Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Region: █̸̡̧̢̥̱̲̣̳̟̗̣͖̅͐̒͛͂̓̔̀̈͘̕█̶̨͉͚͍͕̙̜͍̼͈̹̹͔͊̐̇̀̈͊͛̏͘͜█̵͓̱͐̆̐̇̈́͐͒̚█̶̨̧̗̬͖͕͙̤̥̹̥̼̎͛█̸̛͈̮̯͉̼́͗̈́̿͌̓͑͛̚█̵͓̱͐̆̐̇̈́͐͒̚█̶̨̧̗̬͖͕͙̤̥̹̥̼̎͛█̸̛͈̮̯͉̼́͗̈́̿͌̓͑͛̚█̶̛̳̍͛͐́̒͆̑̕ ̷̡̱̮̥͕̺͌͂̇̚̚͜͝█̸̨̠̖̙̱͓̝̯̥̓̍̈̂͐͐̌͊́̋͘̚█̷̞͚͕̼́͗̕█̵͍̩̰̘̯̖̤͈͕͓̓̎͆́̄̿̕͝█̷̙̘͙́̓́̎͑͘█̵̘͈͕̼̙̬̬̘͖̤͛͋́̔̑́͜

Date of Report: 01/25/2016

Individual’s Name: Madison Carter Hill

Sex: Female

Date of Birth: 11/08/1992

Height: 5’6” (at time of disappearance) 

Weight: 154 pounds (at time of disappearance)

Date Reported Missing: 01/23/2016

Last Seen: Madison was last spotted in person on the 21st of January by her neighbor, who reported seeing her get in her car and drive off at roughly 4:30 P.M. Traffic cameras and security footage show Madison's car driving all the way to the parking lot of a nearby Walmart, where she vanished. The last contact Madison had with anybody was with her mother at 4:41 P.M., when Madison texted her mother that she was “going to go get groceries” and that she’d “be at her house at five”. However, after Madison’s mother was unable to contact her for two days since the text, she reported Madison missing to the police.

Personal Comments: The circumstances of Madison's disappearance are...bizarre, to say the least.

Madison’s car was found in the Walmart’s parking lot unharmed, but security camera footage from the Walmart in question shows that she never actually entered the store. In fact, the footage in and around the parking lot tells us that Madison was not seen walking through the parking lot or even getting out of her car, the latter fact being due to the fact that she coincidentally parked in one of the parking lot's blind spots. 

Madison, according to her family and classmates, was leading a fairly normal life leading up to this incident. This, along with the text she sent her mother before her disappearance, makes it seem unlikely that she decided to run away of her own volition, unless there were some circumstances we were unaware of. So the only conclusion can be that somehow, she was kidnapped.

But that Walmart was practically in the middle of town, and there were enough people in the parking lot that somebody would have noticed Madison getting kidnapped. But nobody in that parking lot saw or heard anything out of the ordinary; not a suspicious car, no screaming or shouting, nothing.

But if nobody saw her, and none of the many cameras in the parking lot captured her walking away from her car—then just where the hell did she go?

Chapter Text

Send help.

If anybody’s reading this, send help. I don’t care who you send, just tell them to come and find me.

I’m lost. Terribly lost. And I don’t think I’ll be able to find a way out.

My name is Madison Hill. I’m twenty three years old. I live in █̴̻͚̗̈͊̒͐͝█̶̠̹͇͈̈́̂̿͗█̸̳͛̈́́͆̕ͅ█̶̩͍̈́̽̀̾̈́█̸̧̩̝̩̘̐̊̌̐͛█̵̧̘̠̼̭̉̔█̸̛̝͇̃̊█̷̭̿̉̿̒͛█̷͓̝̦͓̃͐͒█̵̖͑█̵̧̡͈̏ͅ█̸̱̰̻̼́͝, and my address is █̶̢͇͉͋͗͜█̸̘̈́͆̂█̴͓͌̌̚█̸̩̣̯̀̌͒̀̚█̶̱̞͚͒͜█̶̺͔̀́█̸̮̹̦̓̌̑̎͝█̴̙̽̄̈̏̓█̸̢̖͉̂̿̿̽̋█̷̘̟͊̏█̴̪̳̮͂█̴̳̟̯͋͂̂█̷̰̟͇̺̂̐͠ͅ. I know it’s not a good idea to hand out your personal info on the internet, but it might just give the police a small hint of where I might be.

Unless I’m out of the country. In which case I guess I’m fucked.

I don’t know where I am, or how I got here. The last thing I remember is just getting out of my car, and then...tripping. I think I hit my head? Which would explain the awful headache I have right now. But I don’t remember…passing out. Or even closing my eyes. Maybe I was drugged? I don't know.

To be honest, I’d be calling the actual police right now (which I’m not sure is even possible on a laptop), but I don't have a phone, and the only thing on this damn laptop I can access is a social media app I’ve never heard of called SNet. Which is great—the only thing I can do now is post to some obscure app that probably has like zero people online.

But hey, if this post is what leads to me getting out of this place, I will promote the shit out of this app. Even if it’s a crappy one. Which it probably is. (No offense to the five people using this app.)

I’m getting off-topic. The point is, I’m 80% sure I’ve been kidnapped and I need help ASAP.

I haven’t got anything on me but the clothes on my back and a laptop, which is what I’m currently typing on. I guess someone left it here, I don’t know. It was just sitting next to me when I opened my eyes. 

I’ll try to describe what the place I’m in looks like as best as I can, but it might not make a ton of sense, because this place sort of...defies all attempts to describe it because of how weird it is.

Everything is yellow. The walls, the carpet, the lights, everything. The wallpaper’s peeling in a few places, and there’s a few patches of mold on the ceiling, so I’d say this place isn’t that well kept. There are no windows or doors in this building that I’ve come across yet, and I haven’t seen a single piece of furniture or a decoration at all. This place is completely empty. But that isn't really what I mean when I say this place is weird, although yeah, all that is kind of odd.

What's weird is that the layout of this building makes no sense.

There are no normal rooms like you’d expect in a regular building. Just a bunch of randomly segmented walls—sharp corners, turns that don't make sense, and long, twisting hallways that don’t lead anywhere. If I got a top-down view of this place, I imagine it’d look like one of those mazes they give you in kindergarten, the kind where you’re supposed to draw your way to the exit.

On top of that, this place is fucking massive. I’ve been walking for a while now, maybe thirty minutes, and I still haven’t found the end of the building. Which, if you think about it, is insane. If it takes more than thirty minutes to get from one side of a building to another, it's safe to say that it's a pretty big building.

My initial thought was that this building was an unfinished project or something, but the more I explore, the less likely that seems. There's no sign the place is still under construction, like signs or unfinished walls or anything like that. It looks pretty complete—putting aside, you know, the lack of furniture or appliances or anything that would belong in a normal building.

I haven’t seen a person so far. There aren’t any security cameras that I can see, so I don’t think I’m being watched. And this place doesn’t seem very dangerous yet. Key word is 'yet'. I could very much be in the gladiator arena of Jeff Bezos or something. I don't know, this seems like something a rich guy would do for shits and giggles.

Anyways, I’m going to keep moving. I think I heard somewhere that if you’re lost it’s better to stay still, but I'm pretty sure that applies to forests, not buildings. If I just keep walking straight, I’m bound to find an exit eventually, right?

I’ll post an update soon, if anything interesting happens. Or if anything uninteresting happens. My point is, I’ll update soon. That is, if I don’t get brutally murdered.

(I meant that as a joke, but I think I just freaked myself out even more. Fuck.)

Chapter Text

It’s been a few hours. I think. I don’t know, I have no way of telling the time; the clock on this goddamn laptop is stuck at 7:45.

I still haven’t found an exit. Or a person. Or anything of note, really. Just the same old musty carpet and yellow walls. Which, if I’m being honest, is starting to get hard on my eyes.

I’m starting to wonder what the hell is up with this place. Well, I was wondering that before, but then I was more focused on, you know, getting out. There's so many weird details about this place, and it's kind of freaking me out.

For one, this building must have cost a fortune to construct, because it’s huge. I’ve been walking for literal hours and haven’t found the end of it yet, which means this place must be enormous. And I haven’t just been walking in a straight line, either. I’ve changed directions like five times with around thirty or so minutes in-between every turn, and still nothing.

I can’t even imagine what the electricity bill for this place must be like after a month. Everywhere I’ve been has been brightly lit, and for every few meters I walk there must be at least eight lights. And yet, despite all this, the place seems to serve no other purpose than to be a really big, really confusing maze. Further proof that this is where Jeff Bezos puts poor people and makes them fight to the death. Not that I'm poor or anything. 

Is it stupid that I’m starting to wish this was just a regular kidnapping? I guess I should be grateful considering I’m not tied up to a chair with a gun to my head, but at least with a kidnapping I know what I’m up against. All you have to do is not piss off the guy with the weapon, and you’re good until the cops arrive, or until he shoots you to death. But in this situation, nothing makes sense. I don’t even know what the threat is, or if there even is a threat in the first place.

And somehow, I feel like that’s worse. 

Maybe I'm just overthinking this. But these are reasonable questions, damn it, and I want answers.

If anybody’s reading this shit, please say something. It obviously won’t help me get out of here, but it’d be reassuring to know I’m not just talking to myself here.

Which…given the lack of responses so far, seems to be the case.

Whatever. Even if nobody’s reading, I’m still going to keep posting. Just to keep myself sane.

Oh, yeah, and if whoever put me here is reading this, fuck you.

Chapter Text

Okay. First things first. I’m glad there are people reading this, even if some of them think this is fake. Shoutout to those of you that left comments. Even warpfsharp, even though your comment was kind of annoying.

User_0362 left a fairly detailed comment, and I’m going to expand on a few of their points here, since they do have some interesting ideas. I’m not going to post their entire comment, so everybody else can just go back to the other post and read it themselves.

I think (maybe) there was a user talking about a similar situation there before, but I can’t find the post or any threads mentioning it anywhere.

Anyway, the person there posted about it for a while before they just stopped. Maybe it’s some kind of weird social experiment or something. But that person apparently walked for days without actually finding an exit, so it’s possible there’s some kind of optical illusions or something to make you think this place is smaller than it looks. Trying to walk your way out might not be the best idea.

Anyway, the person who was in a similar situation said they found tons of writing on the walls and rips in the wallpaper. Weird that wherever you are is different.

Damn. Really sucks for that guy. I can’t imagine staying here for even a day, let alone multiple. Although the place I’m in might be different from the place they were in, because I haven’t seen any writing yet. And the walls seem to be in…fairly decent condition, if you ignore the mold.

You said you found the computer with nothing else on it? Like, no search engine? I’ve attached a chrome setup exe, if it’ll even run.

If it won’t connect to anything else, I can just ferry you information if you want to do your own research.

Yeah, I should totally elaborate on the laptop. Sorry for the vagueness.

When I turn it on, it’s just a normal welcome screen. Luckily there’s not a password, so I can just log in with no difficulty.

Usually when a laptop turns on, the desktop automatically shows up, right? But for my laptop, it just automatically redirects to the app for this site. I can’t exit out of it because there is no exit button, and I can’t press Alt-F4, open the Task Manager, or anything. Not even the Windows button works. (And yeah, I’m using a Windows laptop by the way.)

So…yeah. I can’t access Google. Or…anything that would be useful to me. Not that you guys aren’t useful, of course. Your advice has been morale raising at the very least.

Also, it appears I am unable to download anything. I’ve clicked the links on your comment several times and an error message popped up that’s just a bunch of gibberish. And I don’t mean tech jargon, I mean literal gibberish, like keyboard smashing. Which. Is...slightly odd.

If the ceiling is tiled, maybe try taking some out and getting up there? Roof tiles are surprisingly sturdy and (if you stand/sit right) should be able to support your weight. Might be quieter and easier than trying to sleep below bright and buzzing fluorescent lights. Sheesh.

The ceiling is indeed tiled, but I doubt I’ll be able to get high enough to remove any of them. I could climb the walls, but back in high school I was notorious for being perhaps the second least athletic girl in school. I don’t think anything’s changed since then.

And yeah, the buzzing is driving me absolutely nuts. If only I’d woken up here with some earplugs.

Nice seeing the forums alive & active again, btw! Wish you luck!

Thanks. I’ll need it.

Also, Goofierknot gave me the absolutely genius idea of leaving behind landmarks as I go so I can leave a kind of path. Actually, I’m kind of embarrassed that I didn't think of that before. I’m going to start doing that from now.

Yeah, that’s it for now. I haven’t come across anything very interesting quite yet, unless you count the dead moth I spotted on the floor earlier. (Yippee!) This was just kind of a response to each of your comments.

Again, thanks for the advice. I’ll keep walking for now (even though two out of the three of you told me walking isn’t a great idea) and I’ll post again in an hour or so.

I’ll see you all soon. Hopefully.

Chapter Text

I thought this place was weird before, but now I’m absolutely certain that this place is not a normal fucking building.

Okay, hear me out. What I’m about to tell you is going to make me sound like I’m on hallucinogens. But I swear to god, the layout of this place is changing.

I know that that sounds incredibly vague to you right now, but hold on. I’ll try and explain exactly what I mean by that.

One of you—Goofierknot, I think was your name—suggested leaving landmarks behind as I went. Which was a pretty good idea, so I took their advice and started leaving marks as I went; just simple stuff like tearing parts of the wallpaper, scratching big ‘X’s on the walls, stuff like that. And I made the marks big enough to see even at a moment’s glance.

And then that was when things started to get weird.

It was small stuff at first. I started passing through places that I was pretty sure I’d already passed through. I saw a few marks that were clearly my own handiwork, although I didn’t remember putting them there. And this wasn’t just once. This happened several times.

Of course, both could easily be explained away. The déjà vu could just be me making some wrong turns and accidentally backtracking through places I’d already been (although that doesn’t make sense, considering I’ve been walking in roughly a straight line for the past hour and have never turned around once, but let’s entertain that possibility for a moment).

As for the marks I didn’t remember making, there’s no way I could’ve remembered all of the locations I’ve left marks in (except this runs into the same problem in that I should not be seeing landmarks I’ve made because I’m leaving them behind as I go and I haven’t turned around once).

Are the explanations kind of shaky? Yep. Are they still a tiny bit plausible? Also yep.

But what happened afterwards can't be explained away as easily.

So a little bit ago, I found a hallway. 

I’ll be honest—I got a little excited when I found the hallway. It looked like it went on for a while, and there weren’t any breaks in the walls, so I just assumed that I’d managed to find the exit.

Unfortunately, this was not the case. After about five minutes or so, I reached the end of the hallway and found myself still in the stupid yellow building.

After which I may have gotten a…little short-tempered. By which I mean I let out a long string of swear words that I don’t think I should repeat here. 

Don't judge me. It was a valid response.

So, with a heavy sigh, I turned back to scratch an X into the wall to mark my path—

—only to see that right behind me, where I was ninety-nine percent sure the hallway had just been, was a wall. 

It was gone.

Of course, my immediate thought was that I’d gone insane. There was no way that the hallway I’d just spent five minutes walking down could have just…vanished without a sound. And yet, that was exactly what had happened.

I touched the wall. It felt real. I knocked on it. It sounded the same as every other wall in this place. I even tried kicking it as hard as I could to see if I could break it down, but the only thing that earned me was a throbbing foot.

Forget the identical rooms, forget the odd markings—this was something that should not have been possible. It wasn’t even something I could have hallucinated—again, I’d just walked down that hallway!

Some of you might think I’m overreacting and that whoop de do, a single wall appeared out of nowhere one time. What’s the big deal? And yeah, I might be inclined to agree with you—if this had only happened one time.

Which. It. Didn't.

After that, I started to look over my shoulder every few minutes, half-expecting the entire building’s layout to completely rearrange every time I turned. And a total of six times, six times—the layout did indeed change.

Each time, the change was fairly subtle—some walls materializing out of thin air, others disappearing without a trace. But still, like…what????

Jesus. It’s like goddamn Maze Runner on crack. Except at least in that book you can hear the walls moving. Here, they just appear and disappear without even a sound.

I don’t know if that hallway was a portal into another dimension or what, but things have been weird as shit since I’ve passed through that hall. Actually, things have been weird since before I passed through that hallway. It hadn’t even been like this before. It only started happening when…

I started to make those marks.

Holy shit. I just got an idea. Be right back, I need to run a test.

Okay, I’m back. My theory was correct.

I ran a…sort of experiment, I guess you could say. For a few minutes, I would briefly stop leaving my marker trail and observe my surroundings. Then, I would resume marking and note the changes.

So I stopped leaving those signs. And lo and behold, everything weird that was happening just stopped. The walls stopped rearranging. I stopped walking into the same rooms over and over again.

Everything went back to normal.

And then I started leaving the marks again, and then the weird shit started up again.

So that confirms it. This place is literally trying to prevent me from knowing my way around. I mean…what the hell? What can I even say about that?

This is insane. Fucking nuts. Like…is this place sentient or what?

…

Uh, yeah no. I’m not going there. That is an absolutely terrifying thought, and I am not going to speak that into existence. God.

Okay, so…that’s about it in terms of news. You all told me to let you know if I found anything interesting, and well…this certainly is interesting, if not incredibly freaky.

I’m going to stop leaving those landmarks for now, since they only seem to make things worse. I feel like if I keep going with that stuff, at some point the floor might just vanish from under my feet.

I’ll see you all soon. That is, if the walls don’t close in on me and crush me or something.

(That’s a terrifying thought, actually. Why do I do this to myself?)

Chapter Text

I'll give it to you guys straight. I'm completely exhausted. Both physically, and mentally.

I’m getting sick of the color yellow. My feet hurt (especially the one I used to kick the wall, but I guess I can't really complain about that). And the constant buzzing of the lights is driving me fucking nuts.

And I still haven’t found an exit.

How is that possible? I’ve been walking for fucking hours on end and I’m still not at the end of this place. How the hell does that make sense? I know one of you mentioned a guy being stuck here for days, and while it’s not like I didn’t believe you, I don’t think it actually registered in my mind just what that entails. I swear—this goddamn shithole must be bigger than twenty fucking football stadiums combined.

...sorry for the unnecessary profanity. I’m just…tired. And pissed. Very pissed.

Everything is blurring together. When I close my eyes I see yellow instead of black, that’s how bad it is. The only break from the sickening color is this laptop.

I’m starting to get thirsty. You know when your mouth gets so dry that it starts to taste gross? Yeah. That’s how bad it is. 

Oh. I almost forgot. A while back, one of you mentioned a guy that supposedly got here who saw writing on the walls or something. Well, I did find some stuff scratched onto the walls.

It reads:

AM I IN HELL? 

IS ANYONE LISTENING TO MY PRAYERS?

I DO NOT THINK I AM ALONE

THERE IS NO ESCAPE FOR ME

Not great.

I’ll be honest. My resolve is starting to waver, and I’m starting to lose hope. That writing didn’t exactly help raise my spirits, either.

But you know what? I’m going to eat my laptop before I give up. I am not going to let my last words to my mom be ‘gotta go get groceries’. Not just because I have so much more to say to her than that, but also because those would be the lamest last words ever.

You can’t see me right now, but I am currently sending two middle fingers to whatever construction demon/paranormal force is controlling this place right now. If this yellow shithole thinks I’m going to just lie down and starve to death, it can think again.

If i get out of here

When I get out of here, I’m never looking at anything yellow ever again.

Chapter Text

I've got bad news and...

Nope. Just bad news.

I’m hearing footsteps. But I only hear them when I’m walking, like someone is deliberately matching my pace so as to not get heard. And they’re so faint…I can’t tell if they’re real or if I’m just hearing things.

I keep looking over my shoulder, and at some point I think I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye for a split second before it vanished. It was quick. Really quick. So quick that I can’t help but wonder if I imagined that, too.

Weirdly enough, the place has become eerily quiet. The lights aren’t as loud anymore, which was nice for about five minutes before it started to freak me out.

I don’t think I’m alone.

Chapter Text

HSEND HELP PELASE

ITS SO CLOSE

IT WONT STOPA SCRE AMING

HELP ME

Chapter Text

This site can't be reached.

 

SNet.com refused to connect.

 

Try:

• Checking the connection
• Checking the proxy, firewall and DNS configurations

Reloading…

Connection established.

Chapter Text

Oh thank god it’s working. I was afraid…

Jesus. My laptop crashed. I just had an actual fucking heart attack, I swear.

But that isn't what's important right now. 

Because there's something fucking out there.

I’m currently squatting in a dark room. Well, as close to a room as one can find in this place. While running I spotted a thin gap in the wall that led into a small nook, which I just barely managed to squeeze myself through—but I have no doubt that whatever that thing was could fit through it too.

I don’t know what it was. It isn't an animal I’ve ever seen before, and it definitely wasn't fucking human. But whatever the hell it is, it's terrifying.

It's big. It ran at me on all fours, but I have no doubt that if it stood it'd be over six feet. Its black body is thin and wrinkled, and it smells like rotting meat. For running on its hands and legs, it was fast as hell. The only reason I got away was because I turned so many sharp corners. In just a regular footrace, that thing could have caught up to me no problem.

I couldn’t get a good look at its face.

I don’t think it had one.

And its screams.

Jesus Christ. Its screams.

I saw a guy's leg break once, in a car accident. I remember while people were waiting anxiously for the ambulance to arrive, the guy was just screaming from inside his car the whole time. Eventually, when the paramedics came, they managed to drag him out of the wreck, and his leg was covered in blood and bent almost at a right angle. He screamed even louder.

It was one of the most fucked up things I've ever seen. I got nightmares after that day.

After this...I don't think I'll ever go a night without hearing that thing's screaming in my head.

It was worse. So much worse.

It was loud. And thick. And distorted. Like if the screaming of a dying man was played through an ancient, broken speaker. Even if I do somehow ecsape this place right now, that sound will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Right. Escape. I saw something else. While I was running.

Right before I spotted the gap in the wall, I spotted something else. A door.

I ran right past it, because I couldn’t exactly stop to open it. Plus if it was locked, I’d be fucked.

But still. A door! I haven’t seen a door snice—hell, since I woke up here. It could lead to an exit. Or a safe place with other people! Or at the very least, some shelter from that disgusting fucking creature.

In fact, if I peek out the crack in the wall, I can still see the hallway the door is down. If I make a mad sprint for it, I could get to the door and open it.

But is it worth it? I don’t think that thing knows where I am, so I could just wait here until it goes away and then walk over to the door.

But then there’s also the sadistic nature of this building to consider. I mean, really. Would this place really give me such an easy option? If the door vanishes and is replaced by a wall or something, I’d lose my only chance out of here.

Also, if that thing finds me in here, I am fucked. No ifs, ands, or buts about that. I am dead. Straight up.

Fuck. I don’t know what to do. It’s either leave and risk death or stay and risk death. Neither option is good.

Right. If ever there was a time to share your advice, it’s now. I’d appreciate it. No other option now.

(Also, I’m sorry for all the typos, my fingers are shaky as hell right now. Thank god for autocorrect, or half of this would be absolutely indecipherable.)

Chapter Text

I’m going to get to the door.

That seems like the only good option here. If I stay here, who knows how long that thing will stick around. And if it finds me, I’m dead.

I’ll just have to risk it. There’s no other option. I’ll try to stealth my way towards the door…but if that thing even breathes in my direction, I’m hauling ass.

If it’s locked, well, the only thing I can do is just get as far away from the thing as I can.

That’s all there is to it. I’ll wait when it sounds like it’s far enough away to leave. It’s been sticking around a while…maybe because it knows I’m close by.

If I don’t upload again, tell my family that I’m sorry and that I love them.

Wish me luck.

Chapter Text

Hi.

As you can see, I am alive.

Sorry for the brief silence—a lot of shit’s happened since my last post. Some of it good, some of it terrifying. Also, I accidentally fell asleep at some point, so that should explain the several hour time gap.

I’ll be honest, I might not be able to catch you all up in one post. I’ll try, but I might end up just posting what I have if I feel like I’m taking too long. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to stay in one place for too long here. (Which feels hypocritical, since I just took a long nap literally right before this post.)

And I’ve been slacking on answering the comments recently. Sorry about that—it’s kind of hard to type while you’re running from horrifying monsters. I’ll get back to that from now on.

Also, fair warning: my memory is kind of spotty at the moment, so not everything may be as accurate as I'd like. But I'll try and make it coherent.

When I decided to leave, it had already been several hours since my last post.

At this point, I'd spent several hours crouched in the dark corner of this little cramped room, and had become pretty accustomed to just sitting there and praying that the monster outside wouldn't find me in my little nook. Honestly, the very thought of leaving my hidey-hole and going outside where that… thing was kind of made me want to throw up. But then again, if I didn't leave, I would end up losing my only chance at getting out of this yellow hell.

Objectively, I knew it would be best to get up and book it for that door as fast as I could. The sooner, the better. Emotionally, I was an unwilling and anxious wreck.

It was nigh impossible for me to summon the courage to move even an inch from my spot in the corner. Every so often, I'd stand up, ready to squeeze myself through that thin gap and sprint to the door for a chance at salvation…and then I’d sit back down, deciding to stay for just a little longer until I was absolutely sure that the thing outside wasn't too close nearby.

I’d then stand again a few minutes later, this time really ready to leave, only for the thing to make a loud sound from outside. I would then sit back down.

This pitiful cycle would repeat itself for a long while.

The minutes dragged on like hours in the suffocating darkness of the room. Fear filled my stomach like molten lead. There was no sound save for that of my own heartbeat, which thumped loudly in the confined space.

After a few more minutes, a strange mixture of frustration and embarrassment bubbled up within me. How long was I going to sit here? What was the point? Sooner or later, I would have to do something. Why not just get it over with?

And so, with a deep breath, I got up, heart pounding, and I began to approach the opening as quietly as I could. 

Just before the entrance, I hesitated momentarily. For a few seconds, the prospect of retreating back to the safety of my little corner was very tempting—but I shook my head. I knew that if I sat back down, it was pretty likely that I’d never move from that spot ever again. So I sucked in a deep breath, tucked the laptop under my arm, and squeezed myself through that gap.

