Tag: transcripts

Welcome back. As some of you know if you’re on The Storage Papers’ social media, I’ve dabbled in visiting places for the purposes of paranormal research – or as it’s more commonly called: ghost hunting. Some places can certainly be quite spooky, especially the long abandoned buildings like old hospitals. This paper recounts a statement provided to a park ranger from a woman who was picked up wearing just a shirt, a pair of underwear, and boots as she ran directly in front of his Jeep. Some abandoned places were never meant to be explored.

We weren’t even supposed to be there. When we ran into the No Trespassing signs, I told them we should turn back. Nobody listened.

There were five of us: me and David, Kristen and Raul, and Jemal. Raul and David kept goading each other, and Kristen has always been up for anything. I think me and Jemal were the only ones who just wanted to keep hiking. I knew there was no way to talk them out of it, though. Especially David. That’s part of why I’d been so attracted to him. I’ve never been much of a risk taker and he always pushed me to step out of my comfort zone.

It was just past three when we got to the chain link fence. I remember because that was part of my argument for not going inside: I didn’t want it to be dark by the time we got back to our campsite. Raul told David he should just hang back with his girl. David insisted that I was up for this. Then he turned to me and gave me a quick wink – the same wink he always gave me right before my boundaries were about to be pushed.

Jemal pointed out the barbed wire and reiterated how bad of an idea this was. What if it was some top secret government facility or something?

Raul just rolled his eyes and pointed out how unkempt everything was. Whatever this place used to be, it was clearly abandoned. David quickly agreed, trying to get Jemal onboard. While they went back and forth, Kristen was the one who pointed out the direction of the barbed wire at the top of the ten foot fence – specifically that it was angled inwards. She asked if we thought this used to be some kinda prison. The bickering paused as everyone looked at the fence and the roof of the structure beyond. We couldn’t see it very well – between the overgrown weeds and the overall shape of the landscape, it was pretty well hidden.

But, like David and Raul said, there was definitely no sign of human life anywhere within the area. Raul looked from side to side and started shaking the fence. He saw that part of it was loose and David helped him pull it up and away from the fence post. There was just enough room in the gap they created to crawl through, but only barely. Raul went through last and ended up catching his gray t-shirt on the fence, tearing a piece of it off.

Once he was through, him and David took the lead while me, Kristen, and Jemal kinda hung back a little. Me and Jemal really weren’t feeling it at all by the time we got to the building itself. It was a big, concrete structure. It almost reminded me of some sort of bunker, but it was a lot bigger than any bunker I’d ever seen pictures of. There were some windows that were reinforced with steel bars. They reminded me of Kristen’s comment about it being a jail and, even though there’s no way it was an actual jail, it still made me uneasy and I pointed it out.

Raul was unconcerned. He said even if it was a jail, it wouldn’t be the first abandoned one he’d explored, which got him and David talking about going on some sort of urban exploration adventure together or something. I ignored them, hoping David wasn’t planning on bringing me along as I peered through the windows… but I couldn’t see anything at all.

Then Jemal called out that he found a door around the corner. I hadn’t even noticed he’d wandered off, but the guys started celebrating that they’d gotten Jemal in the spirit with them. Nobody seemed concerned about the weather-worn signs plastered on the door saying stuff like “No Trespassing,” “Danger,” and “Fines and Prosecution.” Raul stood at the door with Jemal and asked if any of us had seen something we could pry it open with. I shrugged and looked around to see if there were any stray metal rods that may have broken off from the windows or something, when Kristen asked if they’d tried to open it yet. I rolled my eyes as the guys all looked at each other like dummies, then David stepped forward and turned the handle. It swung inwards.

This time Kristen pushed past them and led the way in. I entered last, pulling my flashlight out of the side pocket of my backpack. As expected, it was extremely dark inside. We all looked around with our flashlights to see that we were in a small, windowless room. There were some old newspapers scattered around the floor, some broken glass, and a bunch of cigarette butts. The light from the doorway cut straight across the room, illuminating the only notable feature: a set of steel double doors with a bracket on either side, holding a four by four in place. With almost no hesitation, Raul and David walked up to the door and removed the wooden bar. I asked why they thought it was there and David shrugged his shoulders and grinned, saying that he didn’t know but we were going to find out. That just made me more uneasy.

They each took a door and tugged them open. The rusty hinges seemed to beg us not to enter as they squeaked. They were heavy doors and they scraped a layer of dust off the ground as the two of them struggled to swing them all the way open. Inside the doors was a long hallway with a chipped tile floor.

Raul asked what this place was, seemingly in awe at the discovery. Nobody answered. Instead we quietly made our way inside. Kristen fell behind with me. I whispered to her, asking if she thought this is what ghost hunters feel like. It definitely had the vibe of some old, haunted school… or psych ward, maybe. The first few doors we came to in the hallway appeared to be some sort of offices. Each of them had a desk, although in one of them the desk was split in half. Most of the desks were adorned with a typewriter, ashtray, and a golden lamp with a green shade, all covered under a few layers of cobwebs. Yellowing papers and old cigarette butts littered the floor. Some of them had windows, but metal plates were bolted over top of them, which explained why I couldn’t see in from the outside.

It was the next few rooms that made me think of an old school, though. There was a chemistry lab – it looked nearly identical to the one I’d used for my chem class at San Diego State, except a couple pieces of equipment looked like older versions of the stuff I was used to and the general state of disrepair, of course. A couple of lab coats hung on a rack by the door, and there were still some formulas written on the chalkboard, almost like everyone had left in the middle of a class.

The next lab smelled terrible. I never actually went in, but David told me it looked like someone had been experimenting on animals or something. There were a bunch of cages, but no animals were actually in them. Instead there were a few small bones and what might have been blood stains scattered around on the floor. That was enough for me to try to get everyone to leave, but now I was alone. While Kristen was grossed out too, even she was determined to find out exactly what this place used to be.

There were a few more labs. When we found beds that had restraints for wrists, ankles, and heads in a couple of them, Raul made a joke about someone being into BDSM, but I was starting to feel like the odd one out for not finding any humor in the situation. I’d seen enough. If it wasn’t for David pushing me… I agreed to keep going.

We came to another set of steel double doors – this one without the security bar. Raul was about to step through when Jemal stopped him. He pointed up and we all looked. Directly above us there was an iron grid, approximately six feet by six feet, with spikes at each joint. Jemal’s flashlight traced a cable and system of pulleys from one end of the grid to a metal box directly over the door Raul was about to push open.

David ran back to an office and returned with a typewriter. We all stood back as he tossed it at the door. Immediately, the wall of spikes swung down, impaling the one door that was still shut. We all looked at each other with wide eyes. That was some Indiana Jones shit.

Raul told us all to be careful, like he wasn’t the one that had almost gotten himself killed in the first place. We pressed on, keeping a close eye anytime we neared a door. David poked his head into another room and was like, “What the fuck?” so of course we all crowded into the office there with him. There was a skeleton slumped in a corner. A beige suit was partially visible under a lab coat that was stained blackish-brown all around the top. There was a large, jagged hole on one side of the skull and the fingers gripped a pistol. Kristen was the one who noticed the message scrawled in black marker on the opposite wall.

“It’s not them” is all it said.

I was more insistent about leaving this time and David finally relented. He stood up from studying the skeleton and turned to leave when Jemal started reading from a small leatherbound notebook that had been on the desk. I didn’t think it made any sense, and whoever wrote it kept jumping around from one thing to another. It said that the bodies weren’t hanging. Something about a maze being all wrong, that it was like a different world or universe or something and the rules didn’t apply. Then how something was more quiet than it should have been except when it talked, or if it was too late to matter.

David told Jemal to take the notebook so we could read it around the campfire so he put it in his backpack, then quickly scooped the gun up off the floor and packed that away as well. When we got out of that room, David looked around and asked where Raul went. I was confused because he had just been right behind me, but I spun around myself and found that he wasn’t anywhere in sight. Kristen started calling out for him, but aside from her own echo there wasn’t an answer. David shook his head, saying that the bastard must have wandered off. Kristen and I exchanged worried glances but followed David as we turned another corner deeper into the building.

There was only one door ahead. David turned back to us, grinning as he pointed at a sign on the door that was clearly missing letters – only an M and an A remained. He said now he knew where Raul went.

“He saw this room was rated MA and was hoping to see some boobies.”

Kristen and I both groaned at the terrible, middle school maturity dad joke. He turned back to the door and, after closely examining around it for any apparent traps, slowly turned the doorknob. There was a loud click, then a rumble and a clatter on the other side of the door. We all backed up and Kristen once again shouted Raul’s name. There was no reply and after a moment the racket stopped and things were once again silent.

David cautiously stepped forward and tried the door again. It swung open towards us and I immediately grabbed David’s arm. Directly on the other side of the door was a gaping square hole in the ground. He stepped back and shone his flashlight into the hole. Neither of us could see the bottom. My heart was pounding but he just smiled at me and said that was a close one. I turned back to Kristen and Jemal to calm down but my pulse only sped up as I realized Kristen wasn’t there. We ran back around the corner and called out for her, but she was nowhere to be found.

