The Boole Reservoir

Photo by Yann Allegre on Unsplash

Part I

The Boole Reservoir stretched across a lush woodland that supported three villages on the outskirts of a snow-capped mountain.

Hikers climbed to the summit to look over the vast vicinity enclosed by a great forest and quenched their thirst with the ice-cold water flowing down to the reservoir.

What the locals knew, but outsiders did not, was the legends that circulated in this godforsaken place shrouded in mystery. This was why the locals never set out into the woods after sunset and warned their children to return home before dusk.

They believed that a lonely spirit roamed this reservoir blanketed in crushing ice. She dwelled in the ominous body of water and lured unfortunate souls to their ill-fated demise.

She preferred unsuspecting children it was believed, and she took her sweet time to gobble them up alive, relishing in their tender flesh and screams for their mother.

But this was only a made-up tale to scare miniature humans. The truth was much more sinister and unsettling.

Like many similar legends passed down from generation to generation, the myth about the lonely spirit haunting The Boole Reservoir was based on a real story – a story long forgotten in the bygones.

And whatever the truth was back in those days, it had now become a faint memory. Like everything else in this mundane life with no purpose, the truth dispersed and only the made-up parts remained as a distant token of its existence.

I first heard about the reservoir and the stories surrounding it through a good friend of mine, Mark Ryder. He and his family were from one of the nearby villages the reservoir provided clean water.

Mark and I both studied mechanical engineering in our early twenties but didn’t become close until the last semester. He was somewhat of a recluse back then and hardly spoke a word unless he was required to.

He said most of the villages in that area were now ghost towns and that only a handful of people remained, most of which were too old to move or too stubborn to leave everything behind and start anew somewhere else.

I asked him why and that was when he told me about the rumours and myths surrounding that place. And to be honest, these rumours failed to deter me from taking an interest in the reservoir – on the contrary, they piqued my interest.

I was a city boy, all right, and grew up as an only child. My parents were both workaholics, so I never set off to the countryside like the majority of my peers.

Growing up, I always imagined myself leading a dull but peaceful life in the country, taking in the pitch-black night sky and watching the twinkling stars too shy to show their head in the city.

Besides, the only thing I was remotely afraid of was the darkness. But not the one that came with the darkening welkin. I’m not sure how to put this into words: like when the temperature plummets without warning during a hike and distorts your thoughts, that kind of creeping darkness that comes out of nowhere is what chills me to the bone.

I led a normal life up until that point in my life, but I didn’t have anything to look forward to. It was the same routine day in and day out. Like a robot without its own will, I slaved through each day without a purpose and goal in life.

It wasn’t that I did not enjoy my life. That wasn’t it! I met my partner, Ann, during work and loved every single moment I spent with her. We had the same taste in music, enjoyed fishing during winter, and even came from the same background.

But something was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was; I only knew that my breath became more and more laboured with each passing day.

It’s silly, I know, but these are the reasons I did what I did next. I shouldn’t have, I…

Why couldn’t I just be satisfied with my mundane life and lead a normal life? The answer eludes me, perhaps you’ll figure out the reason by the time this story ends.

Part II

One evening, as we were heading home from the gym, sweaty and exhausted beyond words, I asked Mark something I now regret deeply – I asked if he could show me it. The Boole Reservoir.

Mark didn’t want to at first and droned on about how dangerous it was, but I insisted and he threw in the towel on one condition: he was not coming with me.

I didn’t mind as long as he provided me with a solid address, and he did. I told Ann that I was travelling for work and that it would be hard to reach me. Mark promised, albeit reluctantly, he wouldn’t breathe a word about my whereabouts to Ann should she ask.

Unlike me, she was superstitious and a real hippie gal. I knew she would talk me out of going to the reservoir if I told her. So I packed my stuff – two days’ worth of clothes and whatnot – and set off on my journey in the dead of night.

I worked part-time as a deliveryman on the weekends so driving in the dark was not enough to scare me. But as soon as I approached my destination and turned left into a roadway obscured by trees on either side, I slowed the car down a notch and decided to be safe rather than sorry.

It was pitch-black: no streetlamps, no nothing. I was essentially on my way into the depths of a forested vicinity, and there were no signs of life anywhere.

I hit the brakes and lurched forwards. The roadway came to a sudden end and my car tipped over the edge of an embarkment.

My eyes shifted towards the dark and blank body of water in front of me, and I quickly put the car into reverse and barely managed to move it away from the edge.

I glanced at the GPS before turning off the engine and realised belatedly that I had reached my destination. Visibly shocked by the near-death experience, I hesitated for a few seconds before stepping out.

It was the seventh of August and the weather was chilly, but not to the point where I needed to wear two layers of clothes or a beanie.

I let the doors stay unlocked and closed in on the embarkment. Had I not slowed the pace earlier, I would’ve plunged right into the reservoir and drowned to death.

The strangest part, however, was the fact that the GPS did not say anything. Not a single peep, whatsoever. It usually did, mind, when I neared my destination, but it didn’t breathe a single word this time.

It wasn’t on mute just a few minutes ago when I turned left and continued down the shadow-shrouded roadway. Something did not add up at all, but I didn’t know what to make of these strange occurrences.

I wasn’t superstitious like Ann or as easily frightened as Mark to believe the rumours about this place. But now I wasn’t so sure… I just escaped death by a margin and was still trying to recollect myself and think straight.

I observed the babbling reservoir the entire time, perhaps to make sure I was alone and the rumours were nothing but made-up fairytales.

It did the trick.

My heart calmed down a tad and I drew a deep breath when nothing out of the ordinary happened for the next five minutes.

I fished up my Canon from my backpack in the trunk and captured the serene reservoir to prove to Mark that the rumours about this place were nothing but a hoax. “Look,” I wanted to say when I returned home, “nothing happened to me.”

But the quality was off due to the ridiculous darkness that only seemed to deepen the longer I stayed here. Since I had enough food for two days, I decided to spend the night here and then capture the reservoir in the morning hours instead.

It became colder than I anticipated as the night deepened though, so I placed a chequered quilt over my shoulders, which I had forgotten in the trunk from my and Ann’s last outing a few days ago.

I slept soundly for the most part. I did wake up a few times, slightly confused as to where I was, but then fell right back into dreamland.

But what woke me up? I’m not really sure, to be honest. I thought I heard a faint din come through from the outside, right next to me and on the other side of the window, but when I turned my head towards the din no one was there.

At first, I brushed it off as part of my lively imagination and the biting cold, but then it happened two, three, and all of a sudden six or more times throughout the night. Ignoring it became increasingly difficult.

I spent the last two hours before sunset fully awake and did not allow myself to fall asleep again. These things bothered me so much that I decided to send a message to Mark. I told him to hit me up as soon as he saw my message first thing in the morning.

What I expected would strengthen my disbelief in the supernatural turned out to have the exact opposite effect on me. I just wanted it to be morning and then get the heck out of this place for good.

That was when someone banged on the window. I turned my head to the left, in a daze, and the phone slipped through my fingers.

An elderly man in his seventies stood outside my car and kept banging on the window with his fist.

Purple and brown-grey spots covered his bald scalp where strands of whitish hair hang loosely. He wore a patched-up shirt, a brown vest from the fifties and berry-coloured, striped trousers from god-knows-when.

The stranger slouched forwards and seemed to have a difficult time standing up straight. I rolled the window down, and as soon as I did that, he seized my throat with both of his hands and held me in a chokehold.

I fought him off and rolled the window back up. It was harder than it looked from the outside. The man, despite his old age, was as strong as someone in the height of his youth, and it took a great deal of strength to push him away just enough to roll the window up.

He bared his rotten teeth and hissed like a snake from beyond the window, then he calmed down within a heartbeat and looked around himself before whispering something I couldn’t read from his chapped lips mixed with thick saliva.