As soon as I stepped outside, my ears were assaulted by the loud buzzing of the lights overhead. I muttered a curse under my breath—I hadn’t heard the buzzing from my little hidey-hole for so long that I’d almost hoped that it would have been gone by the time I got out, but of course not. In fact, the buzzing seemed almost a little more aggressive than earlier. Like a nest filled with angry wasps. 

They were loud. Almost ridiculously so. There was zero doubt in my mind that trying to listen for footsteps, or the thing’s raspy breathing, would be almost impossible under these conditions.

Perfect. So if I ran into that thing, I wouldn’t even know until it was already on me. Great. That was just the encouragement I needed.

Already, I was starting to feel a bit panicked—I felt vulnerable. Defenseless. Exposed. Like a small animal being hunted by a hawk in the middle of an open field. I was almost ready to crawl back into that little room again.

But I was already out—going back would be pointless. So I took a few more deep breaths. Blew them out. Then I pinpointed the direction I was pretty sure I had last heard the monster from, turned around, and proceeded to walk in the opposite direction. 

It became clear almost immediately that not leaving that stupid corner much earlier had been a terrible, terrible mistake. All of the thoughts and the fears and the what-ifs swirling around in my mind had ended up burying my memory of the chase completely, and along with that, the location of the door. I had only the vaguest idea of where I thought I should be going, and even then I was constantly backtracking and double-guessing myself. 

After spending several more minutes walking around aimlessly, I began to panic again. I’d lost the door, and along with it, my only chance to get out of this place, all because I was too big of a fucking coward to take a risk.

Exhausted, hopeless, and terrified out of my mind, I decided that I was getting back to that little nook as fast as I could and that I wasn’t moving from that spot again for all of eternity. So I turned, quietly jogged down the path I’d just walked down, and then stopped cold.

I took a few steps back. Studied the hallway on my right.

This spot was familiar.

Hope flickered in my chest. An incredibly tiny flame of hope, but still hope. Heart racing out of excitement, I let my patchy memory guide me through the maze, and slowly, the memories began to come rushing back. 

I remembered this place. 

I remembered here, too.

And here.

I just had to keep going. I just had to walk a little bit further. I was so close, I could feel it! I was so close, I was nearly there—

tmptmptmptmptmptmp

I didn’t hear the galloping footsteps until it was too late. And by then, it was already on me.

A shriek, high and distorted and terrible, tore through the incessant buzzing. I swung around just in time to see the monster bearing down on me.

I didn’t even have time to scream. It slammed its head into my chest with the force of a battering ram, smashing me violently into the wall behind me.

I let out a strangled gasp as my lungs emptied of air. The laptop slipped out from under my arm. I felt something break under my back. It was either the wall, or my spine. I prayed to God that it was the wall.

I crumpled to the ground, barely able to breathe. 

The thing slowly stalked towards me, its head twitching slightly from side to side. Suddenly it stopped, and its empty face cracked open, revealing…a hole.

That’s the only thing I can really explain it as. It was not a mouth. If it was, I would’ve been able to see the back of its throat. This was an abyss. An abyss filled with nothing but darkness and hundreds of rows of needle-like teeth.

Needle-like teeth that glistened in the light as it lunged at me.

Somehow I managed to get my limbs to move, and I threw myself to the side. The monster slammed into the wall with such force that dust rained down from the ceiling.

It bounced backwards and rolled onto its back, stunned. I scrambled over to my fallen laptop, grabbed it, and then sprinted down the nearest corridor to my left, my heart pounding wildly.

My mind was on auto-pilot, and my legs were moving faster than my brain could think. I turned and twisted through the endless yellow maze, bolting through endless corridors of randomly segmented yellow walls and nonsensical hallways until I found myself at an intersection. Straight ahead, a sharp corner twisting to the left—and to my right, a familiar looking door.

This time, I chose the door.

I reached the door in less than a second. My momentum sent me smashing into the door with a loud crash, which did not feel great on my aching bones, but I quickly recovered from the shock and yanked on the door's handle as hard as I could. The door opened about an inch before stopping.

The thing’s roaring was getting louder. Closer. Snarling, I grabbed the door handle with both hands and put my whole body weight into wrenching the door back several times, getting it to open a centimeter more with each pull. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. A bead of sweat rolled down my neck as I pulled it open a few more inches.

A sort of groaning noise came from the other side of the door, and with a loud snap, suddenly the door swung open just a crack. But it still wasn’t open enough, and—oh God, its screams were so close, how close was it how close was it how close—

One last chance. One more chance to get this door open and save myself. I tightened my grip, set my feet on the ground, screamed—

—and I wrenched back the door with every ounce of strength I had left in my body.

A loud crack like a gunshot shot through the air, and suddenly the door swung open, smooth as butter. The thin chain links keeping the door shut on the other side scattered all over the ground. I staggered back, just barely managing to stop myself from falling on my ass as I did.

The thing rounded the corner.

Turned towards me.

And as it charged, I staggered upright, sprinted towards the doorway, grabbed the handle, and slammed it shut behind me, muffling the thing’s howl of fury.

I whipped back around and held the door shut as tight as I could, terrified that the thing was going to try and break through the door. Sweat dripped into my eyes as I listened to the monster snarling and screaming on the other side.

It screeched. Banged on the door a few times, making me flinch.

Went silent for a few long, heart-pounding minutes.

tmp tmp tmp tmp tmp

I pressed my ear to the door to make sure I was hearing it right.

It had walked away.

I stood there for a long while after the thing was gone. Still holding the door shut tight. Still absolutely terrified.

After a few minutes, it sets in that the monster is truly, absolutely, gone. And that it doesn't seem to be comping back.

My bones practically melted as I crumpled into a heap on the cold concrete floor, gasping for breath.

I don't know how long I laid there. A long time, is all I know. Eventually I got back to my feet, and proceeded to nearly fall over again.

I hadn’t sprinted that hard in ages, and it showed. I was struggling to breath, and my legs were so shaky that I had to press a hand against the wall for support. And not only that, all of the bones in my body ached from getting slammed into a wall at Mach ten. Shakily, I patted down my whole body, and while there are a few spots that hurt more than others, I was fairly sure I hadn't broken anything, which was such a relief I nearly collapsed again.

But I wasn't outside. Not just yet. I looked around.

I was standing in a dimly lit concrete hallway. The lights above were buzzing, but not as loudly as the yellow ones, and if I’m being honest, it was sort of a relief to be in a place that wasn't entirely yellow.

The remains of the chain lock that was holding the door shut were scattered across the floor. I kicked at the lock. “Little shit,” I mumbled. “You nearly got me killed.”

I slumped against the wall and stayed like that for another long while.

Then, after about thirty minutes, I straightened. Stretched my arms and legs.

I began to walk.

I had a lot of walking to do.

Chapter Text

I’m not sure if this new concrete place is better or worse than the yellow maze. For now, I’m leaning towards ‘better’.

It’s much more closed in and not as open as the yellow maze (which by the way is what I’m calling that now), and it’s much conventionally creepy. But it doesn’t feel as…I don’t know. Sanity draining…? As the yellow maze did.

The color in the yellow maze, as I have mentioned before, was loud and hard on the eyes, and I’ve already shared my opinions on those god-damned buzzing lights. Not to mention the bizarre placement of all the walls and the weird reality/mind fuckery that was going on in that place.

This place is just…a bunch of concrete corridors with pipes and wires running along the ceiling. With the occasional storage room filled with empty shelves. I don’t know why, but it just feels like a break from the insanity for some reason.

That is, until I came across the blood.

When I found the blood-streaked hallway, my first instinct was to turn around and walk the opposite direction.

Which, let’s be honest, is just common sense. If you find a hallway with a bunch of blood splattered all over it, of course you’re not going near it unless you’re stupidly curious, a horror movie character, or just stupid.

Granted, the blood was dried, and its brown hue suggested that it had been spilled a long time ago. But still, the vibes coming from that hallway weren't great. Walking away from there should have been the easiest decision of my life.

That is, if it hadn’t been for the backpack at the end of the hallway.

Yes—at the end of this hallway (and the blood stains) was a suspiciously clean blue backpack, just sitting on the floor amidst the bloodstains. It was so out of place that for a second I wondered if I was hallucinating.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Madison Hill, that backpack is so obviously a trap that it’s not even funny. And you’d probably be right.

But the problem was, I just didn’t care.

For the past few hours, I’d been getting thirstier and thirstier. The rush of adrenaline from the monster chase and the excitement of finding a new area had faded, leaving me with nothing but a dry throat, a grumbling stomach, and bone deep exhaustion. I could feel a slight headache coming on, and my mouth felt like the inside of a dusty paper bag. So much so that I was resorting to swallowing my own saliva to keep my mouth moist, which was not only totally gross, but also very unhelpful in terms of quenching my thirst.

And now in front of me was a backpack that could be filled with any number of things. Water, food, tools, water, a weapon, water, anything. Even if it had nothing, I could at the very least use it to hold my laptop, which I was getting very tired of taking everywhere.

Of course, there was the possibility that it could also have had, say, a small sleeping monster with an appetite for human flesh. Or a C-4. But hey, I'm all about that positive thinking.

So, after a deep think (read: fifteen seconds of salivating over imaginary food), I decided to walk towards the bag.

Now, I don’t want you to think that I skipped towards that bag exclaiming, “Oh boy, I hope there’s nothing around that corner next to that conveniently placed backpack that wants to kill and eat me!” No, I approached that bag with all the caution and anxiety of a squirrel sneaking past the gaping maw of a sleeping bear.

Upon getting roughly halfway through that hallway, I paused. Okay, I was 90% sure my brain was just making up noises to mess with me, but I was also 10% sure I’d just heard something around that corner.

Quietly, I took off one of my shoes and threw it to the end of the hallway. It clattered loudly, and I winced.

A creature did not run around the corner. The backpack did not come to life and try to kill me. Nothing happened.

I allowed myself a little sigh of relief, but I still couldn’t let my guard down. Who knew? Maybe it was biding its time. I inched my way closer to the backpack. Closer. Closer. Closer.

And now I was practically in front of it. Just a few feet ahead lay the backpack, and beyond it, a sharp turn to the left. I squinted and tried to peer around the corner, but my view was frustratingly limited.

There was no other choice. I’d just have to grab the backpack and make a run for it. I took a few deep breaths and reached for the bag. My legs were coiled and poised to sprint in the other direction if I got so much as a whiff of trouble.

And before I had time to reconsider, I lunged forwards, grabbed the backpack, and then sprinted back down the hallway. I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting a horde of angry monsters to come running around the corner.

That didn't happen. Nothing appeared around that corner.

I felt a fraction of relief, and I even slowed a little, but I kept my eyes on the end of that hallway, still just waiting for any unexpected guests to join my party.

Nothing.

I blew out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding and sat down heavily. I was fine. It hadn't been a trap. I was fine.

Okay. So luckily for me, there hadn’t been a bloodthirsty killer at the end of that hallway. And now I had a bag filled with...stuff! I wasn't sure what the stuff was yet, but I could feel it—there was something in there. A lot of somethings, in fact.

I grabbed the zipper, but hesitated for a second. I shook the bag lightly, and then waited to make sure that whatever was inside the bag was not moving on its own. And upon confirming that whatever in the bag was indeed not sentient (or at least not awake), I took a deep breath…and opened it.

It was not human flesh. It was not a tiny monster, or an explosive. It was water! And food!

Okay, maybe I’m being a little generous by saying there was food in there. I mean, it was just two granola bars. But still, I'd take it!

And even better—there was water! A full bottle!

I couldn't help myself. I ripped off the lid and greedily downed down half of it before the rational part of my brain reminded me about rationing supplies. Quickly sealing the lid and stashing it back in the bag, I felt around in the bag to see if there was anything else useful.

My fingers closed on a cold cylinder, and I pulled it out with a grin. A flashlight.

Sure, I didn’t technically need it as of right then, but it could potentially come in handy for later. I turned it on, and a bright beam of light came out of the end. 

“Let there be light.” I snorted at my stupid joke before turning it off and put it back in the bag. No use wasting battery.

There was nothing else in that bag of use, but that was just fine—I'd already gotten much more than I could have hoped for.

I zipped up the bag and got away from that bloodstain as fast as I could. Yeah, there hadn’t been anything waiting nearby, but still, I wasn’t taking any chances.

It was another few hours before I found something else that was interesting. I was debating taking a break to post an update when I came across a small supply room with a pair of shoes and a flattened cardboard box.

The shoes were too big for me, but I put them in the backpack anyways, just in case. I don’t know what I could use a pair of shoes for in this place, but it was better safe than sorry. And as for the cardboard, well, it wasn't exactly travel size. It was roughly the size of a mattress.

There was nothing else that interesting about this place, so I was about to move on when I felt a sharp pain stab through my leg, and I became aware of a feeling I'd been ignoring for a while now.

My feet hurt like hell.

Well, that made sense. I’d been walking for a while now with no breaks, out of fear that something would find me. And this place’s concrete floor was a lot harder on my feet than the relatively soft carpet of the yellow maze.

But I was moving for a reason. Now that I knew there were other things in here besides me that were willing to kill me in a heartbeat, wasn't it a better idea to keep moving than to stay in one place?

I looked at the cardboard. Mattress size, my mind whispered.

I hesitated before setting my backpack down and sitting on the cardboard. “Just a few minutes,” I told myself. “Just a few minutes and then I’ll keep walking.”

So I sat. 

Five minutes turned into ten—ten minutes turned into twenty. I laid back on the cardboard, just to make myself a little comfortable—

—and before I knew it, I was curled up fast asleep on the cardboard, with the backpack under my head like a pillow. 

Yes, this was another dumb move and you guys probably think I’m an idiot. But in my defense, I was tired, and when you’re tired you tend to find any excuse you can to take a break. Or maybe that’s just me.

When I woke up, I panicked a little. I mean, who falls asleep in a place where anything could just walk in and kill me on the spot? But after scanning the room and confirmed the absence of any unwanted monsters, and that I was not a ghost standing over my mangled dead body, I blew out a sigh of relief.

And then I realized how good I felt.

The day before I fell into this place, I pulled an all-nighter working on a project for work. And the day before that, I’d only slept a total of four to five hours, so even before I’d fallen into this place, I’d felt like shit.

But now that I’d had a good sleep, I felt great. My head wasn’t as foggy. My joints didn’t feel as rusted. And my feet were totally fine now.

Well, almost. The one I kicked the wall with still kind of hurt. (Man, why did I do that)

Anyways, after waking up, I realized that I hadn't provided you guys with a proper update and that you were probably panicking. So, I banged out a quick post, hit send, and packed up my stuff.

And as I slung the backpack over my shoulder, I found myself grinning. 

You know what? Maybe I actually stand a chance in here after all.

Chapter Text

The lights just went off. All of them.

I have no idea what’s going on. There was no warning, no signs of anything going wrong—they just went off without a sound.

I’ll be honest. I freaked out. I stumbled around for several minutes bumping into walls until I thought to get the flashlight in my backpack. And then my hands had been shaking so badly it was almost impossible to get it out of the bag.

The flashlight is bright and it works well, but I felt incredibly conspicuous holding it. Like I was holding up a flare in the middle of a dark field.

Which is why when I heard a loud noise come from behind me, I just started running.

I didn’t even know why I was running or if there was something I was running from. I just ran.

I found a door, and I just threw myself in with no hesitation. Judging from the small size and the mop in the corner, it’s some sort of broom closet. 

After getting in, I turned off my flashlight, because I was scared that a monster might see the light and kill me. So I’ve just been sitting here in complete darkness ever since then.

The worst part: the door won’t close properly. I’m not sure why, but no matter how many times I shut it, it keeps just swinging open on its own. 

So to summarize, I’m hiding in a small, cramped broom closet in complete darkness with a door that is unable to close and as a result is slightly ajar all of the time.

It'd be an understatement to say that I’m fucking terrified.

I don’t know what’s going on. For now, I’m just staying put. It took me almost an hour to write this because I’ve been shutting the laptop every time I hear something.

I think something’s been walking around outside. I have no idea if I’m hearing things or not, but I keep hearing footsteps. They don’t sound like the heavy footsteps of the thing I encountered in the yellow maze, though. They’re softer. So soft I can barely hear them.

So soft I can barely tell what’s real and what’s my imagination.

Is it looking for me? Does it know I’m close?

If it finds me, will I die?

I have too many questions but no answers.

All I can do now is wait.

Chapter Text

The lights are still off. I am still hiding. My leg is starting to cramp, but I don’t dare move.

I heard a noise in the distance. Like a yelp, or a shout. I think the thing outside heard it too; its footsteps faded away.

A few minutes later, I heard a scream. It didn’t sound human.

The footsteps came back afterwards. It is still outside.

How long has it been? What is the time?

How much longer do I have to hide?

Chapter Text

I’m sorry about the late update. It just took me a while to finish this because…well, I saw something that…

Never mind. You’ll see.

I didn’t know how long it had been. Hours? Days? Months? It definitely seemed longer than just a few hours.

My leg hurt like hell. I know a lot of you had told me to stretch it out in case I needed to run, but I had been so terrified that I hadn’t moved an inch.

But the pain was slowly beginning to worsen. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, and tears welled up in my eyes from the pain.

The footsteps were still outside. It was like the thing was patrolling the hallway outside.

After a few minutes of enduring the agony, I couldn’t take it anymore. Holding back a whimper, I stretched out my leg as far as I could, and—

My foot hit the wall with a thud.

I froze. Cold fear squeezed my heart.

The footsteps stopped abruptly. 

In the silence, my breathing felt too loud. I put a hand over my mouth.

The footsteps resumed.

They were getting closer now.

My heart was pounding in my ears, so loud I was sure the thing outside could hear it. My fingernails dug into my cheek.

The footsteps were right outside now. They stopped, just beyond the closet door.

Through the thin crack in the door, I could see the outline of something in the dark. My eyes darted to it. I did not dare move.

I could see half of the figure’s body outside. It was near impossible to make it out in the dark, but it looked like a person. The only part of it I could fully make out was its eye.

It stood out in the dark, somehow. In the pitch-black darkness, it was the only thing that I could see. It wasn’t glowing, or exuding any light. I could just see it. Like someone had melded an eye into the void.

The eye was trained on me. Its iris as black as the darkness around it.

The door opened just an inch, with a loud creak. The eye did not move. Neither did I.

And then through the half-open door, light flooded into the closet and blinded me.

I screamed and threw my hands over my head to protect myself, not that it would matter. If this thing had the same claws as the monster in the yellow maze did, there was nothing I could do to escape it.

I waited. Five seconds. Thirty seconds. A minute.

I slowly lowered my arms and peeked out.

Through the door, I could see the lights on the ceiling. Shining brightly.

The lights were on again. Through the door, I could see no silhouette. No eye. No person, waiting outside to slaughter me.

I just sat there for a moment, paralyzed. I waited for the thing I’d seen to reappear and kill me. This did not happen.

Slowly, I pushed the door open with my foot. Light filled the closet, and I squinted against it. After spending a while in the darkness, now the bright lights felt like I was being hit with the light of a dozen suns.

Outside there was nothing.

I let out a heavy sigh and sank down, letting my legs slide out of the closet. It was over now.

I just sat there for a while, trying to get the image of the eye out of my head.

Eventually, I decided that it probably wasn’t a very good idea to stay in the place something had just spotted me. I got up and stretched out my arms and my legs. I grabbed my backpack and made to leave the closet when I spotted the mop sitting in the corner.

I remembered one of the comments I’d gotten in the last post.

I grabbed it and lifted it up. “Let’s see if we can make a weapon out of you,” I said. 

After a while, I did in fact manage to make a weapon out of the mop. Just…not a very good one.

Okay, so you know how sometimes in zombie movies, if a character’s in a pinch, all they have to do is lift a broom at an angle, stomp on the part just above the mop head, and then boom! Instant weapon?

Well, let me tell you the truth. In real life, it is hard.

It took me several tries to snap the end of the mop off with my foot. And when I finally managed it, there were only a few sharp splinters at the end—nothing deadly. And it’s pretty awkward to wield, because it’s a lot longer than I expected. But at the very least, I imagine I could manage to injure a monster with this and give myself some time to run away.

So I decided not to drop it. And hey, even if it’s not a great weapon, it makes for a pretty good walking stick.

And now…this is the part I wanted to talk about the least. Even now, the thought makes me want to throw up. But I guess I should tell you guys.

It had been a while since the lights had turned on. I’d been walking around for a while, but I hadn’t managed to fully calm down yet. I was jumping at every little sound, checking around every corner with my pointy stick spear.

Thankfully, the longer the lights stayed on, the less jumpier I got. And to help along the process, I’d started to try and calm myself down.

I was walking down a hallway, as usual. It was dead silent, also as usual.

So of course I jumped when a low clanging sound came from the pipes.

I pointed the mop handle at the pipes, breathing heavily. After a moment, it hit me how stupid I probably looked, pointing a sharp stick at the pipes lining the roof. I sighed and lowered the mop handle.

“Calm down, you,” I muttered to myself. “It’s not good to get paranoid in this place. …or is it? Well, okay, I guess it is good to be a little paranoid, but not a lot. Things are fine, aren’t they? I mean…things could be worse. I could be lying dead in a closet right now, but I’m not. Things are fine right now. In fact, I might even go as far to say things are grea—”

I turned the corner. 

In front of me was a corpse.

I don’t know what it was. It definitely wasn’t human. It was some sort of animal. It didn’t have fur, and it was about the size of a dog.

That’s all I can tell you about what it was exactly. Because the corpse was mangled and ripped apart beyond recognition.

Blood coated the floor and the walls of the hallway. Its guts and organs were spilling out of massive slashes in its chest. I couldn't tell if it was missing its head or if it had just been carved into pieces, because the only thing at the end of its neck was a mess of red flesh and gore. And to make things worse, the metallic, sickly sweet smell of blood hung in the air. 

"Oh, god." I lurched back, putting a hand over my mouth. I didn't usually get sick so easily, but this was…different. I'd never even seen something like this before, not even in movies.

I turned and walked away, trying not to vomit. I didn't want to look at it again. I didn't want to look at anything like that again.

I hadn't looked at it for long. Just a few seconds. But that was enough. The scene had been burned into my retinas, and I couldn't escape it no matter what I did. I closed my eyes to escape it. Instead, it showed up in greater detail.

I stopped and pressed my hand against the wall for support. My breaths came out shallow and quick, and I swallowed, trying to keep back the bile rising up my throat.

After a few moments, I pushed away from the wall and walked down the hallway, getting as far away from the corpse as I could. I tried to push the image out by thinking about other things. Pleasant things.

But those thoughts didn’t last long. My mind kept going back to that corpse.

One thought did manage to stick in my head and push out the one of the corpse. Even now, it just keeps playing in my mind, over and over like a broken record. 

It's of the eye. Staring deep into my soul.

Accompanied by the thought that if the lights hadn’t come on at that exact moment, I might be shredded like that corpse.

Chapter Text

The surroundings have changed. I don’t know when—I haven’t even opened a door—but things have changed.

The hallways are narrower, almost claustrophobic now. The lights are dimmer than before, and the pipes on the ceiling and the walls are rustier and grimier. Occasionally some sort of liquid drips from cracks in the pipes. I’m tempted to drink the stuff, but that’s probably not a great idea.

It’s a lot hotter here, as well. It feels like someone’s pointing a heater at me on a warm summer day. I was sweating so hard I took off my shirt so I wouldn’t sweat out all of the valuable water in my body.

Speaking of which, I’m…well, I’m not low on water, but I think I’m getting there. There’s only a few inches of lukewarm water left in the bottle. Which I guess is enough to last me a few more hours, but still. I’m getting anxious.

I’m trying to ration things out as much as I can, but there wasn’t a lot to ration in the first place, so I shouldn’t be surprised about the water running out so fast.

I’ve still got one and a half granola bars left, though, which is nice. It’s funny how I’m considering that to be a good thing—up in the real world, two granola bars wouldn’t be enough for even breakfast. But I digress.

I don’t like Concrete Corridors 2.0 as much as I liked Concrete Corridors 1.0. (Ha. Sounds like I’m talking about a shitty video game.) Whereas the original concrete corridors just felt like the hallways of a recently abandoned warehouse, the new concrete corridors feels like the hallways of an ancient abandoned factory. It’s a pretty different vibe, and it’s a lot more unnerving.

At least this place isn’t dead quiet. There are noises coming from the pipes, vents in the floor, even from the roof. It’s like low banging, and the occasional hiss. It’s louder than the lights in the yellow maze, but it’s easier to block out.

Side note: should I call the different areas levels? I don’t know if I want to do that; it makes things seem less realer than they are. Is that a good thing? Ah, whatever. I’m just going to call them levels to keep things simple. A few of you are already doing that in the comments anyways. 

Anyways, nothing else interesting has happened. I just wanted to update on my situation. I’ll update again, if anything interesting happens.

Chapter Text

I’ve come across a lot of storage rooms in this place. Almost all of them have been empty, but a few of them have had some useful stuff, such as a roll of duct tape and a box cutter, which I used to whittle down my mildly pointy stick into a slightly sharper stick. (Which, by the way, have you ever tried to carve wood with a box cutter? It’s a painstaking process, let me tell you that.)

This storage room was almost the same as all of the other empty ones—rusty metal shelves, empty crates, cold concrete walls—I almost walked out until something on one of the higher shelves caught my eye.

It was, I kid you not, a small brown teddy bear.

To be honest, it was pretty cute. It was covered in soft looking brown fur, and it was about the size of a small melon. Its small plastic eyes were a lovely shade of gold, and there was a slightly crooked bowtie around its neck. And for some reason the expression on his face, which was probably intended to be a friendly smile, came off as more of a smirk to me. Which…weirdly, added to its charm. 

It exuded an aura of cuteness, comfort, and unbridled happiness (or smugness, depending on how one interpreted its grin). And in such a harsh and unfriendly place such as this...it felt completely out of place.

For a moment, I just stared at the bear, wondering if my thirstiness was already taking a toll on my sanity. I rubbed my eyes and squinted at it, half-expecting it to disappear.

It didn’t. If anything, it seemed more real.

That settled it. This was no ordinary teddy bear; there was no way. It looked way too innocent looking to not be an evil flesh-eating monster. 

Cautiously, I lifted my makeshift spear and approached the teddy bear like it was a sleeping lion. Very slowly, I leaned towards the bear and gave it a gentle poke.

