Day 149

I never liked worms.
Not since my dad died.
I hadn't heard from him for over a year which isn't unusual for him.
He was a recluse, you see, not fond of people.

We could tell by the state of his house he'd been dead for some time.
At this point his body was starting to melt.
We decided that while my brother called the police we'd look around
just in case, he may have left a note explaining his death.

Every room in the house was filthy.
There were flies everywhere, fat from the rotting leftovers strewn about.
The only paperwork we found was his old journal, buried underneath a
pile of old magazine subscriptions.

By the time we unearthed his (possibly) last words my brother called out
to us that the police and an ambulance were on their way.
So we sat outside away from the stench of decay and began to read.

His journal was full of some study he'd been doing on the local earthworms.
Apparently he'd been close to making a connection between the deaths of
gardeners scattered about the country and the increasing number of worms
in the area.

It almost seemed plausible.
After the police came, talked to us, wrote things down etcetera the forensics
team began to move my father's body onto a gurney.

Seems he'd been dead for longer than we realised.
The minute they lifted him he just... fell to pieces.
Worms came pouring out of him.
So many worms, so many... and so big.

Day 148

You have been heard.

Every time you prayed, you have been heard.
When you talk to yourself, you have been heard.
When you mutter under your breath, you have been heard.

Every curse.
Every plea.

You have been heard.

You will be answered.
You will be given all that you wanted.

They will suffer.
They will all suffer.

You will be rewarded.

All you have to do is make one small sacrifice.
I'm sure you can do it.
Others have before.
Children go missing all the time.

Do this for us and we will give you e͈̭̻̳v̷̙̠̀e̗̝̬̪͘ŕ͉̮̭̤̫̜̺̘͟y̷҉̩̥̙ţ̵͎͖̥̳͍̠̻̺̕ͅh̞̤̻͘i̶̟͓n̖̤̣̲̼͉̠g҉̷͙͈͉ ̲̜̪̩͝͠y͍̙͕͚̲̳̣̕͟͜o̶̞͈͍͔͇̙̖̺͢ͅu̦͚̪͘͜͞ ̮͎̖̠̺̣̝ḑ̗́e̶̢̛̲̯s̢̛͇̝̤̲̻̦̹͢ͅe̡̯͇̳̳͖̗ŕ̨̻̣v͍̻̩͈̝̯̻̮e̶͏̥̘͠.̵͈͎̭̼̰.

Day 147

The lights flickered once.
The happy family eating dinner together flickered as well.
From her hiding spot she could just about see them.

They shouldn't be here.
This is not their home, this is her home.
They arrived as she was heading to bed.

How did they get a key for her house?
Why were they eating dinner there?
More importantly, who were they eating?

She could see they were eating a human,
they left the legs standing on the floor beside the table.
They seemed so... normal at first sight, hell she may
even have seen them before.

She turned away from the gruesome scene, resting her head
against the wall beside her.

She could still hear them eating.
They seemed louder than before...

The thin sliver of light from outside was gone.

They had stopped eating.

She lifted her head up from the wall.

They looked so... happy

Day 146

There are places where sinkholes are abundant.
There are places that have never been touched.
These places are connected.

At the base of some sinkholes lie tunnels.
It is believed that they lead to the underworld.
This isn't far off from the truth.

The world is connected through a series of passageways deep underground.
The world is in denial that they exist but those still living down there are trying to reach out to us.

Several cases of people vanishing into sinkholes have been noted and many more have not.

The tunnel dwellers need them.

They needed me.

When the authorities found me on a roadside many miles from the hole I fell into, I claimed amnesia.
Who would believe that there were whole civilisations many miles beneath our feet.

But there are.

I'll admit I was unconscious for most of the journey down,  the fall really took it out of me.
When I woke up I was in a dimly lit room that stank of rust and dirt.
Somehow the air was breathable, must've been vents somewhere leading up.

There was a hole where a door might have been, the hinges were rusted to pieces.

I headed outside to see where I was, it felt quite warm so I thought I might be in one of the old warehouses in town.

Through the door was an old shop front and I mean old.
Looked like something out of a western.

Every surface was covered in a thick layer of grime and the tins of food were way past their sell by date.

I rubbed at a window, trying to peer through the dirt to see if anyone was walking around out there.

I could faintly make out large dark blobs moving through the street.
They looked much larger than a human.
Much, much larger.
The smallest was at least 3 meters tall.

As I was peering out at the humanoid shapes below I heard a loud thud behind me.

It seems I hadn't been alone in there.

Day 145

You're never this early to class.

You're either exactly on time or late.

