Embedded Files
December 1st, 2024
I’m starting this journal, as it helped me before. I’m afraid to close my eyes these days. Whenever I do, it feels like I’m being dragged somewhere dark, somewhere I don’t want to be. It’s been years since I last woke up somewhere I didn’t remember going. I hoped I was done with this.
Bad dreams are not unfamiliar to me, neither is sleepwalking. This morning, I woke up in the cellar. Standing there, in the corner, I felt an electrical tingling in my feet. So yes, sleepwalking is definitely back, like I feared. Like I predicted.
#
Mary’s breath hitched as she read the words. Kelly’s voice—familiar yet steeped in unfamiliar dread—spoke from the page. She felt as if her daughter were in the room, whispering her fear into her ear.
Mary checked the date on her phone; December 21st. That meant the first diary entry was nearly three weeks old. Closing the diary, she looked around in Kelly’s bedroom, absorbing the details. Kelly’s room felt untouched, eerily still. The bed was unmade, her favorite hoodie draped over the chair, as if she might walk back in at any moment. Yes, she's 28 years old now, but the mother-daughter bond is eternal. As an only child, she is automatically her dearest, there's nothing Mary wouldn't do to help. Had Kelly been trying to tell her all along? Were there signs Mary had ignored, too afraid to face the truth? Her hands trembled as she opened the diary again, desperate for answers.
#
December 2nd, 2024
I’m floating. Floating in the water, which is not really water. I know the bottom isn’t far below, I can feel the plants tickling my feet. I feel the scales of fish sliding past, gently caressing my skin. That’s when I hold my breath. I know what comes next…
Waking up, I found myself in the same spot I was yesterday. The vibrant feeling slowly crawled deep inside the bones of my feet. I should be terrified, but the feeling is almost comforting. Almost. I can’t shake the feeling that whatever this is, its intentions are far from pleasant.
#
Mary could recall the day Kelly’s sleepwalking began with unnerving clarity. Kelly had been seven. They were visiting Jacob’s parents–Kelly’s grandparents. Grandma’s garden had been immaculate, every flower and tree lovingly tended to. The place seemed alive in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The roses climbed the trellis like they knew their purpose, and the grass felt softer than any carpet. It was beautiful, of course, but there was something about it that had always made Mary uneasy. A kind of silence that didn’t belong.
At the center of it all was the pond. Not large, but deep enough to swim. Adults could wade in the shallows, but in the middle, the water swallowed even the tallest of men. It wasn’t just part of the garden—it was the garden’s anchor, the thing that everything else seemed to bend toward.
It was a warm day, and they’d brought Kelly’s bathing suit. She had been so proud of her badge from the local pool, eager to show her grandparents her skills, and stood on the jetty, ready to jump in. They’d cheered her on as she started her run towards the pond.
Her head went under.
For a moment, everything was still. The surface rippled faintly, but Kelly didn’t come up. Mary’s breath caught, her body frozen on the jetty as her mind screamed at her to move, to do something.
Seconds stretched into eternity. A faint splash broke the silence, and Mary leaned forward instinctively, her heart pounding.
Then Kelly shot up, gasping, her scream tearing through the stillness.
“Something’s pulling me! Get me out. GET ME OUT!
Mary didn’t think; she ran, leaned over the jetty and pulled her out in one motion. She still doesn’t understand how she managed it, but was glad she did. Kelly clung to her, trembling. She’d spoken strange, garbled words, the terror in her voice sharp as glass. ‘She’s in shock’, Mary concluded.
That was the day it started. The sleepwalking. The nightmares.
#
December 3rd, 2024
I’m writing from the corner in the cellar, three times in a row now. No dream this time, just darkness. The time between going to bed and waking up is roughly nine hours, according to my watch. It feels, at most, like nine seconds. I had dirt caked on my hands, the skin on my fingers torn, and my nails broken down to the quick.