It did not move.

“Hey. You going to kill me?” I asked it. 

Thankfully, it did not respond, but just to make sure, I poked it again.

It was probably just coincidental, but my poke had shifted it in a way that it was now looking at me. I could have sworn that there was a hint of skepticism in its eyes, like it found me the suspicious one.

“Don’t give me that look,” I told the bear. “I’m just making sure you’re not a shape-shifting monster that’s going to kill me.”

It continued to stare at me judgmentally.

“I mean, you get it, right?” I held up my stick defensively. “There’s some crazy shit in this place, you know. Can you blame me for being a little paranoid?”

The bear's eyes told me that yes, it could.

I scoffed. “Well, of course you wouldn’t know anything about that. You’ve probably been living it up on that safe and cozy shelf of yours, huh? Believe me, if you’d been through the things I’ve been through, you wouldn’t be looking at me so smugly.”

I paused as a thought came to my mind. “Actually, is it cozy on that shelf? Doesn’t seem like it. Sitting on some rusty metal bars probably wouldn’t be very comfortable, would it?”

Again, it was most definitely just my imagination, but the look the bear gave me seemed to say would you feel cozy in my situation, you dick?

“Okay, fine, I might have been a bit unfair there," I admitted. "I mean, you probably don’t wanna be here either, right? You should, like…be in a kid’s arms during bedtime or something like that. Not in a place like…” I gestured vaguely around me. “...this.”

If the bear could nod (or move) it probably would have done so, judging from its grumpy look.

“Alright then. Glad to see we’ve come to an agreement. Hey, tell you what—” I clapped my hands together. “I’ve got a deal for you. I take you with me, and when I find an exit, I will donate you to a child in need of a fluffy bear. In return, you don’t turn into a monster and brutally murder me. Cool?”

The light on the ceiling sparkled in the bear’s eyes in what could have been interpreted as excitement. I took this as a yes.

“Cool.” I picked it up with a grin. “I think we’ll be great friends, uh…what should I call you?”

I turned the bear over several times, trying to come up with a name, when I spotted a small tag on the guy’s butt. I scanned it for ideas, and then snapped my fingers.

“Ace,” I said. “You like that name?”

Love it, his eyes seemed to say, although I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Alright.” I grinned. “I think we’re going to be great friends, Ace. But just know that if you pull a Chucky and try to stab me to death in my sleep or something, I will tear out all of your stuffing without hesitation.”

Ace’s smirk seemed to widen. I hoped that meant that he was agreeing with me and that he wasn’t thinking something along the lines of I’m going to murder this poor naive fool when she least expects it. 

Which hasn’t happened yet. Me and Ace are great friends, and we met just half an hour ago. We’ve shared a lot of conversations since we’ve met, and it feels nice to talk my feelings out to someone, even if that someone is a plush bear who is incapable of talking.

And if that makes me sound a little insane…no, I'm not. If you were in my shoes, you'd probably do the same.

...

...ok, maybe I am a little insane, but my point still stands. In this hell, I’ll take all the comfort I can get.

Chapter Text

[Beginning of recording.]

[The video consists of nothing but a black screen. Static occasionally flickers across the screen.]

[A woman clears her throat.]

Ahem…okay, uh…[indecipherable muttering]...working?

Is this working?

Oh, no, the camera’s not working. Shit. Can I fix that?

[Silence, occasionally broken by the clicks of a mousepad.]

Damn it. Okay,  I can’t…the fucking settings aren’t…

Um…crap. Okay. Whatever. I guess the audio alone will have to do. That is, if this laptop’s mic is even working.

Okay, so this is a test. I’m testing out a new feature. If you guys can hear me, I need you to…tell me in the comments or something. Um, if you can’t hear me, then, well…this will all have been a complete fucking waste of time.

Uh…okay, that’s it. Post.

Post. Post. 

How do I stop the—?

[End of recording.]

Chapter Text

[Beginning of recording.]

Um…okay, okay.

So…hi, guys. Madison here.

Damn it, what am I supposed to say? Can I do a retake?

[A few clicks, coming from the mousepad.]

Damn it. I guess no retakes. 

Sorry about this, guys. I’m kind of awkward in front of a camera. Well, mic, I guess, because the camera isn’t working.

I’m not usually this awkward. I just talk better with actual people. Or teddy bears, I guess.

Oh my god why did I say that.

Anyways...so yeah, I can upload videos now, for some reason. I mean, the option to post videos was on the interface from the start, it just didn’t work. Everytime I tried to open it, the laptop just kind of freaked out and crashed. 

I didn’t mention this before, because it didn’t seem very important at the time. But a little bit ago when I opened the laptop, I got a pop-up talking about...posting videos or something? So I got curious and clicked on the option to post a video, and well...it worked.

Almost all of the options are blacked out, except one that says 'Record'. When I clicked it I was expecting it to record my screen or something, but it asked me for access to my webcam, and after I accepted it just started recording without warning. Which was what happened in the last post. 

I don't know how or why I can post videos now for some reason, but I'm not really complaining. I mean, it's totally—

[loud clanging]

Shit.

What the fuck was that?

Okay. Just the pipes again. 

Fuck…I’m pretty used to the weird sounds these pipes make now, but there’s still moments where they get me.

Anyway…ah…what was I talking about again?

Oh, right. Just recording videos is a lot quicker and easier than writing one big long text post, but I think I’ll stick to writing text posts for now. One, because it’s way easier to organize my thoughts, and two, because I don’t think it’s a good idea to be making a lot of noise in this place.

Uh…yeah, um, that’s it for now. I’ll let you guys know if anything comes up. I’ll be seeing you.

[End of recording.]

Chapter Text

Things are…not great right now.

The lights are dimmer than before. It’s not dark enough that I have to get out the flashlight, but it’s just dim enough that I have to squint to see what’s in the distance. If something snuck up on me, I wouldn’t know until it was on me already. 

There are sections of the place that are just completely dark now. No light, no nothing. Just a hallway that leads into darkness. I only came across these shadowy parts once every hour or so, but they’re getting a lot more common now. I’ve been avoiding them like the plague, but I think eventually everywhere I go will be in the shadows.

And I’m seeing and hearing things. Things so discreet I think I might just be hallucinating them up. The sound of someone breathing. A shadow retreating behind a wall. Low snarling. And a smiling face just beyond the edge of my vision. It’s driving me insane, and I don’t know what to do about it.

Even worse, I’m running out of supplies. I’ve only got half a granola bar left, and just a sliver of water. I feel weak, probably because I haven’t eaten a proper meal in ages. My stomach is constantly growling, and I can't shake the feeling of hunger gnawing at me. It's not just my physical strength that's waning; my mental state is deteriorating as well.

It’s getting darker, even as I’m typing now. I’ve been turning my flashlight on and off, torn between the fear of attracting unwanted attention, and the need to be able to see my surroundings more clearly.

Eventually the lights are going to go off completely. What I’ll do then, I have no idea. I’ll have to use my flashlight so I’m not totally blind…right?

Chapter Text

Shit.

I’m fading fast.

But I have to finish this first.

I can finish this.

I can.

No.

I will.

The lights went off.

I’ll admit it—when the lights went off, I panicked. I didn't panic nearly as much as I did last time, but it was pretty close. Getting out my flashlight was damn near impossible, not just because it was pitch black, but also because my hands were shaking violently and I couldn't seem to get them to stop.

As I advanced carefully through the hallways, my heart pounded. Every step I took seemed too loud. Every time I turned a corner my heart skipped a beat.

The breathing I'd been hearing since earlier was getting closer. Louder. Whenever I turned around to catch the source of the sound, the breathing would stop, and then just a few minutes later, start up again.

I was checking over my shoulder every few seconds now, paranoid that something would sneak up on me and try to kill me. I don’t know how long I went on like that—incredibly paranoid, constantly hounded by that goddamn breathing, constantly terrified.

Half an hour (by my guess) into the blackout, things got worse.

At this point I was almost paralyzed with fear. I was moving at the pace of a snail and was just shining my flashlight behind and in front of me every second now, trying to spot the entity before it could spot me.

At some point, I came to an intersection. I shined my flashlight down both hallways, wondering which one I should go down when I heard the laughter again.

From right behind me.

I whirled around and pointed my flashlight down the hallway, eyes wide with horror.

I froze.

Emerging from the darkness, floating in the middle of the hallway, was a face.

It looked like a mask, suspended in the air. The face was translucent to the point that I could almost see the walls behind it. The only details of its face that I could make out were the faint outline of its eyes, nose, and mouth, which were illuminated a dull white in the darkness. Its lips were pulled back in a wide smile that showed too many teeth. 

It did not move. 

I did not move. 

We stayed like this for several minutes.

I remembered what the comments had said.

Slowly, I reached for the power button on my flashlight and pressed it.

It turned off with a click.

The light went out, and everything went dark but the walls around the face, which remained dimly lit by its slight glow.

I’m not sure if I imagined it or not, but the face’s grin seemed to widen further, showing more teeth.

Then, abruptly, it vanished, taking all the light with it and leaving me in complete darkness.

A few seconds later, I felt blood explode from a cut on my arm.

I screamed and stumbled back, my arms thrown up over my head in defense. Something like a knife slashed across my face, and my scream echoed in the dark as blood splattered the walls. 

Somehow, I found the power button on the flashlight, and for a brief second the light shined into my eyes, blinding me.

Then something slashed across my hand, and the flashlight went spinning out of my grip and shattered on the ground.

I gasped. 

Blindly, I stumbled back and ran into a wall. Had that been there before? Where was I? 

I heard a whoosh and a gust of wind in my face, like somebody had swung something in my direction. I screamed again.

I was injured. I was blind. I was completely terrified. There was only one option for me.

I turned in a random direction and sprinted blindly down the hall.

I couldn’t see anything but pitch black surrounding me on all sides. The cut on my arm burned. Warm, sticky blood dripped into my eyes and mouth and the taste of iron was strong on my tongue. My thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear and panic as I tried to make sense of my surroundings.

Suddenly I slammed into a wall, the sudden impact sending shockwaves of pain through my injured arm and face. I fell backwards onto my side, and the rough concrete ground scraped my palms raw as I threw them out to break my fall.

Whimpering, I scrambled to my feet and reached out to the wall for support. Blindly waving my other hand around, I randomly picked a direction and ran. 

The throbbing pain in my arm and face intensified each time I slammed into another wall or tripped and hit the ground. The echoes of my own terrified breathing echoed in the darkness. I ran for what might have been either ten minutes or ten hours, waiting for the thing’s claws or knives or whatever it used to cut me to tear into my neck, to rip through my back, to slaughter me.

The attacks did not come. I continued to run.

I slammed into another hard surface, and agony shot through my arm, which felt uncomfortably warm and damp from the blood covering it. I staggered to my feet, shivering as I got ready to run again.

I braced my hand against the wall for support, and the feeling of cold metal shocked my hand. I felt around on the wall and found a handle.

A door.

I wasted no time in shoving open the door and rushing through. As soon as I was on the other side of the door, I slammed the door shut and slowly slid down against the door, my breathing coming out in ragged, terrified gasps.

Footsteps, outside. I clapped a hand over my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut. The scent of my own blood wafted in my nose and made me want to throw up.

The footsteps stopped.

The silence was deafening. 

The footsteps resumed. Slowly, they faded away until it was quiet again.

I didn’t breath for several more seconds before slowly letting out a shaky sigh. The tension in my body eased slightly, but just a little. My head fell backwards into the door with a bang.

I sat there for a long while.

I’m still sitting there, in fact.

I think I’ll be sitting here for the rest of my life, actually.

I’m bleeding out. I can feel the effects of blood loss already, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to finish this in time before I die. It’s getting harder and harder to type, and the letters on the screen are starting to blur.

I can feel blood oozing down my side into my pants. There’s a warm and sticky puddle of blood underneath me, but I feel so horribly cold. It’s like I’m freezing to death.

I’m so tired. 

If I fall asleep I think I'm going to die.

i don't want

I don't want to

I’m so tired.

I think I'm dying.

Tell my family I’m dead. Knowing them, they won't rest until they find my body, until they see the truth for themselves. But the truth is, they won't find my body, not unless they fall into this hellish place too. And that's the last thing I want.

Tell them I love them, too. I know it’s a cliché, but it’s true. Now that I’m at the end of my life, I can’t think of anything else I want to say to them as much as that.

Actually, that’s not true. I’ve got so many things I want to say but not enough time to say any of them. 

Don’t feel bad, guys. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted any of this. I have a feeling that this place is impossible to predict anyways.

I think that’s all I have left to say. I mean, there’s more, but I don’t have the time to say it all.

I don't want to die

i'll see you guys arounn

Chapter Text

[An image is displayed on screen. It is a picture of an open notebook, which reveals two pages filled with neat and legible writing. The notebook has a smooth black cover that looks to be made of leather.]

[Written in bold at the top of the first page is ‘Smilers’. Underneath, the text reads as follows:]

Smilers are, at least to me, one of the most fascinating creatures in this dimension.

Smilers appear as ethereal, slightly translucent faces adorned with iridescent hues, their smiles suspended in the air without a visible body. Traditional physical attacks prove ineffective against these entities; attempts to harm them will merely pass through their faces. Despite this interesting property, Smilers have proven unable to phase through walls, at least not that I have observed.

While an initial encounter with a Smiler may be disconcerting, countering them is actually fairly straightforward. All you need to keep them at bay is a source of light, whether it be a flashlight (the most recommended option), a lamp, or even the small flame of a lighter. However, the smaller the light, the more likely it is you are to be attacked, so be mindful of that.

The key to dealing with these entities lies in staying as calm and patient as possible. Smilers will try to get you to panic in any way they can, such as making loud noises and making quick movements towards their chosen victim. 

However, as long as you stay calm, the Smiler will get bored and eventually float off. Smilers are easily bored entities; if you are not panicking, screaming, and/or crying loudly, it will not take long for them to get bored and leave in search of a more entertaining victim. This can range from three to five minutes, so all you will need to counter this demon is patience.

Even if you are terrified, try not to show it. Smilers will stay for longer if their target is visibly panicking and scared.

But while these entities are not too difficult to deal with, they are still incredibly dangerous and should be treated with the utmost caution.

In the absence of a viable light source, the Smiler will attack on sight immediately. When entering their ‘attack phase’, the Smiler completely vanish from view. If this ever happens, there is no other option than to run. There is absolutely no stopping a Smiler that has entered attack mode. 

The Smiler’s method of attack is to slash at their victim with invisible claws. They are capable of doing a lot of damage in a short span of time, so it is crucial to get away fast if you ever see a Smiler go into attack mode before it can reach you.

This may all sound rather terrifying to you, but there is no need to worry. Thankfully, the Smiler is a fairly rare entity, as I have only encountered it roughly four times in the several months I have spent here. So long as you carry a light source around with you at all times, you should not have to worry about being mauled by a Smiler.

[The writing ends here.]

[At the bottom of page two, the name ‘A. Sullivan’ is scrawled in a loopy signature.]

Chapter Text

Um…hi.

...quite honestly, I don’t know what to even start with. I guess I’ll start with this—

I’m sorry if I worried any of you guys. But as you can see, I’m alive and well. 

Well…I’m probably not well, actually. Mentally, I'm not in the best state right now for several reasons: for one, I’m in complete darkness, and the only light I have is coming from my laptop. Also, I’m covered in my own blood right now, which is…distressing, for obvious reasons.

But as for my cuts, they seem to have…healed?

The cuts are gone completely. At least, I think they are. From the laptop’s light, I can just barely make out a faint scar where the cut on my arm used to be. And I'm not feeling the effects of blood loss or anything. No dizziness, no cold...nothing. I feel completely normal.

Which should be impossible. I should be dead right now.

I mean…it’s not like I’m not thankful for the fact that I’m not dead. I am. I’m incredibly relieved, in fact. But still, how? What, did a phantom doctor swoop in and magically heal all of my wounds? Even if they did, it’s literally impossible for injuries as bad as the ones I sustained to heal so perfectly so quickly. It should’ve taken a few weeks, at least.

Unless…

A few weeks have passed.

Shit.

Okay, I'm going to try not to dwell on that possibility for now. Ah… okay. Onto more important matters. 

Yeah. More important.

Right now, I’m in some sort of stairway. I know this because as soon as I woke up, I stumbled around in the darkness for a little bit and nearly fell down a flight of stairs, which would have been an incredibly embarrassing way to die after what I just survived. The walls and floor are made of concrete, and the stairs are lined by metal railings that block off a narrow opening in the center of the stairwell. The stairwell extends upwards and downwards for a long while, at least from what I can see. A normal stairwell, basically. 

Weird part is that there’s a number on the wall beside the door that says ‘3701’, which I guess means that…I’m at level three thousand seventy-one? I hope not, because I am not going to walk down three thousand seventy fucking levels.

And now, it’s time for the bad news. That being that I’m completely in the dark. Both literally and metaphorically. I’ve no longer got my trusty flashlight thanks to ol’ Smiley, so I have not a single source of light other than my laptop, which I am not willing to waste the battery of. (Speaking of which, the battery on this thing is surprisingly resilient. Only sixty-four percent?) Which means I will have to go down these stairs in…complete darkness. 

Double shit.

Navigating the stairwell in complete darkness is not a very appealing prospect, but I don’t think I have any other choice. I can’t lose my only way to communicate with the outside world. It’s literally the only thing keeping me sane.

I…I’ll be honest. I don’t want to get up right now. I just want to keep sitting here and talk with you guys until either I starve to death or until a monster finds me. But I can’t do that. I have to keep going.

I have to see my family again.

Chapter Text

Thirteen steps.

That’s how many steps each set of stairs have. Which is…well…I’m not a superstitious person, but if that isn’t some kind of bad omen I don’t know what is.

I’m on level 3645 now, which I’ve gone down…what, fifty-six levels? But I still haven’t found anything yet. No doors, no monsters, no signs, nothing. Just darkness and an endless stairwell.

Counting down the levels as I go down the stairs helps with the nerves, but only a little bit. The darkness feels oppressive, like it’s pressing in on me from all sides. I’ve never had claustrophobia before, but this place makes me feel like I’m suffocating. Like I’m buried in quicksand, and it’s all pouring into my mouth, my ears, my eyes. 

What’s worse, it’s really goddamn cold in here. After the relative warmth of the concrete corridors, the cold is hitting me hard. And It's not just the air; even the walls, the ground, and the railings are all ice-cold to the touch. I don’t get it—it wasn't this cold earlier. 

Maybe it just gets colder as I descend. And if that’s the case, I might have to consider going back up, because if it’s gotten this cold after only fifty-six levels, I think I might freeze to death after going down a few more levels.

And now my cuts, while healed, are starting to burn now, like someone’s pouring acid onto my skin. It hurts like hell. Most of the time, it's pretty manageable—just a persistent yet dull stinging. But there are moments where the pain will flare up, and then I have to just sit on the ground and whimper for a few minutes until the pain subsides to a more bearable level.

I hope that thing didn’t poison me. I hope the pain will stop eventually.

But wait—the bad news doesn’t end there. Because I have officially run out of water. And food.

Honestly, I’d already kind of accepted that it was going to happen eventually, so I thought I'd handle it better when it did. But while it might have been a little disheartening in the concrete corridors, in here , it just makes an already stressful situation feel even worse. I can feel the panic rising in my chest, and I’m trying my best to keep it down, but eventually I’m going to go down the deep end, and after that I’m afraid there’ll be no going back.

The only thing I can hope for now is to find a door that leads out of this hell. At this point, I think I’d even take the yellow maze over this place, with all of its buzzing lights and shifting walls included.

On the bright side, I think I’m getting better at moving around in the dark. Or at least, I’m getting better at going down these stairs without throwing myself down them. (Which surprisingly, hasn’t actually happened yet.)

I’m going to keep going, as far as I can. I don’t think I’ll update until I find an exit, or something equally noteworthy. Which might take a while, so if I don’t update for a long time, don’t panic too much. I’ll try not to die.

See you on the other side. (I hope.)

Chapter Text

[Beginning of recording.]

[Everything sounds slightly muffled. There is a constant hiss of static.]

[We can just barely make out Madison’s voice.]

Three thousand two hundred thirty-two.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred thirty-one.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred thirty.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred twenty-nine.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred twenty…eight?

[footsteps stop]

Yeah. Twenty eight.

[footsteps resume]

Three thousand two hundred twenty-seven.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred twenty-six.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred twenty-seve—er, five.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred twenty…four.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred twenty-three.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred twenty-two.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred twenty-one.

Fuck, where’d I even start?

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred twenty.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred nineteen.

[footsteps]

Three thousand two hundred eight—

[A cough.]

[footsteps stop]

Hello?

“Hello”. It’s not like anyone’s going to reply back, dipshit.

[footsteps resume, more slowly this time]

Fuck. What number was I on? Shit. Shit, shit. Okay. Okay. Calm down. Let me just…check…

[irregular footsteps]

[after a minute, footsteps stop again]

[the sound of fingers scraping against concrete]

What?

No, that—

What?

That’s impossible.

No, that’s—that’s impossible. That’s…no. Nine…?

Level nine thousand seventy-one.

No. No. No.

No, no, no, no, no no no no nononononononono.

I was just on—I was—I was just on level three thousand. What—?

No. Fuck. Fuck.

FUCK.

Okay. This is just…

A mistake. 

That’s…yeah, that’s right. I’ll go back up one level, and it’ll be three thousand again. Yeah.

[footsteps]

[A faint laugh.]

Shit—is anybody up there?

Fucking hell.

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps stop]

No. No. This isn’t…this isn’t possible.

This isn’t real. [nervous laughter] This isn’t fucking real.

How can it be…[inaudible] seventy-two?

No.

No.

[voice cracks] No, no, no.

[footsteps resume, now faster]

I just need to…[panting] I just…it’s a mistake.

Yeah, just some sick prank. If I just go up one more level…

[quick footsteps]

[footsteps abruptly stop]

Nine thousand seventy…

No, no, no, no, no, no, NO NO NO NO NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO

[footsteps, even faster]

Pleasepleasepleaseplease

[footsteps stop]

Nine— FUCK!

[footsteps, running]

[heavy breathing]

[running footsteps]

[gasping]

[running footsteps]

[sobbing] Please, please.

[running footsteps]

Please.

[running]

Please.

[running]

Please.

[running]

PLEASE.

[running]

[gasping]

[footsteps begin to slow]

[footsteps stop]

[heavy breathing]

I'm never getting out of here. I—[a choked sob] I'm never—

I want my mom.

[labored sobbing]

Okay.

Okay. Get your shit together, Madison. Stop fucking...

[Madison slaps her face several times]

Get it together.

You've been in worse than this. Get it together.

[footsteps resume]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

I'm so hungry.

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[foots̵t̴eps]

[foo̷͝ͅtstep̸̣̂s]

[foots̸t̷͕̕ȩ̴́p̶̥̎s̷͔̈́]

[En̸̯͝ḋ̶̢̔ of rec̴̦̒ord̸̮͋i̴̛̱̠̾ṋ̴̥͍͆̄̍̃g̵͚̟̝͕̏̇̓.̷̛̰͉̪̭̑]

Chapter Text

The levels are changing. I could have sworn I was just on level three thousand…something. Now I’m on level…nine thousand something.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter because I stopped counting.

I know that sounds pretty confusing. but at this point I just don’t care to elaborate.

I don’t care anymore.

I’m tired. I’m so tired.

I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared.

I am so fucking tired of being so fucking scared.

Every time I hear a sound I freeze. SOmetimes I even get scared by my own footstesp.

Isn’t that fucking patehic? Being scared of your own footsteps.

I want to sleep. I want to go to sleep so badlky. I could. I could lie down right now, backpack under my head, arms around my shivering body, and just sleep.

But if I sleep here i think something bad is gonna happen. Don’t ask how I know that. I just do.

I think I might die down here.

But I can’t die. I have to keep going.

I have to keep going. Can’t stop.

I have to see. My mom again.

What didd I do to deserve this? Why is this happening to me?

Actually, I know why.

I know what i did. I”ve done more than enough to deserve this.

What does mom even lok like? I cant remember

Why cant i remember?

I

I can’t stop. I have to keep going. Have to atone.

Have to keep going. 

I have to keep goin. Gotta keep going.

Keepi going.

Keep going, keep goine, geeg going keep goingkeegoging keep going keepgoing keep going geep going sdont stop dont stop dont stop dont stop  donstopdonsdtopdsondfjnksnfelsjnelmfnaewiflonflkasdhfnkj nehgoi;gjmed’;lmfak

esx,k

fuck

my head feels fuzzy

Chapter Text

[Beginning of recording.]

…and so I said, “No, you fool, you can’t remove spray paint with bleach.”

And you know what the clown does? He bleaches my mom’s shirt. Which, obviously, makes it even worse.

And even better, the idiot puts it back in the closet. And when my mom finds it, he has the audacity to blame it on me.

[footsteps]

Yeah, my brother’s a goddamn idiot.

Well, I guess he was twelve at the time, which I guess makes it a little less stupid. I mean, all twelve year olds are morons, aren’t they?

[footsteps]

My mom?

My mom…

She’s sweet. And understanding. And kind.

She’s the best.

[footsteps]

Well, no shit she got mad. We ruined, like, her second favorite shirt.

…actually, not we. It was all my brother.

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

I loved her.

Well, love her.

She’s still alive.

[footsteps]

[footsteps stop]

I wish I’d told her that before this happened.

Anyways.

[footsteps resume]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

Hm? What’s she look like?

[footsteps]

Well, she’s pretty. I know that much. For a woman in her forties, she looks great.

I just…I can’t…

Remember. W-why can’t I remember?

[footsteps stop]

[footsteps resume]

Um. Anyways…I’ve got a younger brother, too. His name is Simon.

He’s not that much younger. Only a year or two.

Yeah, he’s annoying…as, you know, most siblings are. Well, less annoying than my older brother, but still annoying.

...I wish he was here.

[footsteps]

I wish both of them were.

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

Actually...no. I don’t. Because if they were here, they’d be in my situation. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even my worst enemy.

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

Even though it’s so lonely down here.

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

My dad?

[footsteps stop]

Right…I had a dad, didn't I?

I...

Don’t really wanna talk about him. Sorry.