The school is eerily quiet, you can't see anybody.
Checking the time and date on your phone shows
it to be about forty minutes before you usually arrive.

People should be here.
Your friends should be waiting outside, class doesn't
start for another twenty minutes.

The whole place looks deserted.

You head to your first class anyway, you can always
wait in the hall outside, right?

As you get closer to the room you begin to hear noises,
whirring and clicking and metal scraping against metal.
It can't be the engineer students, they're in a different
building right on the other side of the campus.

The noise seems to be coming from the theatre, your
classroom is round the corner from it so you decide to
check the noise first.
You can always go sit in class if its a rehearsal, right?

Opening the door as quietly as you can, you step inside.
The stage is well lit and the choir is lined up, heads jerking
to a beat you can't hear.

The sound of metal scraping metal is coming from the head
of the choir who is dragging a metal skeleton onto the stage.
It looks like his head is bleeding, only the "blood" is black.
You figure its some art performance or something and creep
out again.

Something about the hallway is... different.
Changed.
You aren't sure if its your eyes adjusting, maybe this part
of the hall has always been grey and... misty?

Must be your eyes.
The sooner you get to class, the sooner you can find out
what's going on.

The classroom is full.
Everyone is at their desks which is weird as your class is only
about twelve people and there are twice as many in there.
Your teacher motions for you to come in, you nod and hurriedly
take your usual seat - back row, near the wall, next to your friend.

The lesson begins and it isn't in a language you recognise.
It isn't in a spoken language.
They are all speaking in the same whirring and clicking you heard
in the theatre.
Your friend taps you on the shoulder and begins to speak to you
in this same speech.

You can't understand him.

He stands.

The whole class looks at you, you barely recognise anyone there.
They all stand, you go to stand too but your friend pushes you down.

The teacher approaches.
Her hands aren't human.
Neither are her eyes.
Nobody's eyes are human.

The school bell rings.

Class is now in session.

Day 144

The term "graveyard shift" comes from the age where
death was an uncertainty.
As most people have heard, bells on ropes were attached
to the deceased in case they were alive.
Even today there are tales of the mistakenly dead.

I used to work a late shift at the local funeral home.
Lots of dead bodies to sort out and not a lot of conversation.
As you can imagine, closing down time was a relief after
six hours of embalming, setting the face and such.

The manager decided to put bells on our clients' wrists for a laugh.
We freaked him out yesterday by attaching one of the bells to the
resident cat and putting catnip in the manager's jacket.
I've never heard a man scream so loudly before!
When the thrill wore off we got rid of the bells altogether, wasn't
much sense in testing for life when their organs had been drained already.

Lately though, I keep hearing those bells we used.
None of the clients have them on anymore, the cat's clean and none of
the others are hearing it.
Its a little disconcerting, especially at closing time.

We're one of those places that closes at 9PM instead of 6PM, we'd close
sooner but prepping a body takes a lot of work - especially with the
grieving families asking how its going every hour or so.
I'll admit I'm starting to get used to hearing the bells, even fond of them.
Just wish I could find where they're coming from.

I've checked every client here at least twice.
No bells but the ringing is louder than ever.
Its almost rhythmic.
Seems to be coming from the staff room.
Must be a workmate trying to mess with me.


There was a client in the staffroom.
How could he be there?
I locked him up for the night.
Dead-bolted the door, checked to make sure he was still out.
He couldn't be awake.
And yet, there he was: picking at his abdominal stitches and looking
around the room.

I quit my job after that.
Still hearing the bells though.

Day 143

I don't have any stuffed animals in my house.

Haven't since I was a child.

My aunt got me this bear.

Said it was special.

It was certainly... unique.

I mean, it wasn't quite right.

It kept blinking when the adult's backs were turned.
They chalked it down to my overactive imagination but I know what I saw.
Recently I was helping my dad clean out the attic and found the bear again.
Of course my sentimental parent decided to take the bear down.
Its sitting in the livingroom now, in the corner beside a vase of wilting flowers.

It doesn't just blink anymore.
It turns its head and looks around.
Sometimes it catches me looking and smiles.
It has human teeth.
Tiny human teeth.
Far too many to have come from one mouth.

Out of morbid curiosity I asked my dad what he and mum had done with mine
my sibling's baby teeth.
Apparently they had indeed put them in the bear, said it was a keepsake bear.
There was some kind of pouch in the back for them.
It explains why the bear has teeth but how did they get in its mouth?

Last night my dad asked where the bear went.

We couldn't find it anywhere in the house.

This morning I found small bite marks on my arms.