David glanced back at the room with the hole in the ground but I quickly pointed out that we know Kristen wasn’t that way because she was behind us the whole time, and Raul wasn’t in that room because he would have set off the booby trap. He agreed and the three of us stood there for a moment, lost. That’s when we heard Raul calling out, “Guys? Hello? Where are you?”

We all turned. His voice had been coming from the room passed the hole. David called after him, “Raul! Come over here!”

There was silence for a minute, then Raul shouted back that he was hurt and needed help. Jemal muttered to himself about how of course Raul hurt himself. One by one, we jumped over the hole and entered the room. As I walked in I realized that this was more than a room. I pointed my flashlight around and found that, while the walls for the next few yards were narrow, I couldn’t see the ceiling, which surprised me. The building had looked big from the outside, but not that big.

We carefully proceeded, looking for any buttons, tripwires, or giant boulders ready to roll and crush us because who knows what the hell to expect in a place like that. The walls were replaced with railing and the floor turned into a metal grate platform. On the end of the platform was a ladder leading down. I looked around us, trying to see beyond the railing, but I couldn’t find any walls around. In fact, even though I had a pretty powerful flashlight, it felt like it was only shining a few feet in front of me.

Before we climbed down the ladder, I yelled out for Raul again, then called for Kristen. There was no response. Not even an echo. David was already climbing down. I looked at Jemal and he tried to give me a reassuring look but it was pretty easy to tell he was just as terrified as me. I heard David yelp and ran to the edge, asking if he was okay. It was all quiet for a sec and I couldn’t even see him below us, then I heard him yell back that he was fine and we should get down there. It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do, but I climbed down the ladder, Jemal immediately following me.

We got to the bottom, stepping on the cement floor. David was nowhere to be seen. I called out for him. It sounded like he was a ways away when he responded and told us to hurry up, he found something. Jemal and I ran towards his voice, unable to see him in the darkness and our flashlights doing little to make it easier. I yelled back, asking where he was and what he found. He just said to come quick. Why wouldn’t he just tell us? We came up to a wall that rose up about ten feet with only one gap to pass through. It reminded me of the entrance to a corn maze. Only pausing for a moment, we entered to find it was a maze, but we continued running.

I suddenly felt myself falling face first as I tripped over something on the ground. I broke my fall at the last second and heard a crunch, followed by Jemal crying out behind me. I rolled over and saw a thin wire pulled around my shoe and beyond that a series of jagged metal rods protruding out of the wall that hadn’t been there a second ago. One of them had gone completely through Jemal’s calf. The rod was connected from one wall to the other with his leg pinned in mid air.

I rose to my knees and tried to move the rod back into the wall but it wouldn’t budge. I was so amped up I didn’t even realize the jagged edges of the rod cut into my palms when I grabbed it. Jemal looked at me, teeth clenched in pain. He told me to just leave him there. I looked around desperately trying to figure something out. I screamed for David, for Kristen, for Raul, for anyone who could hear me to come and help us. The dark seemed to eat my words. I heard David, now even further away, telling me I had to hurry. I was on the verge of tears when Jemal reached out and grabbed my arm and told me to hurry up and go get David, he had a knife that might be able to help us.

I stopped and looked at him. I suddenly remembered – Jemal had a gun in his backpack from the dead guy! Careful not to move him too much, I reached into his bag and pulled out the pistol. I had never shot a gun before and I wasn’t even sure it would work. Jemal looked at me with fear in his eyes, asking what I was going to do. I got on the ground and pointed it at the other side of the rod. I closed my eyes as I squeezed the trigger. I couldn’t help it.

Jemal screamed and I jerked my eyes open. The bullet had broken through the rod, but the force also pushed it backwards, the jagged edge slicing through Jemal’s calf. Free of the metal, he fell to the ground. I looked at the bloodied flesh, panicking. Raul had been the one carrying our primary first aid kit; all I had was some aspirin. I dug through my backpack and pulled out a spare shirt to tie around his leg, creating an improvised tourniquet.

Jemal told me to go again. I knew I couldn’t leave him there, though. Something had been picking us off, one by one. We had to stick together. Ignoring his protests, I pulled him up and slung his arm over my shoulder, forcing him to walk with me.

I couldn’t help but wonder aloud who the hell was doing this to us and why. As we hobbled, Jemal eventually responded between grunts. The traps weren’t intended for us. Everything – from the traps to the windows to the door to the fence – wasn’t set up to keep us out. It was all designed to keep something in.

It wasn’t long before we came to another opening. Ropes hung from wherever the ceiling was and disappeared under a wide pile of clothes that covered the entire floor as far as I could see with my flashlight. There was probably about a solid foot or two of messily stacked clothing. I noticed resting atop the pile was a gray shirt, torn. It was Raul’s! He had to be nearby! I yelled out for him. It took a few seconds, but he answered! I nearly melted with relief. We weren’t alone.

I started searching for him with my flashlight while I asked him where he was. I froze as I pointed the light up. The ropes weren’t attached to the ceiling at all. Each rope rose twenty feet in the air and ended in a noose. Dozens of naked bodies hung upside down, hovering above us in the darkness, tethered to the ground by the ropes that were tied around their necks. They were all pale, seemingly drained of blood and glowing in the light against the endless black. My light had just fallen on the body of Raul when I heard his voice off to my right, telling us he was just a little further and to hurry up.

I dropped my flashlight and covered my mouth to stifle a scream. As soon as the flashlight hit the floor, I heard something shuffling in the distance – from roughly the same area I had just heard my dead friend’s voice. Tears streamed from my eyes as I saw David’s clothes in the beam of the flashlight. I looked at Jemal and whispered that we had to run. He slowly nodded, his wide eyes matching my own. We turned and tried to run back the way we came, but we were barely moving at a brisk walking pace with his now useless leg.

I was already on the ground when I realized that my body had just been spun around like a ragdoll and tossed aside. Jemal was gone. Something had jerked him away from me so fast and with such force that I was now dizzy and on the ground with the wind knocked out of me. I was alone.

Taking time I knew I didn’t have to recover, I unsteadily rose to my feet and staggered forward. I slowly regained my breath and my balance and was able to run again. I ran blindly, knowing that between the traps, the maze, and whatever the fuck was behind me I had no chance, but I had to run. I heard a sound that I didn’t realize until later was flesh being torn apart. Jemal’s death was buying me time.

I finally made it out of the maze and ran in the direction I hoped was the ladder. I had left my flashlight behind and couldn’t see anything in front of my face. I reached out into the blank space before me, praying my hands would make contact with the metal rungs. Behind me, I heard something skittering across the cement floor. It sounded like something with a dozen legs was running at me.

I felt cold aluminum hit my bloodied palm and used my momentum to thrust myself up the ladder, skipping the first few rungs. It was getting closer behind me. I made it over the ladder and ran as fast as I could. I remembered there was a hole somewhere ahead of me, but I couldn’t see it. I leaped with every stride, praying that luck would save me. A doorknob caught my hip, instantly bruising it. I didn’t care, though. That meant I had just passed the door and made it over the hole.

I put a hand against the wall as I ran so I could feel when to turn. I rounded the corner, my own heartbeat deafening in my ears. I kept my hand against the wall. If I wasn’t careful at the next doorway, I would impale myself on iron spikes. I didn’t slow down though. I could still hear it. It had jumped over the hole, too.

I made it through the doorway, feeling my way around the trap and continued running again. Although it sounded like the feet were a dozen yards back, I felt hot breath huffing on my neck. I could see a crack of dusk light ahead. I was almost there. I didn’t dare look behind me. I didn’t want to see it.

I made it to the doors. I grabbed one and yanked at it, trying to close it. I heard the thing slow down – it was at the spikes. I put all my weight against the door. It moved, but so slowly. I screamed in frustration but kept moving it. Inch by inch, it swung shut as blood smeared from my hands across the metal. The thing from inside was past the spikes now and had resumed at an inhuman pace.

I grabbed the other door, crying and screaming as I fought the decades of rust to close it. It skittered with all of its feet, halfway to me already. I shut the door. With strength I didn’t even have, I somehow lifted the four by four and put it into the brackets, just as the doors pounded against it. I fell backwards as it rammed the doors again. I backed away, then got up and ran out as it continued pounding. It was only a matter of time. I ran through the grass and slammed into the fence, dropping to my knees to try to crawl under it. It caught the leg of my pants – just as I heard the sound of wood splintering. I yanked at my jeans, willing them to tear loose of the chain link fence. More wood cracked.

I undid my fly and jerked my pants off, then I ran and I didn’t stop running.

This poor girl went through hell, but I can’t help but wonder what she discovered in the process. I may never find out, though. A search and rescue team went looking in the rough area she had been but found no evidence of the building she described. What’s even more concerning is the fact that a piece of wood was all that stood between whatever was within the belly of that structure and the rest of the world. Who knows how long that will last – if it even lasted at all.

My advice: enjoy nature when you get the chance, but if you run into a sign that says “No Trespassing”… heed the warnings.

Thank you for listening.

