storeroom.
We hoped that if it was nowhere near the others, it wouldn't be able to
take any of them.
It still did but at least we tried.

I quit after it started taking our staff.
I don't want to be ne

Day 90

The skyscraper was as empty as the few who managed to stay there.
Thirty five stories, six apartments crammed on each floor and  twenty residents in total.
Now it wasn't the price that put people off, it was the location.
If you asked a local where it was they'd say 'in between nowhere and nothing'.
In reality it was on the other side of the old quarry and about fourty miles from civilisation.

The architect was a strange woman.
From somewhere up north,  rarely spoke and generally seen with some heavy book under her arm.
Went by the name of Jessica Gladstone.
She hasn't been seen since her 'masterpiece' was finished.
Nobody's quite sure where she went.
Some say she's still in the building,  others say she fell in the quarry.
Either way no one looked for her.

Well, almost no one.

The local kids made a game of her disappearance.
Called it Jessica Gladgone.
Like hide-and-seek but riskier.
If you were found you had to grab a stone from as far into the quarry as you dared.
Not every child came back.
The game was banned and the quarry was searched.

It's only recently that the children have been found.
When they finally demolished Gladstone's tower.
Seems the empty apartments found new tenants.

The police thought it was a sick joke at first, the corpses didn't seem real.
Each small body had the same injuries - a snapped neck and broken legs.
They also had a lump of coal in their left hand, presumably from the quarry.

Forensics revealed they were indeed the missing children.
But they were also Gladstone.
All of them had her DNA alongside their own.

Day 89

Children keep going missing, young children.Thefts are increasing too.Cribs, pushchairs, car-seats - anything that could hold a child, gone.
Police have no idea but you do.

You've seen where they go but nobody believes you.The Others disposed of the evidence before the authorities could get there.
The Others taunt you.
They leave messages for you.
They leave children's shoes for you.

People are suspecting you.
Your behaviour is slipping.
The Others are everywhere - their grins too wide, teeth too white.

As you begin to lose yourself to despair, news comes out.
The stolen items are found at the bottom of a lake.
The children were all strapped in and smiling.

You've never seen Them go to the lake before, they stick to the woods.
This is not Their work...

This is something new...someone new...