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.
20140930
20140929
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.̵͈͎̭̼̰.
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.̵͈͎̭̼̰.
20140928
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
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
20140927
Day 146
There are places where sinkholes are abundant.
There are places that have never been touched.
These places are connected.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
20140926
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.
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.
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.
20140925
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.
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.
20140924
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.
20140923
Day 142
Some people call it The Rapture.
The rest of us call it dermopsychosis maligna.
It starts with phantom skin irritation, or to you and me an itch on your back that you can't quite reach.
It then progresses to self-inflicted excoriations of the skin which are prone infection, often becoming gangrenous.
More often than not, patients are found to peel their skin off, heavy restraints are required in all cases.
What we have found particularly peculiar about this condition is the state in which it leaves the patient.
They seem to go into a trance-like state during the skin-peeling process and are seemingly cured when the skin has been completely removed (often in one piece, similar to a reptile).
Dermopsychosis maligna has yet to be fatal, though the psychological effects are catastrophic on their own with suicide rates up by 37% within eight months of the condition being officially identified.
While the patients are treated for PTSD, gangrene, skin trauma etcetera, their shed remains are tested to see how it was possible for them to peel off their skin in such a way whilst remaining alive.
This would have been simple enough however it showed that the skin had its own kind of central nervous system and brain stem, in other words it had the potential to be a lifeform on its own.
We put five of these skins through a series of tests to determine life which proved to be difficult as the skin lacked several features that their "host" had (such as eyes, vocal chords, a pulse and internal organs).
Our team decided that the best course of action was to place the skins in a cold environment (to minimise potential decay) and monitor them 24/7.
The first week saw minute muscular spasms (despite a lack of muscles) accompanied by spikes in neural activity which were a definite sign of potential life.
These gradually increased over the span of a month to the skins (or birthday suits as the team had affectionately dubbed them) lifting their limbs.
They always did it in the same order: left arm, left leg, right arm and right leg.
I just wish they wouldn't do it in unison, though it has raised the question of "Are they communicating and if so how can we talk back to them?"
We set up additional monitors to determine the exact levels of "brain" activity to see if there was a correlation between the five skins.
Its been four months since my last entry here and so much has changed.
The skins now walk about their sealed room, they pulled off all monitor wires and in all honesty the team is too disturbed by their movements to do anything besides record their walking patterns and attempt to establish communications.
We're currently playing music to them, we asked their hosts for their favourite song in case their skins retain the hosts information via muscle memory.
Speaking of the hosts, despite their fragile physical state they are doing quite well in terms of coping psychologically with such a drastic change.
None of the findings on the skins have been made public yet, neither has our study on them though who would believe us anyway?
We've now installed a glass wall on one side of the skin enclosure as the music has failed to produce any significant physical reaction.
We are going to attempt behavioural mimicry (playing copycat) as mammals - especially humans - learn via copying their parents and peers.
Hopefully this will allow us to establish their level of intelligence, we've already determined they can see somehow as they have yet to bump into anything in their room (maybe some form of echolocation? Blind humans have been known to successfully navigate via clicking or high pitched sounds).
Right, Doctor Sellers, Doctor Rowbridge and myself are now standing in front of the glass.
Our plan is to create both an audio and visual attraction (tapping the glass and waving our arms) to draw their attention over here before we try to talk to them.
Beginning audiovisual attraction...now.
Ten seconds... twenty seconds... thir- the skinsuits have stopped walking at thirty seconds.
They are turning, yes turning to face the glass.
Verbal communication attempt number one: basic greeting.
"Hello"
No verbal response, skinsuit three is walking towards the glass.
Skinsuit 3 has stopped approximately... 1.5 feet from the glass wall.
Repeating basic greeting with additional verbal stimulus.
"Hello, can you hear me?"
Skinsuit three is exhibiting muscle spasms in left arm and throat, we are unsure if this is an attempt at mimicry or "regular" behaviour.
Ah, skinsuit three is capable of blinking!
Rowbridge, are you writing this down?
Skinsuit three is... convulsing at the throat, the left arm is now significantly raised and is swaying, palm open.
They can hear us, my god they can hear us!
It - now it seems to be smiling!
Yes, its mimicking our facial expressions!
This is fascinating,how are they doing this with such a minute amount of brain ce-
Di-did three just make a noise?
You must have heard it too, it said your name!
I wonder if it can form sentences?
After such a breakthrough we've been talking to them every day.
They are even beginning to show personalities though they are very different to their hosts.
A further month down the line now, we're going to ask them questions and record their responses.
Doctor sellers audio recording one, conversational experiment with subject three.
Hello three, how are you?
Threeee. Threeee. Hellooo threeee.
I said, how are you, how are you feeling three?
Th-the-the-threeee. F-feeling threee.
What day is it, three?
Threee. Your daaayy threeee.
I'm sorry, what day is it three?
Yoourrrr. Daaaayyyy. Lassst. D-d-d-dayy.
Why is it the last day?
Sssspreaaaads. Soooo fasssst.
We couldn't get anything more from skinsuit three.
We assume it meant the rapid increase in walking skin cases.
They seem to be trying to get to one central location, though no others have shown speech capabilities like three has.
Three refuses to expand on what the last day is, or even when it is.
Every day seems to be this "last day", its stressing out what's left of the team.
Rowbridge caught dermopsychosis last week, his will states that in such a case his skin is to be burnt.
We have no idea how this would affect the disease, we have yet to burn one of the skinsuits.
Its a tempting idea, the general census of the people is definitely in favour of this.
Probably made worse by the first casualty of the skinsuits.
The CCTV footage was blurred, we showed it to three in an attempt to get a more significant reaction out of them (I can't think of them as an it).
Doctor Sellers has sadly perished after showing the CCTV footage to subject three.
After putting three in restraints and back among the other four subjects violent behaviour was soon observed among all of them.
They are far stronger than we thought them to be.
They are capable of breaking bullet-proof glass, steel doors, bones.
The three remaining members of the team, including myself, is locked in the most secure room in the lab- the security room.
They are outside.
We can see them waving at the cameras.
Three is moving their mouth, can we get audio in here?
Bzzzzt, krrrrkkkkkkzzzzzzzkk-eeeeeee.
Threeeeeee.
L-laaaassssst Daaaaaay.
Weee seeee youuu
The rest of us call it dermopsychosis maligna.
It starts with phantom skin irritation, or to you and me an itch on your back that you can't quite reach.
It then progresses to self-inflicted excoriations of the skin which are prone infection, often becoming gangrenous.
More often than not, patients are found to peel their skin off, heavy restraints are required in all cases.
What we have found particularly peculiar about this condition is the state in which it leaves the patient.
They seem to go into a trance-like state during the skin-peeling process and are seemingly cured when the skin has been completely removed (often in one piece, similar to a reptile).
Dermopsychosis maligna has yet to be fatal, though the psychological effects are catastrophic on their own with suicide rates up by 37% within eight months of the condition being officially identified.
While the patients are treated for PTSD, gangrene, skin trauma etcetera, their shed remains are tested to see how it was possible for them to peel off their skin in such a way whilst remaining alive.
This would have been simple enough however it showed that the skin had its own kind of central nervous system and brain stem, in other words it had the potential to be a lifeform on its own.
We put five of these skins through a series of tests to determine life which proved to be difficult as the skin lacked several features that their "host" had (such as eyes, vocal chords, a pulse and internal organs).
Our team decided that the best course of action was to place the skins in a cold environment (to minimise potential decay) and monitor them 24/7.
The first week saw minute muscular spasms (despite a lack of muscles) accompanied by spikes in neural activity which were a definite sign of potential life.
These gradually increased over the span of a month to the skins (or birthday suits as the team had affectionately dubbed them) lifting their limbs.