I’ve been here quite some time, it seems. And sleeping wasn’t the only thing I did. Looking down, I saw a small crater—about eight inches deep, a foot across. The earth inside looks freshly disturbed, but there is nothing there except cold, black dirt. I don’t know what I was looking for, but the feeling that I need to find it pops up again and again. As I placed my hand on the dirt, the tingly feeling returned, stronger this time. It spread through me like a… I don’t have the word for it. A secret energy. When I felt it, I knew I had to stand in it.
#
As Mary looked up, her gaze landed on a photograph on Kelly’s desk. It was a picture of Kelly amidst her grandparents, sitting on a bench. Flowers blooming around them, and behind the bench, a patch of freshly disturbed dirt, the size of the pond.
‘Coincidence,’ she thought, yet the word felt hollow.
Kelly had been sleepwalking every night since the incident. At first, she only stood by the window, staring out. Stress, trauma, Mary thought. Just bad dreams. But it worsened.
Two nights before they filled the pond, Kelly began speaking in a jumble of sounds—words that weren’t words, ending in the same terrified scream.
‘Kill me… Kill mehhhh.’
The memory surged unbidden, and Mary shuddered as she heard the voice in her mind, just as vivid as it had been then. Reading these entries, Mary’s stomach twisted with guilt. She wished she’d taken it seriously, back then.
#
December 4, 2024
I was on the jetty, just as I was so many years ago. Before me, my grandparents’ pond stretched out, its surface smooth and dark, a mirror reflecting the sky. The jetty extended to the center, straight and narrow, like a bridge to nowhere.
Mom, dad, and my grandparents sat by the edge, all of them smiling, waiting for me to act.
“Come on, Kel, jump!” Mom urged, her voice too bright, too cheerful. It wasn’t meant for me; it was meant for them. To show them I was a brave little girl.
“The water’s lovely.” Dad grinned, but it wasn’t reassuring. The grin was too wide, too forced, piling pressure on top of my fear.
They all wanted me to swim. I didn’t want to—I never did. To me, the pond looked like a giant sinkhole, its darkness rippling just enough to prove it was alive. If I jumped, it would swallow me whole, a sticky blackness pulling me into its depths.
“I don’t want to!”
They didn’t care. “It’ll be fun,” they said. My father stood, and something in me snapped. I ran.
My feet pounded against the wooden planks, the sound merging with the rush of blood in my ears. At the end of the jetty, I leaped—and fell.
The wind rushed past me. There was nothing—no water, no pond, no bottom. Just an endless void, a fall without end.
When I hit the surface, they were there, waiting. The scales from the deep, cold and slick, wrapped around me. They pulled me down.
My eyes snapped open, and I saw the sky. The surface was so close, just an inch above my face, but impossibly out of reach. My lungs burned, screaming for air. If I could just push a little higher, just break through—
I tilted my head back, my mouth opening instinctively. My lungs filled with the only thing available to them. The black ooze slid past my tongue, thick and cold, pouring into my throat, filling me from the inside out.
I should’ve woken up screaming. Yet all I felt was an empty silence. Nothing.
#
Mary slammed the diary shut, the sound echoing in the empty room. She stumbled towards the desk, her body heaving as sobs tore through her. Her little girl–her brave, strong little girl–had been so terrified.
How could I not have seen it?
To Mary, that day was marvelous. Kelly had seemed so proud, excited even, to show off her swimming skills. Mary could still see her face shining with pride on the jetty.
But now, through Kelly’s words, the memory twisted, or perhaps it sprung back to its true form. It hadn’t been pride on her face; it was fear. She saw Jacob standing up, encouraging her. Kelly’s face had shifted, not with determination, but with dread. Mary had thought it was a look of concentration, peer pressure at worst. But it hadn’t been.
It had been terror…
#
December 5, 2024
Dirt under my nails, fingertips torn. Dried blood mixed with earth. I don’t recall what happened, only that I ended up in the cellar once more. The hole was deeper now, at the bottom… something. I can’t say what it is because it is unfamiliar to me. It’s buried, a fragment of something vast, beyond anyone's comprehension. The surface is blackish, but not entirely—there’s a greenish tint, or ooze, as it seems soft, alive. I didn’t want to touch it, so I prodded it with a stick.