Welcome back to The Storage Papers. This week’s episode is actually an update from Brianne. She’d told me part of this already, but she recently emailed me the whole story. You may recall at the end of the episode [1:06] there was a part of a phone call between us. There was a little more to that call that wasn’t especially relevant to the episode and I wanted more details before I even considered sharing it. Now that I have the full story, I won’t keep you waiting anymore. This is the story of a house on the corner, as told by Brianne Scanlon.

Jeremy, I wanted to give you an update on some things. While I’ve been looking into those medical files, I’ve found a couple of links. I’ve talked to different family and friends of the patients and at least two of the patients seem to be psychic, or at least possess some sort of psychic abilities. The other thing that a lot more of them have in common… they’re dead. And by “a lot more” I mean most, hence the reason it was family and friends I talked to instead of the patients themselves.

I honestly didn’t think to ask about any psychic connection at first. I was probably thirty or so files deep when I got a hold of one of their sisters. The funeral had just happened a week before I called… which sucked. But then Jenny (the patient’s sister) laughed, but in a bitter way, and said, “You know he predicted this. For the past month he’s been saying that he’s going to die in his sleep.”

As you would imagine, that caught my attention… especially given the dreams I’ve been having. It turns out that he had always been that way – usually with smaller things, but often enough that people who were closer to him all seemed to understand and accept that he sometimes just knew things. That’s when I started adding that to my ever growing list of questions and, sure enough, the very next person I spoke with confirmed that their wife had a psychic streak, too.

I thought about circling back to those I’d been able to contact already, but that’s when I realized the next person on the list was not only alive, but worked as a real estate agent in the Hillcrest area which is not only in San Diego but really isn’t that far away. I thought I’d try to get with them face to face but didn’t want to just show up out of the blue… I think we’re still a little ways off from random visits being a thing. Anyways, I found one of his listings and booked an appointment for one of my days off. He sent me a walk-through video, advising me to watch and see if I had any questions and basically asked if I was serious enough to meet in person. I told him I’d like to meet.

I tried to do some digging on him beforehand, but outside of realty websites, he didn’t have much of an online presence. He wasn’t even on Facebook or LinkedIn, as far as I could tell. So when I pulled up to the house, I was actually feeling kind of nervous. I didn’t know the first thing about the guy other than his job and some stuff in his medical files. None of it told me what type of person he was.

I opened my car door, put on my mask, then squirted some sanitizer onto my hands as I stood up. The guy could be a serial killer for all I knew, but at least I wouldn’t be spreading anything if I could help it. I started to walk towards the door when I saw someone getting out of a car on the other side of the street, then hustling towards me.

“Brianne?” he asked. Although some things are harder to tell when everyone is masked up, I’d probably peg him in his early fifties and he looked to be in better shape than many over the past year.

I nodded, then confirmed his name. Because I know this will probably go on your podcast, I’ll call him John or Mister Doe, if you want. Pleasantries aside, he walked past me and unlocked the door before stepping inside several feet then beckoning me to follow. I nudged the door shut behind me and took in the place while he opened the windows and I gathered my thoughts. There was no way I’d ever be able to afford that type of house. Still, I allowed him to lead me around – at a distance – and point out different features, not a one of which I could tell you about. I’m fine in my little apartment, although I’m pretty sure my security deposit is toast now.

At some point, he finally stopped and turned to me, asking what my thoughts were so far. In response, I put forward the most clever transition that I could come up with on the fly.

“It’s a really nice place. Although I’m kind of picking up a weird vibe here. I don’t know, maybe it’s just ‘cause I don’t really get out much – I mean, I guess none of us really do lately – but… there’s just like, an energy or something, I think. Do you feel that?”

He looked at me blankly for a moment, before offering a small chuckle. “Sorry, I can’t say I’m too familiar with that.”

“Really?” I asked. “You never get feelings about stuff and can’t quite figure out why?”

He shrugged and a smile creased his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint. But I can assure you, there’s no cause for any heebie jeebies here.”

If I’m being completely honest, I was fully expecting him to launch into a tirade about how he was psychic or something. I pressed him. “I think it’s just like, tapping into things that are set in stone. I feel like everyone does it to some degree, don’t you?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and I didn’t need to see the lower half of his face to tell he was uncomfortable. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, just for a split second, then it was gone before I could figure out what that was.

“Brianne, if I’m being honest, I don’t really think there are things set in stone. I think sometimes everything is just one big accident. One accident leads to the next, then, before you know it, nine years have gone by, you find yourself looking in the mirror, and only god knows what is creeping up on you.”

With that admission, I realized that I had wasted his time and I was back to square one. I had just felt it in my gut that there would be some sort of psychic connection between all of the files.

He chuckled again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all morbidly existential there. Last thing left to see is the basement, and I think you’re really going to like what you see.”

I offered him a smile that, in retrospect, he probably didn’t notice because I doubt it reached my eyes. “No worries, I’m the one who brought it up after all. Lead on,” I said. 

Lead on he did, right down to the basement. It was reasonably lit, which was definitely a good thing. I’d kind of gotten a feel for him so I was more or less at ease, but basements are always a gamble. A cinderblock wall stood opposite some wooden shelving that stretched past the stairs. An empty workbench sat on the far side of the basement. None of that was the focus of the room though. Side by side, he and I paused as we took in the most unusual sight.

Dead center in the middle of the room stood… I’m not sure what to call it. It was three sided and came to a point, so I guess like a pyramid? It was probably about eight feet tall and around three feet wide at the base. It looked like some kind of glass or maybe metal, I don’t know. But it was a nearly perfect mirror. I started walking towards it, unable to take my eyes off of it. I asked him what it was.

“I’ve never seen that before,” he answered from behind me.

“You haven’t been down here?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I have. I’m the one who recorded the walk-through you watched. If you remember, it wasn’t there then and this is the first time I’ve seen it.”

It probably wasn’t the best time to admit I hadn’t actually watched more than the first twenty seconds of the walk-through video he had sent me. I glanced back at him. “How did it get here?”

“That… is an excellent question and one I’m not too happy that I don’t have the answer, to be honest.”

He stepped past me, leaned in close to the surface for a moment, then suddenly stood straight up and looked around. He almost looked confused.

“I, uh… I need to make a few phone calls. Take a look around and… be careful.”

Before I could ask what he meant by that last remark, he briskly walked past me and headed up the stairs, taking two at a time. I watched his reflection disappear through the doorway at the top of the staircase. I walked in a circle around it. Each side was perfectly clean, not a dust speck or fingerprint smudge to be found. The angle of the mirrored surface kept the floor out of sight and gave me the uncomfortable sensation that I was standing on the precipice of something as a result.

As I stared into it, I couldn’t help but feel like something was just out of reach of my mind, a memory of some kind. Trying to recall it felt something like flicking an empty lighter: all spark, no flame. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

The lights flickered and I jumped. Looking around, my surroundings were completely different. The first thing I noticed was that to my right and my left were flashes. Pictures, stretching from floor to ceiling, that appeared for less than a second, then disappeared. Some I recognized. Places I’d been. People I knew.

I turned around to find myself staring back at me. The me that was in front of me now was standing in the middle of the basement, motionless. I turned back to the flashing images. Between the constantly changing scenes and the accompanying sound it was extremely disorienting to look at, but I found that if I focused, the images would slow down, then begin to move. It wasn’t easy. I saw flashes of doctors I didn’t know and clinical settings I wasn’t familiar with mixed with the hospital I work at. I saw my apartment and I saw a home I lived in as a child. I saw my old car. I saw Malcom. I saw you, Jeremy. Then I saw him, and that’s when I was finally able to focus enough to stop the stream of pictures.

I didn’t say anything at first. I was too busy crying. He just smiled back at me.

“Ben?” I finally asked.

“Hey, Bri,” he said. Then he stepped forward, out of the image. I immediately grabbed him and wrapped my arms around him. It felt so good to have him hold me in return. We never hugged enough.

I don’t know how long we stood there, me crying like an idiot, but he finally spoke up. “So, how’s life?”

I punched him for that and ignored his feigned confusion. “I don’t understand, how are you here?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

I wiped my eyes. “I mean like, is this some sort of bridge from the afterlife or what?”

“Bri, I don’t-”

He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes went blank, and his pale form crumpled to the ground. I couldn’t help but scream as his elbow split open and suddenly a bone was jutting out. The worst part was his face, though. That fucking grin.

A bright flash appeared and he was gone, replaced by darkness. Twinkling lights appeared and I realized it was night. I looked down to see I was standing in grass. Beside me was a blanket and two bottles of wine, one empty. Seemingly from nowhere, a giggling couple appeared and fell onto the blanket as they began to kiss. I recognized myself immediately. The man, though… it took me a second before I realized who it was.

The last time I had seen him alive had just been another ordinary night, a quick kiss before bed, lights out… then I’m confirming that’s his body on the slab. I thought I’d eventually get numb to all the death. I mean, it stands to reason, right? Seeing him again, the way he looked at me, it just pulled open a scab I thought had scarred long ago. I was momentarily distracted by a glimmer. That’s when I realized we were wearing wedding bands. I had to close my eyes at the sudden sound of shattering glass and crunching metal, then another bright light flashed before I had time to process any of it.