They always did it in the same order: left arm, left leg, right arm and right leg.
I just wish they wouldn't do it in unison, though it has raised the question of "Are they communicating and if so how can we talk back to them?"
We set up additional monitors to determine the exact levels of "brain" activity to see if there was a correlation between the five skins.
Its been four months since my last entry here and so much has changed.
The skins now walk about their sealed room, they pulled off all monitor wires and in all honesty the team is too disturbed by their movements to do anything besides record their walking patterns and attempt to establish communications.
We're currently playing music to them, we asked their hosts for their favourite song in case their skins retain the hosts information via muscle memory.
Speaking of the hosts, despite their fragile physical state they are doing quite well in terms of coping psychologically with such a drastic change.
None of the findings on the skins have been made public yet, neither has our study on them though who would believe us anyway?
We've now installed a glass wall on one side of the skin enclosure as the music has failed to produce any significant physical reaction.
We are going to attempt behavioural mimicry (playing copycat) as mammals - especially humans - learn via copying their parents and peers.
Hopefully this will allow us to establish their level of intelligence, we've already determined they can see somehow as they have yet to bump into anything in their room (maybe some form of echolocation? Blind humans have been known to successfully navigate via clicking or high pitched sounds).
Right, Doctor Sellers, Doctor Rowbridge and myself are now standing in front of the glass.
Our plan is to create both an audio and visual attraction (tapping the glass and waving our arms) to draw their attention over here before we try to talk to them.
Beginning audiovisual attraction...now.
Ten seconds... twenty seconds... thir- the skinsuits have stopped walking at thirty seconds.
They are turning, yes turning to face the glass.
Verbal communication attempt number one: basic greeting.
"Hello"
No verbal response, skinsuit three is walking towards the glass.
Skinsuit 3 has stopped approximately... 1.5 feet from the glass wall.
Repeating basic greeting with additional verbal stimulus.
"Hello, can you hear me?"
Skinsuit three is exhibiting muscle spasms in left arm and throat, we are unsure if this is an attempt at mimicry or "regular" behaviour.
Ah, skinsuit three is capable of blinking!
Rowbridge, are you writing this down?
Skinsuit three is... convulsing at the throat, the left arm is now significantly raised and is swaying, palm open.
They can hear us, my god they can hear us!
It - now it seems to be smiling!
Yes, its mimicking our facial expressions!
This is fascinating,how are they doing this with such a minute amount of brain ce-
Di-did three just make a noise?
You must have heard it too, it said your name!
I wonder if it can form sentences?
After such a breakthrough we've been talking to them every day.
They are even beginning to show personalities though they are very different to their hosts.
A further month down the line now, we're going to ask them questions and record their responses.
Doctor sellers audio recording one, conversational experiment with subject three.
Hello three, how are you?
Threeee. Threeee. Hellooo threeee.
I said, how are you, how are you feeling three?
Th-the-the-threeee. F-feeling threee.
What day is it, three?
Threee. Your daaayy threeee.
I'm sorry, what day is it three?
Yoourrrr. Daaaayyyy. Lassst. D-d-d-dayy.
Why is it the last day?
Sssspreaaaads. Soooo fasssst.
We couldn't get anything more from skinsuit three.
We assume it meant the rapid increase in walking skin cases.
They seem to be trying to get to one central location, though no others have shown speech capabilities like three has.
Three refuses to expand on what the last day is, or even when it is.
Every day seems to be this "last day", its stressing out what's left of the team.
Rowbridge caught dermopsychosis last week, his will states that in such a case his skin is to be burnt.
We have no idea how this would affect the disease, we have yet to burn one of the skinsuits.
Its a tempting idea, the general census of the people is definitely in favour of this.
Probably made worse by the first casualty of the skinsuits.
The CCTV footage was blurred, we showed it to three in an attempt to get a more significant reaction out of them (I can't think of them as an it).
Doctor Sellers has sadly perished after showing the CCTV footage to subject three.
After putting three in restraints and back among the other four subjects violent behaviour was soon observed among all of them.
They are far stronger than we thought them to be.
They are capable of breaking bullet-proof glass, steel doors, bones.
The three remaining members of the team, including myself, is locked in the most secure room in the lab- the security room.
They are outside.
We can see them waving at the cameras.
Three is moving their mouth, can we get audio in here?
Bzzzzt, krrrrkkkkkkzzzzzzzkk-eeeeeee.
Threeeeeee.
L-laaaassssst Daaaaaay.
Weee seeee youuu
20140922
Day 141
Things you must remember:
- Look twice before entering a new home
- People rarely look up, use it to your advantage
- Large groups are good for hiding in but always check who is present
- There is comfort in routine but predictable people are the first to go
- Anything can be a weapon
- Anyone can turn against you, anyone
- How to cry for help, it will only alert them to your location
- Everything will eventually die
- You are safe in your room
- The people you meet are always living humans
- Silence means you are alone
- Humans are your friends, they are your family, you know them
Things we know for certain:
- There are 24 hours in a day
- Your front door is locked
- Your windows are weak
- You are at your most vulnerable right now
- You never look up
20140921
Day 140
There's this statue outside of the local church.
- .... . -.-- / .- .-. . / .-. . .- -.. .. -. --. / - .... .. ... / ... - --- .--.
Nobody pays it much attention, nobody pays the church much attention.
- .... .. ... / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / .... --- .--. . ..-. ..- .-.. .-.. -.-- / -.. . .-.. .- -.-- / - .... . -- / ... - --- .--.
Not after those kids went missing.
.. / ..-. --- ..- -. -.. / - .... . / -.- .. -.. ... / ... - --- .--.
Being the idiot I am, I went and looked into it cause, yanno, suspicious deaths.
- .... . / ... -. .- -.- . / .. ... / -- --- .-. . / - .... .- -. / .- / ... - .- - ..- . / ... - --- .--.
Their remains were never found but I reckoned I knew where they were.
- .... . / -.-. .... ..- .-. -.-. .... / .. ... / -- --- -. .. - --- .-. .. -. --. / - .... .. ... / ... - --- .--.
See, they never checked the graveyard,something about disturbing a historical site.
- .... . -.-- / .- .-. . / .- .-.. .-.. / .. -. / --- -. / .. - / ... - --- .--.
Even though there were signs that the dirt around the old statue had been moved about,
they still refused to look into it.
- .-. ..- ... - / -. --- / --- -. . / ... - --- .--.
So I went down with my shovel after they officially "closed" the case (declared it unsolved).
-.. . ... - .-. --- -.-- / - .... . / ... -. .- -.- . / ... - --- .--.
The statue itself it pretty simple, a snake curled around the holy grail with something
latin engraved on it, most of its too faded to see.
-.. . ... - .-. --- -.-- / - .... . / ... -. .- -.- . / ... - --- .--.
I was definitely right about the dirt, it looked too fresh, too messy to be the norm.
-.. . ... - .-. --- -.-- / - .... . / ... -. .- -.- . / ... - --- .--.
I started digging, the earth was so soft and damp and it clung to my shovel and dripped off.
-... .-.. --- --- -.. / ... --- / ..-. .-. . ... .... / ... --- / -.-- --- ..- -. --. / .- -. -.. / -. . .--
Dirt shouldn't drip, I angled my torch at my shovel and saw that the dirt was mixed with
blood and the small hole I had dug was slowly filling up with it.
.. / ... .- .-- / .- / -.-. .... .. .-.. -.. ... / ... -.- ..- .-.. .-.. / ... -- .. .-.. . / ..- .--. / .- - / -- .
So as you can imagine I was freaking out a bit, started backing up and saw the statue's head move.
