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TRIGGER WARNING: THEMES OF MENTAL DISORDER AND SUICIDE

This is a recovered case file from the district attorney’s office detailing the journal entries of one Bryan Singer, a 14 year old boy. The case was closed in 1993, but I was reminded of it when a similar incident occurred recently. I can’t prove they’re connected, but I hope that I can make others aware of this, and maybe something can be done to save the next victim.

This has been going on for a week now and no one believes me. I don’t really do the whole journal thing but this is freaking me out and maybe if I write down everything I’ve seen and show it to the right people they can help me.

There’s a man hanging around our house at night, and I don’t know what he wants. I’m absolutely terrified that he’s going to hurt me.

The first time I saw him, I had just finished brushing my teeth and putting on my pajamas. I switched off the light in my room, and without the glare on the window I could see outside to the street light across the road. There was a man under it and he was looking right at me. I couldn’t tell from this distance but it looked like he had a big smile on his face, almost unnaturally big, it made me really uncomfortable.

At first I didn’t think anything, you know, it’s just a guy on the street, could have been some creep who watched me change, but I didn’t want to tell my family and have them think I’m paranoid, so I just went to bed.

The next night when I turned out the light, he was there again, but this time when I saw him he started to walk towards my house. I didn’t like him looking at me, so I stepped aside from the window.

When I peaked back outside he was just standing in the middle of the road with that smile on his face, staring at my house.

I went to bed, but it took me a long time to fall asleep, and I kept looking at the window nervously.

On the third night, the same thing happened, except this time I watched him walk all the way to the sidewalk in front of my house, and stand there, staring at me. I decided it was time to tell someone, so I called for my dad.

He came into the room, but by the time he got there the smiling man was gone.

On the fourth day, the smiling man was back again, waiting on the sidewalk out front. I called to my dad, and my dad went outside this time with a bat to look for him.

He came back after an hour of looking around the house and neighborhood and told me he didn’t see anyone.

We live in a pretty quiet neighborhood, so it would be hard for someone to come and go unnoticed, he said he’d talk with the neighbors and see if they’d seen anything.

“Come on honey, we’ll be safe in here.” I reassured my daughter as we made our way into the cave. “The storm won’t last long, then we’ll be on our way.” She still looked petrified.

Since my wife and I got divorced, every weekend I get my daughter from Friday night until Sunday night. And she never seems to have much fun with me, so this weekend I decided to take her camping. It was going well until this brutal storm started out of no where. Sheets of rain were pouring down, it seemed to be lightening right over us, and the wind was so strong it blew our tent away. So the only thing I could think to do was bring her to this cave for shelter.

She was terrified to be in here, I could tell. She was afraid that there might be some dangerous animals deeper in, and to be honest I was too. But I had to keep her feeling secure so I didn’t let my fear show.

“Daddy, are you sure there’s nothing else in here?” She asked.

“But how do you know?” She questioned, staring into the darkness of the cave.

It echoed back…. “Hey anyone there….hey anyone there…..

She began to smile in relief. “I like the echo,” she said with a giggle. “Hello!” She hollered into the darkness.

“See, no storm can keep us down.” I gave her a pat on the head. “Were alive and having fun!” I belted out waiting for the echo.

John turned off the bedroom light. A night light cast shapes of bounding rabbits on the walls and ceiling, scaring away only some of the shadows.

“Yes, Bunny?” He leaned against the door jamb and closed his eyes, resting for a moment. It had been a long day.

He smiled and opened his eyes. His breath stopped when he saw something dart into the closet. He stretched his eyes wide and blinked hard, assuming it was just exhaustion causing his mind to play tricks.

John pushed himself off the wall. “I’m not sure,” he answered, approaching the closet casually so as not to alarm his daughter. He peered behind the door. The interior was dark; the only features were of hanging clothes and familiar toys. He smiled at his unease—he really did need sleep—and slid the door closed.

“Your imagination is infectious,” he told her, approaching her bedside.

“That means I bet you’ll have the bestest dreams,” he answered, tapping her tiny nose with a finger. He leaned down close to her. “Why did you ask me if aliens get tired?”

He saw her eyes shift to something behind him. He quickly turned to see it standing at the foot of the bed: large head, black eyes, spindly arms and legs. It seemed startled. Then it was gone.

When the bookstore at the mall put up its help wanted posters, I jumped at the chance to put in my application. Between being an avid reader who had practically lived amongst the store’s shelves in high school and a broke community college student taking a semester off to save money, it seemed still customer service.

I got used to people coming in and asking for “That popular book, the one made into a movie” and the edgy teens who moved the Bible from the religion section to fiction. Finding half eaten pastries from our cafe hidden in all sorts of creative places that weren’t the conveniently placed garbage cans was an everyday activity and gently reminding parents that we weren’t babysitters was a frequent thing.