I followed him until he disappeared into the woodland and then gasped for air, unaware that I held my breath up until that point. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, ditched my plan to capture the reservoir and did a total U-turn.

For good reasons, I was confused but not to the point where I would hallucinate things. But the harder I hit the gas, the longer the roadway became. It felt like I was going in circles and all roads led to the starting point.

I hit the brakes halfway through the vicinity and reached down for my phone, swearing under my breath repeatedly in the meantime.

Although I nudged something under the seat, it was too far away for me to reach without having to physically step out and get hold of it through the passenger seat.

I glanced at the rear-view mirror, made sure I was all alone and then stepped out.

When I finally found my phone, I noticed it was dripping wet and no longer functioning. I touched under the seat again but it was as dry as could be, and I had not drunk anything inside the car so that could hardly explain why my phone became drenched. Besides, it was dry just moments before that old man started to act like a freak.

Still out in the dark, I tried in vain to revive my phone. For a few minutes, I forgot about the old man and why I was in such a hurry to get out of there.

This would end up being my biggest mistake.

As if by magic or with the help of the Devil Himself, the driver’s door slammed shut and locked me out.

The car key was, of course, inside.

I tried to force the door open, but it did not budge. Several minutes passed like this. When I realised there was nothing I could do, I kicked the wheels and swore out loud. I had just fucked up really badly and was frustrated as hell.

Now I stood there, in the middle of a godforsaken roadway with a useless phone, and my only option was to advance down the lane and hitchhike – if I were lucky.

I strode towards the end of the roadway, determined to get the heck out of this place no matter the cost or consequence when I came to the realisation that I indeed went in circles. I hadn’t hallucinated or lost my mind. Not yet.

There was a logical explanation for this occurrence, and it had less to do with the supernatural than the natural. I was so preoccupied with trying to get the hell out of this place that I missed how close I was to the reservoir at some point along the roadway since it ran almost parallel to it.

The blank body of water was still and the current non-existent, so the roadway was reflected off the surface so clearly that I was seeing a mirror image of the roadway this entire time.

Apparently, there was a two-way fork and the reflection I saw made it look like there was only one path, perhaps due to the dim lightning. This other pathway kept leading back to the embarkment.

I ventured to the left this time and, lo-and-behold, I was back on the highway. It was still too early in the morning hours for cars to pass by, but I knew which direction I had come from and figured it was best to carry on than stay put this close to the reservoir.

I recalled passing by a guesthouse and decided to hit up Mark when I arrived there instead of hitchhiking in some stranger’s car. Again, better safe than sorry.

Time and again, tirelessly, I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me in the shadows.

Fifteen minutes later, I reached the guesthouse sign written on a wooden plank on the highway and turned left. Another five minutes passed in the dark like this and I finally reached the two-floor building.

A doorbell gave away my presence as I stepped into the warmth and ambled to the reception in front of me.

This place looked much smaller than from the outside. There was a single winding staircase to the right of the reception, while the entire right side was riddled with old-fashioned settees, ottomans and whatnot. It was as if I had slipped into a time slip and gone back to the seventies.

The atmosphere left a bitter taste in my throat and this sinking feeling worsened as I approached the clerk, who showed up from a cracked door beyond the counter.

The clerk, a middle-aged man from the look of it, sniffed as I closed in and eyed me down. He didn’t look or act surprised despite how dripping wet I was from the downpour outside.

I figured he had seen his fair share of peculiar guests coming in, just like me, and seeking solace in the only place close enough to the reservoir to reach on foot.

He pulled his cowboy hat down a tad and then rested his arms on the counter.

“Your car brok’ down, ye?”

“No, I…” I didn’t know what to say, so I changed the subject. “I’m sorry, can I use the phone? It won’t take long…”

The clerk squinted and leaned forwards. I could tell that he didn’t buy my excuse but still pushed the analogue phone over and let me phone Mark.

As if to make sure I wasn’t trying to pull his legs, the clerk observed me intently as I dialled Mark’s phone number and eagerly waited to hear his familiar voice in this unfamiliar place.

I kept my eyes fixated between the counter and the beat-down floorboards, swearing under my breath as no one answered the phone. Unbeknownst and as time ticked by, I clenched my jaw and grew impatient. Come on, Mark! Answer the damn phone!

But the line was dead.

I excused myself again and was about to dial Ann when I stopped midway and hesitated. She didn’t know about my little adventure and god forbid she should ever know I lied to her! I raised my eyes without meaning to and locked eyes with the clerk.

“You want me to tell you when?”

“I’m sorry?”

He pointed at the phone.

“Do you want me to tell you when your friend calls back? You can stay here until he does. I got an empty room—”

“No… no, that won’t be necessary. Uhm, do you perhaps know where I can get help, sir?”

“Oh, you wanna fix your car, ye?”

I nodded. The last thing I wanted was to return to the reservoir on my own. Besides, I did not have enough cash on me to pay for my stay here, either.

Moreover, Mark had a habit of not answering phone calls from unknown callers, and even if he eventually figured I was the one who called him, it would take far many hours for him to notice this than I wanted to stay here – this close to the reservoir, that is.

“Where it at? That car of yours.”

I gestured in the general direction of the reservoir and he knew way before I opened my mouth where I had been. I could tell right away. Something in his eyes changed – something that made him shudder.

He grabbed his beard and fell into a solemn silence. He wasn’t going to help me. I could almost hear his thoughts: “You brought this upon yourself.”

The clerk was one of the locals and he knew something wicked lay there, in the dark body of water surrounded by towering trees and dense thickets.

I stepped back, dejected, then turned my back to the reception and twisted the doorknob. The doorbell rang again. I barely stepped a foot outside, when the clerk asked a question I did not know the answer to.

“What were you thinking goin’ there, son?”

I stepped out.

There was no point in responding to the man. I was doomed either way. The door never slammed shut behind me, though. The clerk followed me outside and grabbed my shoulder, demanding to hear what made me come here and seal my own fate.

“Speak if you have a mouth! Why? Why did you come here!”

“Will you help me, sir, if I tell you the reason?” I briefly looked away. “Do you… do you think you can help me in that case?” The clerk averted my gaze and I broke into a bitter smirk. “See, you can’t answer—”

I never finished my sentence.

The clerk shoved something in my hand, tugged me closer and whispered.

“Get away from here and never look back. Do you understand? Never… look back.”

I knitted my brows and stared down. A car key? With my heart in my mouth, I raised my eyes to ask the stranger why he was giving me this but ended up watching him return to the guesthouse instead.

My eyes shifted to the only vehicle in the otherwise vacant parking lot. Without wasting more time, I rushed forwards and unlocked the car.

The inside smelled just like I imagined it would, like rubbery leather and people as old as the hills. I didn’t know why the clerk gave me his car keys and helped me, but I was forever grateful to him.

I started the motor and hit the road.

My heart raced out of control. All of this felt like a dream. A bad dream I was now waking up from.

I was going back home! I was safe from whatever lurked in the shadows and lay in wait! Tears of joy welled up in my eyes and trickled down my face.

I let out a cry, then another. Crying and laughing at the same time, unable to contain the mixed emotions taking control over every fibre of my being.

I was miserable.

But still alive…

A wide grin curled up on my dry, pallid lips as I drove through the bustling city and drew a deep breath.

Everything slowed down – even my tears.

Then it all became blurry. The city lights faded away and plunged everything into darkness.

I looked behind me through the rear-view mirror.

Before I knew it, I hit something and lurched forwards. My skull broke in half as I smashed my head on the steering wheel and a gush of blood washed over my face and obscured my view.

I blinked. Repeatedly.

Someone banged on the car window. I raised my half-open eyes covered in crimson and rolled the window down. Slowly. It required all my strength.