... . .-. .--. . -. - . -- / ...- . -.-. - . -- --..-- / . - / ...- .. ...- .- - / .. -. / -- ..- -. -.. --- /
--. .-.. ..- - .. .- -- / ... .- -. --. ..- .. -. . -- / .--. .-. --- ..-. .- -. ..- --
It moved! It moved and - ..- .-. -. . -.. / .. - ... / .... . .- -.. towards me!
.--. .-.. . .- ... . / ... .--. .- .-. . / -- .
I ran, I ran and it ..-. --- .-.. .-.. --- .-- . -.. / -- .!
.. - / -.- -. --- .-- ... / .-- .... . .-. . / .. / .- --
.. / -.-. .- -. - / .-. .. ... -.- / -... . .. -. --. / ..-. --- ..- -. -.. / -. --- - / .-- .... . -. / .. -- /
... --- / -.-. .-.. --- ... . / - --- / - .... . / - .-. ..- - ....
.. ..-. / -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-. . .- -.. .. -. --. / - .... .. ... / .. / .- -- / .--. .-. --- -... .- -... .-.. -.-- / -.. . .- -..
-.. --- -. - / .-.. . - / - .... .. ... / -.. .. .
-.. . ... - .-. --- -.-- / - .... . / ... -. .- -.- .
- .... . -.-- / .- .-. . / .-. . .- -.. .. -. --. / - .... .. ... / ... - --- .--.
Nobody pays it much attention, nobody pays the church much attention.
- .... .. ... / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / .... --- .--. . ..-. ..- .-.. .-.. -.-- / -.. . .-.. .- -.-- / - .... . -- / ... - --- .--.
Not after those kids went missing.
.. / ..-. --- ..- -. -.. / - .... . / -.- .. -.. ... / ... - --- .--.
Being the idiot I am, I went and looked into it cause, yanno, suspicious deaths.
- .... . / ... -. .- -.- . / .. ... / -- --- .-. . / - .... .- -. / .- / ... - .- - ..- . / ... - --- .--.
Their remains were never found but I reckoned I knew where they were.
- .... . / -.-. .... ..- .-. -.-. .... / .. ... / -- --- -. .. - --- .-. .. -. --. / - .... .. ... / ... - --- .--.
See, they never checked the graveyard,something about disturbing a historical site.
- .... . -.-- / .- .-. . / .- .-.. .-.. / .. -. / --- -. / .. - / ... - --- .--.
Even though there were signs that the dirt around the old statue had been moved about,
they still refused to look into it.
- .-. ..- ... - / -. --- / --- -. . / ... - --- .--.
So I went down with my shovel after they officially "closed" the case (declared it unsolved).
-.. . ... - .-. --- -.-- / - .... . / ... -. .- -.- . / ... - --- .--.
The statue itself it pretty simple, a snake curled around the holy grail with something
latin engraved on it, most of its too faded to see.
-.. . ... - .-. --- -.-- / - .... . / ... -. .- -.- . / ... - --- .--.
I was definitely right about the dirt, it looked too fresh, too messy to be the norm.
-.. . ... - .-. --- -.-- / - .... . / ... -. .- -.- . / ... - --- .--.
I started digging, the earth was so soft and damp and it clung to my shovel and dripped off.
-... .-.. --- --- -.. / ... --- / ..-. .-. . ... .... / ... --- / -.-- --- ..- -. --. / .- -. -.. / -. . .--
Dirt shouldn't drip, I angled my torch at my shovel and saw that the dirt was mixed with
blood and the small hole I had dug was slowly filling up with it.
.. / ... .- .-- / .- / -.-. .... .. .-.. -.. ... / ... -.- ..- .-.. .-.. / ... -- .. .-.. . / ..- .--. / .- - / -- .
So as you can imagine I was freaking out a bit, started backing up and saw the statue's head move.
... . .-. .--. . -. - . -- / ...- . -.-. - . -- --..-- / . - / ...- .. ...- .- - / .. -. / -- ..- -. -.. --- /
--. .-.. ..- - .. .- -- / ... .- -. --. ..- .. -. . -- / .--. .-. --- ..-. .- -. ..- --
It moved! It moved and - ..- .-. -. . -.. / .. - ... / .... . .- -.. towards me!
.--. .-.. . .- ... . / ... .--. .- .-. . / -- .
I ran, I ran and it ..-. --- .-.. .-.. --- .-- . -.. / -- .!
.. - / -.- -. --- .-- ... / .-- .... . .-. . / .. / .- --
.. / -.-. .- -. - / .-. .. ... -.- / -... . .. -. --. / ..-. --- ..- -. -.. / -. --- - / .-- .... . -. / .. -- /
... --- / -.-. .-.. --- ... . / - --- / - .... . / - .-. ..- - ....
.. ..-. / -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-. . .- -.. .. -. --. / - .... .. ... / .. / .- -- / .--. .-. --- -... .- -... .-.. -.-- / -.. . .- -..
-.. --- -. - / .-.. . - / - .... .. ... / -.. .. .
-.. . ... - .-. --- -.-- / - .... . / ... -. .- -.- .
20140920
Day 139
Today's story is gone.
It is gone like your childhood memories,
your old school friends and your baby teeth.
These things are all in the same place.
The same dimension.
They are held hostage by the same being.
You will find the missing parts of your life
in a semi-detached house exactly 0.48 miles
from the park you played in as a child.
The house will have a tinted attic window
and the smell of your grandparents' kitchen
will linger in the air as if to draw you in.
Do not use the front door.
It will be open and a hand will wave you inside
but you must resist its allure.
The next few minutes are crucial.
You must draw two circles three feet from the
garden gate at the back of the house.
They must be big enough for you to put
one hand in each - doing so will open the back gate
and grant you safe passage into this domain.
As you enter the back gate you will be escorted to
the attic by two people who look like they could be
people you knew from school once.
The floor will be slippery and covered in a thick layer
of congealing blood.
You. Must. Not. Slip.
The stairs will be made of barbed wire, use the remains
of the failed others to tread safely upstairs.
There is only one door now, right at the end of the hall.
This door is not real, take eight steps backwards whilst
facing the not-door, you will feel a sharp chill down your
spine... you are now in the attic.
I can't give you directions from here, I never made it that
far, never got my lost pieces back.
I am like everyone else, like you are now.
Incomplete.
Apart.
Decaying.
Find your pieces.
Become whole.
Burn the house down.
It is gone like your childhood memories,
your old school friends and your baby teeth.
These things are all in the same place.
The same dimension.
They are held hostage by the same being.
You will find the missing parts of your life
in a semi-detached house exactly 0.48 miles
from the park you played in as a child.
The house will have a tinted attic window
and the smell of your grandparents' kitchen
will linger in the air as if to draw you in.
Do not use the front door.
It will be open and a hand will wave you inside
but you must resist its allure.
The next few minutes are crucial.
You must draw two circles three feet from the
garden gate at the back of the house.
They must be big enough for you to put
one hand in each - doing so will open the back gate
and grant you safe passage into this domain.
As you enter the back gate you will be escorted to
the attic by two people who look like they could be
people you knew from school once.
The floor will be slippery and covered in a thick layer
of congealing blood.
You. Must. Not. Slip.
The stairs will be made of barbed wire, use the remains
of the failed others to tread safely upstairs.
There is only one door now, right at the end of the hall.
This door is not real, take eight steps backwards whilst
facing the not-door, you will feel a sharp chill down your
spine... you are now in the attic.
I can't give you directions from here, I never made it that
far, never got my lost pieces back.
I am like everyone else, like you are now.
Incomplete.
Apart.
Decaying.
Find your pieces.
Become whole.
Burn the house down.
20140919
Day 138
Sometimes owners resemble their pets.
Its only natural to have an affinity for someone that reminds you of yourself,
especially when that being is a constant source of joy in your otherwise
pathetic mortal life.
We accept this of course, we are vain creatures at heart, even if we are unaware of this.