This time I was left in absolute darkness. I thought I heard something to my left, like someone breathing maybe. I couldn’t see anything, though. I spun to my right as I heard a sound that instantly gripped my stomach with fear, rippling numbness down my arms and legs. It was the sound of a long trail of saliva being created. I turned to face the sound and found two orbs staring at me, unblinking. Then they jumped towards me.

The world once again flashed white and I found myself shaking as I stared at my frozen body in the basement. I stepped forward and reached a hand out. The surface between us was cold. I tried to focus all my energy to connect with myself, staring into my own eyes. I wanted out of this box. I’d had enough.

That’s when my phone rang. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t just about shit myself right then. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, the glowing screen lighting up the mystery surface in front of me. I turned back to myself as I answered.

BRIANNE: Hello?

JEREMY: Hey, Brianne, how are you doing?

BRIANNE: I… now’s not really a great time, Jeremy, so… 

JEREMY: Sorry, I’ll make this quick. This is about something I found in the papers that I read and I was wondering if you know anything about. Oh, and since I’m doing this for the podcast, I’m recording this. Is that okay?

BRIANNE: Yeah, that’s fine. What did you find?

JEREMY: It may be nothing, but… do you know any female nurses, or anyone that works at the hospital, I guess, who was seeing anyone in two thousand twelve who… used to go on long night drives? Maybe for work or something?

BRIANNE: You read about this in the papers?

JEREMY: Yeah. A group of forty people all had the same dream about this person.

BRIANNE: I… I think that was me. Sorry, I know I should be getting used to stuff like this, but that’s… in two thousand twelve my boyfriend went on a back country road at night. They found his body the next day.

JEREMY: That’s… you’re positive? Nine years ago he was in a car accident?

BRIANNE: That’s the kind of thing that sticks out in your mind. Yes, nine years… [to self] …have gone by… looking in a mirror… 

JEREMY: I didn’t catch that. What’d you say?

BRIANNE: Oh shit!

Mister Doe’s words suddenly came back to me: “God only knows what’s creeping up on you.”

My eyes snapped to the basement again and I realized for the first time I wasn’t alone in there. A figure was behind me. “Figure” is the most accurate term, because it wasn’t a solid form. It shifted and weaved in multiple directions all at once, like a shadow flickering between several flames. I pounded on the surface, trying to get myself to snap out of it as it drew closer. Every muscle within me tensed as I screamed at the top of my lungs and mentally called for help. I watched helplessly as a length of darkness stretched out until it hovered over my head. My head snapped up and I was suddenly standing in the basement again, a dark figure behind me.

I didn’t have any time to gather my bearings when I heard John give a yell, then saw him diving from across the room into the figure. His body collided with it and in a blink, they vanished together and I found myself staring at an old workbench against the wall. The pyramid was gone. The only evidence that it was ever there was a triangular hole burnt into the flooring.

I ran out of the basement, left the house, and practically collapsed into my car. For a while it was all I could do to focus on my breathing. Somehow the experience from inside the pyramid – somewhere between the horrors of my past and the pain of what might have been – had been worse than when I actually lived through the tragedies themselves. Then to have John… 

My thoughts were interrupted by a chime on my phone. I pulled it out to find I had a new email. It was from John. I quickly looked up at that house on the corner, half expecting him to be standing there and it was all one big joke. The doorway was vacant, though. I looked back down and saw that he had sent it about fifteen minutes ago. My email must not have synced until just then or something. I’ve attached it here. Let me know what you think.

Brianne,

I’m sorry for what you just went through. I wish I could have stopped you, but no matter what path we took it seemed like it was always going to lead to the basement. I didn’t have all the details, of course. Just flashes. I’m sure you can relate. I probably should have just told you. I guess a part of me hoped I was wrong and we’d both walk away from today and I could go on living my mostly normal life. I hope my words helped you. And, most importantly, I hope you know this wasn’t your fault. I do still believe life is a series of accidents. This one in particular was just set in motion a long time ago and there’s nothing either of us could have done to prevent it. Take care of yourself… and I hope you find what you’re looking for.

There’s quite a bit to unpack in that. It sounds like Brianne may be onto something in regards to the common denominator with all of the medical files. The fact that John Doe, as she called him, knew just what to say to get her to snap out of it in time to call for help all but proves he is indeed, like at least some the others, psychic. Stay tuned as we continue searching for answers in The Storage Papers. And to John Doe… if you’re still out there somewhere… Brianne says “thank you.”

Today I’m going to be skipping my usual introduction to what I’m about to read, more or less, because I’ll have much more to say about this particular set of papers afterwards. So, with no further ado, I’ll begin.

It started with a phone call. Their exact words were unimportant, but the directive was clear. I had a long drive ahead of me. I knew my girlfriend wouldn’t want me to leave without saying goodbye, but I also knew she’d be even more upset if I woke her up at one oh six in the morning when she had to wake up in just three hours to get ready for her shift at the hospital. Instead, I left a note on the counter, letting her know I’d see her when she got home.

I closed the front door as quietly as I could and got in the car. I had a two hour long drive ahead of me and I was relishing the idea about as much as a colonoscopy. But I had to go.

I glanced into the cup holder to see I’d left my thermos in here from this morning. I checked it and, sure enough, there was still coffee in there – now completely cold. Swallowing my pride with the coffee, I felt the familiar buzz as my neurons began to fire up and ask what the occasion was. It wouldn’t last, but it had to be enough because it’s all I had and they weren’t the type to be happy if I made them wait around for me.

Any road is a long and lonely road at this time of night, but none are longer or lonelier than your generic back road under the moonless sky, the forgotten highway that they should really just let nature reclaim. Some would call it the scenic route, but to me it was an inconvenience surrounded by mountains, valleys, and the occasional patch of bushes and trees. Maybe I’m just grumpy because I only ever take these routes at night, but color me unimpressed by the vague shadowy figures that line my night journey.

The one thing that always made this trip worth it, aside from the fact that I had no choice in the matter, was the radio. Usually radio is extremely boring, but when you get in just the right spot you could pick up something…different. If you tune your dial just right…somewhere between the Christian Contemporary music on one oh two point one and the religious broadcast on one oh two point five…there it is.

[numbers station]

Those things have always fascinated me. I feel like I’m still thinking of them in my dreams sometimes. Some people count sheep…I listen to people say numbers, I guess. The really fascinating thing is these things don’t normally play on your regular radio. There had to be a pirate station out there somewhere, which makes it all the more interesting, I think.

I was so caught up with the person reciting the numbers and trying to mentally decode what I’m sure is either gibberish or a code far too advanced for something in my head…I didn’t notice the headlights behind me at first. I checked my speedometer instinctively. If it was a cop, they were being a dick by riding my ass when I’m going a mile or two under the speed limit. I had to flip my rearview mirror to keep myself from being blinded by the lights. After a minute or two the lights backed off some. I don’t know why they didn’t just pass me, but at least they got the hint that I wasn’t going to speed up on account of them. Then they turned off their headlights.

At least I thought they turned them off. Anything that lights up the road was pretty sparse, but there was a lone streetlight ahead. I kept my eyes mostly on the mirror as I passed it, but there was no sign of the vehicle behind me. I hadn’t passed a turn off anywhere so they would have either had to take an illegal u-turn or pull off to the side of the road completely. As soon as I was out of the light and I looked away for a sec, the car was once again on my bumper, barely illuminated by my tail lights.

My foot pushed down on the gas. I had no interest in these games. It was extremely difficult to see, but I was pretty sure I could make out the shape of the car getting further away. I was straining to look in the mirror so much as it seemed to flicker then disappear from view that I didn’t see the car stopped in front of me. I slammed on my brakes and cranked the wheel to avoid a collision, swerving until I was perpendicular to the road. It wasn’t until I had come to a halt with the engine idling that I realized just how loud the radio had become. I turned the volume down as I just tried to breathe.

Once my heart calmed down, I looked at the car that was now to my right. There was a figure standing in front of the car. I squinted, trying to see more detail, but the figure stood in the perfect patch of darkness between our two vehicles. He, or it, I suppose I should say, didn’t move towards me or away from me. It just stood there, motionless. I glanced at the time. It was one oh six in the morning. I’d never run into a single other vehicle on this road at this time before tonight. I didn’t like the odds that the first person I’d run into was driving recklessly, and the second person was standing still outside of their car that was stopped in the middle of the road. And both of them just happened to occur in the same night.

I looked behind me to gauge how much space I had, then, without losing sight of the figure at least in my peripheral vision, I backed up to put my car in line with the road. My headlights lit up the car in front of me…but didn’t reveal anything about the figure. It was like the figure was absorbing the light instead of reflecting it. I double checked the locks, then eased the car forward without moving my eyes from him…it.

It still made no motion towards me, and I immediately accelerated once I had passed the car. I needed to get to the end of my trip before anything else happened. I wondered if this had anything to do with why they had called me tonight. I couldn’t ignore the unease in my gut, despite all the oddities being behind me now.