The old man did not attack me. He pointed to the left, across the windshield, and to something right in front of me. I never managed to twist my neck and take a look at whatever it was, although its presence was so strong that I felt its icy gaze on me with every fibre of my body.

My Ford tipped over the embarkment and the reservoir swallowed me into the depths.

This place, I never left it. That elderly man wasn't out to get me after all, he was trying to warn me…

010101-010101 Limited Edition itch.io

Photo by Carl Raw on Unsplash

Part I

What was supposed to be the last day of the weekend turned out to be more than that. I never saw it coming. Honestly, I don’t think any of us did. Who am I talking about? You’ll figure it out soon enough.

For now, don’t ask any questions and just listen to me. The things I’m about to recount, even I have a hard time believing them. It feels like a dream – a nightmare if you will – and one that feels too surreal to be true. But I assure you, it is. Every single word you’re about to hear. 

I sat on the sofa, scrolling through my ex’s social media page, when a notification popped up on the screen. Julie and I were engaged, and while preparing for our wedding she broke things off over text two weeks ago. 

She wouldn’t tell me why. It was driving me up the wall. Julie was the one. We hit off almost immediately the day we met through a mutual friend, and I really believed that she felt the same way about me. 

When I contacted who was supposed to be Julie’s bridesmaid, however, I finally found out the truth. Julie wasn’t in love with me – she never had been. That mutual friend I talked about? She was in love with him, not me. Like a piece of paper, she used me to get closer to him.

Want to hear something funnier? Those two got together the day Julie broke up with me. But I don’t believe that shit. I’ve been scrolling through her social media page for hours now and the bigger pictures only get clearer. How could I be such a fool?

Julie and that guy worked in the same department. Whenever she told me she was working late at night to finish a report, that guy was working too. Even their social media pages looked identical, as if they had planned it all out beforehand. 

“Hi, this is JackTheReeper folks! I’m live at 1:20 am! Y’all been waiting for this moment, amirite? Hit that notification button and let’s goooo!”

JackTheReeper was my favourite YouTuber. He played all sorts of games, but I subscribed to his channel solely for the horror content. Although he was easily scared and preferred RPG games, he’d still take on some horror games now and then. 

Since we were nearing Halloween week, he posted all over his wall that he’d be doing a surprise livestream a few days before October 31st. People kept suggesting the same horror games, such as Silent Hill, Resident Evil, Outlast, Ju-On, and Evil Within like way too many times.

At some point, however, a viewer called username103-ww345 suggested an indie horror game none of us ever heard of. I looked up this guy’s profile, but it didn’t look like he was actually a subscriber.

He had no videos or comments – no nothing. It seemed as if whoever created this throwaway account did it just hours after JackTheReeper announced his surprise Halloween livestream. We figured he was the creator of the indie horror game he wanted us to try in an attempt to promote it.

You’ll find a snippet of how this conversation went down below. For privacy reasons, I won’t attach the actual names of the other subscribers. These comments, along with the entire channel, have already been deleted and cannot be found on the Internet anymore.

[My Username]: Hell yeah! How long since it been, dude? I thought you’d quit playing horror games! 

[JackTheReeper]: Halloween special for my loyal fans only! You guys been telling me to play horror games like forever, lol

[Viewer 2]: Whatcha playing, Reeper?

[JackTheReeper]: Dunno, maybe Outlast? Did I ever finish the first one? Hey [My Username], what do you want? 

[My Username]: You kidding me, dude!? LOL Try something new! I heard there’s some good stuff on Steam from [viewer 4]

[Viewer 4]: Did someone summon me, lol

[JackTheReeper]: [My Username] did

[My Username]: lol 

[Viewer 4]: You doing live stream for Halloween, Reeper?

[JackTheReeper]: Not the day of, but yeah. You joining us, right? 

[JackTheReeper]: Suggest me some horror games! 

[My Username]: [viewer 4] knows some good stuff on Steam

[Viewer 4]: What am I, God of Steam? 

[Viewer 2]: More like God of Stream, if you know what I mean *wink*

[JackTheReeper]: [viewer 4] you doing OF, dude LOL

[My Username]: [viewer 4] logged out. 

[Viewer 2]: P*ssy

[JackTheReeper]: you guys trying to demonetize me or what? C’mon, suggest me some horror games! I’m open to whatever!

[Viewer 2]: So, there’s this dating simulator…

[My Username]: Where’s [viewer 3]? Seems like he deleted his channel 

[JackTheReeper]: dead

[Viewer 2]: *sweet dead child o’mine*

[My Username]: Like, I’m serious guys! His channel is like deleted or some shit 

[JackTheReeper]: Heard he dead

[Viewer 2]: as he should be. F*cking ass*hole he nuked my [redacted]

[My Username]: Heard that too, but like, is it true? 

[Viewer 2]: dunno

[Viewer 2]: i heard he played a cursed horror game

[My Username]: WTF, cursed? Lol

[JackTheReeper]: Okay, guys, shut the fuck up and lets get down to business, alright? 

[Viewer 2]: only if [My Username] shuts the fuck up first lol

[My Username]: play ‘who kills [viewer 2] first wins’

[Viewer 5]: Damn! late to the fun, again!

[My Username]: Reeper just got offline

[Viewer 5]: lol

[Viewer 2]: he’s avoiding [viewer 5]

[Viewer 5]: lol haha

[My Username]: he’s back

[JackTheReeper]: sorry guys! Wifey things lol *wink* Anyways… any suggestions [viewer 5]?

[username103-ww345]: 010101-010101 limited edition itch.io

[Viewer 2]: what the fuck is 010101-010101? Lol

[Viewer 5]: your mum

[JackTheReeper]: okay, I’ll check it out

[My Username]: no self-promo allowed [username103-ww345]

[Viewer 2]: says who?

[My Username]: fuck off asshole

[Viewer 2]: I’m genuinely asking asshole-you-too

[JackTheReeper]: okay looks good. Are you the creator [username103-ww345]

[Viewer 5]: hes not a subscriber

[My Username]: guys logged out

[Viewer 2]: Anywho, game looks lit! LIT

[Viewer 5]: looks like the game [viewer 3] played. the aesthetics I mean

[Viewer 2]: oh no it’s cursed! [My Username]’s gonna piss himself

[My Username]: *herself, asshole

[Viewer 2]: wait you a girl? why didn’t say sooner, sweety? Wanna hang out tomorrow? I’ve got a new bed

[My Username]: learn grammar first

[JackTheReeper]: Imma log out now guys! Keep it civil! Happy FUCKING Halloween!

Part II

The following conversation happened during the livestream itself. When I clicked the notification button and the stream flickered on, the first thing I saw was a drained JackTheReeper. 

He’d been talking about having some marital issues with his wife Rebecca for a few months now. I even gave him some pieces of advice about women to help him resolve whatever was going on with him and his spouse, but it seemed like things weren’t getting any better. 

I brewed myself a mug of black coffee while waiting for the actual live stream to start and made up my mind to focus on the present and shut off all other thoughts about Julie. It was easier said than done. 

JackTheReeper started the stream by introducing the game, briefing us on the theme, concept and main character, before actually playing the thing. I must admit that something about the vibe the game gave off arrested me in more than one way. 

The plot was crazy good, like it was so plausible. I like that sort of stuff. The more realistic it is, the scarier it is. Like a ghost haunting me is unlikely to happen, but getting chased by some fucked-up serial killer? Yeah, the chances of that happening were like way higher than the former alternative.

Here's a brief description of how JackTheReeper introduced the game. The home screen showed a wooded area shrouded in moving shadows and towering corn fields. Some eerie music played in the background but it was hardly noticeable. Through the corn fields, a narrow trail could be traced to god-knows-where. 