What we could not accept were our pets resembling us.
It starts with a new pet.
A strong connection.
A child's love.
The changes are subtle at first.
Daddy look, the dog is smiling at me!
Daddy look, I taught it how to wave!
Eventually you start to notice that it does sort of look like your child.
You dismiss it at first, I mean they just have a similar eye colour.
Then you begin to notice other things like the way they both tilt their head,
the way they both dance when they're excited, the way they... laugh?
Can dogs laugh?
Is it actually laughing or just mimicking a noise it hears?
Yes, that must be it.
You forget your unease and marvel at your strangely adorable animal.
For a while that's it, nothing weird about the dog or your child.
Then the dog's fur begins to fall off but only around its head.
The vet says its some rare skin condition and says all you can do is watch for
infections, bathe their head and wait.
It may heal, the fur may regrow in time and if not then that's it.
Their fur falls off in patched at first, the skin underneath pale and smooth,
far smoother than you expected, given the images online of people with similarly
affected pets.
In fact, your dog's face seems much smaller underneath their fur.
As it falls away from their snout you notice their face seems to almost be shrinking.
Their eyes seem wider too, in fact their entire head is different, you even compared
them to old photos and they have changed so much.
Your child is also changing.
You chalk it down to worry and try to distract them but most of their time at home
is spent with the dog, just holding them.
It would be a heartwarming sight were it not for the fact that they wore the same
facial expression.
The exact same expression.
Their faces were now very much alike.
You try to remain calm as you realise this.
You'll call the vets, tell your child the dog was very ill and had to go to sleep
and everything will be fine again.
As you cement this plan in your mind your child calls to you.
Daddy. Daddy we need you. Come quick!
The voice comes from living room where they are both cuddled together
as has become the norm.
You ask what's wrong.
The dog's mouth opens.
Your child's voice comes out.
You can't kill me daddy. We won't let you.
Your child is growling as the dog repeats this.
Its only natural to have an affinity for someone that reminds you of yourself,
especially when that being is a constant source of joy in your otherwise
pathetic mortal life.
We accept this of course, we are vain creatures at heart, even if we are unaware of this.
What we could not accept were our pets resembling us.
It starts with a new pet.
A strong connection.
A child's love.
The changes are subtle at first.
Daddy look, the dog is smiling at me!
Daddy look, I taught it how to wave!
Eventually you start to notice that it does sort of look like your child.
You dismiss it at first, I mean they just have a similar eye colour.
Then you begin to notice other things like the way they both tilt their head,
the way they both dance when they're excited, the way they... laugh?
Can dogs laugh?
Is it actually laughing or just mimicking a noise it hears?
Yes, that must be it.
You forget your unease and marvel at your strangely adorable animal.
For a while that's it, nothing weird about the dog or your child.
Then the dog's fur begins to fall off but only around its head.
The vet says its some rare skin condition and says all you can do is watch for
infections, bathe their head and wait.
It may heal, the fur may regrow in time and if not then that's it.
Their fur falls off in patched at first, the skin underneath pale and smooth,
far smoother than you expected, given the images online of people with similarly
affected pets.
In fact, your dog's face seems much smaller underneath their fur.
As it falls away from their snout you notice their face seems to almost be shrinking.
Their eyes seem wider too, in fact their entire head is different, you even compared
them to old photos and they have changed so much.
Your child is also changing.
You chalk it down to worry and try to distract them but most of their time at home
is spent with the dog, just holding them.
It would be a heartwarming sight were it not for the fact that they wore the same
facial expression.
The exact same expression.
Their faces were now very much alike.
You try to remain calm as you realise this.
You'll call the vets, tell your child the dog was very ill and had to go to sleep
and everything will be fine again.
As you cement this plan in your mind your child calls to you.
Daddy. Daddy we need you. Come quick!
The voice comes from living room where they are both cuddled together
as has become the norm.
You ask what's wrong.
The dog's mouth opens.
Your child's voice comes out.
You can't kill me daddy. We won't let you.
Your child is growling as the dog repeats this.
20140918
Day 137
The city was dying.
It was more than the wildlife fleeing, more than just the plants dissolving.
Everything is dying.
The roads are cracking and dark yellow pus oozes out.
Even the air smells like death, all cloyingly sweet and stale.
Buildings are sagging and entire walls are collapsing, revealing rotten
wooden beams and maggot filled interiors.
Most of the people have long since moved out, though a few remain,
clinging to the fragments of their former lives as they shamble aimlessly
through the corpse strewn streets.
Occasionally a block of flats will collapse entirely, throwing a cloud of
dust, flies and blood.
Not human blood, this was thicker, stank of mould but definitely still blood.
Who knew buildings could bleed?
But then again, when your whole city is on its deathbed, you don't care for
rational explanations as much as you want it to stop.
The government quarantined the area, just in case this decay was contagious.
I just about managed to sneak in there last week, I had to see if anything was
left, if anyone who stayed was still alive.
I wasn't prepared for it.
The whole city was under about two feet of pus and everything stank of
rotting meat and wet concrete.
The air was stale and cold, despite it being summer.
I expected it to be totally silent as everything living (bar a dozen or so people)
had left before it got serious but I could still hear things.
I could hear people talking, well I say talking.... it was more of a garbled attempt
at talking.
Like they were speaking underwater.
They were close to me, just around the corner of something that might have been a bus.
I peered just past to see if I recognised them, an old friend of mind did stay behind with
his mother so I hoped it was him.
I honestly don't know what I saw but they sure as hell weren't human, maybe they
had been some time ago but now they were just walking, bleeding things.
They looked to be part corpse, part metal (almost like scaffolding) but mostly whatever
yellow substance that covered the ground of the city.
They just oozed this weird liquid through every crack in their exterior (I don't know if
they had skin, I didn't stick around long enough to make notes).
I'll admit that the second they started to quieten down and move away I hid in a hole in
the side of the possibly-once-a-bus thing.
One of them slid right past me, I think I saw an eye peer out of its flesh-like parts.
As soon as I thought the coast was clear I snuck back out, same way I got in.
I haven't had the authorities knock for me yet so I assume I got away with it.
The news isn't showing anything from my old home, I have no idea what's happened
to those things - were they the people who stayed behind or were they something else?
I have, however, noticed that there are no birds in my new home.
And the roads are awfully worn, cracking in some places.
I'll finish writing this some other time, I can't focus right now, I just ache all over.
It hurts, it hurtss sso mucch
It was more than the wildlife fleeing, more than just the plants dissolving.
Everything is dying.
The roads are cracking and dark yellow pus oozes out.
Even the air smells like death, all cloyingly sweet and stale.
Buildings are sagging and entire walls are collapsing, revealing rotten
wooden beams and maggot filled interiors.
Most of the people have long since moved out, though a few remain,
clinging to the fragments of their former lives as they shamble aimlessly
through the corpse strewn streets.
Occasionally a block of flats will collapse entirely, throwing a cloud of
dust, flies and blood.
Not human blood, this was thicker, stank of mould but definitely still blood.
Who knew buildings could bleed?
But then again, when your whole city is on its deathbed, you don't care for
rational explanations as much as you want it to stop.
The government quarantined the area, just in case this decay was contagious.
I just about managed to sneak in there last week, I had to see if anything was
left, if anyone who stayed was still alive.
I wasn't prepared for it.
The whole city was under about two feet of pus and everything stank of
rotting meat and wet concrete.
The air was stale and cold, despite it being summer.
I expected it to be totally silent as everything living (bar a dozen or so people)
had left before it got serious but I could still hear things.
I could hear people talking, well I say talking.... it was more of a garbled attempt
at talking.
Like they were speaking underwater.
They were close to me, just around the corner of something that might have been a bus.