At least, that’s what I thought, until I saw the absence of light form the shape of the figure ahead of me in my headlight beams. This wasn’t possible. It was standing on the side of the road, simply facing me. It almost seemed like it was flickering. I didn’t slow down.

Within a minute, the figure was once again in front of me, this time standing in the middle of the road. Instead of slowing down, I sped up as I eased into the opposite lane and flew past it. I looked in my rear-view mirror, but of course could see nothing. It was too dark out and this thing, whatever it was, seemed to be made of the darkness. I put some more pressure on the gas. My anxiety was skyrocketing. I wanted to be done with this trip already. I wanted to be back home, in bed, cuddling with my girlfriend until she left for work.

What felt like an eternity passed. I glanced at my clock. One oh six. Just a little longer and I’d be there. My eyes were wide, trying to absorb all of my surroundings, waiting for the next figure to appear ahead of me. I glanced in my rear-view mirror again and almost swerved off the road as I saw it there, in my mirror…in my backseat. It was as motionless as ever.

“Who are you?” I yelled. “What do you want?”

It didn’t appear to acknowledge me in any way. It just sat there. There were no facial features. No eyes, no mouth, nothing. There was static on the radio for a moment, then it sounded like one of my car’s speakers cut out. That’s when I realized the radio station wasn’t coming from my speakers. It was coming from…it. The figure. Without moving at all, the numbers were emanating from this void of a person in my backseat. The voice had not changed at all. It was the exact same broadcast as it had been when my car’s radio had been playing it.

Then it leaned forward and, instead of numbers, it said two words.

“Watch out.”

I looked again at the rear-view mirror and it was gone. I looked back at the road and it was in front of me, running directly at me. This time I wasn’t able to keep the car on the road. Glass shattered and metal crunched as a tree brought me to an abrupt stop. Everything faded away except for the distant sound of my car horn stuck on…and the radio.

I know I had more to say, but just before I get to that there’s one other paper to read for you. This one states at the top that it’s the personal notes from Doctor James Baker and dated September fifteenth of twenty twelve. It begins:

I don’t know if it’s even worth continuing to write these notes with the trial and its study being in the state that it is now. All my other notes are gone already. But, for whatever it’s worth, here’s a brief overview of the most notable work I’ve ever done. A few years ago my department received funding to explore dreams and the brain’s ability to remember or forget them. The potential applications for this study are numerous, but I personally was most interested in the possibility of impact for those experiencing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD.

About a year ago, we had a breakthrough. This breakthrough was somehow granted approval for human trials at a pace I didn’t think possible. Essentially, we were able to either activate or inhibit melanin concentrating hormone-producing neurons in the hypothalamus. For those not aware of what that means, we were able to either make people remember or forget their dreams completely.

We had enough funding to pay one hundred twenty participants. More than I liked were just college students, but we had a pretty good variety of subjects from all different backgrounds. We split the participants into three equal groups. For a four week period, we didn’t give them anything in order to establish a baseline. Starting with Week Five, Group A took a pill meant to stimulate the neurons, Group B took a pill meant to inhibit the neurons, and Group C took a sugar pill.

Over a six month period, we monitored each group’s sleep and would wake them up at a set interval each week after they had entered REM sleep, the part of sleep where we dream. They would then recite the dream they had to the best of their ability. The results were better than we had hoped.

It didn’t happen immediately, but by the end of Week Six, every single participant in Group A was able to vividly recall their dream at any point that we woke them up. Group B couldn’t remember a single thing, and Group C had similar results to the initial four week period, with a slightly increased proclivity to remembering more details, but nothing that can’t be explained by the placebo effect.

Week Thirteen is when we started to get…unusual results. We had selected that week to wake up all the subjects just one minute and six seconds into REM sleep. It wasn’t until we compared notes at the end of the day that our suspicions were confirmed. All forty subjects in Group A had the exact same dream.

There was no common denominators that we could determine amongst the individuals themselves other than all being local to the San Diego area, but even in that they didn’t all grow up here, so I don’t think that had anything to do with it. And yet, despite their own age, gender, sexual preference, job, living situation… anything like that… they all dreamed that they were in a relationship with a woman who works at a hospital, going for a drive at one oh six a.m. due to a vague phone call. They all listened to the same radio station. They all encountered this figure. They all seemed to lose consciousness within their dreams as a result of a car accident. Every last one of them was exactly the same, down to the smallest detail of drinking day old coffee.

This kept up for five days. The next two days, we woke them up one minute and six seconds in, just as before, but all the dreams were different again. I don’t know who was more relieved, the people in Group A or the staff recording the dreams. It was a creepy dream, after all.

Even though it was all confidential, people talk. To their spouse, their close friend, to coworkers… even to strangers on the internet. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but somebody had to have leaked what happened.

Halfway into Week Fourteen, our funding was pulled abruptly. A few hours later, I kid you not, two men and one woman, all in gray suits, came in and began collecting everything. All the documentation, the pills, the formulas… everything was placed into boxes and carted away. I still had a photocopy of one the dream they all had in my pocket – I had been reading it over and over in what little spare time I had. If not for that, I wouldn’t have anything. They even searched my home to make sure there was nothing from the study or subsequent trials there. They offered no explanation.

Years of my life were taken away from me, and now there’s no hope of understanding what happened in Week Thirteen. So now I have this personal note, which doesn’t even really serve as evidence since it’s all from memory now. Science eventually will answer every question, of this I’m certain. But what do we do when science is stolen from us? I can only hope that whoever stole my work, my life… I hope that they will at least put it to good use. For science.

I read these papers for the first time about six weeks ago now. It bothered me quite a bit. Who is to say that I haven’t had that same dream and it had just gotten lost thanks to the neurons in my… hypothalamus. How do any of us know we haven’t had that dream? And if we have… what other dreams have gone unremembered, and how many have we all shared?

So, six weeks ago, I bought a watch that monitors my pulse and connected it to an app that monitors my sleep. It’s not an exact science and honestly my sleep has been terrible lately which doesn’t help matters, but I’ve been able to have it wake me at varying times after I’ve entered REM sleep. Last week I think I hit on something. The next day I set it to wake me at the same time, eight minutes and thirty-two seconds, and I definitely dreamt the same dream twice. The third day it changed. Whether that was due to the lack of proper tools I had available to me or whether the time changed for the dream, I’m not sure.

Now, I don’t have all the same memory enhancements that were available for the drug trial so I really don’t have much, but I was able to write some things down to the best of my memory.

I just walked out of a bar. I felt relieved. I had finally gotten things off my chest. I knew there was a chance I wasn’t going to come out of that meeting entirely sober, which is why I had arranged for the meeting to be walking distance from my place. I was on San Diego Avenue when I saw it. It wasn’t the first time I’d encountered it and I knew it wouldn’t be the last time. No other pedestrians seemed to notice it. I glanced at my wristwatch. Eight thirty-two.

I stopped walking. Although it was about a block away, the figure sounded as though it was talking right behind me. Just as it always did, it began reciting numbers. It did this for what felt like several minutes, but when I looked at my watch again it was still eight thirty-two. When I looked back up, it was just inches away from me. And then everything was black.

I wish I could remember what the numbers were that the figure was saying, but I just don’t think it’s possible. I don’t think I’m supposed to. But this seems like it confirms my suspicions. I think that there are dreams that we all share. They seem to revolve around this dark figure and numbers. I don’t know what it all means, and I’m even further away from figuring out how it’s possible in the first place, but at least it’s a start. I’ll continue to try this and if any listeners are able to, please send me any dreams that involve the dark figure and how far into REM sleep you were when you woke up. Maybe with enough of us involved in this, we can find out why this is happening.

With these dreams being so heavy on my mind, I had another thought as well. On a hunch, I called Brianne.

BRIANNE:    Hello?

JEREMY:    Hey, Brianne, how are you doing?

BRIANNE:    I… now’s not really a great time, Jeremy, so…

JEREMY:    Sorry, I’ll make this quick. This is about something I found in the papers that I read and I was wondering if you know anything about. Oh, and since I’m doing this for the podcast, I’m recording this. Is that okay?

BRIANNE:    Yeah, that’s fine. What did you find?

JEREMY:    It may be nothing, but… do you know any female nurses, or anyone that works at the hospital, I guess, who was seeing anyone in two thousand twelve who… used to go on long night drives? Maybe for work or something?

BRIANNE:    You read about this in the papers?

JEREMY:    Yeah. A group of forty people all had the same dream about this person.

BRIANNE:    I… I think that was me. Sorry, I know I should be getting used to stuff like this, but that’s… in two thousand twelve my boyfriend went on a back country road at night. They found his body the next day.

Thanks for listening. I’ll explore another paper next time.

This week’s episode comes from a few documents which were grouped together in a single folder within the papers.  As I mentioned previously, I’ve been able to create some level of organization but it’s still quite a work in progress.  All of these documents had a peculiar symbol on them.  That of a seven-fingered hand with an eye in the palm.  I’m still waiting for someone I know to get back to me regarding the possible symbolism of this depiction, but my curiosity has definitely piqued.  