My first thought was that this game was about some scarecrow coming alive and chasing the main character. But as JackTheReeper began his introduction, I soon figured this wasn’t the case. Moreover, we learnt that this was indeed the game [viewer 3] played before disappearing from the face of the earth.

[JackTheReeper]: Whatssup guys! This is your guy Reeper at it again! Since you guys like to see me piss my pants, I’m back with another indie horror game!

[Viewer 4]: first

[My Username]: you playing that game? 010101- something?

[JackTheReeper]: Yeah wish me good luck!

[My Username]: Everything’s okay? You look down, man

[JackTheReeper]: I’ll text you after the stream

[Viewer 2]: [My Username] is ma girl, dude. Back off

[My Username]: Who called this fucker

[Viewer 2]: Your love lol

[Viewer 4]: What’s up with the flirting lol

[Viewer 2]: [My Username] likes me

[JackTheReeper]: Okay, listen up folks! 

[My Username]: Is this the game [viewer 3] played

[JackTheReeper]: Jaap 

[Viewer 2]: [My Username] you can hold my hand if your scared Imma protect you

[Viewer 4]: lol

[JackTheReeper]: so, here’s whats up: this game was created back in 2009. We don’t know who created it but it’s actually quite well known on Reddit. apparently it’s haunted

[My Username]: never heard of it before lol

[Viewer 2]: hello sweety whats your handle? Let’s talk

[Viewer 4]: it’s famous on Creepypasta.org too. [Another famous Youtuber]actually talked about it on his channel two years ago

[My Username]: Ah, the one who makes creepy videos?

[Viewer 4]: yeah

[JackTheReeper]: Anyways… so, we’re like searching for our sister who got lost on her way to some asylum

[My Username]: what’s the year?

[JackTheReeper]: 18…89? Yeah, something like that

[Viewer 4]: Doesn’t sound scary, though

[JackTheReeper]: We’re William and our grandmother sends us a letter saying our sister has gone missing. We know that shes supposed to arrive at this asylum in the countryside, but it never arrives. Police finds the bus two miles from the asylum near some woodland, where they find some footprints going deeper into the woods. 

[Viewer 2]: and then they meet Big Foot lol and die

[My Username]: So, like we’re on this trail looking for our sister or…?

[JackTheReeper]: No, from what I’ve read the game starts inside the asylum 

[Viewer 4]: now that’s creepy

[JackTheReeper]: but the asylum is abandoned. like, even if the bus arrived, all those patients had nowhere to go.

[Viewer 2]: But who alerts the police then

[JackTheReeper]: I dunno. Maybe a relative?

[My Username]: Okay, so we’re just going to search this asylum and find clues? Doesn’t sound half as bad as I thought.

[Viewer 4]: maybe its haunted

[Viewer 2]: someones got no balls lol ^^

[JackTheReeper]: Okay, so are you guys ready or what? Cause I’m not

[My Username]: let’s goo

[Viewer 2]: to my place or…?

[Viewer 4]: lol chill dude

[JackTheReeper]: Alright, here we go! 

Part III

The harrowing backdrop of a walled asylum enclosed by barbed wire appeared on the screen, along with a shot of JackTheReeper in the far-right corner.

Chilling sounds of grasshoppers doing their thing in the dead of night, hooting owls and whatnot were enough to send a chill down everyone’s spine. 

I drew the curtains and sank into the soft fabric of the sofa with a cup of black coffee.

Through the thin walls, the moans of my fornicating neighbours filled my bedroom, so I put on a pair of headphones Julie gifted me on my 30th birthday. 

When JackTheReeper finally unlocked the steel gates after looking for the clover-shaped key for more than half an hour, the echoing footsteps against the gravelled driveway blared so loud that I lowered the volume.

It was during this time that I thought I heard something come through from the kitchen. As I briefly put away the headphones, I perked up my ears to catch any sound out of the ordinary. 

Julie had a spare key. I copied my keys after she moved in with me because it was getting tiring to keep descending the stairs from the fifth floor to open the door for her. 

It wasn’t until I readjusted the headphones and turned the volume up that I found out where the noise came from. 

[JackTheReeper]: Did you guys catch that!?

[Viewer 4]: WTF was that dude

[Viewer 4]: think someones in there with you

[Viewer 2]: The door just unlocked on its own lol 

[JackTheReeper]: sounded like a whimpering cat or something

[Viewer 2]: cat? It was the door lol. How did you hear a cat?? [My Username] did you hear a cat or door?

[Viewer 2]: hello? [My Username]?? Where’d you go, lol

[Viewer 4]: Hey, try to open that door. The green one

[JackTheReeper]: only brown doors lol

[Viewer 4]: Are we seeing the same things? LOL

[Viewer 4]: Wait, you serious dude? You don’t see the green door? 

[Viewer 2]: I only see brown doors too, lol. He’s fucking with you Reeper

[JackTheReeper]: K, Imma head in

[JackTheReeper]: where’s [My Username]? 

[Viewer 2]: In my heart lol

[JackTheReeper]: [My Username]???

[JackTheReeper]: Omg did you hear that guys? The cat!

[Viewer 4]: isn’t it like a creaking door? 

[Viewer 2]: you call that a creaking door? Screaming door lol

JackTheReeper entered the cracked door. 

After pointing the flashlight all over the place, he settled on a redwood desk. There was a sealed envelope on it. The letter was addressed to William, the main character, and was handwritten by a nurse called ‘Madeleine’. 

[JackTheReeper]: whats this?

[My Username]: can’t see the letter, what does it say

[Viewer 2]: hi, pretty. Did you miss me?

[JackTheReeper]: it says something happened to the patients, but…

[Viewer 4]: Ayo spill the beans, dude!

[JackTheReeper]: weird

[Viewer 4]: ?

[JackTheReeper]: do any of you know someone called Julie? 

Coincidence. That was my first thought. But as the conversation continued and JackTheReeper carried on, I knew something was off.

[My Username]: what does the letter say?

[JackTheReeper]: I don’t know, man… like, wtf? Hey, who said this game was cursed?

[Viewer 4]: [Viewer 2] did

[JackTheReeper]: he’s not here

[My Username]: He logged out I think

[Viewer 4]: Hold on a sec, are you guys being real? Lol Hes in chat lol

[My Username]: no, he’s not

[Viewer 4]: He is. Hes literaly writing as we speak

[JackTheReeper]: cant see. what does he say?

[Viewer 4]: he’s not done. 

[My Username]: Like, we’re only 3 online are you sure [viewer 4]?

[JackTheReeper]: where’d he go?

[My Username]: we’re only 2 now. What did letter say, btw

[JackTheReeper]: you don’t wanna hear

[My Username]: C’mon dude

[Viewer 2]: omg sorry ‘bout that, lol! The wifi just went poof

Even though I asked JackTheReeper to clarify the content of the letter repeatedly throughout the game, he wouldn’t. 

It was first when we got enough clues and could head to the overturned bus that he opened up a little. 

The towering cornfields span several miles on either side in the distance ahead. As the makeshift trail through the field got narrower and the shadows deeper, we found ourselves in the middle of fucking nowhere. 

JackTheReeper saw what look like a scarecrow surrounded by cawing ravens and came to a sudden stop.

[JackTheReeper]: what…?

[Viewer 2]: why’d you stop, bro

[JackTheReeper]: I can hear them, like, literally IN MY FUCKING ROOM

[Viewer 2]: chill dude. Whatcha hearing LOFL

[My Username]: you okay Reeper? You don’t move.

[JackTheReeper]: can someone tell me who the fuck Julie is?? feels like I’mma go insane!

[My Username]: are those birds?

[Viewer 2]: ravens or some shit lol

[JackTheReeper]: hello who’s Julie??

[JackTheReeper]: like for real I’m serious guys! Who’s Julie

[My Username]: hey, it’s coming!

[Viewer 2]: What the hell is that thing!? Looks so real!