A lot of our customers were quiet and pleasant, it was clean (for the most part), management was nice, my co-workers friendly, and I got a tidy little discount on my own purchases. After a few months of employment, I even had some regulars that I was on a first name basis with.

He was a polite kid, a few years younger than me, maybe sixteen, and he loved fantasy. It wasn’t unusual to go down to that section and find a tall, lanky guy all in black kneeling in the middle of the aisle with a book opened in front of him. The first few times I came across him, he’d look up with this guilty expression, like I’d found him doing something wrong, and quickly put the book he’d been reading away and get up to leave.

He was always alone and often had headphones on; I imagined they were blaring one of the bands whose t-shirts he frequently wore, Iron Maiden or Metallica or something hard and heavy like that. At first, he struck me as the intentional outsider type, rebelling against The Man, an embittered youth who thought of himself as a lone wolf who didn’t need anyone else.

When I finally spoke to him, though, I found that I’d been very wrong.

I found him in his usual spot one afternoon and, as usual, he started to pack up the minute I came around the corner. Instead of just letting him go, I decided to try reaching out with a smile and pointed to the book he was putting back.

“R.A. Salvatore’s a good author, huh?” I asked while I reorganized the shelf next to him.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and answered with a tight lipped nod.

“I was a big fan of Drizzt when I was in high school,” I said.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I like Wulfgar.”

We chatted for a bit longer about the series and I was surprised by how he lit up; he had such enthusiasm for the books that it almost made me want to go out and re-read them. We traded names before Eddie had to go and I went back to work, amused at how wrong I’d been about him. Instead of being the angry, closed off guy I’d expected, he was a huge, but shy, geek.

Whenever I saw Eddie after that first conversation, we’d exchange pleasantries and talk about the new releases that had just come in. I wasn’t the fantasy buff that I’d once been so sometimes it could be hard to keep up, but Eddie just seemed to like having someone to talk to and he kept me company while I stocked and straightened shelves.

I didn’t comment on the fact that he was in almost every afternoon and often stayed until it was just about closing time. I figured he wasn’t causing trouble so it wasn’t my business.

It’s awfully hot in this place. I write from hell for those still remaining refugees that somehow managed to strive ahead! It is hotter than a trillion suns, they say. Well there is no way of telling, as hell is about eternal repetition and torment. It’s not as bad as I anticipated. Whether or not it’s because of the obvious reason is anyone’s guess. If you’re not in hell with us it’s because the Lord himself used all his power to keep you in shelter until he himself is overwhelmed and killed. I know he can die. I know cause I can feel it. That’s how powerful it is.

You don’t understand why everyone is in hell. It’s the Lord’s power. I pray that when he’s overwhelmed that your fate will not be worse than ours. As far as I know it only gets bigger. It never stops. All this from a little insect. Let me explain:

My name was Angela Williams. I was with my boyfriend John Hinson at the visitors center in Tennessee for the Appalachian mountain trail. We were in Tennessee visiting our Grandparents and a couple of cousins for the holidays. We originally were California residents. My parents were originally from the south. I moved to California because it’s where John is from and there was a job opportunity.

We went hiking during our vacation. I stumbled upon a cave after hiking through oddly formed slopes for a change. We decided to go check it out. We weren’t expecting to find a cave. And then it’s when it all started. I had a vision that the world was gonna explode due to mass erosion of the core and energy expulsion. There was a voice. Like a godly voice. That’s the only way I can describe it. It told me I was the only one who could stop it. All I had to do was visit the location of the crater that leads to the center of the earth to the core, and worship it. It sounds strange, but it’s all true.

The crater was located in Hawaii. On an island near Maui not far from the coast and Hawaiian territory. Of course I knew it was there. The only problem was how I was gonna convince other people and geologists. I had to go myself. It took lots of planning and bribing, but I was able to reach the island via boat. As soon as I stepped on the island I could feel a powerful presence. You could feel the heat from miles and miles away on the boat. The closer we approached the island, the stronger it got.

Soon, the whole crew believed me. When we reached the crater, we called in the world’s team leading geologists. They had plans for it of course. They took their time in their process of filing it in the federal bureaus and the National and International geologists association. The crater was too hot to approach it edge wise. You needed biological skin protection provided by world’s leading CDC.

In #1441 the one with the homemade cooking thing is the guys wife a cannibal ? Like she cooked their kid at the end right ? And then fed it to him or am I wrong ? Or she’s cooking kids from the school she works at since she called them her ‘piggies’?

Hello all, I (sometimes) write my own horror short stories, I post them, you read them. Rinse and repeat.

PS: Original stories would only be posted once in a while depending on my school workload.

Posts would usually be posted at 12 midnight or after that, Singapore time.