The first of these documents appears to be notes about some research by a pharmaceutical company.  Most of the pertinent information like the scientists involved, the company name, and the author of the paper have been redacted.  It almost reads as if someone were drafting an email to an employer.  As far as I can tell, it involves a status report from some clinical trials, but it’s so hard to tell without access to the redacted portions.  Two additional things I’d like to note before reading it to you.  Because of the large amount of redactions, I am going to paraphrase to the best of my ability in some areas.  Also, there seems to be a sequential order to how these documents were stored.  This specific document was on top, and I’m going through them in chronological order. This first document reads:

Initial trials of the compound [REDACTED] indicate only a twelve percent efficacy rate in the volunteers in the general public, however, in sub-group [REDACTED], there was an astounding ninety-eight percent efficacy rate.  These initial results are composed through a series of data points collected at thirty days following intramuscular administration.  So far, adverse effects have been significantly insignificant compared to the placebo groups, and we’ve no reason to suspect any risk of anaphylaxis or neurologic regression of any kind when compared to [REDACTED] or its predecessor.  

While we are recommending the cessation of trials of [REDACTED] for the general population for the treatment of chronic migraines, our sponsor for the trials, SCIC, has requested further testing be done for sub-group (redacted).  Because conditional funding for our trials did not include specific information about that sub-group’s population, we have no choice but to hand all research over to SCIC if trials for that sub-group are to continue as they have deemed the identity of the patients in that sub-group as classified, requiring a government clearance higher than my own to view.  It is only by patent ownership that I suspect I’m even being consulted on the matter, but I suspect the project to be defunded entirely if I don’t agree to their conditions.  I have a meeting with them tomorrow morning to discuss.

The second document appears to be a letter of resignation, and it reads:

Dear Doctor [REDACTED],

I just wanted to express my gratitude for these last two years of experience I’ve gained through my employment with you.  I would not be at this junction in my career without your help, and you’ll never fully know how grateful I am for your belief in me.

It is with great disappointment that I must offer you my letter of resignation, effective immediately.  It’s unlike me to do so without notice, but I have received an offer to continue to pursue my research into the compound [REDACTED] with an increased level of security clearance and the tools at my disposal to truly make a difference.  

Thank you for the opportunities you have provided me, and for always encouraging me to follow the science, no matter where that may lead.  

Sincerely, 

A.P.

The third document appears to be notes of some kind relating to this mystery drug.  It reads as follows:

Subject [REDACTED] has responded similarly to others in her sub-group until this morning.  While we send our team to follow up with investigatory efforts, we are placing her into a quarantine until we can gather more information.  After much discussion, we have agreed to continue the monthly administration of compound [REDACTED], as she is due for her next dose in two days, while she will likely still be in a quarantine environment.

In addition, we are providing her with resources while quarantined from the rest of her sub-group, to be able to communicate with them remotely.  We want to provide as much inclusion as possible outside of physical presence until we can positively confirm the events described in her most recent session (see clinical notes for details).  Until that point, I will increase our sessions to three times a day for the time being to monitor for any more potential events, and in order to follow up for confirmation of their outcomes.  

The next document appears to be clinical notes taken on a female patient, presumably the patient that is referred to in the previous document.  It says:

11:06 a.m.
Doctor [REDACTED] dictating clinical notes from session with Miss [REDACTED] July first, [REDACTED].  Miss [REDACTED] informed me that she believes her dreams have changed to a somewhat vivid state, only in reverse order.  In fact, she believes she only dreams in reverse order after administration of the compound began, and that within the two to three days following each of her monthly administration injections, she has become convinced that she is actually witnessing through some sort of REM-state of remote viewing, the actual deaths of people “as if watching a movie being rewound.”  

A complete physical workup was performed, showing no signs of psychosis or recreational drug use.  All results indicate she believes she’s telling us the truth about these events.  She is referring to the suspect in her dreams as “the Backwards Man,” due to the nature in which she observes the murder being carried out.  For example, I’m quoting a transcription of her session today below describing one of these dreams.

“It happened just like the last time.  The beginning of my dream is like a still picture.  I’m looking at someone’s bedroom.  There’s a shattered window and a headless body lying in a pool of blood on the bed, with arms out to the sides.  There’s trees outside the window, which I only notice because the branches cast shadows on the bed and the body on top of it.  Then off to the right, I see an inhuman looking being walking backwards toward the bed from the doorway, then it turns to face the body and stares down at it.  It looks just like if you were to rewind a movie.  Everything is happening backwards.  

“The man looks like he’s breathing really rapidly, and then it’s like it goes in slow motion.  I see something moving outside of the window that draws my attention, and it’s coming toward the shattered glass.  As it reaches the hole in the glass, shards that were scattered all over are attracted toward it, and as the object reaches the spot where the window is, the glass combines to form an unbroken window.  The object, which I now recognize as a human head, is still traveling through the air, spinning, and I can see a facial expression of sheer terror.  

“As the head approaches the backwards man, the body that’s lying on the bed looks like it soaks up all the blood from the sheets into its neck and begins to stand up.  As it does, the blood splatters on the wall and bed jump off and start traveling through the air toward the body and the backwards man.  Eventually I realize that the spinning head, the body, and the blood are all traveling to a point of origin.  It’s almost beautiful to watch as the spinning head gets closer to the erecting body, you can tell that it’s going to stop spinning as soon as it meets the neck from the body, and all of the blood will meet at their point of union.  As I watch this unfold, the backwards man’s right hand swipes in a reverse roundhouse swing, and begins walking backward toward the wall.  I think to myself, ‘how could someone decapitate another person with a swing of their arm‘ and it’s then I notice that his arm isn’t necessarily a regular human arm.  It has long, sharp claws at the end that retract a few inches as he reaches the wall behind him.  

“The backwards man then does something impossible.  He places a foot on the wall, and then his other foot behind that one, and proceeds to walk backwards, up the wall.  I notice the man that was on the bed, now with his head fully attached, loses the expression of terror from his face and turns around with his back toward the man… or the thing… walking on the wall.  The man on the ground begins walking backwards toward the bedroom door, as the thing on the wall shrivels into a dark shadowy-looking creature on all fours synchronously until it meets the ceiling at the very same moment the man on the ground passes through the doorway to the bedroom.  Then as if it disappeared into thin air, the shadow shrinks and fades away.  

“I know it sounds like I’m crazy, Doctor [REDACTED], but I think this actually happened.”

The next document appears to be another clinical note from the same patient.  It reads:

9:34 a.m.
Doctor [REDACTED] dictating clinical notes from session with Miss [REDACTED] July second.  Miss [REDACTED] maintains she has not had another dream like the one from the previous night, however, she has admitted to forcing herself to stay awake after consuming strongly-brewed coffee all night.  She fears these dreams she continues to have for more prolonged periods after each intramuscular injection of compound [REDACTED].  

I believe it is for the benefit of the patient to avoid divulging our investigatory findings involving the incident we learned about in Escondido, as I fear it will only induce more serious symptoms, as well as skew the results of our clinical trials.  

There are a few notes I’d like to consider for this week’s meeting with the board of directors involving the ethical standpoint SCIC would like to take in moving forward with this trial:

1. At what point are the psychological effects of the subjects going to determine the continued research into the compound, if at all.
2. At what point are we to consider potential risk to the public if results continue to scale as we predict based on incidents like that of Miss [REDACTED] as models predict.

The final document included with this grouping still has the seven-fingered hand with the eye in the palm, but someone took the time to draw it on the document in the top corner of the page, as opposed to the others which had what appeared to be a water-mark on it.  Note to self: ask Ron if he drew the symbol, or if it was like that when he came into possession of the document.  It’s a newspaper clipping, and unfortunately, there’s no date on it.  It’s just a couple of short columns that have been cut from the paper with scissors.  It reads as follows.

An Escondido man, white, forty-three years old was found dead in his home Sunday morning after a neighbor coming home from church noticed a side window had been broken when pulling into his garage.  Jorge Padilla gave the following statement to Police:

“We were coming back from church and I saw the window was broken to the neighbor’s bedroom, so I walked over and knocked on the door.  When nobody answered, that’s when I knew something wasn’t right.  I tried calling the house and nobody picked up the phone, so I walked around to the side of the house, and that’s where I found his head in the bushes outside his window.  I thought it was a prank at first, but then I saw inside the room, and I immediately started to cry and called nine one one.  It scares me to think someone is capable of this in my own neighborhood.  He was a nice guy.  I mean, why would someone do that to him?”

Ruiz also mentioned he and his family are heartbroken and scared.  He claimed to know the victim for over 10 years, and would often barbecue together on the weekends. Police have not released the name of the victim yet, but Detective Mark Anderson was able to provide the following comments:

“At this time we have our forensic team in the building and we’re ruling it a homicide.  We haven’t found any signs of forced entry.  All doors and windows were locked, including the broken window that the neighbor identified.  We have reason to believe that the window was broken from the inside of the residence.  We’re encouraging anyone to step forward with any information about potential suspicious activity in the neighborhood over the weekend.”

Detective Anderson refused to offer any speculation as to the cause or method of the beheading, and that he’d be waiting for the Medical Examiner’s autopsy report.