[footsteps resume]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

Anyways, which level am I at…?

[irregular footsteps]

[the sound of fingers scraping against concrete]

[footsteps stop]

…figures.

Six thousand seven hundred twenty three.

Goddamn reality changing fucking shithole.

[A faint thud from below.]

...hello?

Is anyone there?

Please, anyone…anyone?

Hello?

Please. Talk to me. Please.

S…stop hiding, or whatever you’re doing. Just…talk to me.

Talk.

Talk.

Talk.

Talk.

Please.

Fuck.

FUCK!

I’m fucking sick of this, Ace. I’m sick of it. Of everything. The dark, the cold, the—the fucking…

I’m sick of this.

I’m sick.

Sick.

I’m fuCKING SICK OF IT!

How long, Ace?

How long do I have to be in this goddamn…place?

This good for nothing, cold, musty, fucking…

Shithole?

[A laugh.]

[Madison begins to laugh.]

[The laughter trails off.]

I can’t take it anymore, Ace. I can’t.

I’m going to go fucking insane. I am. I am.

Fucking nuts.

NUTS.

NUTS.

Fuck.

Fucking.

JUST-

KILL ME ALREADY YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT

KILL ME

STOP BEING A PUSSY AND JUST FUCKING KILL ME

KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILLMEKILLEMEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

PLEASE

JUST LET

ME FUCKING

DIE

[A faint thud from below.]

Stop it.

STOP IT.

IF YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME, JUST DO IT.

STOP FUCKING TOYING WITH ME!

Fine.

I'm going down there.

[footsteps, heavy and fast]

[a catch in Madison’s breath]

[footsteps abruptly stop]

What the fuck…

I can see.

Why can I see…?

[scuffling footsteps]

[footsteps stop]

What the fuck.

What the fuck?

What…

A d̷͙́ỏ̴͉o̵̳͛r̵̗̿.

It’s…

A d̸̮͌̈̈̊̽̀̎̆͂̕̕͝͝o̷̞̝̭̟̠͚̘̫̰̓́̈́̈́́͝ͅo̷̠͙̻̼̟͇̠̖̻̗̫̒̔̍r̶̡̞̣͚͔̻̮̎̂̔̃̀̓̌̊͛͐͝?̴͍̯͈̻̖͊̋́̋̈̏́̿̈́́̄̅͜͠

Chapter Text

[An image is displayed on screen. It is that of a b̶l̷ă̶͍c̴̝̚ḵ̷̟̈̐ ̴̨͓̿͘͜d̸͙͕̒͆̂͠ȯ̸̹̱̭͇̇o̵̠͐̄̓̑r̴͚̽̅

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[error]

[error]

Chapter Text

There’s a door in front of me.

And I can see it.

Like, actually see it.

The darkness has…receded. Not completely, it’s still pretty dark. But now I can at least see my surroundings, and myself.

…there;s

There’s a lot more blood on my clothes than i thought there would be.

Ok, I need to stop thinking about that or I’ll have another panic attack.

Anyways. The door. I don’t know how to explain it—I can’t look at it too long, or else my head starts to ache.

It’s. Dark? 

This is going to sound weird. Like…the door is black, but it’s not a regular kind of black. It’s like…a black that’s so dark it seems to suck in all the light around it. Kind of like a black hole.

I want to open it. This is the first door I’ve come across since I got into this fucking stairwell.

…it wants me to open it.

I can hear it whispering. 

No. it’s not the door.

It’s something else.

It wants me to open the door.

I

I’m not sure if i want to do that.

I should open it, right? I mean, I'm practically dead if I stay in this stairwell anyways. No food, no water…half of me wants to open the door right now.

But. But but but.

I don’t…like it. I don’t like the feeling of the door. It scares me.

Shit.

It’s whispering again.

It won’t fucking stop

SHUT UP 

Sorry. Fuck. i need to get myself together.

Let me explain first. The door…gives off, like…really bad vibes. Which I know sounds really goddamn stupid, but let’s be honest. Do I really wanna go through a door that’s fucking psychic blasting whispers into my mind in order to get me to open it? Do I?

…do I?

I don’t know. I don’t know, I donkt know, and I hate it. I hate it so much.

I hate how much I don’t know.

But I…don’t.

I need help.

I don’t know what to do.

Help me.

Chapter Text

Right.

Right, right.

I never had much of a choice, did I?

I have to open that door.

I have to.

There’s no other choice.

Holy shit I’m terrified.

I don’t know w̴h̶at to write. Wi̶s̶h̷ me luck, I guess. If I dö̶͕́ṉ̸͋’̸̗̇ṭ̷̏ ̸̛̭u̵̲͌p̸͍̓ḋ̴̥atȩ̸͗ again afţ̶̀e̶͙̚r̷̯̈́ this, ẇ̷̦e̸̺̚ļ̷͆l̷̦̕…̷̻͗

Y̸o̵u̵ ̷k̶n̵o̸w̵ ̸w̶h̶a̴t̸ ̶h̷a̶p̸p̶e̸n̶e̵d̴.̶

R̸e̸a̴l̶l̸y̴,̸ ̶I̸’̶v̴e̶ ̷a̵l̴r̷ȩ̷̴̵̛̲̈́ȁ̷̷̶̺̜͒d̵̴̶̗͈̈̾y̶̴̷̝̫̌̑ ̴̵̸̹̺̄́s̵a̴i̷d̶ ̴a̸l̸l̷ ̷t̸h̴̸̴̨͖͋̍ę̶̷̶̬̓̕r̶̶̶̢̈̈ͅe̷̸̶͚̦̚͘ ̵̵̶̢̫͆̂i̵̵̸̗̗̇̇s̴̷̵̰̳̄͝ ̸̶̴̱͉̓͋ṯ̸̶̵̛̖͗o̴̶̷̢͕̊̈́ ̶̵̷̻̳̇̆s̸̷̸͔̬̊͐å̷̴̵̜͙̾ÿ̷̴̴̛̟͖ ̷̶̸̩̣͂̽i̷̸̴͙̘̐̑n̶̸̵̖̖͛̕ ̵̴̵̨̭͑͝m̵̴̷̝͕̈́͝y̶̶̴͇͌̆ͅ ̶̶̵͇̜͗̕l̴a̷s̶t̶ ̶p̴o̸s̷t̵s̴.̷ ̴I̵’̷m̷ ̵r̶e̷a̴l̷l̷y̶ ̸̵͓͐g̴̵̶̮̻̈͠r̶̶̴̘͈̄͗ä̴̸̸̤̕ͅt̶̸̴̘͚͛̈e̵̴̵̘͙̽̒f̸̵̸̹̃̅ͅu̶̷̴̦͚̎̅l̷̶̶̬͙̓̋ ̸̷̶̪̜̀͒f̵̷̸͇̘̐͐ǫ̵̸̷̪̂͐ṙ̸̴̴̨̙̃ ̷̷̴͙͇͑͗y̷̶̷͙̟͋̚ǫ̷̴̷̲́̐u̷̷̵͖̥̿͝ ̴̴̵͇͚͑͠g̶̸̷̢̛͚̒ừ̸̸̴̪̖y̴̶̴̳̱̿̈́s̴̶̴̡͇͆̀ ̶̵̴̧̳̋̔ä̸̶̴̼͇́̔n̶̷̷̞͚͌͝d̴̶̶̯̺̐͒ ̵̶̶̘͈̿̒a̴̶̴̤̩̓̚l̴̵̴͉͍͗́ĺ̷̴̷̝̻̊ ̴̵̷͚̮̓̓t̶̵̷̮͓̃̉h̸̴̸̭̭̍͝e̸̸̸̫͔͑̅ ̶̸̶͎̳̃̈s̸̷̸̱͎̆̉ȕ̷̷̶̬͔͝p̶̵̴͉̖̒̕ṗ̷̸̵͓̟̆o̷̵̴̗͔͒͠r̷̴̷͇̝͛͊t̷̵̴̤̳̋́ ̴̵̶̬̼̉̅y̷̸̶̞̝͂̿o̸̷̵͉͖͒̽ủ̸̶̵͙͍́’̶̵̴̜̲̔̀v̴̷̴͙͚̅̽e̴̴̶͇͕͝͠ ̸̵̴̨̥͌͒g̵̴̸̙̰̔̓i̸̸̷̤̯̊̉v̵̴̶͉̞̆̔ȇ̸̵̵̥͇̂n̸̵̷͓̖͂͂ ̵̴̷̨̙̎́m̴̴̶̫̺̉̈ȩ̵̷̷͍̅̏ ̷̷̴̼̰̅̂s̷̷̷͖͆͜͝ỏ̶̸̸̪͇͊ ̴̵̵̙̜̊̓f̶̵̴͙͍̉̾a̵̷̴͔̋͗ͅr̸̶̶͖͊̔ͅ.̶̴̷̯͕͑̔

T̵̨̢̛̜͎̮͈̐͛̈́͒̎́̈̕͝ḥ̸͙̓̏͛̓̆̑̈́̕͘͠a̵̖̬̿̃̈̒̇̇́̊̂͝n̴̢̢̟̝̻͙̠͎͍̤͇̝̳̈͐̇͑͂͊̈́̂͘͠k̷̢͉̪̟̣͙̙̗͔̱̓͗̑͒̍͂̅̓͒̉̑̚͝͝͠ͅ ̴̛͖̈́̏̄̍̌̋̚̕̚͝y̵̰̦̜͔̱̣͉̠̐̋̎͝o̶͔̯͓̙̙̞̜̗̲͎͇͕̺͂̇̈́̇͋͌̄͑̍̕̚ͅų̵̪͚͙̳̭͍̫̟̭̩̜̫͔̂̊̍̍͆̒̈́͛̽͠ ̴̠̍͛͋ ̷̧̖̮̫͈͆ ̴̨͔̣̞͔̟̭̪̇́͗̃̆͌͐̕ ̸̢̞̥̱͗̎̏̌̽̔̈́̈́ ̷̯͚̮̼͒́̇͘̕ ̵̧̨̦̬͕̙͕͎͍̀͆̈́̾͌̂̒͋͝ ̸͓͖̹͓̱̈ ̴̱̅̈́̂ ̷̛͖͚̝͔̯́̓͑̎ ̷̡̢̭̻̟̘̍͋́̇̊̅ ̶̙͎̻̥̰̲̟̲͒̓͐͆̕ ̴̸̢̞͇̲̼̻̞͎̞̼̯̏̍̀́̍̃͜͠ͅ ̵̟͚̠̠͉̭̣̐ ̵̨̢̛̀̓͊͆͆͗̚͠ ̷̥̟̺̞̰͓̤̅̒̇̀́̋ ̵̦̹̫̹͙̠̱̬̼͊̐̊͐̊̀̈̊̾̄ ̶̧̰͈̺͕̠̾̓͐͋͊͋͘͝ ̴͔͇̪̮͈̹̼̞̮̮̂ ̶̤̮͈̦̙͐͊̂͂́̋͐̈́̿ ̵̢̗̱̹͐͐͋͂̀͛̔͘ ̴̧̠̝̯͈̣̟̜͂͒̈́̄̏͛̅͝ ̶̖̦͔̱̀̍̒̇͊͝͝ ̵̢͎͎̫͎̭̟͉͒̾̿ ̴͉̱̻͇̖̤͇̀̂̀͊̋̊ ̵̳̘̠͒́̉̒̈́̓̋̒̎̕ͅ ̸̺̦́͌̚ ̴̥͓͋̏̈́͋̀̀͘ͅ ̴̠͔̳͗͂ ̴̥̖͔̓͌͋́̔͐ ̴̝̗͋̌̈͒̐̕ ̷̨̧̢̪̖̲̗͎̟̥̐̇̀̎ ̵̱̙͇͇̲͕̜͉͍͔͛́̿̉̍̌ ̸̮̌̂́͂̐͗͘ ̵̨͍̥̣̖̠̞̺̻͗̾̚ͅ ̵͖͛͑́͊̍̒͘ ̷̨̛̮͕̝̮͔̜͚̽̃́̍̓̏͘͝ ̷͙͉̙̝̭̳͆̇́̆͊̀̉̚ ̴̯͚̮͖͐̐̈́͌̿̔̕ ̴͔̞̝̔̀͗̾͋̾͂̚͝ ̶̨̡̳̼̤͖̻̝̰̎͌ͅ ̵̨̡̠̝̜̩̒ ̴̪̿̓̊̋͆̓͒̓̇͘ ̶̧̨̨̭̳̜̦̩̞͂̈́̐̈́͒̅ ̷̦̜̪͉̣͕̜̘̬̑͒

 ̴̡͙͎͍̠̔̾̿̋͘ ̸̣̫̆͛̿̿͝ ̶̹̝̗͍̜͈̫̆ ̶͈̺̦͉̀̚ ̸̦̘̥̭͙̀́́ ̶͎̗̠̲̖͚̀ ̶̛̭͖͈̭͕̰̯́̋͒̇ ̷̪̺͑͜ ̸͎͛̒ ̵̱̫̺͉͖̼͑̈́́͝͝ ̵͎̮̑̚ ̸͍͖͊̔̈́̎͊͝ ̶̖̘̭͒̎̄̐͋́ô̷̖̫̻̭̜̎̂̓̚͜u̷̸̢̠̱͎̞̼̯̓͌̂̉̃̕͜͠ͅ ̵̟͚̠̠͉̭̣̐ ̵̨̢̛̀̓͊͆͆͗̚͠ ̷̥̟̺̞̰͓̤̅̒̇̀́̋ ̵̦̹̫̹͙̠̱̬̼͊̐̊͐̊̀̈̊̾̄ ̶̧̰͈̺͕̠̾̓͐͋͊͋͘͝ ̴͔͇̪̮͈̹̼̞̮̮̂ ̶̤̮͈̦̙͐͊̂͂́̋͐̈́̿ ̵̢̗̱̹͐͐͋͂̀͛̔͘ ̴̧̠̝̯͈̣̟̜͂͒̈́̄̏͛̅͝ ̶̖̦͔̱̀̍̒̇͊͝͝ ̵̢͎͎̫͎̭̟͉͒̾̿ ̴͉̱̻͇̖̤͇̀̂̀͊̋̊ ̵̳̘̠͒́̉̒̈́̓̋̒̎̕ͅ ̸̺̦́͌̚ ̴̥͓͋̏̈́͋̀̀͘ͅ ̴̠͔̳͗͂ ̴̥̖͔̓͌͋́̔͐ ̴̝̗͋̌̈͒̐̕ ̷̨̧̢̪̖̲̗͎̟̥̐̇̀̎ ̵̱̙͇͇̲͕̜͉͍͔͛́̿̉̍̌ ̸̮̌̂́͂̐͗͘ ̵̨͍̥̣̖̠̞̺̻͗̾̚ͅ ̵͖͛͑́͊̍̒͘ ̷̨̛̮͕̝̮͔̜͚̽̃́̍̓̏͘͝ ̷͙͉̙̝̭̳͆̇́̆͊̀̉̚ ̴̯͚̮͖͐̐̈́͌̿̔̕ ̴͔̞̝̔̀͗̾͋̾͂̚͝ ̶̨̡̳̼̤͖̻̝̰̎͌ͅ ̵̨̡̠̝̜̩̒ ̴̪̿̓̊̋͆̓͒̓̇͘ ̶̧̨̨̭̳̜̦̩̞͂̈́̐̈́͒̅ ̷̦̜̪͉̣͕̜̘̬̑͒

 ̷͎̪̱̎̍̓͛̓̍́̊ ̶̲̳́ ̵̨̻̰̞͔͈̂͋̓̑̑̍̅̉͜ ̶̛̦͕́͗̑̃̕͠͠ ̸̱̠̽ ̴̧̰̞͔͂̅͘͜ ̵̡͖̻̗̖̜̎̿̕͝ ̸̡̖̬̱̿̓̀͗̿̄̆ ̴̫̼̋́̀̋̒͂͝ ̴̦̦̖͚̟͙͔̹̑̂͒͊ ̴̭̇̾ ̸̢̟͓̠̪̜͊̌̓̃̋̽͝ ̴̦͋̍ŏ̵̟͚̃̓̐͒̀̒u̵̷̡̦̯̳̮̱̺̳̝̗̻͈̽͛͗̇͂̈́̀̇ͅ ̵̓͌̆̓͑̒̕͘͝ ̸̯̯̻̊ ̸͇̩̲̙̏̂̑̂̾̕ ̴͈̩̻̙̹͒́ ̴̢̪͇̮̪̱̩̩͗͊͘͠ͅ ̶̢͍͕̮͉͕̼̺̱̒̒̂̾̇̑ ̷̢͈͎̝̥̬̩̰͈̘̋̑̽̈́͆ ̴̙͓̇̌͘ ̵̞̺̘̂͒̑͆̈́̉̈̆̋́ͅ ̶̻̭̱͖͔͍̝̥̲͑̈́͌̃̃͒̐̃ ̶̞͎̻̥̙͎̩̼̰́̐͌̐̈́̀͘ ̷̧͙͍͔̦̫̋͂̕͘ ̸̩͓͉̺̠͎̤͔̻̈̉̅̽̈̈́̈͋ͅ ̶͚̀

 ̷͎̪̱̎̍̓͛̓̍́̊ ̶̲̳́ ̵̨̻̰̞͔͈̂͋̓̑̑̍̅̉͜ ̶̛̦͕́͗̑̃̕͠͠ ̸̱̠̽ ̴̧̰̞͔͂̅͘͜ ̵̡͖̻̗̖̜̎̿̕͝ ̸̡̖̬̱̿̓̀͗̿̄̆ ̴̫̼̋́̀̋̒͂͝ ̴̦̦̖͚̟͙͔̹̑̂͒͊ ̴̭̇̾ ̸̢̟͓̠̪̜͊̌̓̃̋̽͝ ̴̦͋̍ŏ̵̟͚̃̓̐͒̀̒u̵̵̦̯̳̮̱̺̳̝͕͕̽͛͗̃ ̷̧̝̓ ̵̍̿͝ͅ ̵̱͎͝ ̴̝̒͗́ ̸̰̙̲͒̓̇̈́ ̷̹͚͍̉ ̵̘̬̖͝ͅ ̶̘̹͓͔̓͒͘ ̵̢̢̩̞̂ ̵̢̧͉̝̎͛̿̚ ̸̗͇̊́ ̷̡̟̬͆̎͂̏ ̵̫̪̻̂͐

 ̵̍̿͝ͅ ̵̱͎͝ ̴̝̒͗́ ̸̰̙̲͒̓̇̈́ ̷̹͚͍̉ ̵̘̬̖͝ͅ ̶̘̹͓͔̓͒͘ ̵̢̢̩̞̂ ̵̢̧͉̝̎͛̿̚ ̸̗͇̊́ ̷̡̟̬͆̎͂̏ ̵̫̪̻̂͐

 ̸͖̥̔̓̈́ ̸̣̯̽̋ ̸͓̈́͜

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INTERVIEWTRANSCRIPT03/19/31

Posted by █̴̳̲̠͇͕̄̓̎█̷̛͎̼̣̽̄̎̂̇͜͝█̸̧̘̜͚̟̞̖̾̋̊█̵͎͎̆█̷͚͎͒̈̚█̵̤̥͌̑͒̀̾̆█̶͙͎͒̅̚█̸̥̣̗̟̐̃̌̅̄͠͝█̶̢̠̬̟̘̏̔͝͠ on January 23rd, 12:33 A.M.

INTERVIEWER: Good afternoon, Mr. ████████.

██████ ████████: ...yes. Good afternoon.

INTERVIEWER: I thank you for your cooperation. I trust you are comfortable with beginning the interview?

██████ ████████: I am.

INTERVIEWER: Very well.

INTERVIEWER: First question.

INTERVIEWER: Can you describe what happened when the machine activated?

[brief pause]

INTERVIEWER: Mr. ████████?

██████ ████████: Apologies. I...it’s...it’s been an overwhelming few days.

INTERVIEWER: I understand. Take your time.

██████ ████████: Thank you.

[brief pause]

██████ ████████: When it began, I thought I was dying.

██████ ████████: The air seemed to…to press in on me. It smothered me. Suffocated me. I began to panic—I kicked and punched the glass so hard I still feel the pain in my limbs now. I think the people outside the machine were panicking, as well. I heard quite a lot of shouting through the glass.

INTERVIEWER: What happened next?

██████ ████████: ...I...felt pain.

██████ ████████: The worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life.

██████ ████████: It was as if my skin was burning off my bones. As if my bones were crumpling and folding in on themselves. As if…

██████ ████████: As if my eyes were melting from their sockets.

[████████ breathes shakily]

INTERVIEWER: Mr. ████████?

██████ ████████: I’m sorry. I—I seem to have had a change of heart. Can we schedule this for a later date—?

INTERVIEWER: Apologies, Mr. ████████, but we have delayed this interview for long enough. This information is crucial for understanding what went wrong with the machine.

[brief pause]

██████ ████████: Alright. Fine.

██████ ████████: Please, just...give me a moment to collect myself.

INTERVIEWER: Whenever you're ready to proceed.

[Silence spanning 07:31 minutes.]

[long sigh]

██████ ████████: I couldn’t breathe. The air around me felt like it had been sucked away. I nearly passed out.

██████ ████████: While this was happening, everything was...very bright. And just when I thought I might actually die…everything went very…dark.

██████ ████████: I remember wondering if I had gone to hell.

██████ ████████: And then I opened my eyes, and I was sitting in a room.

INTERVIEWER: A room?

██████ ████████: Well, I’m…not sure if I would call it a room. It was an open space. A randomly segmented maze of yellow walls. The wallpaper looked old. The lights were all working, although they had this incessant buzz that drove me mad.

INTERVIEWER: This place was man-made?

██████ ████████: No.

INTERVIEWER: No?

██████ ████████: Wherever that thing sent me...it was not man-made.

INTERVIEWER: …elaborate.

██████ ████████: Everything humans make serve some sort of purpose. To house things. To house people. For entertainment. For work.

██████ ████████: This place was just...an endless maze of hallways and rooms with no purpose. It’s as if an entity tried to emulate human buildings with no idea of the functionality or meaning behind them.

INTERVIEWER: That doesn’t prove it wasn’t man-made.

██████ ████████: Two hours.

INTERVIEWER: Excuse me?

██████ ████████: I wandered around that building for two hours. The place was unreasonably big—there’s no reason for anybody to have made it. The construction cost alone would have been exorbitant.

INTERVIEWER: I’m sorry, but I fail to see the significance. We’re talking about the machine and what it did. And from what I’m hearing, this sounds like an odd building, but ultimately irrelevant to our concerns.

██████ ████████: That’s because I haven’t told you what happened next.

INTERVIEWER: …and what did happen next, Mr. ████████?

[brief pause]

██████ ████████: After waking up, I got up and began to wander around. I was walking for two hours, as I told you.

INTERVIEWER: How do you know?

██████ ████████: Actually...I can’t be sure. My watch seemed to be...malfunctioning. Somehow. But that’s just my guess.

INTERVIEWER: …I see. How did you end up escaping?

██████ ████████: I...

██████ ████████: You won’t believe me.

INTERVIEWER: Tell me anyways.

[brief pause]

██████ ████████: I’d been walking for a long while when I saw it. If I’m being honest with you, I was beginning to crack a little. I was disoriented, confused, and slightly angry. And that damn buzzing would not stop.

██████ ████████: So when I found a door in one of the walls, I was thrilled. Thought I’d finally found a way out.

INTERVIEWER: Had you?

██████ ████████: I had not.

██████ ████████: The door...well, it led to a stairwell.

INTERVIEWER: A stairwell?

██████ ████████: Yes. And it was...dark. There were no lights. If I went inside, I’d be completely in the dark. And I didn’t have a light on me.

[brief pause]

INTERVIEWER: You went in, didn’t you.

██████ ████████: Of course I did. I’d have been crazy to pass up a chance at escape like that.

██████ ████████: If only I’d known.

██████ ████████: If only...[inaudible muttering]

INTERVIEWER: Do you need a second?

██████ ████████: Yes. Thank you.

[Silence spanning 01:31 minutes.]

██████ ████████: I went down the stairwell as slowly as I could, and I kept my hand on the wall as I went down. I was unable to see anything, but from what I could find, there were no doors. No windows. The only thing I found were some numbers, etched into the wall on each level. I think they were the floor numbers.

██████ ████████: It was dark. Very dark.

██████ ████████: I couldn’t even see my own hand in front of my face.

██████ ████████: Eventually, I gave up and headed back up the stairs to the door. It was too dark, and it was starting to get dangerous.

██████ ████████: But when I got back up there, the door was gone.

INTERVIEWER: Excuse me?

INTERVIEWER: The door was gone? What do you mean by that?

██████ ████████: I mean it had vanished. And before you tell me that I missed it in the darkness, I left it open. I should have been able to find it from the light.

INTERVIEWER: Is it possible the door shut by itself?

██████ ████████: Even if it had, there was a thin gap under the door. I should have seen some light through that gap, as well. And I knew what level the door was on, so there wasn’t any chance of me being on the wrong level. It was four-hundred and ninety-seven. I repeated it to myself a dozen times as I descended. It’s impossible for me to have gotten the wrong number.

INTERVIEWER: That’s...

██████ ████████: Hard to believe. I understand.

██████ ████████: But it’s true. It’s all true.

INTERVIEWER: So you were stuck in the stairwell with no exit and no light.

INTERVIEWER: How’d you escape?

██████ ████████: I’m getting to that.

██████ ████████: As you can imagine, I...didn’t take this very well. There was quite a lot of screaming and pounding the wall. I’m glad nobody was there to see it, it was rather embarrassing.

██████ ████████: And then, well...I just started to go up the stairwell. There wasn’t much else I could do, after all.

██████ ████████: I climbed that stairwell for...for...

██████ ████████: God...how long was I in there for?

INTERVIEWER: You said you wandered that building for two hours.

██████ ████████: That’s...

[Silence spanning 05:49 minutes.]

██████ ████████: I found a door.

INTERVIEWER: A door?

██████ ████████: A black door. I...it was odd. Somehow, my surroundings seemed to brighten a little. Well...not brighten, exactly. The darkness receded just enough so that I could see my surroundings. Nothing more than that.