I peered just past to see if I recognised them, an old friend of mind did stay behind with
his mother so I hoped it was him.
I honestly don't know what I saw but they sure as hell weren't human, maybe they
had been some time ago but now they were just walking, bleeding things.
They looked to be part corpse, part metal (almost like scaffolding) but mostly whatever
yellow substance that covered the ground of the city.
They just oozed this weird liquid through every crack in their exterior (I don't know if
they had skin, I didn't stick around long enough to make notes).
I'll admit that the second they started to quieten down and move away I hid in a hole in
the side of the possibly-once-a-bus thing.
One of them slid right past me, I think I saw an eye peer out of its flesh-like parts.
As soon as I thought the coast was clear I snuck back out, same way I got in.
I haven't had the authorities knock for me yet so I assume I got away with it.
The news isn't showing anything from my old home, I have no idea what's happened
to those things - were they the people who stayed behind or were they something else?
I have, however, noticed that there are no birds in my new home.
And the roads are awfully worn, cracking in some places.
I'll finish writing this some other time, I can't focus right now, I just ache all over.
It hurts, it hurtss sso mucch
20140917
Day 136
Something's been scratching my chair.
Its one of those fake leather jobbies from a charity shop so I'm
not overly fussed about it but its still bugging me.
I've set up cameras to see if its my cat but nope!
Somehow the scratches are just appearing there...
The scratches are now forming tears in the fabric.
I've given up and done the best I can - throwing a blanket over
the problem and refusing to buy another chair because they're expensive!
Its not so bad now that I can't see them, I mean sure I can feel the
ripped fabric when I sit down but its still in one piece.
A few weeks back, when I was planning on moving so I thought I'd
check the damage, see if it was salvageable enough to sell or repair.
The tears were a lot bigger than I remembered them being.
They weren't just tears either.
They had formed a word.
My name.
I'll admit I panicked and took the chair out to the dumps.
Buying a new chair would be easy enough but I planned to go to
a different cheapo shop just in case whatever was up with that chair
wasn't a single instance thing.
When I got back I found very familiar scratches on every fabric
surface in my flat.
The curtains, carpets, the rest of my furniture, my clothes.
I was really freaked out but I wanted to see what they'd spell out so I
stayed with friends for a few days.
By the time I got back my flat was wrecked, every surface had words scrawled
on it ranging from my full name to death threats to seriously creepy compliments
that described what I had been doing with my friends while I was away.
Weirdest thing was my neighbours hadn't heard anything the whole time I was gone.
It took me a while to work my way around my flat, noting down everything (there
were a lot of repeated phrases) but the area with the most writing was my bedroom.
The only word written there was "hide", again and again and again so, trying to
figure what the hell was going on I went to the places in my room where I'd hide
if I ever needed to.
Nothing in my closet, nothing in my cupboards, nor in the en suite so I checked
under the bed.
It was a tight fit, made worse by trying to shine my phone-light on the slats underneath.
I could only make out parts of it but g-d I wish I hadn't.
The writing was very... descriptive ...
It used my full name a lot and was saying how I'd be killed.
Wriggling to the top of my bed to the uppermost left side I tried to see how it'd start,
I mean I know its stupid to take this seriously but at that point you would too.
It said this would start with the window being broken.
Then the front door would slam.
Then my back would break.
So far everything's fine, I mean I'm in my new flat all settled in, new furniture, new
clothing and no cracks anywhere!
The window is fi- was fine.
My flatmate's sister just tripped over and smashed it.
As my flatmate rushed out to drive her to the hospital he slammed the front door.
Its one of those fake leather jobbies from a charity shop so I'm
not overly fussed about it but its still bugging me.
I've set up cameras to see if its my cat but nope!
Somehow the scratches are just appearing there...
The scratches are now forming tears in the fabric.
I've given up and done the best I can - throwing a blanket over
the problem and refusing to buy another chair because they're expensive!
Its not so bad now that I can't see them, I mean sure I can feel the
ripped fabric when I sit down but its still in one piece.
A few weeks back, when I was planning on moving so I thought I'd
check the damage, see if it was salvageable enough to sell or repair.
The tears were a lot bigger than I remembered them being.
They weren't just tears either.
They had formed a word.
My name.
I'll admit I panicked and took the chair out to the dumps.
Buying a new chair would be easy enough but I planned to go to
a different cheapo shop just in case whatever was up with that chair
wasn't a single instance thing.
When I got back I found very familiar scratches on every fabric
surface in my flat.
The curtains, carpets, the rest of my furniture, my clothes.
I was really freaked out but I wanted to see what they'd spell out so I
stayed with friends for a few days.
By the time I got back my flat was wrecked, every surface had words scrawled
on it ranging from my full name to death threats to seriously creepy compliments
that described what I had been doing with my friends while I was away.
Weirdest thing was my neighbours hadn't heard anything the whole time I was gone.
It took me a while to work my way around my flat, noting down everything (there
were a lot of repeated phrases) but the area with the most writing was my bedroom.
The only word written there was "hide", again and again and again so, trying to
figure what the hell was going on I went to the places in my room where I'd hide
if I ever needed to.
Nothing in my closet, nothing in my cupboards, nor in the en suite so I checked
under the bed.
It was a tight fit, made worse by trying to shine my phone-light on the slats underneath.
I could only make out parts of it but g-d I wish I hadn't.
The writing was very... descriptive ...
It used my full name a lot and was saying how I'd be killed.
Wriggling to the top of my bed to the uppermost left side I tried to see how it'd start,
I mean I know its stupid to take this seriously but at that point you would too.
It said this would start with the window being broken.
Then the front door would slam.
Then my back would break.
So far everything's fine, I mean I'm in my new flat all settled in, new furniture, new
clothing and no cracks anywhere!
The window is fi- was fine.
My flatmate's sister just tripped over and smashed it.
As my flatmate rushed out to drive her to the hospital he slammed the front door.
20140916
Day 135
His desk groaned as he placed the last crate on the only available surface.
At last, the room wasn't empty any more though her presence still gave the air a chill.
Looking around he could just about see the floor, rather he could just about make
out the path he had left for himself so he could navigate between the desk, window
and his side of the bed.
Her side was buried under yet more crates.
His gaze was drawn to where she used to rest no matter what he was doing.
The way she went was... unique?
He had no other words for what happened, in all his years as a doctor he'd never
encountered such a condition as she had nor had he encountered it since.
It had turned what was supposed to be a peaceful trip into a frantic rush to cure
whatever strange illness she had contracted.
If only he had noticed the symptoms earlier.
Of course they'd heard of some kind of respiratory virus going around but they
took every precaution to avoid it.
The climate was dry to begin with so her cough was attributed as such and
seemingly stayed as a slight cough for just over a month before fading entirely.
They didn't link her former cough to her dizzy spells, nausea and lethargy.
As the days went on she grew weaker and weaker, her breath grew raspier as
her lungs slowly seized up.
He still slept next to her, through her delirium and wheezin, gaspy breaths.
Even now he swears he hears her breathing.
Wait, he can hear her breathing but where could it be coming fr-
The crates on her side of the bed have been moved.
But how, nobody's been in this room all day except him...
He circles the room, her breathing is definitely coming from the bed, specifically
on her pillow.
He can almost smell her sickly sweet breath, can almost see her pallid face.
A month ago this would have brought him relief, he would have given anything to
see her again, even if she was a spirit.
But now... now the sight of her slowly materialising out of the pillow only fills him
with fear.
He has to get out of there, this can't be real, she can't be real.
He stumbles through the small patch of clear floor among the crates, trying to get
to the door, needing desperately to get out.
The door is locked.
The door is locked!
He panics, slamming his fists against the wooden surface and screaming for help.
Her scent is growing stronger and the sound of her breathing is now coming
from beside their bed.