[JackTheReeper]: [My Username]

[My Username]: dude run! It’s literally in front of you!

[JackTheReeper]: [My Username]

[My Username]: ?? gotta run, dude!

[Viewer 2]: he’s gonna die lol not moving

[JackTheReeper]: [My Username]

[My Username]: you good Reeper

[JackTheReeper]: [My Username] is your name Madeleine?

[My Username]: ...

[JackTheReeper]: Madeleine where’s Julie?

I shut down the computer. 

For the record, yes, my name was Madeleine. My parents met in history class and hit it off because of their mutual passion for all things Victorian. My name reflected their silly attempt to return to the 1800s. 

I say ‘was’ because that’s no longer my name. After twenty decades of being made fun of, I legally changed my name and moved on with my life. Not even Julie knew my birth name.

Being an agnostic for over ten years and an atheist for five years, the last thing I wanted to believe in was some made-up fairytale about curses and whatnot. But how could I explain something like this just by reasoning?

JackTheReeper wasn’t exactly an Internet sensation at the time all of this happened, and his subscribers were just a little over 4,000. Even so, only a few of us actually watched his gaming stuff.

The rest subscribed to his horror story narration videos, which is what got him all the fame and money in the world a few years before this livestream.

I unsubscribed when his YouTube career skyrocketed. He stopped playing games altogether and focused on his narration videos instead. [Viewer 4] once asked during one of his last gaming live streams why he wasn’t playing horror games anymore.

He blocked him instead of replying and turned off all comments in his other videos before deleting them all and starting anew under a different channel name. 

Now that I think about it, I never saw what happened after I shut off the computer. Figuring [viewer 2] would be open to having a chat with me, I sent him a direct message, which he hasn’t read to this day. 

Fast-forward three years and I hear that the remains of [viewer 2] have been found near a sewer twelve miles from his home. It was all over the news.

His death was ruled as an unfortunate accident after a night out, although there was no trace of alcohol in his blood. The police found some empty bottles in the wrecked car and the forensics guys concluded that the body had been so decomposed that all traces of alcohol poisoning were no longer detectable.

But how am was so sure the guy they found is [viewer 2]? The police couldn’t identify him so they did a composite sketch of what he probably looked like before, well, he became liquefied. Although not exactly a carbon copy, the composite sketch looked almost identical to the profile picture still uploaded on [viewer 2]’s account on YouTube. 

I spent a good hour and a half studying the picture and comparing it to the composite sketch. It had to be him! The police even got the slightly uneven and awkward neck tilt right and the crooked teeth.

After sending messages to JackTheReeper over the course of several weeks after they found [viewer 2], he finally replied to me. The first thing he asked was whether everything was okay with me. 

Here’s how our conversation went:

[Reeper]: You sure it’s him?

[My Username]: I’d be surprised if it wasn’t. How you been?

[Reeper]: Fine I guess

[Reeper]: hey, theres actually something I always wanted to ask you

[My Username]: which is…?

[Reeper]: Why did you do that?

[My Username]: do what exactly? 

[My Username]: hey, Reeper, you there? 

[Reeper]: Nevermind.

[My Username]: No, tell me what’s on your mind

[Reeper]: you lied, remember? 

[My Username]: ?? no ?

[Reeper]: When we played that game, you told me to run

[My Username]: so? I didn’t lie

[Reeper]: then why did you log out? 

[My Username]: Because you kept saying stupid things!

[Reeper]: What stupid things? The two of us never chatted! You were the one who kept saying nonsense!

[My Username]: are yo u being real 

[My Username]: dude, you literally kept telling stuff about my private life!

[My Username]: Reeper, hello??

[Reeper]: No? 

[My Username]: Madeleine, Julie…? Those names weren’t about me?

[Reeper]: Your name’s Madeleine? Like, how the fuck am I supposed to know that!

[My Username]: then who were you talking bout?

[Reeper]: You said those things! You kept droning on about some envelope on the study room

[My Username]: yeah, the one you found?

[Reeper]: WTF you talking about

[My Username]: that’s weird, all this

[My Username]: it’s like everything I thought you did, you tell me I did

[Reeper]: was there even a letter to begin with?

[My Username]: you think it was really cursed, that game?

[Reeper]: if [viewer 2]’s dead then… maybe

[My Username]: you talked with [viewer 4] recently? 

[Reeper]: haven’t heard from him since that live stream

[Reeper]: he said he was gonna send you a dm and ask if you’re okay

[My Username]: Wait, you never blocked him??

[My Username]: hurry answer!

[Reeper]: Nope

[My Username]: But I saw him comment on your last live stream before you deleted your videos

[Reeper]: lol that wasn’t him. Imposter

[My Username]: Im… poster???

[Reeper]: yeah, some dude contacted me on Discord and, well, long story short, he wasn’t [viewer 4]. Now that I think about it, his name on Discord look kinda familiar

[My Username]: What do you mean

[Reeper]: hold on, I’ll go check it

That’s where my conversation with JackTheReeper ends. He never got back to me. Like the others, he disappeared from the face of the earth. 

I have a theory. 

Those who figure out who the creator of the cursed game is end up either getting killed or going missing. This is what keeps me from going down the same rabbit hole and exploring whatever the fuck is going on with this game and the mysterious account who suggested it. 

If I one day find myself in a similar situation or figure out the real deal with the cursed game by accident, I might post an update. But for now, I’ll end things here and carry on with my life. 

Sometimes, being in the dark is better than knowing the truth. I think this is the case here as well. Someone created that game for a purpose and I may never know what it was, but if you’re reading this and are in a similar situation, here’s a piece of advice: don’t let curiosity get the better of you. 

Voice of God - Part VII [Final Part]

Photo by Mateus Campos Felipe on Unsplash

“Ms Carlton…? What’s the matter?”

I tried to contain my tears, but it was easier said than done. 

“They… they’re going to—these people, they… I don’t know where to begin, I… I just want to get away from this place but… but…”

“I’ll come pick you up, okay? Do you think you can meet me in the woods? Ms Carlton?”

I shook my head. “No, I- I can’t. They—you don’t understand, they’re…”

“I’m calling the police.” He took a short pause. “It’s… Everything’s gonna be fine, okay?”

“… Okay.”

He hung up.

I packed my stuff in haste and set out into the darkness.

I had two options: I either did as Nath told me and played God or made a break for it and wished upon the stars that the police find Vera before it was too late.

The woods were as lonely as I recalled.

Closing in on the spot where I met the retired journalist for the first time, I got the feeling that someone watched over me.

I looked around me in the murk, trying to discern something – anything – out of the ordinary.

This delayed me for about half a minute or so.

When I noticed the flashlights to the right, I hurried towards the roadway only to baulk.

David Chapman was there.

But he was not alone.

The guy I saw in the church, the one who was with Nath, was right beside him.

They were whispering; they were looking for me.

As the beam of blinding light pointed at me, I cowered behind a clump of bushes and held my breath.

The duo neared.

I was losing my mind trying to figure out what was going on.

That was when I overheard their bizarre conversation and knew the police were not on their way.

“You think she figured it out?”

The journalist, “No, she sounded clueless. She must be on her way; I’m sure.”

“What do we do with her when she comes?”

“I’ll have to ask Mary that, but we need to find her first. Here, hold the flashlight. I’ll call and see if she’s on her way.”

I fetched my phone and tried to power it off. My hands, however, lost their functionality.

I shook out of control, in a cold sweat, but my hands did not move the way I wanted them.

I switched the thing off at the eleventh hour and took a deep breath.

But my relief was short-lived. 

My heart sank and my breathing became increasingly shallow and irregular. 

“Did you hear that?” asked the guy.

“No, what did you hear?”

“I’m not sure. I keep hearing things these past few days. It must be the spirits…”

The flashlight turned direction.