INTERVIEWER: What’s so odd about that?

██████ ████████: There were no lights.

INTERVIEWER: What?

██████ ████████: And the door...god, the door.

██████ ████████: I...it just...

██████ ████████: It felt wrong. I felt as if it would be...an error. To open it.

INTERVIEWER: So…did you open it?

██████ ████████: ...yes. I opened the door.

INTERVIEWER: What did you see?

██████ ████████: ...

██████ ████████: What did I see?

INTERVIEWER: Yes, what did you see?

[long pause]

INTERVIEWER: Mr. ████████?

[Silence spanning 1:13 minutes.]

██████ ████████: [indistinct]

INTERVIEWER: Sorry?

[long pause]

[deep breath]

██████ ████████: I saw hell.

Chapter Text

[Beginning of recording.]

██ ███ █ ██████ ███ ████ ███ ███ ████ ███ ███ ████ ██ ██ ███

██ █ ██████? ██ ██ ██████ ████ ████ █████ ██ █████████ ███ ██ █ ███ ██ DAD ███ ██ ██ ████ ███ ████ █ ███ ███████ ███ ██ █ ████████

████ █████ █████ ████. ████ ███ ████. ████ ███ ████. ████ ███ ████.

███ ███

███ █████ ████ ██ ██ ██. ███ ██████ ████ ██. ██ ██████ ████ ████ ██. ███ ██ ██████████████.

███ █████ █ ██████ ██? ██ █████ █████. █ ██ ██████ ██. █ ███████ ██ ██ █████. ██ ███. ██ ███ ████ ███ █ ██?

████ ██ ████ ██ ████ ██

██ █████

████ ██ █████████?

IT HURTS ██ ███

[End of recording.]

Chapter Text

[An image is displayed on screen. It is a picture of an open notebook. The notebook has a smooth blue cover that looks to be made of leather. At the center of the page is a scratchy, messy sketch of a ̸͚̋b̵̤̚l̴̳̚ḁ̶̋c̴̰͛k̵̪̕ ̶̜͂ď̶̜ó̵̻ǒ̶̜r̷͚͝.̴̘͘]̸̓ͅ

[At the bottom of the page it reads in messy black writing:]

It is ancient

i saw in its millions of eyes the knowledge of a billion millenias

its gaze burned up my body like an ant under the glare of a magnifying glass

it is unknowable

its body twisted and stretched out into infinity

its mouths whispered words i have all blanked out in a feeble attempt to protect my mind

it is all seeing

every corner of existence was laid out in front of me 

along with all of my thoughts, and dreams, and nightmares

it is impossible

it is everything

and nothing

AND IT IS EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN

Chapter Text

[Beginning of recording.]

[heavy breathing]

[In a raspy voice] Hey.

[clearing throat]

[coughing]

So.

I’m alive.

As…as you can see.

Well.

Hear.

You can’t see me.

I’m rambling. Sorry.

You guys deserve an update.

I’m…out of the stairwell, now. Which is…you know, that’s good. I know I probably don’t sound it, but…I’m super happy right now. I never thought that I’d see light again, you know?

It's...

It's kind of beautiful.

[There is a squeak. It is either a sob or a laugh.]

Sorry.

That I’m not being very clear, that is. I would have organized my thoughts on a text post, but…my hands are too shaky to type properly. And I didn’t want you guys to have to wait too long. So…I decided to record something.

Maybe this was a bad idea…but fuck it. I’ve already started.

…where...

Where do I start...?

My surroundings. Yeah, I'll start with my surroundings. That's—that's useful, right?

I am…[rustling noises] currently in the middle of a really…really long hallway. It’s…

Okay, so you know how when you enter a hotel there’s always this long hallway you have to go down to get to your room? This hallway is like that, only…the hallway doesn’t seem to…end. In either direction. Goes on as far as the eye can see.

There’s a bunch of doors on either side of the hallway. I tried a few out when I woke up, but they were all locked. I’m still going to be trying to open most of them, though. Because at least one of them's bound to be unlocked, right?

[a shaky sigh]

Uh…food and water’s still an issue.  That’s, uh…

That’s…

[sniffle]

[audible swallow]

Um, um. Um…

The floor is carpeted. Uh…it’s a weird looking carpet. It’s all, um, black. And brown, and red, and white. And it’s kind of in this pattern that’s…like…weird. Like, it’s not symmetrical, but at the same time, it—it kind of is. It’s really weird.

That’s…that’s…

Important?

No, that doesn’t—

Nobody cares about the carpet, nobody gives a shit.

I…

[shallow breathing]

Okay. Okay. I'm okay.

There aren't any entities here, I think. At least, I can't see any right now. Although with how narrow this hallway is, I'm pretty sure if an entity really appears right now, I'll be...

Fucked.

Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. 

I.

Can't....

Look, I’ll get back to you guys on this. I’m kind of…out of my mind right now, so I—I’ll get back to you guys when I’ve, like, collected my thoughts a little. Okay?

Okay. Cool.

If you’ve got any question, leave ‘em in the comments. I’ll, um, I’ll try my best to answer them. Sorry for rambling.

I—

I think I need to lie down.

I’ll see you.

Bye.

Chapter Text

My hands have stopped shaking now, so I can actually write now. Hooray.

I’ll be honest, I think I fell asleep for a few hours. But not like real sleep, more like…that state of half-consciousness you’re always in when you’re drifting off during school. Which was probably a bad idea, given the circumstances, but…

Actually, there is no but. I am still tired. There was no benefit.

Anyways. This is just a quick update so you guys know I'm not dead. Don't expect anything exciting.

I started walking around...like what, an hour ago? I haven't found an unlocked door yet, unfortunately. All of the ones I've tried are locked. It's kind of annoying stopping to try and open locked doors every ten seconds, but the alternative is not trying some of the doors and potentially missing out on an exit or some supplies. 

Speaking of which, I'm starving. And thirsty. And yes, it sucks about as much as you might expect.

I feel empty, like there's nothing in me but skin and bones. And occasionally I'll get really nauseous and have to stop for a while until the feeling goes away. I'm taking more and more rests, and I've got this pounding headache that comes and goes every few minutes. I try to ignore it, but it's pretty difficult to ignore your stomach crying out for help and clawing at your insides in an effort to get said help. 

You've all heard this before, though. You don't need to hear more of it. 

Also, after everything that happened in that fucking...place I was in earlier I promised myself that I'd stop obsessing over numbers, but I can't really stop myself from looking at them, considering they're on literally every door I check. I'm not going to say what number I'm on, because...I don't know, it feels like inviting the same thing to happen to me yet again, but I'm pretty close to zero. So...I'm kind of interested in seeing what'll happen when I get there. Maybe the hallway will just end? Maybe it'll be my ticket back home? Who knows?

I'm not going to get my hopes up too much, though. I've had my hope crushed one too many times to give it out as easily now.

That's it for news, I guess. Again, I told you nothing exciting was going on.

But hey. At least I'm not being murdered by an entity or anything, right...?

...aaaaand I just jinxed myself. Shit.

Oh well. I've escaped an entity before, right? It shouldn't be that hard to do again.

Given, that was when I wasn't tired as hell and with a (relatively) full stomach, If the same thing happened again, I'd probably...

...

Yeah. Only happy thoughts on this blog.

You know the drill. I'll post again if anything interesting happens. In the meantime...I don't know. Pray for me, I guess.

Maybe God will hear it this time.

Chapter Text

Um…the numbers on the doors are negative now.

That’s definitely new.

It kind of freaked me out, I’ll be honest. I was on about door number twenty when I realized that wow, there are a lot of doors left. I started wondering whether the door numbers would start being decimals or something, which…I don’t know if that would be more or less weirder than this.

Anyways, I got to door number one. Tried it. It was locked, sadly. And then from there, it just…went from positive to negative. Really weird. Also, there was no door number zero, if you were wondering. 

I suppose there’s no real reason for panic. The hallway still keeps going on. The carpet, the walls, the lights, everything looks the same. Aside from the numbers, which are now starting to go deep into the negatives, nothing’s changed.

Unless it’s one of those ‘the deeper you go the more fucked up it gets’ things. Which, while it would suck, would not surprise me at this point. 

That stairwell doesn’t count because it was fucked up from the beginning. Things can’t really get worse than an infinitely descending pitch-black stairwell.

Still haven’t found any unlocked doors, by the way. It’s getting tiring. 

Can you get carpal tunnel from turning too many door knobs? Probably not.

I wouldn’t put it past this place, though.

Chapter Text

When it happened, my mind had kind of been checked out.

After roughly an hour of just turning doorknob after doorknob, my mind had understandably checked out, and I was just trying every door around me automatically, not a single thought in my head.

Step. Step. Stop. Turn, check the doors on each side. Step. Step. Stop. Turn, blah, blah, blah, rinse and repeat.

So when I saw it in the distance, I got understandably excited.

A door. It was a door.

But it didn’t look like the rest—it had a white frame, with a big foggy glass panel in the middle of it, and a silver doorknob. Compared to the rest of the hallway, which was all browns and reds and pale yellows, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

Naturally, my immediate instinct was to run over to the interesting-looking door and throw it open. However, the thought of running past an unlocked door holding supplies so I could jump through a door into a potentially even more fucked up place didn’t appeal to me, so I decided to try the rest of the doors before getting to the new one.

None of them worked. Go figure.

But that didn’t matter. What really mattered was this new door. 

The door itself was, yeah, pretty unremarkable. It was just an average glass door. But what really sent my mind into overdrive was the sign above the door.

It held such a simple word—only four letters. But oh, did those four letters send an electric shock right up my spine.

Pool.

Alright, hear me out. I know this might sound hard to believe, but if I’m not mistaken, pools…

…hold water.

And water… is a resource I have been sorely lacking in for ages.

Conclusion: I had to get in there.

Sure, pool water was filled with all kinds of chemicals that could potentially make me sick, and I did think about that for a few seconds, but in that moment I found I just didn’t care. I needed to hydrate my parched throat, and I needed it yesterday.

Only problem was that, of course, the door was locked. Like all of the other ones. But this one was different. It was made of glass, not some dark wood like all of the other doors. And glass was at least a little bit more breakable than wood. (Hopefully.)

So I began to try and break the glass in any way I could—slamming into it with my shoulder, kicking it as hard as I could, even throwing my backpack at it out of frustration. (Which yeah, by the way, I still have. If you forgot, I can’t blame you. I kind of did, too, until this point.) None of it even left a scratch on the door.

Anyways, I eventually decided that throwing a temper tantrum was going to get me nowhere, and decided to evaluate my options. I emptied my backpack out on the floor and took a look at all of my stuff.

An empty plastic water bottle. A pair of boots. A roll of duct tape. A box cutter. My laptop. And of course, my good ol’ friend Ace. Not the most useful stuff for breaking open a glass door.

Except for the box cutter. I picked it up and studied it with a frown. It didn’t look particularly tough, but I’d heard of people breaking glass with closed pocket knives. Could the same be done with a box cutter? 

Well, there was only one way to find out.

I rolled my arms up with duct tape so I wouldn’t cut myself if the glass broke, and immediately began to smash away at the door.

It took a long while to even make a crack in the glass, and by the time the box cutter smashed through the glass, opening up a small jagged hole in the middle of the door, I was completely exhausted. I pulled my hand out of the hole, and with a few muttered curses, began to kick the door once more.

It took about thirty more minutes to smash open a hole big enough for me to step through without cutting myself, and a few more minutes to throw my bag through the hole and then myself.

Once through, I laid down on the floor for a long while, breathing heavily and wishing I hadn’t been such a lazy couch warmer on the surface. Eventually I got to my feet and gathered my stuff, but only after around ten minutes of lying on the floor.

I was in a hallway. I would’ve been pretty angry if I’d gone through all that effort just to enter another stupid hallway, but thankfully that wasn’t it. The hallway was short, and it didn’t take me long to reach an intersection, where there were two more glass doors on either side: one with a male stickman on it, and the other with a pink female stickman.

Thankfully, neither were locked. I checked both of them and found that they were both just change rooms, filled with tons of lockers and benches. And before you ask, I didn’t find anything in either. Not even a towel.

But what I did find, in an unlocked door that led out of the men’s change room…

…was a room. Filled with tight blue tiles, from top to bottom.

And in the center of the room…a big pool.

Filled with water.

If I said I was anything other than a feral water goblin for the next few minutes, I’d be lying to you.

I threw myself to the edge of the pool and began to drink, cupping my hands together and bringing the water to my lips with shaky hands. And surprisingly, the water tasted fine! Great, even! 

I’ve never described water as delicious, because, well, you know, it’s just water. Water just tastes like water. But in that moment—god, it was about as good as drinking nectar from the goddamn heavens.

Okay. I’m exaggerating. But it was really good to drink water after that long, okay?

After finally quenching my thirst, I started to wash the blood off...well, everything. My arms, my legs, even my shirt, the front of which was covered in dried blood. And let me tell you, wiping my body of that itchy, crusty, and generally gross dried blood felt almost as good as drinking the water.

After I finished washing myself, I filled my water bottle with the water and finally got a good look at my surroundings.

The entire room was covered in light blue tiles, like I said eariler. The whole room seemed to be glistening under the glow of some light source I couldn't see, and the water in the pool was just as blue as the tiles surrounding it. 

On the other side of the room was a small square hole, low enough that I'd have to get on my hands and knees to get inside. Looking aside, I saw that it only went forwards a few feet before turning sharply to the right, the light blue tiles fading to white as the space went on.

I've been debating for a while whether I should go in or not. Obviously in a place like this, tiny, cramped spots are never a good sign. But then, it's either this or walk through that hallway for what could be the rest of my life. 

I kinda want to go in. After all, this is the place that gave me water. Maybe if I crawl through there for a while I'll get food? But knowing the things this place could pull...

I don't know. You guys can decide. Just keep in mind that either choice could lead to me losing my sanity even more than I already have, or of course, my death.

No pressure.

Chapter Text

Sorry about the long stretch without updates—I kinda fell asleep. Hope I didn't scare you guys.

So the common consensus seems to be that the hole is the way to go. Which is fine with me, because I was leaning towards going that route anyways. Although I don't really want to go in there just yet—I think I'd like a bit of rest first.

I've been chilling in the pool area for a little while now, basically just sitting there half-asleep. I've drunk, like, a million gallons of water, and let me tell you, it feels good to be able to drink water whenever you want to. I know it's a cliché, but suffering in this god-forsaken place for so long really just makes you appreciate the little things, you know? Like water. Or food. Or an actual bed.

Water. Oh my god, I've taken water for granted so badly. Hey, you, appreciate that, right now. I mean it. Right now. If you're up in the real world and you're reading this, walk up to your nearest water container, or refrigerator, or bed, and tell it that you love it. And be loud and proud about it, because God damn it, it deserves that love!

...

Okay, I might be a little delirious right now. But then again, you are talking to the person who befriended a plush bear, so honestly, you should expect this level of crazy talk from me. Speaking of which, Ace sends his regards. And also a bunch of smooches for all you beautiful people. Mwah. Mwah.

Anyways...yeah, I've been chilling here. Earlier, I laid down and closed my eyes just for a little bit, and at some point or another, I fell asleep, because that tiled floor was incredibly comfortable for some reason. I’m not sure if that was just my exhausted body talking or something, but when I woke up, I had none of the pains you’d normally expect after sleeping on a hard surface for too long. In fact, I felt…surprisingly refreshed. Was it the water? Or some sort of calming aura coming from the pool? I don’t know, but I like it.

In fact, this whole place gives off a calming aura. All that stress and that fear from earlier has just faded away. I just feel so peaceful and nice…it’s almost like I’m high. (Not that I’ve ever been high. Obviously.)

But that’s not what I want.

I can't let myself get too relaxed. I'm not just wandering this place aimlessly. I've got a goal. I'm looking for an exit. An exit back to the real world. To my family. 

I have to get back to my family. My mom. My...ugh, even my stupid brothers. 

I’m not going to die here. No matter what happens, no matter who or what gets in my way...I’m going home.

...at least, I am after this short break.

What? Walking down a hallway opening doors for thirty minutes straight really takes the energy out of a person.

Anyways, I’m gonna lie here a little longer. Just so I can regain my energy.

And then when I’m ready, I’m getting into that hole. 

(Get your minds out of the gutter, you heathens.)

Chapter Text

This place is weird. Which, given the things I've seen so far, is saying something.

The crawl through the hole itself was pretty uneventful, though there were some odd notes. For starters, there were no lights in the tunnel—not on the walls, the floors, or the ceiling. Which, full disclosure, if I had realized beforehand, I probably would have stalled a few more hours before entering the tunnel.

But weirdly enough, I could see perfectly fine. The tunnel wasn't brightly lit or anything—but it was just bright enough that I could see the white tiled walls surrounding me on all sides. Which, obviously, should not be possible considering the only plausible light source was the entrance, which I'd long since left behind, but it was convenient for me, so I didn't put too much thought into this minor detail.

I don’t know how long I crawled for, but it was a while. Maybe, like…an hour, half an hour? Somewhere in that range. And in that time, the tunnel took dozens of twists and turns. There were a few intersections, and I always chose right so I could find my way back if I decided I'd had enough. Although knowing this place, I'd try to back up and then run into a wall that hadn't been there before. 

Thankfully, the tunnel never went down or up, but with time, the tunnel began to grow darker and darker. Soon, I could barely see my hands in front of my face, and I was starting to panic a little. But I was, quite literally, in too deep, so I had no choice but to keep going.

After a few more minutes, the tunnel had gone completely dark, and I felt like I was about to throw up when I saw it—an actual light at the end of the tunnel. I crawled towards it with renewed speed, and as I got closer, the light grew brighter and brighter until finally I was out of the tunnel, getting to my feet with shaky legs.

It was bright again, and I had to blink a little for my vision to return to normal. When it did, I blinked again and rubbed my eyes to make sure I was seeing things right.

Because this place is...weird.

The walls, the floor, and the ceiling are all covered in white tiles, like earlier. Right now, I’m sitting on a square platform in the corner of a big pool. But it’s less that I’m surrounded by a pool and more that the room around me is submerged. Because besides the little platform I’m on, the entire place is covered in water. Pretty, sky-blue water, yeah, but still water. From what I can see, it’s pretty shallow, though. I think if I went in it’d probably only go up to my knees.

It’s pretty well-lit, which is good. There’s some thin rectangular slits in the wall that shine bright light into the room, though I can’t see what’s causing the light exactly—it’s too bright to directly look into.

The sound of the water softly rippling around me is constant. Quiet enough so that it isn’t annoying, but loud enough so that it’s always in the back of your mind. It’s calming in a way, which is a nice change of pacing.

That’s another thing I can say about this level. Like the other pool I was at earlier, it’s calming. A bit eerie, but still calming.

In all likelihood, I’ll probably have to get my feet wet if I want to leave this level. Because I am not going back into that tunnel, no matter what you tell me. I’m going to try and make sure the laptop doesn’t come into contact with any of this water, because that would be one sad way to lose my only link to the outside world. 

Oh, hold on—quick side note: I haven't updated you on my battery in a while, so I'll tell you. I'm on forty one percent right now. Not terrible, but I'm starting to get a little anxious. I definitely need a charger.

Um…yeah, that’s it so far. Like always, if I come across something weird I’ll let you know. Peace.

Chapter Text

I’ll admit it. I was skeptical at first, but this place is…actually not bad.

The water is nice and cool. The white and blue colors of this place are real easy on the eyes, nothing like that yellow hellscape from before. The warm lighting coming from the walls and the ceiling almost feels like sunlight, which feels pretty nice after spending the past…I don’t even know how long I’ve been here—days, maybe? In an endless dimension of moldy hallways and dark concrete halls. 

The emptiness of this place is a bit eerie, but apart from that this place is pretty peaceful.

For now, at least. I mean, I don’t know. I’ve only been here for like, a few hours. But I’ve been splashing through this place loudly for a while now (you try wading through knee-deep water without making any sound), and the fact that I haven’t encountered any water-dwelling monsters yet is probably a good sign.

Not that I’ve lowered my guard, of course. Like you guys said, the fact that I feel so calm here despite…well, everything that has happened, is definitely a red flag. And we know this place in general isn’t above trying to use its surroundings to manipulate people, so it’s obvious there’s gotta be some catch to this place. I don’t know what the catch is yet, exactly, but there has to be one. 

Well, until I find what's wrong here, I'll try to enjoy this place at least a little bit. I mean, like I said. This place is pretty nice. Would it be so bad for me to enjoy this a little bit?

By the way, sorry I broke my promise that I would update if I found anything interesting. I haven’t. I just feel an obligation to post something every once in a while so you guys don’t think I’m dead or something.

I’ll keep you posted if anything changes.

Chapter Text

This is my seventh time trying to write this post. This time, I’m physically not getting up until I’ve written something and posted it. 

I can't remember what my mom looks like.

I can remember her voice. All of my memories with her still exist. But in all of them, her face is...it's blurry. I can't remember. It’s like she’s been censored.

And it's starting to get like that for everyone I know. My brothers. My professors. My classmates. I can't...it's nowhere near as bad as it is with my mom, but it's all getting fuzzy. I don't know if it's a side effect of being in that stairwell or just this place in general for too long, but it's...

It's not. Worrying?

It should be, right? I should be losing my shit right now. My fucking memories are slowly erasing themselves with time, like the kids in that photo from Back to the Future. But it's not. I just...I feel calm. No fear. No stress.

It feels...nice.

This feeling, it's so...peaceful. I don't really want to get rid of it. It's nice, being like this. 

Which is wrong. This is wrong. This is all wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. 

More proof: as mentioned before, this is my seventh attempt at writing this post (yes, I’ve been counting). And it’s not because I’m tired, or because I’m bleeding out, or because there’s a monster sitting nearby listening intently.

No, every time I started to write I got…bored.

Or at least, distracted. The first time I tried to write this post I got distracted by a particularly pretty patch of water next to where I was sitting. The second time I got cold and dipped my feet into the water as I tried to warm them up, and then proceeded to go back into the water for a ‘quick swim’ (which, by the way, is just me wading around knee-deep water). The third time, I started staring at the walls, getting lost in the uniform tiled pattern of the walls.

I think it was about my fifth attempt at writing this post that I realized something was up. I was absent-mindedly tapping the space key with my thumb, watching the screen flicker, when I thought all of a sudden, why am I not writing?

For a writer, this is not an unusual thought. Writer’s block is, after all, very real and very much a bitch. But considering the subject I’m supposed to be writing about, my fucking memories fading, you’d think I’d feel even the slightest bit of urgency.

Nope. It’s like I’m back in high school, trying to write an essay about some shit I couldn’t care less about. It’s hard to write. Or think. It’s like I’m trying to climb a ramp made of ice. I can’t fucking focus. If this is what people with ADHD have to deal with every day, I’m so sorry. 

I have to get out of here. I’ve been here for a few hours at most, and it’s fucking with me already. I’ve gotta find a way out.

This place is a perfect haven, but I don’t want to stay here forever.

Chapter Text

I get how to deal with this place now. It’s kind of simple, actually—

But it’s, well…also maybe not the… best solution.

A little bit ago, I was going through the comments of my last post, just replying to them as I usually do. And then I came across a comment that was—well, it didn’t say anything offensive or anything, but for some reason I got kind of annoyed reading it, so I left a slightly snappy reply.

I realized only a few minutes after that the fact that I’d just become annoyed was actually kind of a big deal.

This place seems to block any bad emotions, and along with it, parts of my memory. Which, by the way, is getting…not better, I suppose, but it’s not getting any worse. 

But when I got annoyed at that comment, my mind felt…I don’t know…clear, at least for a few moments. It’s back now, of course—that stupid state of calm and contentedness—but for a few moments, it was gone.

That feeling of calm itself isn’t necessarily the bad part—it’s the side effects that come with it, like the haze in my mind making it a little harder to put thoughts together. Or, you know, my fucking memories vanishing. So if I wanted to counter those side-effects, I was pretty sure I’d have to get rid of the cloud of bliss I was stuck in.

This led me to a conclusion that was, in hindsight, pretty obvious—in order to stop feeling so great, I needed to start feeling bad.

Yeah, I know. Not exactly ‘Einstein shit’, as my brother might say. But it was an idea, and it was better than just floating around, waiting for this place to take my memory completely.

Now, the how of how I was going to do this…wasn’t exactly clear yet. I thought about making you guys write a bunch of things in the comments to make me angry, but that was a bit of a dumb idea, so I let it drop. I also tried thinking things to make myself depressed—which, given the stressed and cynical sad sack I normally am, should not have been difficult, but the self-deprecation/depression part of my brain was apparently on break and wouldn't let me feel anything other than completely content with life, which under any under circumstance would have been a great thing to have happen to me.

The idea came to me while I was walking through a particularly shallow patch of water, which only went up to my ankles. I wasn’t really paying attention to my surroundings—I was too busy thinking about how I could make myself feel any sort of negative emotion. (I don't think I need to point out the irony of that.)

Which is when it hit me. Quite literally. 

While I was thinking, I walked right into the wall. Face-first. I staggered back, tripped over my feet, and landed with a hard splash on the floor on my butt, sending a jolt of pain up my tailbone. It hurt surprisingly less than I expected—probably another aspect of this level—but it still hurt.

While I was recovering from this embarrassing accident, a sudden thought occurred to me. You may already know where this is going from the title of this post.

Tell me, friends—what is, undeniably, the easiest way to feel some sort of negative emotion?

The answer, my friends, is pain.

I did test it out a few more times before writing this. No, don’t worry, I didn’t do anything drastic—I just punched my arm a few times. I tried stubbing my toe, too, but that is something that is impossible to do intentionally unless you have some sort of death wish. It works, though—the haze went away for a few minutes.

Is this ideal? No, of course not. No sane person wants to actively feel pain (unless you're a masochist, which, hey, you do you). But to me, at least, it’s better than the alternative: that being losing all of my freaking memories.

So…that’s it. That’s my big, grand idea—if I start to feel my mind slip, all I have to do is punch myself in the face and I’m good. If you’re not impressed, I don’t blame you. It’s not the most elegant solution. But hey, it works and that’s all I need for now. And you know what they say—no pain, no gain.

I don’t really want to keep punching myself, though, so I would like to get out of here fast. Still no news on that part. But I’m sure I’ll find a way out soon.