As her breathing moves closer he finds his own breath mimicking her raspy
inhalations.
His vision begins to narrow, his pounding hands slip and falter.
A cold hand touches his shoulder and soft words are spoken into his ear.
The breathing stops.
At last, the room wasn't empty any more though her presence still gave the air a chill.
Looking around he could just about see the floor, rather he could just about make
out the path he had left for himself so he could navigate between the desk, window
and his side of the bed.
Her side was buried under yet more crates.
His gaze was drawn to where she used to rest no matter what he was doing.
The way she went was... unique?
He had no other words for what happened, in all his years as a doctor he'd never
encountered such a condition as she had nor had he encountered it since.
It had turned what was supposed to be a peaceful trip into a frantic rush to cure
whatever strange illness she had contracted.
If only he had noticed the symptoms earlier.
Of course they'd heard of some kind of respiratory virus going around but they
took every precaution to avoid it.
The climate was dry to begin with so her cough was attributed as such and
seemingly stayed as a slight cough for just over a month before fading entirely.
They didn't link her former cough to her dizzy spells, nausea and lethargy.
As the days went on she grew weaker and weaker, her breath grew raspier as
her lungs slowly seized up.
He still slept next to her, through her delirium and wheezin, gaspy breaths.
Even now he swears he hears her breathing.
Wait, he can hear her breathing but where could it be coming fr-
The crates on her side of the bed have been moved.
But how, nobody's been in this room all day except him...
He circles the room, her breathing is definitely coming from the bed, specifically
on her pillow.
He can almost smell her sickly sweet breath, can almost see her pallid face.
A month ago this would have brought him relief, he would have given anything to
see her again, even if she was a spirit.
But now... now the sight of her slowly materialising out of the pillow only fills him
with fear.
He has to get out of there, this can't be real, she can't be real.
He stumbles through the small patch of clear floor among the crates, trying to get
to the door, needing desperately to get out.
The door is locked.
The door is locked!
He panics, slamming his fists against the wooden surface and screaming for help.
Her scent is growing stronger and the sound of her breathing is now coming
from beside their bed.
As her breathing moves closer he finds his own breath mimicking her raspy
inhalations.
His vision begins to narrow, his pounding hands slip and falter.
A cold hand touches his shoulder and soft words are spoken into his ear.
The breathing stops.
20140915
Day 134
How blurred is your vision?
How many fingers am I holding up?
What shapes do you see?
Are they different with lens one or lens two?
Are there extra shapes?
You know, the ones you can only see without your glasses?
They come in all colours and tend to sway to a nonexistent breeze.
How many have you seen?
Do they know you can see them?
Take off your glasses, remove your contacts (if your vision is fine then squint).
Name the things around you.
If there are things you can't name,
things you can't remember being there - those are not things.
Listen.
They are laughing at you.
At this point they should be moving closer too.
So close now.
Close your eyes and wait.
You can do nothing else.
How many fingers am I holding up?
What shapes do you see?
Are they different with lens one or lens two?
Are there extra shapes?
You know, the ones you can only see without your glasses?
They come in all colours and tend to sway to a nonexistent breeze.
How many have you seen?
Do they know you can see them?
Take off your glasses, remove your contacts (if your vision is fine then squint).
Name the things around you.
If there are things you can't name,
things you can't remember being there - those are not things.
Listen.
They are laughing at you.
At this point they should be moving closer too.
So close now.
Close your eyes and wait.
You can do nothing else.
20140914
Day 133
Children rarely remember their dreams.
What do you dream of?
How well do you remember?
Would you believe me if I said your dreams all contain the same person?
Everyone dreams of this person.
Everyone dreams of you.
You are in all our dreams and we do not know why.
Tell us.
Te̡͍̤̟͔l̵̶͖̯͉̱͉͙̹̰ļ̴̷͕̜̯ ̣͇̹̻̻̺̕̕ͅu̖̖̮͢s̷̺̩̞̲̩͕̖̳͢͞.̴̹̙͎
̷̜͙̫̯͘͟
͎̝͈̲͍͎̬̟͝͡T͎̩̠̩͙E̢̬ͅL҉̗̤̬̠L͇͡ ̴̶̬́U҉̹̩S̪̼̤̮͜ͅŞ̢̪̻̖͚̺S̶̻̦̞̺̕.̬͖̟̯̫
Some say this is because their brains aren't developed enough to,
other say its because they are busy learning other things.
Have you noticed that the older you get, the more vivid your dreams become?
Even though statistically you forget your dreams within half an hour of waking
the vague imagery of what happened can linger for weeks.
What do you dream of?
How well do you remember?
Would you believe me if I said your dreams all contain the same person?
Everyone dreams of this person.
Everyone dreams of you.
You are in all our dreams and we do not know why.
Tell us.
Te̡͍̤̟͔l̵̶͖̯͉̱͉͙̹̰ļ̴̷͕̜̯ ̣͇̹̻̻̺̕̕ͅu̖̖̮͢s̷̺̩̞̲̩͕̖̳͢͞.̴̹̙͎
20140913
Day 132
I can feel my eyes.
I can feel my eyes.
When I was younger I got into a car crash.
Lost my vision in both eyes, been blind ever since.
Sometimes I saw flashes of colour or had a vague
feeling that I was looking at someone.
According to the doctor its just a variant of phantom
limb syndrome, where my brain is convinced I still
have eyes or random nerves firing off an impulse.
Something like that.
I got used to these rare occurrences where I caught
glimpses of life.
Last week I swear I saw a face.
I didn't recognise their expression - its been so long
since I've seen a face.
I asked a friend to tell me what emotion it was and
mimicked the stranger's profile.
My friend went very quiet.
Told me I looked terrified.
He'd never seen a face so utterly afraid.
I keep seeing this face now.
Last night I was heading to the kitchen when that face
appeared in front of me.
As I walked forward I moved closer to them.
I looked around me and found my hands covered in red.
I was holding something sharp.
I have no idea where I was but I'd never been there before.
I walked right up to the person and I swear I could hear them beg.
As I reached out to them my vision went black.
I haven't seen them since.
Are you sure that's how it went?
You don't remember anything else?
Didn't know the victim?
Yes officer. That's all.
I can feel my eyes.
When I was younger I got into a car crash.
Lost my vision in both eyes, been blind ever since.
Sometimes I saw flashes of colour or had a vague
feeling that I was looking at someone.
According to the doctor its just a variant of phantom
limb syndrome, where my brain is convinced I still
have eyes or random nerves firing off an impulse.
Something like that.
I got used to these rare occurrences where I caught
glimpses of life.
Last week I swear I saw a face.
I didn't recognise their expression - its been so long
since I've seen a face.
I asked a friend to tell me what emotion it was and
mimicked the stranger's profile.
My friend went very quiet.
Told me I looked terrified.
He'd never seen a face so utterly afraid.
I keep seeing this face now.
Last night I was heading to the kitchen when that face
appeared in front of me.
As I walked forward I moved closer to them.
I looked around me and found my hands covered in red.
I was holding something sharp.
I have no idea where I was but I'd never been there before.
I walked right up to the person and I swear I could hear them beg.
As I reached out to them my vision went black.
I haven't seen them since.
Are you sure that's how it went?
You don't remember anything else?
Didn't know the victim?
Yes officer. That's all.
20140912
Day 131
Her smile was unlike anything I'd ever seen.
I'm no biologist but I'm pretty sure that humans aren't meant to have that many teeth.
They certainly aren't meant to smile that widely.
Or bend their neck at that angle.
Or climb unseen surfaces.
She left puddles of black liquid on the floor.
I found one outside my front door...
And just inside my front door...
And by my bed...
I'm no biologist but I'm pretty sure that humans aren't meant to have that many teeth.
They certainly aren't meant to smile that widely.