It’s hard, yet soft. Smooth, but with a strange rubbery texture. It doesn’t make sense, I know. The air around it felt heavier, as if the thing itself was bending the space around it, pulling everything down.
I spent the entire morning digging, using a plank and a wall holder as makeshift tools. I uncovered an area roughly six by three feet, but I still can’t see the end of it. What is it, Why is it here? How long has this thing been buried beneath me?
I can’t stop thinking about it. All I crave is answers. Even as I write this, I feel the urge to go back, answer its call.
#
Should I go down there? Just to see, or rather verify. Mary thought about it, but she knew the answer already. Kelly’s not there. When she entered the house, Mary had called out–several times. Through the halls, every room, and even down the cellar stairs. Nothing.
She’d waited for over an hour, pacing the living room, before she went up to Kelly’s bedroom. Maybe she’s sick, asleep. She didn’t want to be nosey, but this was her old house. She was allowed to look around, wasn’t she?
That’s when she found the diary. With every word, Mary’s unease grew. Something was wrong–deeply wrong.
The answer was here, in these pages. She had to keep reading. She had to know.
#
December 6, 2024
No dream today, but I have to write this down. My memory is not reliable. Last thing I remember is trying to Google whatever’s in the basement, but I couldn't find anything about it. Then tried to make a picture, to search with Google Lens. Tried, because I couldn’t. Every picture I make of it turns out black. Not just dark, like with bad lighting. The entire screen is black, like an app that prevents screenshots. Instead, I made a drawing.
I was on my knees besides the hole. Whilst drawing, there was this vibration, a dark hum. The lines feel like they aren’t mine, like my hand was guided by the secret energy. My shins, resting on the dirt, picked it up, and it traveled slowly through my body. The drawing ended up on paper, yet I don’t recognize what I’ve drawn. The moment the vibrations reached my mind, I wasn’t controlling my body anymore. It is the moment my memory fails, which–to me–is no coincidence. I have no recollection of what happened after, until I started this entry.
The worst part? I’m too afraid to find out, but I have to. I have to go down there and find out, as I must know.
#
Mary stared at the drawing, her fingers trembling as she turned it this way and that. Scribbles, that’s all it seemed to be. No recognizable shapes, no meaning. Yet, the longer she looked, the more the lines seemed to shift. It reminded her of those old carpets that, depending on how you stroked it, revealed images or faces.
She swore she saw a face here, in the drawing. Yet that is how our mind is programmed, able to find patterns in chaos.
Kelly had always been a bit… different. Years after the incident, she’d drawn strange things in art class. She drew portraits, but you could see she'd erased parts of them, like she couldn't make them complete. Her teachers had called it ‘disturbing’. Mary had written it off as just a phase. A lot of teens do weirder things than this.
Staring at the strange lines, Mary wondered what Kelly had seen back then. And more interesting, did it return, or did it never really leave?
#
December 7th, 2024
Staring at the crashing waves, standing there, hands beside my body, stagnant. The ocean, a dream of many, a nightmare of some.
I’m older now, fourteen. Staring at the foamy edge left on the shore. My view is a tunnel, the sides blurry. The others rush past me.
“Come on Kel!”
‘The water’s lovely’, I add, too happy.
It’s not that I dislike swimming. I do, honestly. In pools and waters which depths are a given, where I can see where I put my feet, see what is beneath me. My left hand rises, pointing to the murky water. Something grabs it. I get pulled towards the water. When I turn, it’s Rebecca–my BFF then–dragging me forward. My feet stumble, then pick up the pace.
The water clings to my legs, dragging me back. Slowing me down. I don’t want to go in–yet I do.
I always do.
Slowly, the darkness surrounds me, until the only thing above it is my head. The ground beneath me is gone, yet my feet feel… things, tickles.
The tingling below my feet transforms into tendrils, slipping past my ankles, holding my calves. Draw a deep breath in, preparing to go down. Willingly, hoping it will end, either me, or what's happening to me.