The duo disappeared into the night.

I turned my phone on and put it on mute, then called the person who dropped me off here.

The chauffeur.

It was past the wee hours.

He did not pick up.

I left a desperate voicemail and asked the driver to come pick me up as soon as he received the message and call the police.

I was going back.

It was no use in calling the police at this point.

The retired journalist and the others would manipulate anyone who stepped foot inside this place. I was certain. 

Nath’s words rang in my ears.

He said there were more people like him, people who believed Mary was a fake prophet pretending to be the voice of God.

It was written in their Gospels that I would challenge her throne, that I would denounce her as the voice of Satan.

And… that was exactly what I was gonna do. Did I even have any other option? 

If doing this meant I could keep Vera safe, then I would join this wicked game of pretend this very second.

I returned to the gates of Hell.

The night was vivid.

All the villagers gathered at the dilapidated church for the ceremony – this sacrificial ritual that would claim Vera’s life.

I felt the rusty, cold doorknobs in my hands before I flung the door open and made my way through the aisle.

I locked gazes with Mary whose entire face was drenched in crimson in front of the altar. Before her, the catafalque stood, its lid partially open.

I felt the numerous gazes fixed on me yet all I could see was the distorted face of this person, who called herself the descendant of Mary Magdalene and the voice of God. 

My eyes wandered to the catafalque where I left Vera to her demise.

A pang of ache hit my chest.

I shifted my attention to Mary once more. Neither of us said a word. Then I turned to the mass, to these lost spirits who were ready to ditch their God for a new one.

I raised my hands high in the air; I didn’t have to say a single word. 

Nath stepped forwards and kneeled before me. The rest of the congregation Mary and those before her manipulated all these years followed suit.

I turned to face Mary again. As I did that, she charged at me with a crowbar.

I did not budge; I just shut my eyes.

A hoard of footfalls emerged from all directions and on either side of me, rushing forwards like brutes and screaming their heads off.

When I reopened my eyes, I saw a pile of lunatics on top of one another at the altar, tearing Mary apart and ripping her into pieces. Alive.

I backed away and almost lost my footing at the macabre sight.

My heartbeat picked up.

I grabbed the crowbar on the floor and pulled off the rest of the nails on the catafalque.

I broke off; the tears threatening to spill.

The poor thing greeted me with a stiff expression on her pallid child’s face. Her eyes shot open, her cheeks hollow, and her heartbeat no longer beating.

I snatched her out from her tomb and carried her out into the darkness from the backdoor.

I locked gazes with Nath as I rushed out yet he did not follow me.

But his face looked… How should I put it? Peculiar, like a wolfish grin unlike any other. 

It made my blood run cold.

I shook the dire thoughts away and plodded through the graveyard and took a detour to the woods.

David Chapman and the other guy weren’t prowling around.

I ran with all my might.

It was during this plight that I noticed that I sprinted in circles.

I had run in over ten minutes and I had not reached the end of the forested area yet. 

I broke off and put the lifeless girl on the ground.

She had no pulse; I knew that, but I still tried to shake her back to life.

She did not respond.

I stooped over her cold body and broke into tears, doubling over and crying my heart out.

It was over. Everything… was over. I came too late. I… I failed Vera. 

Even if I magically found a way out of this place – somehow – I would still have to live with the insight that I failed to save Vera when I had the opportunity.

Something seized my arm.

I stopped breathing.

I stared down at the child whose black eyes now stared right through me.

A hint of a harrowing grin showed up on her pale lips, and her nails dug into my skin.

I gasped and crawled away from her.

Vera, or whatever this was, got on four legs with her head twisted 180 degrees, and stared at me with her upside-down eyes.

I stumbled on something and looked up.

An identical grin plastered on my late mother’s ripped lips met my distorted face. 

I stopped breathing and forced myself up.

I did not know where I was running towards or in what direction; I just ran.

I only stopped when a sudden beam of light blinded my vision.

I covered my eyes. When I reopened them, I was back in the church.

The shredded and mutilated body of Mary lay in front of the altar I stood on.

The mass hailed me, rocking in place and praying like the mad people they were.

They were beside themselves.

Nath sat me down on an adorned throne in front of a disturbing painting of Mary as the Devil.

And he said something only I could hear amidst the chaos, something that would forever haunt me.

“You just killed the Voice of God.”

Voice of God - Part VI

Image by Michael Kauer from Pixabay

I sneaked out into the chilling night air the day after meeting David Chapman and somehow found myself in front of the crumping parish church. 

The godly structure arrested me as soon as I was close enough to feel its towering height, eye-like and menacing windows and the piercing tower obscured by dark clouds.

Unbeknownst to myself, I came to a standstill and held my breath.

It was locked.

I tried to budge it open with force twice, but it would not open and reveal the darkness it brooded on.

Thinking I had at least tried and that I now ought to return to the school grounds, I shifted my gaze to the churchyard teeming with stale and grim gravestones as far as my eyes could see.

Then I reasoned there must be a second exit or a hidden entrance from the back to the graveyard due to the nature of the beat-down and antique structure dating from the 1800s.

With these thoughts in the back of my mind, I set off to the churchyard where the undead lay still in their dark and filthy tombs made of sin. 

An earthly odour filled the entire yard. The soil was damp, although it hadn’t poured down and painted the premises dark.

I moseyed through the forlorn gravestones; most of them were dated two generations before I was even born.

Time stood still.

I was in a Timeslip of a kind and each step led me farther from my own world, although I could swear the gloomy night sky was still the same.

By the time I found the backdoor, I had forgotten why I had come here in the first place.

For a mere second, I thought of returning but knew I could not turn a blind eye to the sinister things happening in Dew Shire.

I found a rock and hammered it against the bolted door repeatedly until it unlocked.

A breeze of cold air chilled me to the bone with the grating of the rusted and stale backdoor which had not been used for ages.

I found myself next to the altar where I witnessed Mary’s unfazed speech a few days ago.

But this was hardly what caught my attention.

Far from view and the numerous rows of benches to the left of the altar was an underground passage. It was narrow and suffocating.

My insides turned upside down as I took the flight down from the creaking stairs only to break off.

I was not alone.

At first, the voices were faint and seemed to echo all over the place, but then they grew louder.

It was then that I saw two figures coming down from the second floor; I recognised one of the voices immediately.

It belonged to Nath.

The other voice, however, was unfamiliar.

I rushed to the closest row and hid as the two men, much to my surprise, made it to the altar and then entered the underground passage.

There was a hint of distraught in Nath’s guttural voice, and although I did not know the reason behind his distress, I knew it had something to do with Vera’s sudden disappearance.

By the time it was too late to regret it, I stood up and followed the two men inside.

But they were nowhere to be found as I entered the hidden chamber made of stones and seemed to be stuck in a time long since forgotten.

The first thing I noticed was the scent of incense, much like the ones I smelled at Mary’s home – only this time it was much more intense, almost thicker and more suffocating in this small, enclosed space.

Then I noticed the catafalques all around me and a shiver shot up my spine, unable to focus or wrap my head around what emerged right before me in all directions. 

Just as I forgot about the two men, their approaching voices reminded me of their presence and I got into a state of panic.

My first thought was to flee the underground chamber, but my eyes shifted focus and I found myself dashing towards another hidden passage inside the chamber in the opposite direction of the approaching voices.

That was when I found yet another catafalque, but this one was new and, much to my surprise, not nailed.

I opened it just in case Nath and the other guy approached and I would have a place to hide when I jolted back at the sight that met me.

The white, empty and expressionless stare of a pair of eyes.

I must have gasped, there was no way to tell if I had or not, but I noticed right then and there that the approaching voices faded away all of a sudden.

Without realising whose eyes I locked gazes with, I squeezed into the catafalque and closed the lid just enough to fill my lungs with fresh air.