Or bend their neck at that angle.
Or climb unseen surfaces.
She left puddles of black liquid on the floor.
I found one outside my front door...
And just inside my front door...
And by my bed...
20140911
Day 130
Why is it that the graffiti in my area always has my name in it?
Anywhere I go there's something like "Anna is being watched"
or "Anna walks here" and its not even funny anymore!
I'll admit it was kinda cool at first, like someone was sending me
secret messages but lately... lately they've been getting violent.
One I saw last night was "Anna's flesh will feed our Queen".
What kind of sicko writes that shit?
I mean I
There's writing appearing on the wall in front of me.
It says Anna is gone, Anna will be part of something much bigger.
She cannot comprehend the infinity she will join.
Our Queen shall feast.
Anywhere I go there's something like "Anna is being watched"
or "Anna walks here" and its not even funny anymore!
I'll admit it was kinda cool at first, like someone was sending me
secret messages but lately... lately they've been getting violent.
One I saw last night was "Anna's flesh will feed our Queen".
What kind of sicko writes that shit?
I mean I
There's writing appearing on the wall in front of me.
It says Anna is gone, Anna will be part of something much bigger.
She cannot comprehend the infinity she will join.
Our Queen shall feast.
20140910
Day 129
Today is about beginnings.
Today is about changes and starting anew.
Today is about the end of humanity.
It will start with an old virus being reborn.
We won't be prepared.
We won't be able to fight it.
Humanity will be decimated in a matter of months.
Within ten days of the near mass extinction, nuclear
power plants will begin to fail.
The water formerly used to cool the fuel rods will
evaporate and twenty cores worth of toxic
radiation will spill out for miles around.
The majority of Asia, Europe and America will be
devastated for centuries.
The surviving lifeforms will experience a variety of
reactions from cataracts and infertility to acute
ulceration, nausea and (in most cases) death.
Now what would frighten you more,
the sight of ulcer ridden corpses in varying states
of decay, shambling towards you, screaming for
death to take them
or the thought that this is still a possibility?
Today is about changes and starting anew.
Today is about the end of humanity.
It will start with an old virus being reborn.
We won't be prepared.
We won't be able to fight it.
Humanity will be decimated in a matter of months.
Within ten days of the near mass extinction, nuclear
power plants will begin to fail.
The water formerly used to cool the fuel rods will
evaporate and twenty cores worth of toxic
radiation will spill out for miles around.
The majority of Asia, Europe and America will be
devastated for centuries.
The surviving lifeforms will experience a variety of
reactions from cataracts and infertility to acute
ulceration, nausea and (in most cases) death.
Now what would frighten you more,
the sight of ulcer ridden corpses in varying states
of decay, shambling towards you, screaming for
death to take them
or the thought that this is still a possibility?
20140909
Day 128
There is a tree near your childhood home.
You may have noticed it, you may even have played in its boughs.
Did you notice the hands?
Did you notice their wooden texture, gripping the trunk of the tree hard enough
to crack it in some places.
Will you look now?
Look at every tree nearby, see the hands.
Don't tell anyone about the hands.
Word of mouth is a death sentence, this is as close a warning as you'll get.
They've begun to move.
Slowly.
Down the tree trunks, over the roots, to whoever comes closest.
Don't let them touch you, whatever you do.
It spreads, you see, skin to skin contact.
Takes ages but it rots you inside out.
Leaves you like them.
Just loose limbs looking for others.
Worse still it can leave you alive.
Eat you real slow until all that's left of you are thoughts trapped inside it.
Just about able to see what it sees and feel what it feels.
Feel it eating others and feel their thoughts join you.
It's so crowded, so many others crushed against you.
Their selves are constantly pressing against yours, merging and splitting.
Losing your mind is all to easy and all too welcome.
You may have noticed it, you may even have played in its boughs.
Did you notice the hands?
Did you notice their wooden texture, gripping the trunk of the tree hard enough
to crack it in some places.
Will you look now?
Look at every tree nearby, see the hands.
Don't tell anyone about the hands.
Word of mouth is a death sentence, this is as close a warning as you'll get.
They've begun to move.
Slowly.
Down the tree trunks, over the roots, to whoever comes closest.
Don't let them touch you, whatever you do.
It spreads, you see, skin to skin contact.
Takes ages but it rots you inside out.
Leaves you like them.
Just loose limbs looking for others.
Worse still it can leave you alive.
Eat you real slow until all that's left of you are thoughts trapped inside it.
Just about able to see what it sees and feel what it feels.
Feel it eating others and feel their thoughts join you.
It's so crowded, so many others crushed against you.
Their selves are constantly pressing against yours, merging and splitting.
Losing your mind is all to easy and all too welcome.
20140908
Day 127
I have seen myself again and again.
Each time I am different.
My reflections always look so shocked.
Sometimes they are holding candles and mouthing my name.
I try to reach out to them but they scream and run.
Last time I tried the mirror began to bleed.
Tried to peer through the blood covering it and I swear I saw
my reflection staggering out the bathroom door.
I wish it would stop.
Every mirror is someone else.
Am I all of these people?
Why are they mouthing my name?
Where does the blood come from?
Each time I am different.
My reflections always look so shocked.
Sometimes they are holding candles and mouthing my name.
I try to reach out to them but they scream and run.
Last time I tried the mirror began to bleed.
Tried to peer through the blood covering it and I swear I saw
my reflection staggering out the bathroom door.
I wish it would stop.
Every mirror is someone else.
Am I all of these people?
Why are they mouthing my name?
Where does the blood come from?
20140907
Day 126
There are no windows here.
There are no doors.
The walls are bone.
This is what you find yourself dreaming of every night.
Each time something small changes.
The bones move, the room grows and shrinks.
You grow used to this, weary of it even.
Last night however, everything was different.
You were surrounded by creatures whose heads were tree trunks,
somehow supported by their sickly thin bodies.
They stood in puddles of tar and pointed to you.
You can see them clearly when you close your eyes, as if they are
hiding inside your mind and waiting for you to sleep once more.
Waiting for you to join them in the bone room.
And then they moved out.
Out of your thoughts, out of your mind and into your life.
When you went outside you saw them on the street.
They moved freely about, still pointing at you.
One brushed right past you and you felt your heart stop for a second.
You hear a faint tapping on your window.
They are crowded outside.
The bone room awaits and their impatience grows.
There are no doors.
The walls are bone.
This is what you find yourself dreaming of every night.
Each time something small changes.
The bones move, the room grows and shrinks.
You grow used to this, weary of it even.
Last night however, everything was different.
You were surrounded by creatures whose heads were tree trunks,
somehow supported by their sickly thin bodies.
They stood in puddles of tar and pointed to you.
You can see them clearly when you close your eyes, as if they are
hiding inside your mind and waiting for you to sleep once more.
Waiting for you to join them in the bone room.
And then they moved out.
Out of your thoughts, out of your mind and into your life.
When you went outside you saw them on the street.
They moved freely about, still pointing at you.
One brushed right past you and you felt your heart stop for a second.
You hear a faint tapping on your window.
They are crowded outside.
The bone room awaits and their impatience grows.
20140906
Day 125
Today's story is about doors.
Did you know that walking through a doorway can make you forget?
Its called the location-updating effect.
What have you forgotten when moving to another room?
Who have you forgotten?
Look around you, is everyone still there?
Are you alone?
Were you always alone?
Have you forgotten someone?
Where are they?
Don't trust the doorways.
20140905
Day 124
I've seen people die before.
I'm a cancer nurse, so its part of the job.
Sometimes they go quietly in their sleep, faces lax and dreamy.
Other times its more... vibrant.
They have seizures, they cry, they beg to see a loved one.
Its tragic.
Its gotten worse lately.
Their faces are following me.