I gasped awake, standing on the thing, my feet in a puddle. Its surface pulsed under my feet, creating ripples. The secret electricity wrapping around my calves. That’s when I realize it’ll never end.
#
The beach. The start of Kelly’s second ‘sleepwalk run.’ High school hadn’t been kind to her, but after that day with her so-called friends, it became much worse.
There was a sleepover. The girls said they’d fallen asleep around 1 a.m.—if only it had stayed that way. At some point, Kelly had woken up and stood at Rebecca’s bedside, humming. According to Rebecca, it wasn’t humming at all. It was chanting. Not words, but sounds—vowels and consonants twisted into something senseless, something unnatural.
The group was terrified. No one spoke to her afterward. She’d been shunned, avoided in the halls, whispered about when her back was turned. Her sleepwalking had marked her as different, and in high school, different might as well have been cursed.
The rest of her school years passed in a haze of loneliness.
#
December 8th, 2024
I’ve descended. Finally, I have descended, to either ‘the’ bottom or ‘my’ bottom. Unsure which one is true, if any.
It’s not a dream—I don’t think it is. Sleeping isn’t something I do anymore. Whenever I lie down, I end up in the cellar. So, what’s the point of going to bed? Near the thing is where I spend my days. Where I experience true meaning.
Meals get delivered. I don’t know when, but they do. I eat when I feel like it, which is more often not at all. Time passes differently down ‘there.’ Either it stops or blurs together. Minutes become hours. The journal is my only structure.
Work called. I’ve told them I’m not well. That’s not true, though. I haven’t felt this energized in years. But it’s not the energy that keeps you alive. It’s the kind of energy that drives you to act. A secret energy. I don’t know exactly what’s expected of me, only that I must do something.
#
The passage made no sense. Descended? Was this literal or figurative? Had Kelly been slipping deeper into depression, or was there something else entirely? Mary couldn’t tell. That uncertainty unnerved her more than the truth ever could.
The eating—or lack thereof—reminded Mary of what happened after the beach incident. Kelly had locked herself in her room for almost two weeks, begging her parents to lock the door whenever she went to sleep. Dinner trays left outside her door remained untouched.
At night, they heard her pacing, the creak of floorboards sending chills through the house. Sometimes she tried the door. Sometimes she scratched it. Sometimes she mumbled that strange, garbled language. No random sounds, repeated parts and phrases.
Rjleh… Rjleh Vatagen… Snaa… Rjleh… gnaiih…
Mary had recorded her once, desperate to understand. But when she played it back, the tape was nothing but static.
She shuddered, clutching the diary. Her gaze flicked to the door, its faint scratch marks still visible despite being refurbished. The memory of Kelly’s pleas echoed in her mind.
Her eyes fell to the diary again. December 11. Kelly had skipped ahead. Why?
Mary sank back into the chair, breath shaky. Bracing herself for what came next.
#
December 14, 2024
In my mind, I was only gone for a few hours. The meals piled outside my door tell me it’s been three days. Time doesn’t work the same down there. Someone must have delivered the meals, thinking I’m still living like a normal person.
Losing four days, in what felt like a few hours shouldn’t be possible. Which means I was down there far longer than my mind can comprehend. I brought the meals inside, clearing space for the next ones. I won’t eat them, I don’t feel a need for it.
I want to tell you what I saw below. I’ll try to use words familiar to you, though they don’t truly fit. Other words would make no sense to anyone but them.
Beneath the surface, at first, there was nothing. Just the vibrant earth beneath my feet. Slippery yet firm, rubbery like stretched skin over muscle. Each step sent energy coursing through me. This world is alive… or something beyond alive. I felt myself expanding into something greater, as though everything connected through me. One might even say the world merged with me as a being.
Slowly, the world came into focus. Cyclopean structures rose on the horizon, their impossible geometry bending into shapes my mind couldn’t hold. They stood black against a shifting green sky—not gas, not fluid, something in between. It pressed against my skin, heavy but soft, like silk wrapping around me.