A string of light was all that entered through the gap I purposely left, but it was enough to help me discern whose cold body I lay next to.

A shiver shot up my spine at the morbid realisation that I now held onto the corpse of the very little girl I had come to find.

I covered my mouth and stifled yet another escaping gasp.

“How sure are you about this? Mary doesn’t like surprises. You know better than anyone…”

It was Nath’s voice.

My quivering eyes shifted to the gap as soon as I heard him.

“It came from here, I’m sure. I heard footsteps, I tell you! Why would I lie?”

“Must be the spirits then,” Nath said and added before the other could interject. “Surely, you don’t fear what’s already dead and gone with the unforgiven wind?”

There was a short pause after this.

The person with Nath remained hushed and wouldn’t respond to this.

My heart skipped a beat, and I fixed my darting eyes on the gap as Nath broke the prevailing silence.

“See, the lid’s open. We just need to nail it so the spirits won’t escape and play us for fools. Gimme a hand, will ya?”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Well, you’d rather be alone with the spirits, then?”

Whoever was with Nath backed away. I could almost hear the frantic beat of his heart as he replied.

“I’m not touching that thing! You take care of this yourself, and…” The stranger paused as if he heard something out of the ordinary, before carrying on as if nothing happened. “… make sure it stays closed.”

The man left; I was sure.

There were no more noises for a while and I thought of sneaking out, when I realised someone was moving about in the silence yet did not approach the catafalque.

It was during this time that something unexpected occurred. The cold child who I thought was dead came alive.

My flickering eyes fraught with horror widened at the sight of the flailing child struggling to escape her ill fate.

Too stunned to move at first, I barely covered Vera’s lips and let my eyes wander to the gap where the string of light now was obscured.

Vera scratched me all over, unaware of why she was stuck in the dark and panicking. 

The lid closed and left both of us in pitch-black darkness. 

Vera stopped moving just as suddenly as she had come to life – turning cold and still anew.

Then I heard it: the clanger of something being nailed down.

How long I had been inside the catafalque I did not know.

At one point I lost all senses and perception of time and place and could only focus on my strained breathing.

Vera had not come back to life during this time.

I thought I heard the hissing of a snake, the chatter of laughter and the image of a babbling spring now and then.

After a while, however, I realised that all these hallucinations were nothing but the products of my deteriorating mind in this enclosed, tight and narrow space shrouded in shadows. 

By the time I gave up all attempts to break free, the lid opened and I stared blankly into a pair of green eyes I recognised.

I was hauled down onto the cold stone ground.

My eyes, which had adjusted to the darkness, were a blurry mess and it hurt to keep my eyes fully open and exposed to the dim-lit surroundings.

When I regained my vision and met Nath’s eyes, I recalled the little girl still inside the catafalque and forced myself up despite having no strength left in my body.

I could hardly stand up, but I pushed the lid aside with all my might and pulled the child out.

Even this time, as I held Vera in my arms and brought her out into the light, her body was as cold as ice. There was not a single sign of life in her.

Yet I somehow knew this was far from the truth. Vera was still alive. How, I did not know and had no way of explaining under these macabre circumstances, but I was certain.

I let the girl rest on my thighs and gently shook her back to life. Her cold body did not move and her eyes did not meet mine even for a second, but I saw her bruised fingers twitch at my desperate pleas.

This was enough for me.

As I was about to carry the girl out and flee the chamber, a figure calling my name made his presence known once again.

I flinched at the realisation of his existence and picked up my pace when he said something I could not ignore.

I came to a standstill and stared down at Vera. Her pallid face was stiff and blue, just like the undead.

But this child was not dead – dying, yes, that was obvious – but far from it as long as I nurtured her back to life.

I knew every second was worth this little child’s life and that we had to get out of here, out of Dew Shire, as soon as possible.

But his words were too difficult to ignore.

I, albeit unwillingly, turned to face him, and when he did not elaborate on his words, I pressed on.

“What… what are you, people?”

“We are human, just like you…”

“You expect me to believe—”

“Don’t you know,” he began, “that human beings are far more wicked than any other entity?”

I looked down at the poor thing.

Although I agreed, I wasn’t about to confirm Nath.

He, instead of telling me the truth he promised, kept beating around the bush as if to gain time for whatever wicked lie he intended to tell me.

I was not going to let him do this.

“What’s going around in this place? What were you gonna do to Vera?”

He briefly dropped his head. “And if I tell you everything, will you let that child go?”

“No! Never!”

“Then I can’t tell you what you want to know.”

“She’s just a child!” My voice cracked; the thought of abandoning a helpless child was enough to make me see red. “Vera, she’s… she’s just a child, for God’s sake! What did she ever do to you people—”

“Let’s say you bring Vera with you and flee this place, and then what? She’ll just be replaced by another child! Do you think you can save them all?”

“From… from what?” I asked. “From what should I save them – if that’s what I have to?”

“You don’t get it, do you? Saving them is beside the point here! You can’t save her, not like this!” He paused upon seeing my distorted face and softened his voice. “Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but… let the child go. That’s the only way you can save her…”

“No, I’m not gonna—”

Nath punched the wall.

“I’m telling you the way to save her, don’t I! Can’t you just… just trust me this once?”

“Trust you…?” A bitter smirk played on my lips. “Then give me something I can believe; tell me what you’re hiding.”

He rubbed his face; his antsy eyes fixed on the child I carried close to my bosom.

His flickering gaze then met mine as if he noticed how I studied him at that very moment and broke out into cold sweat.

He was desperate in his pleas; he wanted me to put Vera back into the catafalque.

“Listen, I- I can’t tell you anything before you do as I say, all right? I’m not…” He rubbed his face again, which turned pale and he wheezed as if he was stuck inside a catafalque himself and couldn’t breathe. “I’m not playing mind games, okay? I’m not trying to fool you, I just… Please, you gotta listen to me before it’s—”

“Nath…?”

We both turned towards the sudden voice echoing from the other side of the passage and the larger chamber.

It belonged to the man who was with Nath, I was sure of this and for a second I thought I had met my doom.

But Nath did not respond to the man looking for him, neither did he ask the other for help.

Instead, he remained silent.

I stared at the helpless child thinking this was the end of us, when the voice became fainter and then disappeared for good.

I caressed the poor thing and noted that she regained some colour on her cheeks.

Then I… put her back into the darkness.

I did not trust Nath, of course, I did not, how could I? But he just let go of a perfect opportunity to get rid of me and he did not take it.

It made me wonder whether there was any truth to the words he said.

He let out a sigh of relief and collapsed on his knees, rocking back and forth as if he were a toddler trying to soothe himself from a looming danger.

“Why are you like this?”

He stopped rocking and looked at me from where he stood on both knees.

For a second, it looked as if he had forgotten I was there and tried to wrap his head around how I had come to find him in this dismal state.

“What… do you think of Mary?”

I frowned. Didn’t he ask this question already? At the same time, I could tell that he didn’t actually want to ask me this very question, only that it was the closest thing to whatever lingered on the tip of his tongue.

I did not respond.

I thought nothing of Mary.

During my short-lived career, I had seen my fair share of peculiar people and Mary was one of the sanest people I had crossed paths with even if I did not want to confess to this at the time.

What I could not deny however was the way she pulled people in and the way her sweet, honeyed voice made everyone around her let their guard down.

It dawned on me then that this must be the reason the villagers listened and heeded her every word as if she was delaying the words of God Himself.

Immediately after this train of thought, I recalled what the children told me about their Gospel. I don’t even know why this thought occurred to me, but it did.

And before I knew it, those singular words escaped from my lips even before I became aware of their existence in my dismal mind.

“She’s… she’s the voice of God?”

Nath, horrified by the nature of my sudden confession, stood up and backed away as if he had seen a phantom.