I’ll see you around.

Chapter Text

Since I made that last post, this place has become…significantly less welcoming.

The water feels colder than before. The lighting isn’t as warm anymore, and the sound of rippling water has gone away completely, so it’s completely quiet save for the splashing noises I’m making.

This might sound unreasonably paranoid and also insane, but I don’t think this place likes me anymore. 

I really have to get out of here.

Chapter Text

My surroundings have changed again. Whether it’s for the better or for the worse, I don’t know.

The water has all drained away, except for a few dark puddles here and there that I don’t intend on touching any time soon, given all of your warnings about dark water and plagues. The tiles, which were so clean and shiny earlier, are now grimy and cracked. It’s a lot darker, too—and every time I come across another one of those slits in the roof with light shining through them, there’s always patches of moss clinging to the walls and ceiling nearby.

Even the air smells different—where it once smelled like chlorinated pool water, it now smells like mold and wet earth.

I mentioned before that I felt like this place didn’t like me any more. Now I feel like I’m walking around in its decaying corpse.

(Wow. I just had to make that comparison, didn’t I.)

I’m not sure how to feel about this. It should feel creepy, right? Wandering around a dilapidated, decaying, once infinite pool. But it doesn’t really. I’m not sure if that’s the leftover side effects from earlier or not, because my mind feels clearer than earlier, and my memory’s back to normal.

Regardless of what it is, I’m staying cautious. I’ve got my box cutter out and drawn. Not that it’s going to be very helpful if something like that wrinkled fucker from the yellow maze shows up, but it’s better than nothing.

Another sign that I’m away from that stupid haze—I finally feel cautiousness again. 

By the way, still starving. Badly. I just haven’t mentioned it lately because I figured you guys were getting tired of hearing my whining. But yeah, it’s getting bad. I just barely held myself back from eating some of that moss earlier. Should I have? I don’t know. Is moss edible? I don’t think it is, but I’m not a moss expert, so I don’t know.

Hopefully I find something that isn’t moss. Hopefully I get out of here soon. 

It’s funny—just a few moments ago I was trying to figure out a way to make myself feel bad. Now I’m back to trying to do the opposite. 

Ha.

This place fucking sucks.

Chapter Text

[Beginning of recording.]

Hey, guys. It’s me. Madison.

Now, I know. You’re probably wondering— hey, Madison? Why are you using the recording function? What if there’s a monster nearby and it hears you and then rips out your spine?

Don’t worry. What I’m about to do is going to cause some noise, anyways. It, ah, doesn’t really matter.

Well, okay, maybe it sort of does matter, but whatever.

I’ll just get to the point. I’ve discovered a slope. It’s, uh…just…a slope. I guess. 

Christ.

Notice how my verb—my ability to describe things leaves me as soon as I’m forced to say it out loud. I think it’s the same for all writers.

I’ll just, uh—say some random stuff I noticed. It's covered in plant life like vines and some of that moss from earlier, which is interesting, because I haven’t seen stuff like that…well, ever. At least, not since I fell into this dimension.

It goes up, uh…[echoing footsteps]...goes up, like, maybe a dozen or so feet? And at the top—well, this is the most important part—at the top I can see the sky.

[The footsteps get closer to the laptop.] 

I’m going to repeat that again, just to magnify the importance of this find.

[Rustling sounds as Madison picks up the laptop.]

[Madison speaks directly into the mic.]

I can see the fucking sky.

[A clatter as Madison sets the laptop down.] 

Well, at least I’m pretty sure it is. It looks like it’s dark out, so I can’t be completely certain, but it doesn’t look like the roof of a fucking building, I’ll tell you that much.

Here’s the thing, though. The gap’s too small for me to fit through. But the stone around the gap…is juuuuuust thin enough for me to break with the right amount of force.

That’s where the noise is going to come from, in case you were wondering. I’m going to try and break through this stone and make the gap big enough to squeeze through. I don’t think my box cutter will do the job though, so—[loud scraping noise]—I found a piece of broken tile I think is thick enough to do the work. You can’t see me, but I’m waving it around right now.

Is it the best plan I’ve ever come up with? No. Are there dozens of different ways this could bite me in the ass? Yes.

Is there another option? Fuck no.

Conclusion: I gotta go break some rocks.

[The tapping of tile against tile.]

[A deep inhale.]

[A deep exhale.]

Wish me luck.

Disclaimer to those of you who have sensitive ears. This is going to get loud.

[Rustling.]

[Madison speaks directly into the mic again.]

You know who you are.

                  [A sigh as Madison moves away from the laptop.]

                                                            [Echoing footsteps, slowly getting smaller.]

[The footsteps stop.]

[And then resume.]

[A grunt.]

[The scraping sound of shoes against tile.]

Fucking slippery.

[More scraping.]

[The scraping stops.]

[Soft huffing.]

Okay, let’s go.

[There’s a series of rhythmic tapping sounds as Madison carefully tests the tile against the stone.]

[Then]

[a]

[CRACK.]

                        [CRACK.]

                                                                       [CRACK.]

                                                                                                                              [CRACK.]

                                               [CRACK.]

[A crunch, as stone gives way.]

                      [CRACK.]

                                                   [CRACK.]

                                                                                                                               [CRACK.]

[The sound of crumbling stone and rock, sliding down the slope.]

                           [CRACK.]

                                                                                                                     [CRACK.]

[CRACK.]

[The final piece of stone gives way, followed by the sound of debris clattering down the slope.]

[Heavy breathing.]

[A laugh.]

[A scraping sound, growing louder as Madison slides down the slope.]

                                                   [A thud and a grunt as she stops at the bottom.]

                     [Echoing footsteps, getting closer to the laptop.]

[A clatter as Madison picks up the laptop.]

[Her grin is almost audible.]

Abra-fucking-cadabra.

[End of recording.]

Chapter Text

Okay, okay, okay. I’ve calmed down. I’m calm. I’m calm.

No I’m not. I’m not fucking calm at all. I’m losing my shit. Holy shit.

I’m—I’m out. I’m outside. Like.

I’m in a fucking forest. 

I would describe my surroundings at this point, but I just—what else is there to say? I’m in a forest. 

I can see the sky. It’s still dark out, but I can see it.

I’m free.

I’m fucking free.

Except maybe I’m not.

I could still be…there. This could all just be a sick lie.

Fucking sick.

I don’t know. This feels real. Like a real forest. The trees, the ground—Christ, the ground— I can feel grass, guys, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt grass?

But it’s dark out. It shouldn’t be dark out, if what I’m hearing from you guys is true.

I don’t know.

I don’t know i dont know i dont know.

God please don’t be a lie

Okay, no time for doubts now. Nothing I can do about that right now. I just have to survive now. After all, it would be really pathetic if I got out of that place just to starve to death in the wilderness. 

I can barely see. I mean, I can see the black outline of the trees around me, but apart from that, not much else. Since it’s ten A.M. right now, I can only hope it gets brighter. 

Oh god. Will this post go through? Jesus Christ, I hope it does. I don’t want to leave you guys on a cliffhanger. I have to talk to you guys.

Um, okay. Alright. First priority—food. I have to find food. Well, actually, my first priority is a charger, but you can’t really get that out in the wilderness, so food will have to do. I don’t know how I’m going to do that, but there’s gotta be something around here I can eat. Berries. Or mushrooms. I don’t know, I’m desperate.

I’ll, uh, sign off for now. If this post actually goes through and you guys have any advice—anything—please let me know. I’m not out of the woods yet, literally and figuratively.

I’ll check in again soon.

please be real

Chapter Text

Hi, guys.

So, um…you guys were right. This place isn’t the real world. It’s just another level. Which. You know. Sucks. But I’m okay. I already steeled myself for a realization like this, so I’m good. Mentally, at least. I’m still hungry as hell, but that’s a different problem entirely.

Here’s the evidence.

One. The trees are spaced out too evenly. I’m not sure if I’m imagining that because of the dark, but it almost feels like the trees are in some sort of artificial grid, and not in the natural, random sort of pattern trees normally grow in. It’s too dark to tell for real, though. I can’t even see the outlines of the trees anymore.

Ha. Even more evidence this isn’t real: the world’s not getting any brighter. Actually, it’s getting darker.

God, I’m such a fucking dumbass

Two. The ground hasn’t changed in a while. The terrain is completely flat, and feels…a little too soft to be natural. Like, not enough that my feet are sinking into the ground, but enough so that I can feel it squishing underneath my feet, which feels a little gross.

Three. I haven’t heard any birds since I came up here. Actually, I haven’t heard any animals so far. Haven’t seen any, either. Not even any bugs. Bright laptops screens generally tend to attract bugs, but nothing.

There’s no wind. The trees are quiet, as well. Everything’s quiet. Too quiet. Even my footsteps are muffled, though that might be just because of the soft ground.

And, um.

I looked up earlier, because of a comment. And.

There are no stars in the sky.

No moon, either.

I looked up deep into the endless void of space and I saw nothing.

Christ.

I should’ve known.

I should’ve fucking known.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t be this easy.

When has anything ever been easy for me? 

Never. Not down here, not up there, not anywhere in my entire fucking life. It's all just been one long continuous train wreck.

I lied.

I'm not okay.

How could I be?

How fucking could I?

I'm sick of this shit.

Even I knew, deep down. I knew that this couldn’t be real. That this is just another fucking level in this cursed fucking...place.

I tried so hard not to get my hopes up. I really did. I even thought I succeeded, at some point. I thought that if I found out that this place really was fake, I’d be able to handle it. That I wouldn’t have a total breakdown.

Well, guess what? Guess fucking what? I was wrong.

Like I always am. I’ve never been right about anything, have I?

It’s all just luck. That’s the only reason I’m still here. And as soon as it all runs out, I’ll just die again. Maybe it has run out already. I sure don’t feel lucky.

You know what my first thought was when I looked up and saw the sky through that slope?

‘I want to see the stars again’.

Isn't that fucking sad?

I.

I’m going to take a break.

I don’t think i’m going to reply to any comments.

Sorry. i just...

i cant.

Chapter Text

Shortly after my last post, I sat at the base of a tree and took a rest. 

Or rather, I tried. Things didn’t quite work out that way.

Physically, I did manage to get some rest. Breaking all of that rock earlier had been a bit of a workout, so it was nice to stop and catch my breath after all that. 

Mentally, though, I made no progress in terms of rest.

I probably looked like a pitiful sack of shit then—curled up at the bottom of a tree, arms wrapped around my knees, head lowered like a crying child. My eyes were squeezed shut, and the only thing I could hear was my own breathing. Slow. Shaky.

I wanted to die.

There was no point in moving on. If I escaped this level, I’d just run into another. If I escaped that one, the same thing would happen. And I would keep going, and going, and going, until I either starved or died of thirst or got mutilated. What was the point? Why go through all that pain? Why waste my time?

My mind continued on like that for a while. Thoughts of hate and fear and doubt simmering in my brain, festering like an open wound.

An hour passed. Or half an hour. Or two hours. Or a day. I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

Eventually, I opened my eyes and raised my head. Slowly, wearily.

My vision had adjusted to the darkness somewhat. Not enough to see completely—in fact, I couldn’t see more than five feet in front of me, that’s how dark it was—but I could make out the vague outlines of the trees around me just a little more clearly. 

I stared at one of the trees in front of me with empty eyes. 

I remembered.

Once, when visiting some relatives in California, me and my family stopped at a redwood forest along the way. Cool place. Big ass trees. Search them up if you’re not aware. They’re great.

I wasn’t much of an outdoors person. Not then, not now. But it was amazing, walking among those impossibly giant, impossibly ancient trees. 

I remember everything about that day in vivid detail.

Walking beneath the trees, craning my neck to stare at the canopy dozens of feet above us. The warm touch of sunlight on my skin. My mom, telling me facts about every pretty flower or interesting plant we passed by.

The thick scent of earth and bark. The whistling singing of birds high above us. The stupid dick jokes my younger brother kept making when my parents weren’t listening. 

I shut my eyes.

I got up.

As I shrugged on my backpack, picked a direction, and began to walk, I tried to pretend that I was back there once more. Back in the real world, with real people, real animals, real nature. Back where I belonged, back when I still had a life that was fully mine.

Of course, it didn’t work. The conditions back then compared to now weren't even close to being comparable. I wasn't even in a real forest.

But after a while, maybe twenty or thirty minutes, I started to get tired. My calves started to burn a little. My feet ached. My breaths came out in wheezy gasps.

It kind of sucked. But the suckage was distracting my mind from the equally sucky things going on in my mind. So I kept going.

I don’t know how long I walked for. If I had to guess…over an hour, at the very least. It might have been more than that, but I don’t know. It's not like I was counting or anything. Plus I was kind of zoned out, even as I walked. No thoughts. No desires. No destination in mind. 

I just walked.

And for a moment, everything went away. Everything except for my exhaustion and my aching muscles and the soft ground squishing under my feet. 

Until I saw them.

In the distance. Lights. 

I stopped for a moment, which was apparently enough time for the fatigue to kick in. My knees buckled, and I nearly face-planted, only stopping myself from doing so by throwing my hands forwards to stop my fall. I was grateful for the soft ground now—if this was a real forest, my hands probably would’ve been all cut up by jagged rocks or sharp branches.

I got back up onto my feet and squinted. There were three lights that I could see. Two of them were a pale shade of yellow, and directly beside each other. Slightly rectangular, as if they were glowing through windows. Several feet from the two yellow lights was a third light, which was orange and seemed to be flickering faintly.

The lights were far, practically specks no bigger than the head of a screw from my perspective.

I was struck with a sudden rush of familiarity.

What was so familiar about these lights, I didn't quite know. I stood there for a few minutes, wracking my mind for whatever these lights could possibly be, but came up empty. I had no idea.

It was on the tip of my tongue, though. I could feel it. It was almost there. I got the feeling that if I got a closer look at these lights, I'd definitely remember.

So I reached into my bag, withdrew the box cutter, and got closer.

Feel free to call me an idiot if you'd like. Sure, it might have been a trap. Sure, the lights might have been the lure of a starved creature. But I didn't care. In my eyes, it was either approach the lights, or wander around in the woods for another few days until I eventually died of starvation.

And if it really was an entity, I imagined I could get away from it. I’d gotten pretty good at running. Alternatively, I could stab it to death with my box cutter, provided that it politely stood still and let me poke it with the box cutter’s small blade about twenty to thirty times in a vital area. 

As I got walked, the two lights grew bigger, more defined in my vision. I tripped a few times, but managed to keep a steady path towards the lights, mind still racing, heart beginning to pound again for reasons unrelated to my lack of exercise.

Then, suddenly I stopped cold in my tracks.

Because I recognized the flickering light on the right, and if it was what I thought it was, then I knew exactly what the other two lights were, as well.

I began walking again, faster this time. A faint crackling sound reached me through the trees.

The lights were in front of me now. My suspicions had been confirmed.

I stepped out of the forest into a flat clearing, the grass replaced with gravel and the occasional patch of dirt. A rusty metal firepit sat in front of me, the flames inside snapping and rumbling softly, almost comfortingly. Several feet to my left sat a camping car, yellow light beaming brightly through its two windows. The combined light was enough to partially light the surrounding area, revealing to me even more camping cars, fire pits, and even tents, an uneven arrangement of campsites that stretched on into the inky darkness.

A campground. 

I took a moment to take in my surroundings, to try and tamp down the sick mixture of nostalgia and dread rising in my chest. I'd been led here on purpose. By what, I didn't know, but there was no way this was a coincidence. 

There was no way this...dimension didn't know about the person I associated most with campgrounds.

I was tempted, suddenly, irrationally, to turn and sprint back into the dark forest. But there was no way I'd pass up such a blatant lifeline, no matter the memories it brought with it. I'd just have to suck it up.

First things first—there was a blue camping chair in front of the crackling fire. And beside it sat a hatchet.

Okay, hold on, I'm sorry—from the way I said that, I don't think I'm properly conveying the significance of this find.

It was a fucking hatchet. A.K.A., not a lame-ass weapon like a box-cutter.

I put my box cutter in my pocket and picked up the hatchet with one hand, inspecting it. It was heavy. And sharp. I tested the edge with my index finger. I considered swinging it at a tree, just to test it out, but I decided that it wasn't worth attracting any unwanted attention.

Still, though, this was big. Now if I were to encounter anything, I actually had a chance to fight back, instead of waving a tiny, two-inch blade at it like an idiot. Despite myself, I felt my chest begin to swell with anticipation, despite my best efforts to keep my hopes low. If there was something like this just lying around, what else could be here?

I turned my attention to the camping car, which I was fairly sure would be locked, considering my luck so far. However, upon tugging the door's handle, I was pleasantly surprised to see the door swing easily open with a creak.

I stepped inside of the camping car. It wasn’t one of those big luxury ones that you tended to see connected to one of those big trucks—actually, it was rather small and cramped. A feeling I was all too used to, considering the frequent camping trips my family had taken when I was a kid.

The memories were washing over me again, threatening to smother and choke me. I shook my head—not the time. I began to search the camping car for supplies.

A majority of the cabinets were empty, but some of them held items that ranged from being mildly useful to being...incredible. Heavenly. God-like, even.

I am, of course, referring to the half-empty box of graham crackers I found in one of the cabinets.

Full disclosure—as soon as I saw that beautiful, beautiful blue box, I attacked that thing like it was a hunk of meat and I was a starving wolf. 

Were they kind of stale? Yes. Did they sort of taste like sugary cardboard? Also yes.

Did I gobble like half of the contents in the box before learning some self-control? You fucking know it.

Eventually, with great difficulty, I managed to stop myself from shoving all of the graham crackers into my mouth like a slob and carefully put the box in my backpack, along with some other items I’d found in the camping car—a folded tablecloth, a matchbox with only three matches, and, oddly, a full deck of cards.

While not nearly as exciting a discovery as the graham crackers, I could see these items being pretty useful in their own right—the tablecloth could probably be used for wrapping wounds or as a rope. The matches would be useful for a variety of tasks. And the cards...well, if I ever got bored, I could always play a game of poker with my good ol’ pal Ace. Failing that, they’d make good tinder for a fire.

I bounded out of the camping car, given new life by the discovery of food and some other useful resources. If there had been so much useful stuff in this camping car, who was to say that the rest wouldn’t be equally as filled with useful items? Hell, maybe I’d even manage to find a portable charger and an outlet here! Some camping cars had outlets, right?

I tried the door of another camping car nearby. This time, it was locked, though, and I tried it several more times, not really registering the loud clicking sounds the metal latch was making. I stepped back with a sigh. 

Oh, well. I’ll just try the next one.

And then as I walked towards another nearby camping car, without a even a hint of a warning, the fire went out.

No, actually, ‘went out’ is a lacking descriptor. That would imply that it died normally. The fire didn’t go out. It vanished.

One moment the fire-pit was blazing, the next moment it was empty. It just blinked out, like someone had cut the footage from a film reel. Nothing left behind.

As soon as the fire went, about half of the light in the area went with it, darkening the area by a substantial amount. I stopped cold in my tracks and turned to stare at the fire-pit, a little stunned. After a second of anxious hesitation, I cautiously got closer to the fire-pit and peered inside.

It was empty. There were no embers. No sparks. No sign that it had even been used in years. At the bottom of the fire pit was just mounds of ash and crumbled black chunks of charcoal. Slowly, I lowered a hand into the fire-pit. My fingers brushed the ash.

Nothing. Not even a hint of the warmth that had been there just seconds ago.

Now my only light source was the light coming from inside the camping car I’d raided. But that light felt weak. Pale. It only reached out a few feet, not nearly as far as the light from the fire had. Now I could just barely make out the dim silhouettes of the tents and camping cars that I'd been able to see so clearly just a second before.

I hadn’t realized how comforting the presence of that fire had been until it was gone. Now the darkness was thicker. The cold more noticeable.

The cold.

Something was off.

Most people don’t really realize it, but there’s a subtle difference between when it’s cold outside and when it’s cold inside, in a building. I didn’t really realize it either, until that moment.

When it’s cold outside, even if it’s not windy, there’s almost something like a slight movement in the air. Like the world itself is breathing softly, like the cold air itself is alive.

When it’s cold inside, in a building or a closed space, there’s a stillness to it. A sort of weight that presses down on you. The cold is stagnant. Empty. Dead.

That’s the sort of cold I felt at that moment. Not the cold of the outdoors, but the cold of abandoned buildings and dark concrete hallways and funeral homes.

This was about the time when I realized that I had fucked up. How exactly, I wasn’t sure. But I’d messed something up. The familiar weight of dread bloomed once more in my chest. I tightened my grip on my hatchet and began to edge back over to the camping car I’d ransacked. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do there—hide, maybe? But that idea went out the window almost immediately when I heard it.

A voice.

Quiet.

Distant.

Human.

A small voice that called from afar, almost inaudibly:

“Cameron?”

I froze.

My eyes darted towards the direction the voice had come from—somewhere in the shadows beyond the light of the camping car, too far off for me to see anything.

I stood there, frozen, waiting for another call to confirm that I hadn't conjured up that voice from nothing.

The silence was suffocating. I felt as if I was being smothered by a thick blanket.

My hands shifted on the handle of the hatchet as I debated whether to call back or not. Then the voice came again.

"Help me."

Closer this time. Drifting out towards me from the void.

I gulped. Swallowed. And then I called out, "Hello?"

My voice fell at the end of the word, timid and anxious. I regretted it immediately—the sound of my voice almost seemed to hang in the air for a moment, like bait in a murky river. 

I heard footsteps. So faint I wasn't sure if I was actually hearing anything. I strained my ears.

"Cameron?" That name again. Said in that same questioning, almost confused tone. Nearly human. 

I could definitely hear footsteps now. I managed to get my legs to move, and I took a few steps back, nearly tripping over the fire-pit as I did. My knuckles turned white as my grip tightened on my hatchet. 

Several feet away, just beyond the edge of the light, a pale body moved through the darkness. It spoke.

"Cameron."

It was not a human.

I turned and ran.

The light from the camping car faded fast, leaving me in darkness, but I ran anyway, stumbling and sliding over uneven patches of gravel and dirt and grass. While sprinting, I threw a split-second glance over my shoulder before looking forwards again. During that split-second, I saw nothing. It was too dark and I was running too fast to make anything out. It was chasing me during that time, though. Or was it? I didn't know, so I kept running.

I ran until my legs started to burn, which didn't take long. I dashed in-between two tents, jumped over a picnic bench, and then ducked behind a particularly large RV.

My breathing sounded dangerously loud in the silence of the campground. I clapped a hand over my mouth and waited, sweat dripping down my neck. I tried to listen for footsteps, but I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

Silence.

I shivered involuntarily as the cold slid in through my shirt, my flesh, my bones, into my very soul. My hand shook on the hatchet’s handle.

I stood as still as I could.

I waited.

And I waited.

And I waited.

Nothing. Not even a footstep.

I didn’t let myself relax, but I allowed a bit of the tension in my body to leak out a little. Slowly, I inched towards the end of the RV, hesitated, and then peeked around it.

No sight of whatever had been following me.

I let out a little exhale of relief, and loosened my grip on my hatchet ever so slightly.

Footsteps.

Fast. Light.

A breathy voice worming into my ear from behind.

“Help me.”

I whipped around and was met with a pair of long, white legs. 

It loomed above me, taller than me by about a full foot. It was pale. Naked. Its emaciated body shivered and twitched like it was cold, and its hands were trembling almost as badly as mine were.

A ragged mass of holes opened up its torso, the edges of the wounds jagged and raw as if they had stopped healing halfway through the process. Through the dark gaps, I could see its organs, glistening, pulsing, and writhing like they were alive themselves. My hand trembled on the handle of my hatchet as my gaze traveled further upwards, all the way up to its face.

Or where its face should have been. 

Where its face should have been, there were only ears.

Hundreds of them. 

Covering every patch of skin on the front half of its head. 

A mosaic of flesh and shadow and skin.

It swayed. Shivered. Some of the ears on its head flapped and fluttered weakly, like the wings of a moth.

I stared at it, frozen in horror. Unsure whether to move or to scream or to attack.

It tilted its head, and then turned it to a degree that would have been impossible for a normal human to accomplish. On the back of its head, I saw a glistening red gash, which opened and closed slowly. Warm, damp air blew from the gash onto my face, and it opened wide, revealing rows of uneven and mismatched human teeth.

The gash that was its mouth opened wide, wider, wider still, until I could see a thick pink thing at the back of the gash that might have been a tongue. 

Then it asked: “Cameron?”

I took a step back. My entire body was shaking now.

It leaned down towards me, a low hum rising from its body. “Cameron?” It asked again.

I stood there, frozen. It gasped, a high sound of sorrow and fear.

And then it moved.

It moved faster than I ever would have expected. Its hand swung into my chest and hurled me back over a picnic table, sending me crashing to the ground and driving the air from my lungs. Funnily enough, I felt a spike of fear at that moment, not because I thought I was going to die, but because I was afraid the sudden drop might have damaged the laptop.

But there wasn’t time for me to check on it. The thing jumped onto the picnic table, its ‘face’ now pointed at me. The ears on its head began to pulsate, moving in strange, rhythmic waves that were almost hypnotizing in a disgusting sort of way. It leaned down towards me. I saw its legs tense, and I tensed with them.

I hadn’t dropped the hatchet. It had come very close to embedding itself in my side when I’d landed on the ground, but it hadn’t.

So this time, I moved first.

My hatchet sank into the side of the thing’s head, sending out a spray of black and red that spattered my hands. Immediately I knew that the hatchet hadn’t gone deep enough to kill it—it had stopped only a fifth of its way into the thing’s head, blocked by its thick skin or a skull or something else. This thought had barely occurred to me when it screamed and moved upwards, dragging me up with it. I maintained my grip on the hatchet for all of two seconds before the hatchet separated from the thing’s head with a thick, wet, sucking sound, and both I and the hatchet were thrown in different directions.

Luckily, I didn’t land on my head. Unluckily, I landed on my foot.

My foot hit the ground at an angle, and folded sideways. The entire weight of my body, all a hundred and fifty pounds of it, came down on my ankle, and I felt several somethings crumple inside my foot.

Pain. White hot, snaking up my leg, blooming through my ankle. A raw scream burst from my mouth.