The structures shouldn’t exist. They defied reason, standing tall when they had no right to. And yet, there they were. Etched on their towering sides was writing—if you could call it that. Not intended for me; not yet. But I will understand it soon enough.
Walking between these monoliths, I felt small. Insignificant. And yet, I wasn’t. They had chosen me to walk among them. I touched them—not with my hands, with thought. The energy here flowed differently, turning my thoughts into actions. Their thoughts turn into feelings inside me. It was overwhelming, on the verge of unbearable. My mind hesitated for an instant, and suddenly, I was back.
I woke up, right on top of the pulsing black thing in the cellar. It pulled me down, pinning me in place. I screamed, I think. The silence afterward was deafening, suffocating. Time twisted again—a minute, a week, I don’t know. I lay there, exposed, as they watched me. Watched their chosen one. Judging. Deciding if I was worthy.
#
A smile crept onto Mary’s face—not one of joy, but of disbelief. She laughed softly, almost nervously. She had to laugh, because the alternative—taking this seriously—was unthinkable. What would that even mean? Her daughter being watched? Judged by things in the cellar?
No, there was only one explanation. Kelly wasn’t "down there." Kelly was way up. High.
Mary’s gaze drifted back to the page. The words were absurd, pure fantasy. And yet… the vividness of Kelly’s descriptions, the raw emotion bleeding through each line—it gnawed at her. Kelly believed this. She felt this.
“Ridiculous,” Mary muttered to herself, as if saying it aloud might banish the thought. Her rational mind clung to its conclusion: Kelly was on something. Drugs, maybe. She had to be.
This world of pulsing black things and green silk skies—it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
And yet, the way Kelly described it, it felt… Possible?
#
December 13, 2024
I made a sacrifice today. A necessary one, though it’s not something the old me would have done. But I have to.
I called the office, telling them I’m still too sick to work. Covid is an easy excuse these days—instantly accepted. I also cancelled the meal service. The ones in the fridge will last me for quite some time, given how little I’ve been eating.
Notifying friends and family who expect regular contact took up most of the afternoon. I had to charge my phone for that, which confirmed today’s date. There were several missed calls, and even more messages. Addressing them all was a chore, but I think everyone is satisfied with my explanations. Everyone except mom, of course. They always know when something’s off.
Even so, in the end, even she seemed at peace.
I made some walks through the village to show my face. I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve gone missing—or worse, that I’m dead. Those walks were outside, but on the inside, I was still down there.
I met people, said hi. Some spoke, but their lips didn’t match the words I heard. The words weren’t theirs—couldn’t be. No one on this level knows those words. Nodding, smiling, moving conversations forward without paying the slightest of attention to their actual contents. People just want to be heard, comforted.
Nothing connects these individuals. Not like our connection.
After making sure people noticed me—in the streets, in the shops—I felt more at ease.
I sacrificed one day in this world to be able to go in longer, without the risk of being disturbed.
#
This. It’s just too far-fetched.
Mary closed the diary and let it rest on her lap, trying to wrap her mind about it all. She stood, crossed the room, tidying the bed as if it would help tidy her thoughts. Wrappers, papers, an empty glass–acting on routine. When she bent to toss a few scraps in the waste bin, she froze. At the bottom, a bottle. The yellow-orange tint was unmistakable. Her medicine.
Mary took it out. The anti-depressant Kelly started taking after Rebecca’s sleepover, half her life ago. It had helped, hadn’t it? The sleepwalking stopped.
It started making sense now. If she stopped, slowly the trauma could resurface, starting small ripples, triggering old habits. Even back then, Kelly had those delusions–being watched, voices calling her name.
Yes, that has to be it. She quit the medication. Now, she’s reliving it all. Mary gripped the bottle tighter. Her eyes searched for the diary, sitting on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t though. It was in her other hand.
When did I pick this up again?