“How—” He stammered, trying to form words and clear his mind all at the same time. “Did you just… No, it’s not possible! Yet you…”

“Is this why you call her that – Mary Magdalene?”

“Not only that,” he confided in me. “There’s more to her name than you can ever imagine.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“How well do you know your Gospel, Ms Carlton, that’s all it boils down to…”

“I have never been religious, I’m afraid. I only know what my mother taught me two decades ago.” Then added before he could reply. “Why’s this so significant?”

“Do you believe in God?”

I pulled a half-hearted smile despite the circumstances.

“As I mentioned earlier, I have never been religious despite my upbringing.”

“That’s not a reply,” Nath said and rephrased his question.

I frowned.

“Do you believe in the good and evil?”

“I already answered that…”

He paused for a few seconds as if to make sure I understood everything he said and left no stone unturned in my attempts to answer these questions he was asking instead of giving me the truth I sought.

“But you said she was the voice of God. What made you think that?”

“I…” I didn’t know what to say. Why this kind of thought popped up in my head, I couldn’t say even if I wanted to. 

“Have you considered then that she could be the voice of the Devil instead?”

“What?” He didn’t respond to this. I briefly looked away to gather my thoughts. This was getting ridiculous yet the person in front of me was dead serious. “As in the Devil disguised as God’s voice, is that what you mean? That she’s pretending to relay the voice of God?”

“Something like that, yes. But she wasn’t the first of her blood who started this game of pretend as a false prophet.”

“False prophet?”

“Mary Magdalene was the first. She tricked a great many Christians, saying she conveyed the voice of God, and in her footsteps followed her descendants.”

I smirked without meaning to. I couldn’t wrap my head around the nonsense I was hearing. Had these people gone bonkers or was I too abstruse for my own good to believe in these fairytales disguised as gospels? 

“So, let me get this right: you’re saying that Mary Magdalene, the first of her kind that is, was pretending to relay the message of God? And that,” I paused to gather my thoughts, “she’s in fact relaying the voice of the Devil?”

He nodded without wasting any time. 

“She’s been living off of these lies, her Gospels that is, since the dawn of time! She whispers evil and won’t stop at nothing!” As if to make sure I got everything right, he paused shortly before continuing in that same maniacal voice that made me shudder. “And I’m afraid only you can stop her…”

“Me…?”

“It’s written in the Gospels, Ms Carlton! It was prophesied that you’d one day arrive in Dew Shire, destroy the Gospels and save us!”

“That’s—”

“Have you never wondered why you don’t look like your mother?” he interrupted me.

I knitted my brows upon hearing this. He pressed on without waiting for me to respond.

“Seeing how you look at me right now, you must have wondered, after all…”

“This… this is getting—”

 “She’s not your mother, is she? Not the one who gave birth to you, that is.”

I briefly dropped my head. David Chapman’s voice rang in my head as he recounted the fate of Enis Fair and how her offspring was never found.

A pang of ache spread from the deepest chamber of my heart to my fingertips, and I backed away without being aware of it, horrified and beyond myself at this realisation. 

It then hit me that it wasn’t Dew Shire, which lured me into this trap but my own mother, whose fate I once heard as a child, and then as an adult from the very journalist who had last seen her alive.

But how was all of this possible? Why was I of all people prophesied to bring an end to the false prophesies? Just why…?

How would I even stand up against someone who whispered the sweet tongue of the Devil and brought the entire world to her feet with a single gesture?

“Why… why me?” I asked, unable to clear my harrowing thoughts and let my doubts put to rest. “I don’t believe in this nonsense, I never will, so why me? Why am I mentioned in the Gospels?”

“Mary’s mother, the prophet and former Mary Magdalene, let you live the day your mother was murdered. They ripped you out of her and you were brought up as the rest of us but everything changed when you became six years old.

“It was prophesied that you’d one day grow up and declare yourself a prophet to destroy the voice of God. You were ordered to be killed just like your mother, Enis Fair.

“But your mother, the woman who brought you up, fled with you the night they came for your head. I was ten years old at the time and my memory is no better than yours but I clearly remember you.

“And I have waited for you all this time, we all have. I’m not the only one who sees through the lies of the Devil and wants to break free. There are more of us who no longer want Mary around.”

“You’ve been waiting for me?” I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

Nothing made sense.

I was to declare myself a prophet to fool people? Then again, if all of this was true and these people really believed these things then—I lifted my eyes off the ground as Nath spoke once more.

“Please, help us! No, you must help us!”

“I don’t even know how!” I began, unsure of how to explain myself to this person who truly believed I was his saviour.

“I don’t know how to help you.”

“There’ll be a ritual tomorrow tonight.” He shifted his eyes to the catafalque.

“We hold a ritual every ten to fifteen years and sacrifice one of our own for the Second Coming. Vera’s parents pleaded with Mary to have her.”

“What do you mean—”

“She’s going to be killed in front of the altar,” he began, “we’re all going to eat a part of her to honour Mary and pray that her bloodline never dry up.”

“What in the—you’ve done this before?”

He shook his head. “This will be my first. Our last sacrifice failed since your mother fled with you.”

“How can I trust you? For all I care, you’re telling me all of this to gain my trust and then lure me to my death.”

“You… just have to take my word for it.” He looked around himself, fidgeting and anxious. “We need to go now! Mary’s gonna be here any second! She shouldn’t see us here!”

I shifted my eyes to the catafalque, where the poor child slept soundly, unaware of what was going on around her. 

“Are you going to nail it?” I already knew the answer yet it made me shudder, nonetheless.

“Only after Mary arrives and gives the go-ahead.”

“And then what?”

“I already told you,” he whispered and leaned in. “This is the only way we can keep her safe!”

“I…” I couldn’t tear my unfocused eyes off the catafalque. 

“As long as you do as I say and accept your role in all this, nothing’s gonna happen to that child. I promise.”

I briefly shut my eyes. “I’m not… what you think I am. I have no power to stop Mary or- or whatever this is about…”

“You’ll figure something out, I’m sure you will! Your name is written in the Gospels! I don’t know why or how, but if the Devil fears you, then I trust you with my life and so does everyone else!”

“You don’t it!” I said, raising my voice and unable to keep in the growing frustration. “ I’m not a prophet! I’m not God and I’m certainly not the voice of God, either!”

“I never said you were – you did. Just now.”

“I don’t even believe in the things you people believe in! I don’t believe in God or the Devil neither in Heaven nor Hell.” I took a pause. “And I’m not a bloody prophet; I’m not.”

“Then pretend that you are! If you really want to save that kid’s life, that is…”

I was flabbergasted.

“Then what… what do you want me to do, exactly?”

“You’ll know what to do,” he said, adding before I had the chance to press on. “Make sure to be here during the ritual. I’ll leave the backdoor open.”

Could he truly be trusted? As I was having these thoughts, now back in the office, I could not stop thinking of everything he told me with such sincerity.

I was certain of only one thing: I was not a prophet and I did not mean to fool people prone to be made a fool of.

At the same time, I could not explain how my name somehow became part of a prophecy and that this had come into existence and ignited hope in these people the second I arrived here.

Moreover, I could not sleep soundly when I knew Vera was dying in the darkness, afraid and perhaps disappointed that I abandoned her to die all alone.

But what if all of this was true?

What if…?

I couldn’t sleep a wink.

I was in the safety of my office, but I knew something terrible was going to happen soon.

As midnight approached, I could no longer bear the harrowing thoughts and phoned David Chapman.

He did not pick up right away.

I began to count the seconds.

And as soon as I heard his voice, I broke down in tears.

I was in a blind.

Vera was inside that catafalque, trapped in the suffocating darkness, and some lunatics believed I was some kind of prophet!

I was losing it.

I needed someone to tell me the way to go – what to do and how to do it.

David Chapman was the only person I could think of.