The more I look into the papers, the more I’ve become aware of my surroundings.  It doesn’t matter whether you live downtown in a loft overlooking the city, if you’re in the suburbs where kids are outside chasing each other around until the street lights come on, or whether you’re in a quiet, rural area where you may not run into your neighbors without intention for months.  Maybe it’s this city… I don’t know, maybe it’s everywhere and I’m just now becoming aware of it.  

I’m starting to actually be able to discern whether or not other people have seen things as well.  It’s difficult to describe with words, but they put off a sort of energy, or aura if you will.  Not necessarily a visible one, but there’s almost a distinct level of tension, and a loss of innocence you can pick up on just by proximity.  I’ve felt it for a long time, but didn’t know what exactly was causing it, or what the feeling related to, until recently.

I’ve noticed, the papers, as I read more and more of them, put off that same energy.  It’s almost like I can decipher which ones are total lies and bullshit from those that are documented truth.  Here comes the interesting part.  The part where I can’t seem to wrap my head around it.  If this palpable sensation can be tied to peoples’ experiences, is it the physical body that leaves these traces, or is it something more spiritual or supernatural?  

I selected today’s document because I had it in my hands when the thought occurred to me.  Perhaps, if this is truly something supernatural, not bound by the laws of physics in our dimension of being, can simply sharing a story with this kind of energy make others sense this feeling… this emotion… this distortion?  And if so, does this mean that we are granting it more energy or power just by recalling these events?  Or perhaps there’s another option.  Obviously not everyone believes in these kinds of things.  But the more we read about them, the more people know about them, and the more charged they become.  What if we simply think about them enough that they begin to exist?  

There’s many instances in religious texts that refer to the power of having thoughts, of speaking things, and of the relinquishing of one’s will based on the mind and motives.  This begs the question… would all of these paranormal things even exist if we stopped thinking about them?  I can tell you from first-hand experience.  Once you experience some things, there’s no forgetting them.  But who originally thought of these things?  I suppose it’s the classic chicken and the egg argument.  

For now, I suppose I’ll keep sharing them all with you, but I’m curious to see if anyone else listening gets this impression as I read the statement I’m about to.  The following is a dictation from a voice recorder that Ron used to interview the witness.  It appears that the witness hired Ron for his P.I. services because there’s an invoice in Ron’s handwriting paperclipped to the transcription. Witness statement of DeAndre Williams, Saturday, April 18, 2009:

I can’t go to the cops.  They just won’t believe me!  I told my father everything about what I saw, and he did some research to find you… said you look into these kinds of things.  I’ll start from the beginning.  I drove down here from L.A. because my little sister invited me to a Spring Break party one of her dorm mates was throwing at the Conq.  We call it the Conq because it’s full name is the Conquistador Dormitory.  

Anyways, I hadn’t heard of anything going on at UCLA since I had moved off-campus.  It wasn’t even really my type of scene anymore, but I figured I’d make sure to go and hang out with my little sis… make sure she didn’t overdo the partying so much.  I’ve always been a little protective of her.  I remember seeing her at her first high school party when she was a freshman.  I was a senior then.  I remember thinking I was going to have my hands full because even the guys in my grade were checking her out.  

Anyways, it took me about 3 hours to drive down from L.A. and when I got there, it seemed pretty casual.  The party hadn’t started yet.  On my way to Kianna’s dorm room on the 3rd floor, I passed a few open doors, and right as I was about to knock on hers, which was closed, I heard her call my name from a few doors down.  She must have seen me pass by.  

The smell of stale beer, microwavable pizza, and weed overwhelmed my senses as I greeted her with a hug.  I had once built a tolerance to that kind of atmosphere, but I was surprised at how put-off I felt by it now that I was encapsulated by it again.  She introduced me to her white roommate, Jennifer.  She was really pretty, I remember thinking.  Normally I’m not attracted to skinny white girls, but something about her, maybe the way she looked me up and down and smiled, made me think she might actually be a prospect.  I hadn’t come down here to try to hook up, but I wasn’t gonna turn down an opportunity if it presented itself, if you know what I mean.

We made the rounds while she introduced me to her floormates and her R.A., who shouldn’t have been allowing all this drinking and smoking to occur, but I got the sense that she was the type of person who probably started the whole thing.  Meanwhile, I kept making eye contact across hallways with Jennifer.  Each time we did, that smile just made me motivated.  I was definitely going to get back around to her a little later.  Since I was planning on sleeping on the floor in their dorm, I knew it was inevitable, and I tried to have a good time.  

Apparently my UCLA sweatshirt was pretty popular.  I spent some time playing beer pong with Kianna and some of her friends, occasionally glancing around for Jennifer, but I hadn’t seen her in a while.  I was nearing disappointment, and had to keep reminding myself that wasn’t the purpose for me being there.  So instead, I showed everyone a couple rule variations that us Bruins played beer pong with, and I couldn’t believe it, but I kept losing… even with my own college’s rules.  

As the night wore on, and I became a bit more buzzed, people started calming down.  Half the people on her floor took off and went to other parties.  A few of them tried to convince us to go down to TJ, but it was already after one in the morning.  I used the excuse that I was too tired from the drive, but in reality, I wanted to see if Jennifer was going to be around.  Kianna asked if I wanted to turn in or hang out a little longer, and I was good for a little while more.  We were actually in the dorm adjacent to her.  I mostly listened to her friends complain about a couple of their instructors, and about the quality of the “dirt weed” that they were smoking from a 3-foot bong.

I was honestly getting a bit bored, which caused the tiredness to really set in.  I found myself zoning out a bit, and had been facing the doorway, which was still open.  And then I saw someone that I hadn’t seen previously that night.  She was walking by the doorway in the direction of Kianna’s room.  She looked like she may have been in her late 20’s, and that she didn’t belong there.  Most of the girls here were right out of high school, first-year freshmen, but this… this was a woman.  She was about five foot eight, tan, and if I had to guess, she may have been a mix of middle-eastern and Asian, or possibly Native American.  Exotic to say the least.  Her hair was down to her waist, and it was wavy, like she could have easily been in a shampoo commercial.  Jet black hair with a few inches of the end dyed silver, leading into a purple hue.  She was beautiful.

The way she moved seemed different as well.  I mean, she was taking steps, but it was almost as if she glided in slow motion.  Right before she passed out of view from the door frame, she turned to look at me, and I got dizzy.  She had bright green eyes.  Most of the girls here were wearing blue jeans or sweatpants.  She wore tight black leather pants and a green top that left little to the imagination.  I just had to get up and look for her.  

I walked up and down the hallway looking in all of the open doorways, but couldn’t find her.  I got a little frustrated and gave up.  It was then that I remembered I had left my phone in my duffel bag in Kiana’s room.  Out of all my belongings in that bag, I didn’t want my phone to get misplaced, so I walked in on my way back to find the two women who had captivated my thoughts all night.  The older woman with the hair and the eyes was standing in front of Jennifer with her hand under her jaw.  They looked like they were about to kiss, and then Jennifer noticed me and took a step back from the woman.  

I said, “Sorry, the door was open and I just want to get my phone.”

Neither of them said anything, so I pulled my phone out of my bag and began walking toward the doorway, feeling like I was intruding. But before I could make it there fully, the door gently closed.  I turned around to look at them to see if they just witnessed what I had.  I mean, the freaking door closed by itself!  They didn’t seem phased by it, and were standing near one another again.

I said, “Hello, did you guys not see that?”

They both looked at me, and then while Jennifer was still staring at me, the woman leaned in and whispered something in her ear.  At that, both of them turned to look at me and smiled seductively before starting to kiss each other.  I wasn’t sure what the fuck was happening, but I certainly wasn’t going to excuse myself now.  After a few awkward seconds, they looked at me again, and the woman said, “DeAndre, is it?”

I hadn’t told her my name.

“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a very special drink.”

She walked over to a rolling luggage bag at the foot of Jennifer’s bed, and I turned to glance at Jennifer.  While the woman’s back was turned, the seduction had all but left Jennifer’s eyes, and instead, she stood before me tense, with eyes full of terror.

I mouthed to her, “What’s wrong?”

And to my surprise, I felt a tongue licking my earlobe, then the woman said, “Nothing’s wrong, DeAndre… in fact, everything is juuust right.”

She was clear across the room a moment ago.  I didn’t know how it would have been possible for her to grab the three bottles in her arms and walk over to me without me hearing a sound.  In the moment though, rational thought had left my mind.  I was only filled with desire for this woman.  She nibbled on my earlobe just a bit and when I turned to face her, she was on the other side of the room.  Was she there still, or again?  I was confused, but entranced.  When I looked back at Jennifer, she had reacquired that sultry facial expression.

“Sit,” the woman demanded.

She was both frightening and erotic.  I just couldn’t help myself, thinking of things that would make anyone blush.  Jennifer sat next to me, both of us on chairs at the other end of the room.  The woman was making a concoction for us to drink.  She turned around with two double-shot glasses in her hands.  There was a white smoke being emitted from the liquid within, tipped with green fog.

“What’s that?” I asked her.