I couldn’t see the thing from where I was on the ground, but I could hear it. I could hear it scream. I could hear it stumble back, slam into the side of a camping car. I could hear the sound of flesh on flesh, like it was hitting itself.

I clawed my way over to a nearby picnic table, my breath coming out in ragged, wheezy gasps. I grabbed the edge of the bench, tried to stand, and immediately buckled with a strangled scream as my shattered ankle lit up in agony.

I could hear it getting closer again. I rolled over onto my back, practically hyperventilating as I watched the thing stagger closer to me, its head spinning from side to side as if it was trying to find me with eyes it didn’t have. “Cameron,” it howled. “CAMEROOOOOON—“

Some of its ears were flapping madly, like a flag whipping in a storm or a hummingbird caught in a trap. It slapped the side of its head with one hand, where a row of mutilated ears was now dripping a liquid like black paint onto the ground.

I tried to get up again, and let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and sob of pain as the fire in my ankle flared up once more. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. The thing called out for Cameron again. It grew ever closer. My mind raced.

What do I do what do I do whatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoI—

It hit its head again. More blood dripped from its wound. My eyes followed one of the thing’s ears, which was swaying from side to side from its head like a pendulum, hanging on by a thin strand of bloody skin.

All of a sudden, a thought came to me in a flash. Not in words, but in an abstract idea that went something like this:

It can’t see. It has no eyes.

So it moves using its ears. 

It’s completely reliant on them to move.

On sound. 

Sound. 

Sound. 

Sound.

Wildly, I scrabbled around with my free hand on the ground, gathering up a fistful of gravel. Having confirmed my location, the thing howled and began to rush towards me.

Before it could reach me, I turned my body, cocked back my arm, and hurled the gravel at the side of the camping car the thing had slammed into.

The assortment of pebbles and dirt clattered and bounced off the metal, sending sharp, jarring pings and clinks through the air. The thing’s head snapped towards the sound.

As quickly as I could, I scooted backwards on my rear, trying to keep my ankle as still as possible. The monster cried and began to hurl itself into the side of the camping car, bashing dents into the metal with its fists. As it did, I scooped up another handful of gravel and scattered it into the air. Some of it bounced off of the creature’s back, but most of it scattered across the roof of the camping car, driving the thing into even more of a frenzy as it slammed its fists into the metal like a gorilla.

I was several feet away from it now. I tried to get up again, this time putting as little weight on my ankle as possible. I grabbed another picnic bench nearby and began to pull myself up with shaking arms. As I rose, my ankle flared up again, and I gulped back the vomit that was beginning to rise up the back of my throat.

When I finally managed to stand on my good foot, the world tilted dangerously. My vision swam with spots of darkness, and I gritted my teeth, focusing on keeping my balance.

I braced my hands on the bench beside me. Hopped forwards once.

Gravel crunched underneath my foot, and I stopped. The thing, seemingly ignorant, continued to pound the camping car. My jaw clenched, and I hopped forwards again, another spike of pain piercing through my ankle.

My foot hit the ground too hard. Too loudly. Gravel rasped underneath my foot.

The creature’s pounding stopped abruptly.

I froze.

It began to stumble around in circles, its ears twitching like it was listening for something. I put a hand over my mouth. I wobbled a little on my good foot. Then, after a few more seconds, it stopped again and turned its head towards me. With a thick grunt, the thing moved towards me.

My entire body was trembling now. It was somehow hot and cold at the same time, and my body felt extraordinarily weak for reasons I couldn't figure out. My ankle continued to scream in pain, pinpricks of white-hot pain tearing up the insides of my leg.

It drew closer. I could hear its soft, ragged wheezing now, like the final breaths of a dying and diseased man. I squeezed my eyes shut, suppressed a whimper. 

I did not move.

I heard it approach. Heard its wheezy gasps. Felt the air shift as it passed me by.

"Cameron?"

Silence. I didn't reply.

"Help me," it whispered.

I opened one of my eyes a sliver. I immediately wished I hadn't. It was close to me. Very close to me. So close it could probably snap my neck if I so much as exhaled.

It shivered. Smeared the blood dripping from its wound all over its head.

My body ached with fear.

It cocked its head as if listening for something. And then, slowly, the thing began to lumber past me, swaying slightly like a drunk man, whispering that name under its breath over and over.

"Cameron. Cameron. Cameron. Cameron."

I didn't dare turn around, but I heard its mutterings slowly fade as it moved further away.

I stayed frozen like that for what felt like hours, too terrified to move. Until eventually I slowly, slowly turned my head back and saw absolutely nothing.

It was gone.

Immediately, I turned and limped towards the closest camping car as fast as I could. I tried the handle, and to my great relief, the door swung open. I climbed in as quietly as I could, biting back a scream every time my foot brushed against something.

As soon as I shut the door behind me, I checked up on my laptop. Upon seeing that it was fine, I moved on to the package of graham crackers. A bit crushed, but still edible. Then the water. Also fine.

I sighed and dropped my bag on the floor. And then I slumped into the small, cramped mattress at the end of the small camping car, being careful not to let my ankle make contact with anything.

After a long while, I got out my laptop and started to write.

It took me hours to write this. I stopped every time I heard something, shut my laptop, froze in fear for about five minutes before deciding to open up my laptop again.

Occasionally I hear it nearby. Sometimes groaning. Sometimes calling for help. Most of the time, asking about Cameron. Whoever that is.

I'm not sure if it knows I'm nearby. But it's looking for me.

As of now, I'm effectively trapped. I've got no weapon. My ankle is fucked up real bad. The metal door to this camping car is loud as hell, so as soon as I open it there's no going back. 

I think I'm fucked.

Chapter Text

I've taken inventory.

As of right now, I've currently got in my possession:

• A backpack
• One full water bottle
• Ace the Teddy Bear
• Duct tape
• Box cutter
• Two leather boots
• Laptop
• Graham crackers
• Graham cracker box
• Tablecloth
• Three matches plus a matchbox
• Deck of cards

And from the camping car I'm currently in:

• Metal tongs
• A pillow
• Assorted plastic utensils

Make of this what you will. If you can come up with any ideas using these items, feel free to toss them around in the comments. This post is essentially one big brainstorming session, and I need people to participate, because I can't go out there without a plan.

Apart from those things, there's a few other noteworthy points to discuss:

One, the leg situation. You're probably wondering how I'm doing on that part.

Well, to be truthful, it's...bad. Obviously. Having a broken ankle is going to suck ass no matter what. But I have managed to get it in a...less-than-perfect splint, using the duct tape I have, parts of the tablecloth, and the metal tongs I found. 

I don't know if I did it right, though. It fucking hurts like a bitch, and I feel like the tongs are chafing a bit, which is definitely going to be a problem later on. But hell, I'm not redoing that shit for at least another hour. You have no idea how hard it sucked to make that stupid splint.

Two: there's a radio on one of the walls of the camping car. I don't know if it works; I haven't tried it yet, because...well, y'know. Big ear monster outside. But there's a little red light glowing on it, so I'm assuming it works for now. A potential source of sound? Something to keep in mind.

And three: the hatchet.

I don't know if I'm seeing it right or not. But a few ways away from the RV I'm in, peeking through the window, I can see a dark little silhouette on the ground that might just be the hatchet I used to try and split open that thing's head earlier. 

Again, I'm not 100% sure about that. It might just be a weirdly shaped stick. But if it is, I could definitely use a good ol' sharp hatchet in my hands. It looks a bit far into gravel territory, though, so I'm debating if I should really go for it.

I think that's it for useful info, for now. Now all that needs to come next is the planning stage. I do have a few thoughts bouncing around up in my empty skull, but they're half-baked, and mostly just nonsense. So...like I said earlier, brainstorm. Throw whatever ideas you have at me, even if they're batshit insane. I'll take whatever at this point.

I'm not going to die here.

I'm not.

Chapter Text

The plan is as follows.

Step 1: Wrap parts of the tablecloth around my feet in an attempt to muffle the sound of the gravel. Might work, might not work. Worth a shot. Also, stuff my backpack full of the pillow’s stuffing to protect the laptop.

Step 2: I’ve come to the conclusion that as soon as I open the door, there’s no going back. While it’s not too loud, there is no feasible way to open that thing without making some sort of metallic noise. Which is why there’s no point trying to stealth my way out of here, at least in the beginning. 

Which is where the radio comes in.

Once the monster’s far enough away, I intend to turn it up to max volume and get the hell out of there. Judging from my last encounter with Earworm (credit to KnockoffBritish for the name, by the way), it’ll probably be too focused on tearing the camping car apart to get to the noise to pay attention to anything else, which’ll likely make a constant blanket of sound that'll be enough to mask my footsteps.

Step 3: I grab the hatchet, if it is a hatchet. If it’s a stick, I scrap everything past this step and just get the hell out of there.

Step 4: Next priority is to kill the damn thing, or at least slow it down. If an exit is as difficult to find here as it has been in the other levels, I have to take it out. After all, I can’t find an exit if I’m tiptoeing around at 0.01 miles per hour all the time.

Problem is, I’ve got no guarantees with Mr. Earworm. Going for the head is out of the question, judging from my earlier attempt, but there’s no telling if Earworm’s body is just as durable as its head was. If it isn’t, great. If it’s not, then I’m fucked as soon as I swing at it.

Earworm isn’t invincible, though—it can’t be. It has to have weaknesses. I just need to find the right spot to hit, and I need to stay calm enough to think. If I can manage that, I might stand a chance.

So I’m going for the legs. Back of the knee, ankle, anything. As long as I manage to slow it down, I’m good. 

Step 5: If things work out and I manage to cripple it, I kill it, if possible. If my hatchet, like, bounces off or something, then I get the fuck out of there.

Also, something to consider; one of you suggested I set the forest on fire, which…if things get really bad, I might consider. It’s definitely a last resort, though—there’s no tangible benefit to setting the forest on fire, and given how this place responds every time I try to ‘break the rules’ or get my bearings, I have no idea how this might affect the space around me. I don’t really want to try it unless things get really, really bad.

Now, what comes after this...I don’t know, actually. I try to find a way out? That’s obvious.

I don’t know. My priority right now is to get away from Earworm, so I haven’t really planned anything out after that.

This isn’t that great of a plan, in all honesty. It’s nowhere near perfect, and it could do with a bit more polishing. But I just…want to do something. I don’t want to sit here forever. I have to do something.

I’m…going to gather myself. Then I’m going out there.

Lend me your luck. I don’t think I have enough.

Chapter Text

Unsurprisingly, it took me a long time to put my plan into action.

I ran through the same routine from way back, when I was in the yellow maze—get up, sit down, get up, sit down, get up, sit, repeat—you don't need to hear the whole charade a second time. You get it.

Eventually, I decided that spending the rest of my days sitting quietly on a bed in a dark RV with a broken ankle would be a bit of a sad way to spend my life. Quietly, I stood from the bed—this time for real. I shifted most of my weight onto my good foot as I did, but my ankle still throbbed at the movement. Not a good sign, if I wanted to run.

I double-checked my bag, making sure that I hadn’t left anything behind. Triple-checked. Quadruple-checked.

Mentally slapped myself before I could quintuple-check.

And then, with an attempt at taking some deep, calming breaths, I began to step across the RV's hardwood floor as quietly as possible, so I wouldn't attract Earworm before it was time. I stopped in front of the small square radio mounted on the wall, about a foot or so from the door.

I took a few more deep breaths that only marginally relaxed me. I reached up and placed my hand on the radio.

My muscles tensed. I squeezed one of my hands into a fist, digging my fingernails into my palm in an effort to distract myself from my anxiety.

I turned the radio's volume dial all the way up to one hundred, placed my finger on the radio's on/off switch, and flipped it to ‘ON’.

Deafening static tore through the silence, making me jump even though I'd known it was coming.

A howl echoed out from the distance.

No going back now.

Any attempt at controlling my breathing was immediately abandoned as I stumbled over to the door, slamming into it and fumbling with the latch for a moment before yanking it back with a loud click. Swearing, I shoved open the door and leapt out onto the uneven ground, my feet sliding a little on the gravel covered surface. My injured ankle screamed in protest at the stress I had forced onto it so suddenly, and I clenched my teeth, trying to redirect my attention towards the tension in my jaw rather than the overwhelming pain in my ankle. (God, did it feel worse?)

I whipped around, looking for the spot I was sure I'd seen the hatchet. I'd known where it was inside the RV, but now, out here, I was lost. The darkness felt thicker than before, like tar pouring in all around me—sticking to my skin, seeping into my mouth, choking me, suffocating me, spilling into my eyes. My hands trembled violently. Short gasps escaped my mouth. I violently shook my head, in an attempt to ward off an encroaching vision of an empty stairwell stretching downwards into infinity.

Then, in the middle of my panic, I saw it at the edge of my vision—a slender, dark shape lying on the ground, just a shade lighter than the thick blackness surrounding it. My heart leapt, and I hopped/limped over to it as fast as my battered body would allow.

Pain shot up my ankle with every hint of pressure I put on my bad foot, as if shards of glass were buried deep inside my leg, digging and slicing into my muscles. I reached the object much faster than I had expected and nearly toppled over as I slid to a stop, but managed to catch myself at the last moment.

The constant hiss of static wormed into my brain through my ears and painted my thoughts with panic. Desperately, I lunged for the hatchet.

My fingers wrapped around it.

And instead of a cool rubber handle, I felt the coarse surface of a thick branch.

There went steps 3 through 5.

For a moment, I stood there like an idiot, anger and despair and hopelessness all swirling around in my mind. The branch slipped from my fingers and fell to the ground with a dull thud.

And then there came another thud. And another.

Footsteps. Pounding towards me.

At first I saw merely a pale blotch in the corner of my vision, so faint I could barely make it out. And then a second later, a pale figure sprinting in my direction, crying out “CAMERON” with a ruined throat. 

I froze up. I tried to steady my breathing. I failed. As it approached, I squeezed my eyes shut, against the warnings my mind was shouting at me.

I heard its feet pound the gravel, quick and fast. I prayed my death be quick, and—

There was a deafening crash as Earworm collided with the side of the RV. My eyes snapped open and just a few feet away I saw Earworm tearing into the RV, screaming and howling and begging for "Cameron" as the low hiss of static echoed out into the dark campgrounds.

I stood there for a moment, frozen. Then, with effort, I forced one foot backwards. I think it made a crunching sound on the gravel—I couldn’t tell, though, because the static, the howling, and the groaning of the metal seemed to be drowning out any other audible sound.

For a moment, I hesitated, unsure.

Then, I turned and I ran.

I pushed my battered body as far as it could go, trying to put as much distance between me and Earworm as I could. The screaming and the static faded until I could just barely hear it in the background, a light hiss occasionally punctuated by shrill howls and indecipherable shrieks. 

My ankle felt as if it was going to burst and come apart with every step. I moved in an awkward sort of half-shuffle, half-skip, my bad foot dragging awkwardly behind me. I glanced back every so often, making sure it wasn’t following me. I stumbled and tripped every time I did so, which I was pretty sure was fucking up my ankle even further, but I felt like I had to make sure that it wasn’t behind me.

Eventually, I slowed down just a little, if only to put some mercy on my burning ankle. I crumbled to the ground, bile stinging the back of my throat, and laid there for a moment, the side of my face pressed into the cold, sharp, gravel coated ground. After a moment, I propped myself up on shaky arms and forced myself to breathe, dragging in deep, shuddering gasps in an effort not to throw up all over the ground and/or myself. The faint hiss of static lingered in the distance, far enough away to almost be inaudible, but not far enough for me to feel safe. 

I had to keep moving. The adrenaline was starting to fade, and I had a feeling when that happened my ankle was going hurt worse than ever before. I had to move. I had to get up.

"Get up," I snarled at the ground. "Get up, get up, getupgetupgetupgetup—"

I pressed my hands against the cold gravel. Shards of rock and stone dug into my palms, the sharp pricks in my hands stinging yet grounding me at the same time. Groaning softly, I managed to prop myself up with one knee using my good leg, my ankle burning all the while, before pushing myself up onto my feet.

The moment I put weight on my bad ankle, pain shot downwards through my leg like a lightning strike. I clenched my teeth, swallowing a scream, and leaned heavily on my good leg instead.

Go, I chanted to myself. Go. Go. Go. Go. Just go.

I hopped a little on my good foot in an attempt to move forwards, only for all of the muscles making up the inside of my ankle to ignite at once with excruciating agony, forcing a gasp out of my chest and making me stumble sideways into a tree.

I grit my teeth and slammed my fist into the tree.

Go. GO. GO, god damn it, you're losing time.

I opened my eyes and looked around rather deliriously, searching for anywhere I could potentially hide out. If this kept up, I would be better off just finding another camping car to sit in. Though that would mean I'd be going back to square one, it was a better alternative than getting ripped to shreds by Earworm.

Which was when I saw it in the distance.

An RV I found suspiciously familiar, even in the darkness. I squinted at it.

Upon recognition, my breath caught in my throat.

But no, that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be.

But it was.

The old camping car me and my family used to use sat in front of me. Dark. Empty.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck,” I muttered to myself.

I then shook my head. This wasn't the time to be going down memory lane. Right now, my priority was to get as far away from Earworm as I possibly could. Nothing else. 

I lifted my bad foot, only to set it down immediately as it began to throb. I growled. If that thing caught up to me like this, I'd be defenseless. I wouldn't even be able to run away. I needed a weapon.

A weapon...

I glanced back over at the camping car. It looked the exact same...there was even the dent in the side that had appeared when some idiot had bumped it with their car while driving in reverse.

If it was the exact same, then...perhaps everything inside was the same, as well?

I looked back at where I'd come from, not that I could see much. Was the static still going? I was pretty sure it was. I could barely make it out, though. Better to be safe and move on.

There was a brief pause as I considered my options.

And then I made my way towards the camping car, hissing every time my left foot touched the ground.

As I walked towards it, I scanned the ground, peering through the darkness to find what I needed. Then I stopped. Sitting on the ground front of me was a rock, roughly the size of a grapefruit.

It’d do. I picked it up.

Beneath one of the windows, there was a small compartment in the side of the camping car, locked by a small padlock, since the original lock for the compartment had broken somehow. With another glance back, I turned to the padlock, raised my stone, and smashed it against the lock as hard as I could.

After about five or six more strikes, I managed to warp the padlock just enough to be able to pry it open. I tossed it aside, and the small door to the compartment swung open. I bent down onto one knee, which was murder on my ankle, and blindly reached into the darkness, feeling around for what I needed, before gripping a rubber handle.

I proceeded to pull out Hatchet 2.0.

As I pulled it out, several other items fell out with it; useless stuff, like bug spray and some plastic bags that I didn't bother even looking at. I was more focused on the weapon I'd just procured myself, so soon after I'd lost the first one. I turned it over in my hands, lost in the memories. I tapped the edge of the hatchet’s blade with my finger. Not as sharp as the last one had been, but it would work.

“You’re going to be used for more than chopping wood,” I murmured, and then carefully shut the compartment and stood. Looking around, I began to sneak away, my footsteps crunching uncomfortably loud in the silence.

And then I stopped.

Silence?

Wait a moment.

It was silent.

The static had cut out.

Footsteps.

A cry shattered the silence, and something grabbed my bag and whipped me backwards through the air.

The harsh rasp of tearing fabric followed me as I flew sideways into a tree trunk, the impact resonating throughout my entire body and knocking the breath from my lungs. My right palm hit the ground first, sending spikes of pain shooting up my wrist, and the rest of me landed on it a second later, folding it down into an awkward position underneath my body. I screamed.

Scattered belongings clattered and fell to the ground all around me—a water bottle, a teddy bear, a light gray rectangle that hit the ground and spiraled away into the darkness. Fear seized my heart, and I attempted to scramble to my feet, desperate to chase after the laptop, only for five white fingers to wrap around my neck from behind and toss me roughly onto my back.

My right arm, which wasn't broken but ached at every joint as if a truck had slammed into it, trembled as I attempted to push myself up. I didn't get far.

Earworm seized me by the throat again, making me choke. Snarling, it dragged me mercilessly across the gravel, like a predator dragging the corpse of an animal to their den, all the while I screamed and hit the creature's wrist with my fists, my feet scrabbling uselessly against the ground. 

It shrieked "CAMERON" and hurled me across the campground into the side of an RV. My head slammed into the metal surface with a resounding boom, and pain bloomed out along the inside of my skull. I gasped. There went the breath in my body once more. I fell to the ground, wheezing. 

It stomped towards me, still crying and saying that cursed name to itself. Panicked, half-formed thoughts bolted through my mind. Why didn't it just kill me? Was it playing with me? What the hell was its game?

My vision blurred and doubled as I tried to push myself up with unsteady arms. They gave out after a few seconds, and I crumpled. 

GETUPGETUPGETUPGETUPGETUPGETUPGETUPGETUP

I tried to push myself up, but only succeeded in pushing myself over onto my side. I yelled in frustration, and pounded the dirt with my fist.

Which is when I saw it—the box-cutter. Right in front of my face.

I grabbed it.

And then Earworm grabbed me.

It lifted me into the air, its fingers digging into my throat. I choked and thrashed blindly, tears rising in my eyes and blurring my vision. I tried to cry. What came out instead was a strangled hack.

Its head revolved, the dozens of ears on its head flapping, until I stared into a gaping vertical gash filled with molars and canines and hundreds of rows of teeth. The sides of the gash moved, warped, squeezing out the name: “Cameron?”

Clenching my teeth so hard I thought they might break, I extended the box-cutter's blade with a flick of my thumb.

And then proceeded to thrust it as hard as I could into the thing’s excuse for a mouth.

I felt it sink into flesh, felt some warm, thick liquid squirt and ooze onto my hand. Felt its teeth scrape my knuckles. I let out a primal scream and drove it deeper.

Earworm let out a choked cry—long, rattling, gurgling, like it was drowning. It tossed me to the side, and my vision blurred once more as I spun through the air. I landed on something hard, pain jolting up my back.

It thrashed around blindly, wailing and smacking its head as if to beat the pain away. Gasping, I pushed myself to the side, trying to get whatever I'd landed on out from under my back. It shifted with a clatter, rolling away towards my hand. I stared at it.

Bug spray. The can flipped over so I could read all of the labels on the back.

A wild, almost idiotic plan popped into my mind.

Frantic, I grabbed it and scrambled to get to my ruined bag, which sat just a few feet away.

My ankle flared up, and I ate dirt just a few feet from the bag. Earworm howled, and the sound of rending flesh filled the air as it tore the box-cutter from its head.

I scrambled towards my bag, dropped the can, and practically tore it apart, searching frantically for what I had in mind, when I saw it. A small matchbox, sitting on the ground to my right. I grabbed it.

A howl. Closer, this time. With leaden fingers I opened the box, took a match, and struck it. 

Sparks. Fear.

Again. The match snapped. It'd done it too hard. Swearing, I pulled out another one and tried again.

Strike. A spark.

Strike. Sparks. Screaming.

Strike.

Light.

Fire.

I rolled over to face Earworm, who stumbled closer, crying. From where I sat on the ground, I felt around behind me for the can of bug spray, grabbing it just as Earworm began to rush towards me. 

I raised the can.

Earworm reached out.

I raised the match to its nozzle.

The light of the flame reflected in one of the thing's organs. 

I held down the spray button.

A thin jet of flame roared outwards from the match, the fire blooming outwards and throwing a bright orange light over the campgrounds. The flames swept over Earworm's outstretched hand and into its chest, searing its flesh, igniting its organs, and licking at its ribs, melting patches of its skin into a black, gooey mess.

Waves of heat buffeted my hand, hot enough to half-convince me that I was baking my hand by accident. But I didn't care. An odd thrill swooped through my stomach, and I pressed harder on the button, forcing out as much fuel as I could for the flames. Earworm thrashed wildly, its massive flaming hands clawing at its head as it stumbled back. The sharp smell of bug spray, smoke, and burning flesh hung in the air. 

I eagerly leaned the can closer to the match, pouring everything in the can out into a searing stream of fire, wanting nothing more than to see it burn. But then—

Pain.

White-hot pain suddenly enveloped my fingertips, and I gasped, letting the match slip from my fingers and the can drop to my side. I fell onto my back, cradling my burnt fingers to my chest with a hiss.

Earworm twisted and cried, smoke rising from its charred body. Through the holes in its chest, I could see fire eating away at its insides, lighting Earworm up from the inside out like a Jack-O-Lantern.

It burned. It screamed. It thrashed.

I looked down at my shaking hand, my fingertips a blistering mess. They throbbed, the pain raw and relentless, but there was no fear, no hesitation in my heart.

Just rage.

I moved.

The hatchet lay not far from where Earworm stood thrashing. Ignoring how horribly my ankle was aching, I ran over to it, ducking under a flailing arm as I did.

My hand snatched up the hatchet from the ground, and my feet pivoted and crunched on the gravel as I turned to face the flaming entity I hated so deeply. It grabbed at me, a mindless, desperate move.

I dodged, and with a feral scream of my own swung it as hard as I could into Earworm's arm.

Its arm cracked and crumpled and folded under the strength of the hatchet’s blade, and black sprayed the ground as its arm swung loosely at the elbow, connected only by a few strings of black and white skin and tendons.

My next blow took out its knee, which snapped and broke far easier than I had expected and sent Earworm tumbling to the ground. It howled.

I advanced on it, eyes wild with rage, foot dragging painfully behind me like a metal ball chained to my ankle. But I heed it no mind, even as it burned with every step. I raised my hatchet and brought it down on Earworm's other leg, splitting it messily in half with a spray of black.

It tried to push me away with its remaining arm. I shoved it aside and mercilessly, mindlessly, began to bash its body inwards with my hatchet.

I lost my mind.

I swung and crushed and cut with no mercy, swinging madly until the creature was a thrashing, gurgling mess of skin, blood, and bone. I didn’t stop. I didn't know if I wanted to. At some point, my ankle gave out, and I fell forwards, right onto its body. I could feel it writhing and twisting underneath me. It tried to grab at me, but it had no hands to grab me with, because I'd smashed them into pieces. I propped myself up with my hatchet, stumbled to one foot, and began to swing again.