#
December 14, 2024
My friends surround me as we drift in the ocean. From above, we’d look like a flower, them being the petals, me the center. They stare at my head, floating atop the…stuff. The beach is near, fully out of reach. Whatever we’re in, it's warm. You can't see anything below the surface. Literally impossible. To a spectator, our heads might appear to lie peacefully on a plate, our bodies erased. Beneath us there is a green glow. We can't see it, but we all know it’s there. It hums, vibrating through whatever we’re floating in, settling in our bones.
“KELLY!” I turn round, responding to the call.
Kelly… Kelly… Kel–e… The voice splinters, reshapes itself, burrowing deep into my thoughts. Kil–e… Kill–me…
I recognize the voice, turn to confront her–and freeze, because she is exactly who I expected. She’s me.
That’s when I woke up. I was not where I expected to be. I was in bed, staring at the ceiling. Why was I not descended? Why did they not call me? Is it because of yesterday? The sacrifice I made, for them? It made me angry, furious. But on the bright side, they missed me. Right?
I’m going down now, to the cellar. I need the connection.
#
This is worse than I thought. Mary’s hands shook as she reached for her phone, fingers flying over the screen, autocorrect doing its thing as her jumbled letters spelled out three words. Sleepwalking, depression, suicide. Breath paused while the results flooded in. Articles on mental illness, stories of people slowly losing their mind. And a lot of them recently it seemed, forums were filled with messages.
She’s ill.
Heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Delusion and paranoia, consuming her daughter. Mary’s mind filled itself with images from the poor girl she pulled out of the pond. The girl repeating kill me, kill me, after making a fool of herself at a sleepover. Of course, she was feeling down, lonely. She needed help. Needed her mom.
But then there was them.
Who were they? Mary had no explanation why, but her mind snapped to those groups online. They feed on each other. Mass suicides based driven by shared beliefs. In the old day’s there had been priests, cults making people drink poison without hesitation. True believers. What if–
Her phone slipped from her fingers, landing on the bed, sinking in the covers. What if this is bigger than Kelly, bigger than Mary could handle.
Her gaze shifted to the diary again.
Do I still want to know?
#
December 15, 2024
I tried all day to please them, get them to accept me back. They didn’t.
I grabbed a shovel, dug all the morning, until my body gave out. My back, broken. My hands blistered, bleeding even. The thing–it’s everywhere, creeping under the entire house. Half of the cellar was now displaying the black texture.
One thing changed. When I walked on it, nothing. No tingle, no hum. No secret energy. Silence.
Then, the hunger came back. Ravenous. Insatiable. Two full meals did not satisfy me. My stomach was painfully full, but the emptiness inside me remained. If I hadn’t stopped myself, my belly would’ve burst.
And the thirst, my God, the thirst… I had some apple juice, coke, and chocolate milk. Basically, anything with a load of sugar, telling myself I ‘must’ need the energy to go back down. It didn’t help. Nothing did.
#
Why? Why is this desire so damn present? What does she expect to happen?
Mary pressed her trembling fingers to her temples, the diary slipping onto the bed beside her. The hunger, the thirst—those are symptoms. Physical signs of something far deeper, far worse. But what?
She tried to think rationally, to diagnose her daughter as if this were any other illness. But the words on the page weren’t just strange; they were deliberate. Kelly believed every word she wrote. The blisters, the digging, the thing spreading under the house—it wasn’t metaphor. Kelly was living this.
Mary felt a cold prickle at the back of her neck, her own hunger for answers gnawing at her. Was Kelly losing her grip on reality, or was she being pulled into something far beyond Mary’s understanding? And if it was the latter, how could she help? How could she save her daughter from something she couldn’t even begin to comprehend?
Mary squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the edge of the bed. She needed a plan. But all she had was the diary, and each page pulled her closer to the same inevitable conclusion: she couldn’t save Kelly without understanding her world.
#
December 16, 2024
Nothing. I am nothing to them. They don’t need me–they don’t want me anymore.
I won’t accept that. So close, I was so close to understanding, to finding my purpose. The thing is underneath my house for a reason. It chose me. They chose me. Out of all the people, they chose me. Out of all the places in the world, it’s under my house. I matter to them. I have to matter to them, because without them, what am I?