She calmly handed one to Jennifer, who began sipping on it, then she turned to me.  Still standing, she grabbed underneath my jaw similarly to how I saw her touching Jennifer when I first walked in.  I couldn’t be sure, but it felt like one of her fingernails grew in length while she firmly held me and pierced my skin on my neck.  She was pulling hard, nearly lifting me by my neck.

Even more sternly than before, she said, “Drink.  No discussion.”   

I took a glass in my hand and looked over at Jennifer, who had finished her drink.  She was slumped down in her chair, looking as if she was about to pass out.  The woman straddled me in my chair and gently grabbed my hand holding the drink.  She kissed me for quite a long time, and I was in ecstasy.  When our mouths separated, I instantly felt the cold rim of the glass touch my lips, and I breathed in the fog that was being emitted from it before she tipped up the glass and I swallowed.  I made eye contact with her as I drank, and her state of arousal grew as she began rocking back and forth on my lap.  Her head tilted up toward the ceiling, and just for a moment when she looked back down at me, her face changed.  It looked like a hologram that, when turned, flashes to a different image, and then back to the original.  I shook my head thinking I must have been hallucinating.

Then my vision became blurry, and I recalled watching the woman strip naked in front of me, and then disappear out of my periphery in the direction that Jennifer was sitting.  I could feel Jennifer moving, rubbing up against me, along with the woman, but I had some serious tunnel vision and wasn’t able to see them right next to me.  I also recall not being able to move my eyes in that direction.  The longer I sat there, the more my vision faded to black, and I could feel myself slouching down in the chair, helpless against gravity that seemed ten times what it normally did.  

I don’t know how much time passed, but I remember being awoken at some point to a tickling sensation on my forehead.  With my eyes closed, I managed to bring my forearm up to my forehead to wipe it.  It was wet.  I tried opening my eyes, but everything was blurry.  The tickling sensation continued on my forehead.  It felt like someone was using a water dropper on my forehead.  In my mind, I thought one of Kianna’s punk friends was dripping beer on me while I slept or something.  But then I remembered what had happened just before I closed my eyes.  

I was lethargic and it proved difficult to move, but my vision was slowly becoming less blurry.  I wiped my forehead with both hands this time, and when I examined my hands, they were coated in crimson liquid, warmer than room temperature.  I smelled my fingers.  It was blood.  At that moment I had realized that not only was there blood on my hands, I could taste that copper-flavor in my mouth as well.  I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t just yet, so I began to wipe my eyes, which apparently had small pools of blood collecting in them.  I began to panic, wondering if it was my own blood.  Or was it Jennifer’s or Kianna’s.  I frantically worked to shift my head and wipe away the blood from my eyes in order to observe my surroundings.  

And then I saw them.  From my back, sprawled out on the floor, I looked straight up and suspended directly above me on the ceiling, I first saw Jennifer’s face.  She had that frightened look in her eyes again, with her back pinned against the ceiling and hair dangling directly down toward me, blood staining the ends and dripping onto me.  She looked completely conscious, with her body jiggling as what was attached to her moved.  Holding her in place was the woman with the long hair… only she wasn’t a woman anymore.  

I don’t know what she… it… was.  From my view, I could tell it was naked.  Both hands and both knees had claw-like appendages that anchored her into the ceiling.  Its head was buried in Jennifer’s neck, and it’s bald, gray-looking skin was soaked in Jennifer’s blood. 

Jennifer mouthed the words “help me” and began crying as her arms and legs dangled.  

I began looking around the room for something I could throw, or at least something that would reach the ceiling that I could use to help get Jennifer free.  Jennifer began mouthing the words “help me” again, this time with a faint wheeze barely making audible speech as she began crying.  Her tears fell and touched my face, diluting the blood that she had already spilled.  

It must have been the noise that got its attention.  It stopped and turned its head toward me to reveal the most hideous-looking creature I’d ever seen.  The once-green eyes had now turned a fiery red, and there were only two vertical slits for a nose.  Its entire face was glistening in Jennifer’s blood, and it’s sucker-shaped mouth was lined with small rows of teeth that didn’t resemble anything human at all.  

It met my eyes with mine, and I still couldn’t move.  I saw that holographic image shift again, only this time in reverse.  For a split second, I could see the the beautiful woman’s face again, with her erotic glance, before it quickly changed back into this emotionless abomination.  The creature tensed up as it looked into my eyes, and I laid there helpless and paralyzed except for my arms.  I began using my arms to try to sit up or roll myself over.  It sat and watched, as if anticipating its next move.

I was finally able to sit up ever so slightly, and as I did, I watched as a long tongue came out of its mouth.  It must have been nine or ten inches, and it wiped Jennifer’s neck clean one last time before releasing her from its grip.  Jennifer slammed against the floor, knocked unconscious.  Thankfully when I sat up, I had moved just enough to avoid her falling directly on me, or I may have been hurt as well.  I wanted to get to Jennifer, but I couldn’t move quickly.  

My eyes watched as it gave me one last glance, and then scurried along the ceiling toward the window, then down the wall a bit before it broke the window and exited the room.  It crawled out and up toward the roof, turning around to duck its head one last time into the window to make sure we weren’t giving chase, then it disappeared into the early morning darkness.  

The longer I sat there, the more I was able to regain my sense of motor control, and Jennifer finally woke up again.  She was able to turn her head toward me, and I could see the wound on her neck.  It was a circular wound, about the size of a drink coaster, with what looked like dozens of puncture marks that were no longer bleeding.  It was almost as if the creature’s tongue caused the wound to clot when it licked her that last time.  I thought for sure she was done for, that she bled out while laying next to me.

I asked her if she was okay, and she tried to move.  She had broken several ribs, her left shoulder, and her left knee from the fall from the ceiling, though she didn’t know all of that at the time.  Kianna arrived shortly after the sun rose.  Apparently she was with another friend and had a little too much to drink and passed out.  We were still not able to move independently when she got there, but she called for help.  Jennifer and I were only separated by a curtain in the emergency room, which we slid back so we could see one another after the doctor’s initial examination.  I could hear everything about her medical history as she told the doctors, and she could hear mine.  

I didn’t know it until the doctor told me, but I had a similar circular wound on my neck too.  I had been so caught up in watching Jennifer’s experience, I was unaware I must have gone through something similar.  I’m not sure if I was on the ceiling or not, but I counted myself lucky.  At least I didn’t have to be awake through that.  Of course, the police came to the E.R. to see what happened.  Apparently the R.A. was notified by Kianna that something went down, and had seen the carpet in the dorm room soaked in blood.  Kianna said it looked like a murder scene.  

Jennifer lied about what happened, saying they were playing a stupid drinking game and was too drunk to remember what went wrong.  She glared at me after she said that, indicating to me that she wanted me to make something up as well.  I agreed, and told the police nothing, saying that I didn’t remember anything until I woke up covered in blood.  The only part I was truthful about was the fact that there was a woman there I hadn’t recognized, and neither did Jennifer.  Kianna was questioned in the waiting room before being allowed to come see us, and she hadn’t known anyone fitting the attractive version of the person, or thing, that was in that room with us.

I just want answers.  Having seen my share of scary movies, it didn’t look exactly like a vampire, or any animal or cryptid I’d ever heard about.  It almost looked parasitic, like the face of a tapeworm or something that would feed off of a symbiotic host.  I just want to make sure I don’t turn into one… I could really use your help.

Ron’s notes:

DeAndre’s account doesn’t sound familiar to anything else I’ve encountered.  It does resemble a dream I’ve heard about before though.  Many years ago.  Back in my tour in Vietnam and the whole Agent Orange thing.  Some of the guys would tell me about these hallucinations they had.  Visions of things I’d long since dismissed.  I admit, some resembled vampires, some of parasitic beings, and some were unique in and over their own, but nothing exactly the same as this.  

I’m afraid for now, I’m going to have to document this among the others that unfortunately I have no explanation for.  

Doing my due diligence, I cross-referenced DeAndre Williams’ name, and Jennifer Montrose’s in the database I’m building.  Strangely enough, I do have medical records from this E.R. visit from Brianne’s computer on both of them.  Apparently their lab results had some peculiar findings.  Aside from both of them having the E.R. doctor’s notes about the measurements and size of the wounds on their necks, samples taken from the wounds indicated an excess amount of fibrinogen… a blood-clotting agent, on the surface of the skin and even deep within the tissue.  In addition, their lab results detected small amounts of curare.  I had to look this up.  Apparently this is a plant extract, non indigenous to North America, but it comes from Central and South America instead.  

Even more interesting, it can only become active in the human body after it is injected directly into the bloodstream, and it’s harmless if taken orally.  There is just a subtle amount of dosage difference that would render a person paralyzed compared to slightly smaller increases in dose that would kill a person, mainly by paralyzing the diaphragm, preventing a person from breathing.  This is why, according to what I found online, it’s possible to eat prey that have been infected with the toxin.  It still doesn’t explain what initially put DeAndre and Jennifer into a sleeping state before acquiring the wounds, but it might explain why they remained paralyzed so long, and why it didn’t affect the creature that put them through all this.