Flesh tore and bones split under my blade. Blood like ink painted my hands up to the wrists. I reduced its chest to a smoking crater of blackened guts, and then its legs and arms to ragged ribbons of white and black flesh. I wiped the blood from my eyes, spat it from my mouth, and began on its head. It continued to howl, continued to cry that damn name, only stopping when I split its skull with my hatchet, which I swung down, over and over and over until its head crumpled inwards under the force of my strikes, where it gurgled and choked and gasped and slowed until eventually, finally, the wretched, cursed, monstrous fucking being

died.

At some point, while I was swinging, I realized that it had stopped moving. Stopped screaming. Stopped...

Everything. 

Still, I swung downwards. Just a few more times. Even though there was nothing left to hit but a ruined mess of black and white gore.

I stood over its mutilated body, hands shaking on the handle of my hatchet. My eyes wide. My breath hard and fast, almost to the point of hyperventilation.

I stood there, silent, staring down at the carnage I’d caused. Still breathing hard.

And then, gradually, I came to my senses. My breathing slowed. My heart went from vibrating to merely pounding. The red faded from my vision.

The pain returned. My fingertips ached. My ankle felt like all of hell had come together and coalesced into my flesh. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug.

I staggered, shifting all of my weight onto my good ankle. Which also ached, depressingly enough. 

Slowly, I turned and shuffled away. The hatchet hung loosely from my fingers, which were still clasped around the handle as if I was praying.

I sat heavily at the end of a picnic table, staring off into space.

Blood dripped down my face. It could have been mine. It was probably not.

I let the hatchet slip from my hands.

Bowed my head. 

My body tilted, and fell forwards, landing hard on my hands and knees. 

I threw up.

My throat burned. I choked and heaved, crumpled on all fours on the jagged gravel. My eyes were squeezed shut, but the image of the creature’s ruined body persisted, almost clearer in the darkness of my mind.

A drop of blood ran down my forehead, tracing the outline of my nose, before stopping at my lips. I could taste it, faintly—it tasted of iron and rot and sin.

I gasped for air. Choked again. And I fell onto my side, using the bare minimum amount of energy to ensure I didn’t land in my own pool of vomit.

My breath came out in weak, raspy wheezes. I shut my eyes. I saw it. I opened them. I saw it, just a few feet away.

I wished I had the energy to roll over, so I didn't have to look at what I'd done.

But I didn't.

I stared at it. Unconsciously burned the image of the corpse into my mind. 

Then my gaze slowly traveled to my hands, which were sprawled out before me.

Completely covered in black. I couldn't see even a slight trace of skin underneath all of this blood.

My hands trembled.

I held my blackened hands up to my face. They continued to shake.

It was quiet, now that Earworm was dead. So quiet.

So.

Q̶u̴i̵e̶t̷.

Chapter Text

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Chapter Text

[An image is displayed on screen. It is a picture of an open notebook with a blue cover and a coil binding.]

[Written at the top of the page is a date: '30th of August, 2007'. Below that, the writing reads as follows:]

'Write every day, read every day'.

According to the internet, that's the fastest way to improve as a writer. And since that's what I intend on becoming once I become an adult, that's what I've gotta do, right?

Reading every day is easy. I do that already. Writing every day, though? I don't know if I have time for that--and besides, what would I even write? I don't even have an idea for a book yet.

So I've decided to start this diary (I guess? Sure, let's go with that) Just so I can write a little bit every day. I'm pretty sure this isn't what that blog meant by writing every day, but hey, writing is writing, right? 

Ooh. If I ever get famous, I could totally sell this diary. It’s like my biography, sorta.

My name is Madison, by the way. Madison Hill. Probably should have led with that, but oh well.

To be honest, I don't know if enough interesting things happen in my life to write about every day. But the blog I got the advice from didn't really specify how much I have to write each day, so about a page each day should be alright.

Hmm...what to write about, what to write about...

I guess I'll write about the only thing that's really happening in my life yet. A.K.A. high school.

Well, okay, high school hasn't started yet. It starts next week. Which is...scary.

High school sort of scares me.

Am I being too honest right now? Naah, nobody's gonna read this anyways. 

Unless my idiot brothers decide to break into my room. I should get one of those diaries with those little padlocks I saw at the store.

Anyways! Back to high school.

Middle school has mostly been a smooth ride. The work is easy. Talking to people’s easy. The teachers are cool.

But high school? That’s a whole different beast.

From what little I know from the movies and books, high school is a big place with bigger people, bigger classes, and unwritten rules nobody’s nice enough to tell you. You get homework all the time. There are bullies. (not that there aren't bullies in middle school) You’ve gotta be part of some group, or some club, or some thing, or else you end up just being a loner.

Middle school isn't really like that. You could just do whatever in middle school. 

To be fair, I only know all this from, like I said, movies and books, which aren’t always the most reliable sources for real life. But they’ve gotta be true to some extent, right? 

I don't know. My mom says I'm overthinking it. Simon's a little snot, so I don't take his opinion into account anyways. Jeremy said some things about freshmen getting shoved into lockers and eating off the floor and having to carry the books of seniors everywhere. And he's actually in high school, so he might be telling the truth, but I'm 99% sure he's just teasing me. I think. I hope.

Maybe he's just trying to get me to lift his textbooks for him. If that's what it is, he can suck it. I'm not his slave.

I'm still stressed. What if I mess something up on the first day? Like get lost, or forget my schedule, or say something dumb? People remember that kind of stuff. I would remember that kind of stuff.

Ugh.

Still. I wish someone could just give me a map. Not of the school—I’ll figure that part out. I mean a map for how to be. How to survive this new jungle.

I'm choosing to be optimistic, though. Even though I'm a bit nervous (okay, a lot nervous) I think things are going to be great. I mean, I have friends, and they're probably just as nervous as I am. Wherever they go, I can just follow them.

Yeah. Yeah, that's right.

School is going to be just fine.

School is going to be great.

Chapter Text

[A series of screenshots of a text conversation is displayed on screen. The screenshots read as follows:]

Chapter Text

[An image is displayed on screen. It is a picture of an open notebook, which reveals two pages filled with neat and legible writing. The notebook has a smooth black cover that looks to be made of leather.]

[Written in bold at the top of the first page is ‘The Campgrounds’. Underneath, the text reads as follows:]

The Campgrounds, as I have deemed the level, is a fairly simple place with high risk, high reward.

This level is, as the name suggests, an infinitely expanding campground, with patches of forest in-between. There is no day and night cycle in this level, only short periods of time where the darkness lightens occasionally. A light source is invaluable in this level, though any explorers should keep in mind what else might be attracted to this light source.

In this infinite campground resides a similarly infinite number of tents and RVs, a majority of them filled with a number of supplies. The quality and usefulness of these supplies vary—canned food, water, batteries, tools such as crowbars and hatchets—once, in fact, I was lucky enough to find a revolver with two bullets. Despite this abundance of resources, however, this level holds a significant amount of danger. 

In the average level, the odds of encountering an entity is thankfully fairly low. The danger of starvation or dehydration is much more prevalent. This is not the case in the Campgrounds.

While the level isn't overrun with entities, the likelihood of attracting the attention of anything is significantly higher, likely due to the openness of the terrain compared to other levels.

Though the camping cars and RVs may provide relatively safe shelter, it isn't recommended to stay in one spot for too long; the entities can sense you. I once made the mistake of falling asleep in one of the camping cars, and awoke to find footprints resembling that of a barefoot man circling my location, over and over again. Suffice to say, I ended up using one of the revolver's bullets faster than expected.

Exits to this level are far and in-between, but usually take the form of decrepit wooden outhouses. From what I have seen, the older the outhouse, the safer the level you will end up in, oddly enough.

If an explorer is able to procure themselves some of the many resources supplied in this level, they should not attempt to take more. Greed is not something you can afford, in this level or anywhere else in this dimension. Get only what you need, and then find an outhouse as quickly as possible. If you are quiet enough, you should be able to navigate this level with no trouble.

If you were unlucky enough to make any loud noises while in this level, pray that there was nothing nearby.

[The writing ends here.]

[At the bottom of page two, the name ‘A. Sullivan’ is scrawled in a loopy signature.]

Chapter Text

It’s been a while. 

I’m sorry if I worried anyone. It took me a while to post this for a lot of reasons; the fingers on my right hand are pretty raw, which sucks because I’m right-handed. I had a bit of a mental breakdown. I didn’t really know what to say.

Oh yeah, and I passed out at some point. So. There’s that.

I guess I’ll start with the smaller details.

I managed to salvage most of my belongings from the ground. The graham crackers, tragically, were lost. Well, most of them. I’ve still got some, but half of the contents were spilt across the ground, and were trampled during my and Earworm’s struggle. So were the remaining matches, which I had lost in the darkness.

Thankfully, Ace and the rest of my belongings were fine. The laptop is fine—which is obvious, given the fact that I’m talking to you guys right now. The backpack, surprisingly, was a lot better off than I’d imagined. There was a big tear on the side of the bag, but it was nothing a little duct tape couldn’t fix.

I got most of the blood off, too, though most of it’s already on my shirt and pants. The tablecloth I got from the camping car helped with that.

Everything hurts. My head. My arms. My legs. My fingers, as I mentioned before, ache really bad, though it’s nothing compared to my ankle. I almost can’t feel my fingers compared to my ankle.

My ankle feels like hell. I don’t know if I can walk. I think it got worse. I can barely even move it.

I wrote the last post in my old family camping car. I fell asleep there, too. I wanted to keep writing, but just writing the part where I...did that made me want to throw up all over again. So I posted, flopped over, and passed out. 

I’m sorry I didn’t reply to any comments last post. I should’ve. There were a lot.

I was a bit scared to look, honestly.

I’ll reply to them all in the next post, though. All the comments on this post I’ll reply to in the next post as well. I just...I need to collect myself.

Just give me a moment. Please.

I’ll be back.

Chapter Text

[Beginning of recording.]

[sheets rustling]

[someone clears their throat]

Hi.

[more rustling]

[deep breath]

Okay.

So, this is late. Obviously. Sorry about that. I don't know how long it's been since my other post, because...well, you know. Broken clock and all that. [nervous laugh] But it's probably been a little bit, which is entirely on me. I, uh, might have slept a little longer after last post.

Honestly, this was supposed to be a text post. It’s not, of course. You’ve probably noticed that already, and you’re also probably wondering why. Well, um...

Bottom line is, the tips of all the fingers on my right hand are toasted. I haven't...okay, I haven’t actually tried typing with them, but it stings to just brush them against anything, so I’m pretty sure typing with them wouldn’t feel any better. 

I can still type, technically—my left hand is decidedly not roasted—but I guess I haven’t spent enough time working out my finger muscles or something, because they started to get tired halfway through what was supposed to be this post. I guess that’s not surprising, since I’ve been typing for a while. But I’m sort of disappointed by how weak my hand-slash-fingers are.

I could wait, I guess. Until they’re all rested. Probably wouldn’t take long. But writer’s block is hitting hard anyways, so...we're doing this now. I guess.

I know, I know, it’s sort of messier than your average text post. But...hey, let's look on the bright side. At least this way, we can have more...fffffffun. Right? You'll get to hear my reactions to your comments, live.

Or...well. Semi-live. Because y'know, this is a recording and not a livestream. And I've already read a few of them, so it's not going to be one-hundred percent new reactions, but...

Whatever. You get it. It'll be like...a podcast! Yeah, that sounds right. A podcast.

The world's shittiest podcast, probably, but...still a podcast.

What would the concept be? Podcasts have concepts, right? Something like...Madison Hill torture time. Time to torture Madison Hill. Or something. Sure, that works.

Episode one, an interview with Madison's only friend, Ace the fucking Teddy Bear. Episode two, front row tickets to her latest mental breakdown in her parents' old camping car. Episode three, an exclusive on her ankle, which will probably never heal properly and leave her limping for the rest of her life! Only on Spotify! 

Um. Sorry. I'll be serious.

I'm sorry. I, uh, know this is probably...[small huff] worse...to have to understand. I'm not sure about the mic quality on this thing, and I'm not in the best mental state, so I’ll probably ramble a little here and there. Sorry in advance. But I already started this thing, so we’re committed now.

Anyways. You guys should know what this is about. I'm reading all of your comments, because it'd sort of feel wrong not to, at this point. You guys put a lot of effort into your comments, so it’d be a shame to put all that to waste.

I need to stop stalling. I'll...[rustling, tapping on keyboard] start with that now, I guess.

Oh, yeah, by the way. One last quick note, before we start. If you hear something in the background while I’m talking, I have a blanket draped over my body right now, so that’s probably what that is. I don’t know if the mic can pick that up, but I thought I’d just give a heads up.

Okay, we're actually starting now. For real this time.

Give me a sec. I need to find the first comment.

[touchpad clicking]

Alright.

So, the first comment I've got here was written by a user named R...

Okay, hold on. Give me a second to process this name before I fuck it up.

Okay. The first comment here—which I've already read through, by the way—was written out by Riririnka. I hope I got that right. If I butchered your name, I apologize. I don't think I did, but feel free to correct me.

'Kay. Here we go.

[clearing throat]

[reading aloud]
“Dear Madison. Holy shit, are you okay? I hope you’ve slept and tended to your injuries before typing this out.”

Right. Um, about that.

Good news, I guess, is that I’ve made some progress in terms of sleep. Bad news is that I have...not...really...improved on the injury front. Which, uh, sucks...

[sheets rustling, a hiss of pain]

Shit, that hurt. So earlier, I adjusted the—the—

[sheets rustling again]

Fuck—

Sorry, I just moved my ankle the wrong way. 

Anyways, I adjusted the splint a little earlier, because it was starting to come apart. Nearly passed out while doing so, but I did it. I don’t know how much it’s helping, because it is made from...well, you know, tongs, duct tape, prayers, so. I don’t know. I hope it’s doing something. I don’t have...a ton of faith in it, tough.

Still hurts, to be honest. Like a bitch. [weak laugh] I...don’t know how I managed to get out of that RV on this thing.

I might’ve understated how badly it hurt to adjust. I’ve never thrown up out of pain before, but I came really, really close. It's almost to the point where I don't know if...

A-anyways. Um. Back to the comment.

[reading aloud]
“I'm really glad everything went mostly according to plan. Coming across your family's camper car was something like a stroke of pure luck, I must say, if you can even get lucky in that damned place."

Ha. Tell me about it.

[reading aloud]
"In my opinion, I think you should try to drive the camper car around, cause it'll put less pressure on your foot. Did your family keep firearms in the camper? It'd be super useful.”

I...well, no, I don't think so. My family wasn’t really the gun-owning type. I mean, we kept one in the house, because...well, you know. 'Murica. But we didn't keep any in the camping car, no. Which sucks. Would’ve made some nice insurance.

Also, I don't know if it would be a good idea to drive this thing around. Even if I could find the keys, which I doubt I could...a camping car makes sound. And this campground is silent. And I'm not really interested in testing out the integrity of this thing's windshield when put against twenty giant fucking monsters. 

Um, sorry, I don’t wanna be rude. Just pointing that out. Anyways.

[reading aloud]
“Also, did this place ever remind you of the frutiger aero/aqua aesthetic that was going around in the 2000s as a speculation of how the future was going to be? I think this place is trying to use your memories and fear to control you.”

I...don't know what that is. Sorry. That last part wouldn’t surprise me, though.

[reading aloud]
"There's also the thing that helped when you almost died. It wants something from you. It berated us for not helping out properly.” 

Yeah, okay, that—[rustling]—ow, fuck—when I first read that part, I was really confused. I still am.

What do you mean it berated you? When did it talk to you? Is this about the weird posts on my blog? What—like, what? What does that mean? Please, god, elaborate. I know I have bigger things to worry about than that, but I'm begging you, tell me what is happening.

I'm going to move on. But that's...weird. I don't—

Whatever. I'm moving on. 

[reading aloud]
“Little update on current affairs—"

Oh, yippee. Good ol' Planet Earth.

[reading aloud]
"Update on current affairs: the world is absolutely fucked."

[snort]

Sorry. I didn't mean to laugh there. That was just unexpected.

Um...okay. The world is fucked.

[reading aloud]
"Rich people are getting richer, poor people are getting poorer, and ahead of everything is America. The economic state is absolute trash, I'm glad I'm not American, I wouldn't be able to deal with that."

As an American...fair. Though it's not that bad over here in 2016. Which is where I'm from, if you forgot. When I'm from? Whatever.

[reading aloud]
"The average house in cities like LA and NYC is..." Jesus. "The average house in cities like LA and NYC is $1.2 mil. Insane price. People still haven't been able to pay off their student loans, homeless people are more than ever, pollution is worse than ever, the world population has started to decline, corporations are trying to get women to have more babies, etc. Basically, a dumpster fire."

...wow.

You know what, that doesn't surprise me as much as it should.

I mean, the world's been getting progressively shittier since, like, 2015, right? Doesn't surprise me that things are that bad up there right now.

[snort]

Good to know the world out there is just as fucked as I am in here. Sort of makes me feel better about myself, honestly.

Which...is...um...a little fucked up, I guess.

Sorry. I don't think it's good that people are suffering or anything. I just...I don't know. 

You guys ever feel that way? Like, you feel like shit, but then you see someone doing worse than you and feel a little better about yourself? That's common, right?

I don't know. Maybe I'm just an asshole.

[cough]

Anyways...that's that, I guess. World's fucked. Or at least, 'Merica is. Moving on.

[reading aloud]
"I would speculate that you were in an experiment of sorts, and these creatures are all robots—black blood equals oil? But some things don't make sense about that. For example, how haven't you aged, and where can such a large area be found to perform this sick ass experiment? Or maybe you have aged, but the government did something about that."

...hm.

So there's a lot to unpack there. I've already read this comment, so I have some thoughts on this. 

I thought about it, and...sure. I guess there...might be a chance that they're robots? I don't think so, though.

I mean, I've only managed to kill Earworm so far, so I can't really speak for the other entities, but I know that Earworm probably wasn't a robot. I don't think its blood was oil, for one thing. It smelled wrong. Not that—I mean, I don't know what oil smells like, off the top of my head, but I don't think it would've smelled like whatever...Earworm's blood smelled like.

Also, I, um, did essentially dissect it. 

Uh. Very violently. 

So.

I know what its insides look like.

Okay. I'm getting off this topic before I throw up.

As for the not aging part, to be completely fair, I don't think it's been...that long? Since I entered here? I mean—shit, it's been a while, yeah, but in the grand scheme of things I don't think it's been that long. A few...[voice turns shaky] um...days, maybe? I don't know, I haven't really been keeping track. It...it's a bit difficult to speak on the not-aging thing. I don't know, I haven't noticed my hair or my fingernails growing, but honestly, who does? We'll see, I guess.

As for the large area of this place, I don't know, I don't think this is a building, if I'm being honest. If this place is manmade, then the amount of money that must have been poured into it would be literally incomprehensible. And also, it would probably not make for a very profitable investment.

I don't know, that's just my thoughts on that. I have no clue.

I'll keep reading. 

[reading aloud]
"Plus, that entire space you're in itself feels sentient, otherwise how would you get to your camper car, and the creatures feel like an extension of it. Maybe you'll emerge from this place with superhuman strength like the Hulk, lol."

Yeah, wouldn't that be nice.

[reading aloud]
"Anyways, I think the way you dealt with that monster was absolutely...badass."

Right.

Thanks. Didn't feel badass, but. Thanks anyways.

[reading aloud]
"Last thing: Rina woke up. We had cake to celebrate, and we're not going to talk to her about what happened until she's in a better space mentally and physically."

Okay, that's good. I'm glad she's okay. You'll have to let me know how things went after this.

And...that's it. 

For the comment, I mean. It's finished.

Huh.

I got through that a lot faster than I thought I would, honestly. Maybe I should start a podcast.

You know what, good start to the reply session, I'd say. First one down. Thanks for the comment, Ririr—uh—god, fuck me. Thanks for your comment, Riririnka. Sorry, I keep mis-reading your name.

But thanks, really. Your comment was...really long. And nice. You guys are nice.

Thanks to all of you who left comments, by the way. I should have started with that, but I forgot, so...I'm just letting you know, I appreciate all of them. 

Or...well...most of them. The nice ones, at least.

Anyways! Let's go to the next comment, which was left by...ah. SmolGalaxy.

You're always a fun one to hear from. You know, I don't actually recognize the username—maybe you changed it or something—but I definitely remember the writing style. It's pretty hard to forget.

Again, this is one of the comments I've already read, so I've got the basic gist of it.

[reading aloud]
"Oh. Well, at least you're safe. But I really...hope you're doing well. Have a bit of choices like...wash your crabbing hands and/or devour the being, consume the..."

[long sigh]

Okay...

Guys. Guys. Guys.

I'm not going to eat the fucking monsters. 

Stop telling me to do that. It's gross. And—okay, even if I theoretically was able to cook and eat them, which by the way I can't, I still wouldn't.

Yeah, I know it's not my place to be picky right now. But, like...I have standards. I mean, maybe if I get desperate, sure. But I'm not at that point yet, so...as of right now...no, not an option. Sorry, I'm holding steady on that decision.

Okay.

Anyways, um...moving on.

[reading aloud]
"Madel..." Something... "Are you sure about this? I really hope you...find a way around this. Teehee. Madness, tomfool..."

Okay.

You know what, I'm just going to skip around the weird parts a little. No offense, man, but I don't think your comment was meant to be read out loud.

[reading aloud]
"You wish for rest. And also you threw up, so you hydrate. Drink water."

Yeah, don't worry. I've had plenty of water. I've got a pretty good amount left, too. I think.

[reading aloud]
"Also, remember, it's..."

[reading aloud]
"Remember, it's kill or be killed. Remember, no guilt. You were...just defending yourself."

...okay. Thanks.

[exhale]

...moving on.

[reading aloud]
"Your memories. Do you remember?"

Um. I don't really know what you mean by that, but my memory's been fine since that pool level, if that's what you're asking. The haze just went away after a little bit. Probably should have explained that earlier, but oh well.

[reading aloud]
"Stay safe, and don't die. I'm rooting for you! And remember, the whole world is watching you."

...gee, thanks. No pressure, I guess.

And then at the end here, there's an audio file attached. Which...I didn't know you could do in comments, honestly.

Can't open it, though. So if there's anything important in there, well, sucks for me, I guess.

Okay, we're done with that one. Dear SmolGalaxy—[a clap] thank you for your comment. It is much appreciated. Even if most of it is nonsense. 

Or...well, some of it, actually. Hey, you know what? I think that comment was sort of normal by your standards. I could tell what most of it meant. Eight out of ten, Mr. Galaxy.

I...don't know what criteria I'm grading this comment on, but it certainly passed.

Also, the interaction under this comment made me laugh. Thanks for that. Speaking of which, take the carrot slice, Meg, you ungrateful girl. 

[soft laugh]

That...uh, probably won't make sense to the people that didn't read the comments on that post. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then...don't worry about it. Inside joke.

Okay, then. Moving on to the next comment! Which was written by...

'To Dust'.

I've...read this one already.

[sigh]

Let's just get this over with.

The first part of this reads:

[reading aloud]
"Make a weapon. A better weapon, I mean. A hatchet’s great, buut if you’re gonna be facing..." Whatever that says... "Then you'll need a lil bit more then a swing to secure victory."

I'm satisfied with my hatchet. No, it's not the best weapon I could have, but I don't have any other options. I'll just have to make do with it.

[reading aloud]
"Step 1, get a bunch of rocks. Not too many, maybe 2 or 3, but strap 'em to your chest and toss them at people you don’t like."

I'm not in the state to go around picking up rocks, let alone go carrying them around on my chest. 

[reading aloud]
"Step 2, try and make a bow."

I don't have the resources to make a bow on me. And even if I did...I don't know how to make a fucking bow. Do you?

[reading aloud]
"Step 3...look at it. When you were fighting it, did you hear the...snap of a bone? That means it has bones. Bones are hard, and snapped bones are sharp. Dissect it."

I've...made my stance on harvesting resources from these things clear. I'm not going to do that.

[reading aloud]
"Step 4..."

[deep inhale]

[long exhale]

[reading aloud]
"Look at it."

[reading aloud]
"Look at it. Look at what you have done. You shouldn’t be sad, or angry, or sick. You did what you have to do. You did what you needed to do. You did what you did, and you shouldn’t worry about it. It’s dead. It can harm you no longer. It can’t hurt you anymore. It wasn’t human, it wasn’t even real in the first place. It was a bunch of ears, and gross ears at that, so you shouldn’t worry about that. It was probably too stupid to realize it was being slain, so you shouldn’t be sad. Don’t be sad. You never should be sad. You did what was necessary. There’s nothing wrong with that. Losing your sanity means they win. They won’t win. You won’t let that happen. Anything you find isn’t real. No matter how genuine their screams are. No matter how metallic their blood tastes when focused eyes zone out. No matter how real it feels, they are not real. It’s. Not. Real."

[reading aloud]
"You did what they would’ve done to you. You did what came natural. Do what comes natural. Do what comes natural. Do what comes natural..."

[shaky breath]

...you want to know what I think, Dusty?

I think you should go fuck yourself.

That's what I think.

"It wasn't real"?

Fuck you.

"Do what comes natural"?

Fuck you.

What do you mean by that? You think that was—you think what I did to that fucker was natural? You think it came naturally to me? Because it didn't. It didn't. It didn't.

I didn’t want to do that. You think I fucking enjoyed doing that? You think I—you—fucking—

Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up.

That’s not me. [voice breaking] That wasn’t me. That wasn’t me, and I won’t let that be me. I won’t.

Fuck you, Dusty.

Go fuck yourself.

Fuck off. Don’t fucking come back here.

[labored breathing]

Fuck.

I—

I'm sorry. 

[rustling]

I’m sorry. I didn’t...

I didn’t mean for, um...all of that to come out. That was...that wasn’t cool of me. I’m sorry.

Not to Dusty. I...

I don't care about him.

Just...you guys. I guess. Sorry.

[sigh]

I should have skipped that one.

I knew what it said. I didn't need to read it. I just...

Had to say something to that one. I wanted to.

[rustling]

[short, shaky breaths]

...and now my ankle fucking hurts again.

Great.

Okay.

Um...fuck. I'm sorry, I'm good. I just need to...just need to pull myself together. Give me a moment. Sorry.