Just another human.
#
The stark contrast jarred Mary, like slamming into a wall she hadn’t seen coming. From desolation to defiance, Kelly’s emotions swung wildly, her words dripping with desperation.
Nothing. I am nothing to them.
Mary felt a pang in her chest, sharp and suffocating. She could hear Kelly’s voice in her mind—small, broken, barely above a whisper. She remembered the nights after the pond incident, when Kelly would sit at the top of the stairs, knees pulled to her chest, whispering repeatedly, ‘Why me?’ Even as a child, Kelly had wrestled with the weight of not being enough, of not belonging.
‘I matter to them. I have to matter to them.’
The words screamed off the page. Mary could practically feel the frantic energy radiating from them. The hope—the need—for significance. For meaning. It wasn’t just defiance; it was an obsession.
#
December 17, 2024
The forest is beautiful, sun glaring between the trees, highlighting the path I’m following. My boyfriend at the time walks before me, his backpack bouncing with every step. Hiking was his thing, so it became mine.
He turned round, looking straight at me, genuine smile.
“How you holding up back there?”
“Fine.” I was fine, bit tired. “Where are we going.”
“Best view in the world.”
What I thought was, ‘this better be worth it’. What I said was, “Great.”
The world blurred. One moment we were on the trail, the next we were there, no steps taken.
“Told you, best view in the world.” He smiled, too happy.
I watched, taking it in with growing horror. “Great.”
He put his backpack on the floor and started undressing.
“What… What are you doing?”
“I,” He looked at me, straight into my eyes. “We, are going to jump.”
I stood about ten feet from the cliff. The lake behind it, pure black. No water, no reflections. A sinkhole.
“No.”
“Come on Kel.”
“The water’s lovely,” I mumbled.
“What?” He was already in his swimming shorts.
“Nothing.” I took another step back. “I’ll stay here.”
“Don’t you trust me? Take a leap of faith, Kil-mehhh.”
“What did you call me?”
He looked up, his eyes blinked–sideways. They closed like shutters. My breath caught. Something’s off. This isn’t how it went. I got mad because he pushed me. That was the last day I saw him. But this… this was not him. This is, a test?
I lifted my head, looking past him. Another blink. The hairs on my neck rose as a tingle crawled into my spine. The energy—it was there, faint but undeniable. I focused on him.
His appearance was—well, the best way to describe it is, he was, but he wasn’t. For an instant, I saw him, simultaneously I saw through him, as though his human shape was just a shell.
The eyes. Fish lid eyes, lizard-like. Scales on his biceps, jagged edges protruding from his back. Then, just as suddenly, he was himself again.
Still, it wasn’t him.
He stood there, waiting. Waiting for me to act.
And me? I started running, sprinting. As fast as I could, I blew past him, launching myself off the cliff, arms spread wide, a leap of faith indeed.
Prepared to fall—for eternity, if that’s what it took. The energy surged, igniting every nerve in my body. It wasn’t just power; it was purpose. For the first time in days, I felt invincible.
When I hit the lake, it engulfed me, swallowed me whole. The surface closed above me, cutting off the world I had known.
As I sank to the bottom, scales spread across my body, pulling me deeper, entwining me with the plants that held me down. But there was no fear—only euphoria.
The secret energy jolted through me, electrifying every nerve. It was overwhelming, consuming. I wanted to scream, but when I opened my mouth, the ooze surged inward, silencing me as I let it fill me completely.
Slowly, the world faded to black.
When I woke, I lay on the thing covering my cellar floor. My arms rested beside my body, limp. A force pulled me toward it, the greenish light swirling around me in a faint, steady glow. The harder I tried to rise, the stronger the pull became, anchoring me in place.
I sighed and let go. Ten minutes, twenty, or hours—it didn’t matter. I lay there, unmoving, my mind drawn into the depths below. I could see them, feel them, waiting for me.
Eventually, I stood up.