They are literally following me, even now.
Always silent, floating around me.
Some days I can barely see as they jostle and crown my field of vision.
I just wish they'd talk.
I need to know what they want.
--
---
--
They aren't just floating around me now.
They're appearing elsewhere.
My colleagues' faces keep morphing into theirs.
Patterns on walls too.
There's one on an advert on TV now.
There's no volume, just that face smiling.
It its changing into all of the other faces I've seen.
Everyone who's dies under my care.
If I admit I killed them will it just STOP?
It was for their own good, they were in agony!
To hell with what they wanted, they were in pain, they needed rest.
I need rest.
Maybe that's why they're here, they've come to help me like I helped them.
I'll know soon for sure, they're coming out of the advert.
They have bodies now.
Their nails look a lot longer and so do their... teeth?
20140904
Day 123
Its 4AM and the street light outside his window is shining way too much.
Weird though, he thought he'd closed the curtains.
Its chilly too, when did he open the window?
He hates having the window open.
Going to close the window, his feet touch something warm and wet.
Looking down he sees the floor covered in meat of some kind.
Shrieking he runs backwards, scrambling for the door only to find it gone.
The best option seems to be climbing back onto the bed and trying to sleep
away this nightmare.
This is quickly foiled as he finds his feet stuck in the meat.
The meat then begins to dissolve.
Underneath is a black, reflective surface.
He can see his reflection.
It is grinning and holding his mother's head.
She laughs.
Weird though, he thought he'd closed the curtains.
Its chilly too, when did he open the window?
He hates having the window open.
Going to close the window, his feet touch something warm and wet.
Looking down he sees the floor covered in meat of some kind.
Shrieking he runs backwards, scrambling for the door only to find it gone.
The best option seems to be climbing back onto the bed and trying to sleep
away this nightmare.
This is quickly foiled as he finds his feet stuck in the meat.
The meat then begins to dissolve.
Underneath is a black, reflective surface.
He can see his reflection.
It is grinning and holding his mother's head.
She laughs.
20140903
Day 122
There's a lot of mutterers today.
Just random strangers who start to speak in hushed tones when you are near them.
Its almost impossible to pick up what they are actually saying.
Believe me, I've tried.
Might as well ask next time one of them's near enough to me.
----
-----
----
Okay so earlier this week I actually asked a lone mutterer if she could speak up.
She gave me this weird look, like I'd done something horribly wrong.
Everyone turned to look at me.
I quickly hurried off saying my hopping list under my breath.
I think it worked, they didn't follow me and stopped staring after a while.
On a hopefully unrelated note, there's been an increase inthe number of dead birds in the lake.
We usually have one or two a month, the water's just so clear you can't tell its that deep.
The birds are all the same kind as well, all robins instead of the normal pidgeon.
It's always the same number of robins each week - 17.
Nobody's figured out what's causing it and what the significance of that number is.
All I know is the mutterers are louder now.
I made out what one of them said.
They'd never stopped staring at me.
I'm next, I don't know what for but I have a feeling I won't make it out alive, or at least the same.
Ignore the mutters.
Just ignore them.
Do it.
Just random strangers who start to speak in hushed tones when you are near them.
Its almost impossible to pick up what they are actually saying.
Believe me, I've tried.
Might as well ask next time one of them's near enough to me.
----
-----
----
Okay so earlier this week I actually asked a lone mutterer if she could speak up.
She gave me this weird look, like I'd done something horribly wrong.
Everyone turned to look at me.
I quickly hurried off saying my hopping list under my breath.
I think it worked, they didn't follow me and stopped staring after a while.
On a hopefully unrelated note, there's been an increase inthe number of dead birds in the lake.
We usually have one or two a month, the water's just so clear you can't tell its that deep.
The birds are all the same kind as well, all robins instead of the normal pidgeon.
It's always the same number of robins each week - 17.
Nobody's figured out what's causing it and what the significance of that number is.
All I know is the mutterers are louder now.
I made out what one of them said.
They'd never stopped staring at me.
I'm next, I don't know what for but I have a feeling I won't make it out alive, or at least the same.
Ignore the mutters.
Just ignore them.
Do it.
20140902
Day 121
The first thing you'd notice about the room is all the clocks.
Covering every surface, all ticking perfectly in time.
All shining, not because they are polished though.
They are covered in some viscous black liquid.
It reeked of rotten vegetation and rust.
If you were to follow the trail you would be led to a
grandfather clock the height of the room.
You would notice that the pendulum was painted onto
the glass surface meant to display it.
You would see the black liquid trail lead inside this clock.
You would enter.
A tunnel is longer than you expected, certainly longer than
the house in which it resides.
You figure its gone under the street and into a neighbouring home.
The trail looks to be growing thicker and the smell is near unbearable.
As you turn to head back you don't see the tunnel behind you.
There is only a dark grey brick wall where you have been walking.
Your only choice would be to press on and you would do so reluctantly.
The trail has turned to large puddles on the floor.
The further you go, the bigger and deeper the puddles get.
Absentmindedly you wonder if you could swim through whatever this is.
Before you can finish contemplating your potential demise the tunnel abruptly
opens out into a vast concrete chamber.
You see the liquid would be heading down large metal drains all around the
edges of the room but hairy lumps of something are blocking the way.
As far as you can tell the room is totally empty apart from a few empty
clown suits (you'd seen enough films to remove all of the masks and put them
as far from the suits as possible).
You start to scan the room's circumference, hoping to stumble upon a secret
doorway, a ladder, a vent, anything.
You would be too occupied to listen to anything besides the faint gurgle of the
liquid somehow squeezing its way into the drains, too dizzy from the damned
stench of the place, to notice.
By the time you do, its too late.
The masks have all turned towards you.
The suits are swaying, stumbling.
The entrance to the tunnel is gone.
You hear clocks, faintly ticking in the background.
20140901
Day 120
The guitar lay broken on the floor.
The thing she had hit it with looked to be unconscious
but she'd been dealing with these things for long enough
to not drop her guard.
Not til its head was in the salt tub.
Damn thing had taken her by surprise.
She supposed it was a little bit her fault, she didn't fully
check the house before she settled in for the night.
Sure she placed salt round all plausible entrances but that
didn't mean there wasn't something hiding in the house already.
At least she placed the salt tub nearby, doesn't hurt to play it safe.
Now if only she could find her blade.
She could have sworn she left it beside he-
The thing was gone.
The thing was gone.
The thing was gone!
How could she have forgotten the first rule she was taught, never
turn your back, not until the head's off.
Then she broke the second rule, hesitation.
Don't ever hesitate when there's one of them loose nearby.
After what seemed like an eternity of crouching by the door, trying
to think, trying to remember where the knife was and where the thing
could be.
The door slammed open and she broke the third rule.
No sudden movements and no sudden noises.
And most importantly, don't scream.
The thing she had hit it with looked to be unconscious
but she'd been dealing with these things for long enough
to not drop her guard.
Not til its head was in the salt tub.
Damn thing had taken her by surprise.
She supposed it was a little bit her fault, she didn't fully
check the house before she settled in for the night.
Sure she placed salt round all plausible entrances but that
didn't mean there wasn't something hiding in the house already.
At least she placed the salt tub nearby, doesn't hurt to play it safe.
Now if only she could find her blade.
She could have sworn she left it beside he-
The thing was gone.
The thing was gone.
The thing was gone!
How could she have forgotten the first rule she was taught, never
turn your back, not until the head's off.
Then she broke the second rule, hesitation.
Don't ever hesitate when there's one of them loose nearby.
After what seemed like an eternity of crouching by the door, trying
to think, trying to remember where the knife was and where the thing
could be.
The door slammed open and she broke the third rule.
No sudden movements and no sudden noises.
And most importantly, don't scream.
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