#
Oh my god. Kevin? She was dreaming about Kevin now? That asshole was never right for her. That walk was supposed to be a birthday present for her 21st birthday. Who the hell gives someone a hike on their birthday? Thank god she dumped him after this. But Mary did not recall this story, not any of it. Kelly was heartbroken after, and now to think of it, she slept at home for a few days. During that time… sleepwalking.
Maybe it wasn’t the stress… when she was back in her dorms, she didn’t sleepwalk at all. It only happened here, at home. The trauma, it’s connected to home. Mary’s old home.
The home she moved into just a few weeks ago.
#
December 20, 2024
I was gone for three days again. Based on counting. Counting is meaningless, we don’t do it below. Don’t have to, we just know. But they use it here, in the world above. The fake world. We are aware of that. Mom is one of them, of those who use it.
She called, and I said I was fine. I lied. I think I lied.
I got out of the cellar to write this, and it makes me feel miserable. To be out of reach. Being on the thing is better. When I look at it, it calms me. Feeling it gives me the connection I so desire. It knows I’m longing for it. It wants me as well. Part of it is also inside me, right now. Or I am inside it. We are one. They know I spoke to her, and it remembers.
I tried to write her a note. We don’t want her here. I do need her, yet we don’t want her here. So I write the words that are not mine, but ours. Because I’m not mine anymore.
She’s coming tomorrow. When is tomorrow? What is it?
She shouldn’t be here. They won’t allow it.
I need her. Mom, I need you. Help me.
Stay away. Please, release me.
I won’t be back.
#
As Mary stared at the last entry, something thick and foul crawled up her throat. It wasn’t nausea—not quite. It was heavier, like a ball of sour air lodged behind her ribs, pressing against her lungs. She swallowed hard, trying to push it down, but it stuck.
Too late for that.
She snapped the diary shut, the sound sharp in the silence. “Kelly!” Her voice cracked, echoing down the empty hallway. “KELLY!”
Her gaze darted to the cellar door, slightly ajar, a faint draft brushing her skin. She stepped toward it, her heart hammering.
A spark leapt from the handle as she reached for it. Mary yelped, jerking her hand back. She inspected her palm—no burn, no mark. The handle looked ordinary. Gingerly, she touched it again. This time, a faint tingle crept across her skin, like static crawling into her veins. She tightened her grip and pulled.
The door groaned open, revealing darkness below. Cold air wafted up, sending a shiver down her spine. She grabbed a chair from the kitchen and wedged it under the door frame, keeping it open.
The stairs creaked beneath her weight, each step pulling her deeper into the cold, the dark. Her breath fogged in the air. To her left, the wall blocked her view, forcing her to follow the narrow corridor. She hesitated at the corner, her fingers brushing the rough surface of the wall. She could see the shovel ahead, leaning against the far corner like it had been waiting for her.
Her stomach twisted. She stepped forward, her shoes crunching on the dirt floor. Her heart thudded as she rounded the corner.
Nothing.
Mary blinked, her breath catching. The cellar was empty. Plain dirt, solid walls, just as it had always been. No pulsing black thing. No green light. No monstrous geometry. Just silence.
“Fuck!” The word burst out before she could stop it, her voice echoing off the walls.
She stepped further in, her gaze fixed on the shovel. Her hands closed around the handle before she realized what she was doing.
“Kelly?” Her voice wavered, the name barely audible. She felt foolish saying it, but the silence that followed felt heavier.
And then, it came. A faint pulse beneath her feet, subtle but unmistakable. It traveled up her legs, spreading through her body like electricity. Her pulse quickened, matching the rhythm. Her breath hitched as the shovel seemed to grow heavier in her hands, vibrating faintly.
She didn’t think, she acted.
Raising the shovel, she drove it into the dirt.
And then again. And again.
Each strike sent jolts through her body, the rhythm growing stronger, pulling her deeper into its song.
Mary kept digging.
She had to.
If you'd like to receive an update whenever there is a new story available, you could subscribe to the newsletter. It would mean the world to me, to see people are enjoying my work!
Google Sites
Report abuse