Psychosis | Creep Cast
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Welcome back to Cream Crew. Oh my God, wrong show.

Leave it. Leave it. Don't touch it. Please don't. Don't touch it. Please. People will be so mad at me. Please. Please don't. That is staying in the episode. We are... No. No, no, no. I refuse. I refuse. We're keeping it. There was such confidence. You were so ready for that one. Please, for the love of God, do not keep that. That was so good. Oh, my gosh. Hello, everybody. Welcome to Cream Crew. The show...

The other podcast that Hunter doesn't care to remember. Welcome to Creepcast! Nope, nope, nope, nope. I refuse. I'm sick. Leave me alone. Today we're talking about psychosis. Psychosis. A staple in the creepypasta lexicon. Once again, as always, my dear, dear listeners, I've never heard this. So if you're along with me in this ride on Spotify...

Thank you so much for going to Spotify or any of the...

audio platforms to listen to this episode. And if you haven't done that yet, maybe consider it. It helps us out a lot. Would appreciate that. But I am looking forward to this. Isaiah was the one who said that we should do this one. This is a staple. So Isaiah, why don't you give me a little background into what this episode is about. Yeah, so Psychosis is one of the classics. By the way, do you even do for Cream Crew, do you do a big welcome back to Cream Crew? Or did your brain fuse both intros? I...

I do it sometimes. I'm not letting it go. I do it sometimes. Please. Oh, that was so good. That made me happy. I feel vindicated. Anyway, for me who actually cares about you all, psychosis is a creepypasta classic.

It's one of those that were popular at the time I've talked about before, but in like old school creepypasta day, like 2008, maybe like 2012, 2013, there were some that were remembered for being famous like Slender Man, Jeff the Killer. And there were some that were remembered for being very well done stuff like, um, no end house or perhaps Baraska or stuff like that. And psychosis was among the latter camp. So, um,

Psychosis is a classic. I remember everything regarding the setting of the story. I don't remember how it ends, and that may be a good thing or a bad thing. I remember I liked it, but I also remember liking stuff like No End House More because it was more jumpy and pulpy. I think I'm going to appreciate Psychosis more now than I did when I was like 10, 11 years old or whatever.

I'm looking forward to revisiting it. Yeah, I'm curious. You said that you like no in-house more. I thought no in-house was cool. The reception of no in-house, I feel like was kind of lukewarm. I feel like when people were done with it, but I really enjoyed how, like you were saying, very pulpy. I kind of like the little mind fucked aspect of kind of a loopable, almost purgatory experience.

of going through these houses and having to endure these trials. And I'm looking forward to it. I mean, I will say no in-house. I don't think I saw many people recommend that one as much as I've been seeing a lot more people recommend like psychosis and stolen tongues. So I'm, I'm super stoked to get into this one. This video is sponsored by ZogDog.

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Hey, hold on a second. Today's episode is sponsored by Manscaped. There was one time I was holding my ankles up by my head and I had a small Brazilian man shaving my taint and my balls and he nicked it. Ooh, ow.

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The modern audiences are pretty spoiled with like the amount of horror content out there, right? Yeah. Yep. Like back in like 2011 when this story was first written, there weren't a ton of stories like that. I really love, I just think they're so fun, like gauntlet style stories. Like I think probably the biggest example we've covered on Creepcast would be the left right game.

Of like we hit a new environment. What's the creature? What's the threat? We hit another environment, new threats, stuff like that. And no end house was one of the first popular examples of that, at least as I can think of right now in like online horror communities, which of course takes, you know, reference from older stories, things like we talked about nine layers, probably a Dante's Inferno reference, but

There's other examples of stories that did that, but as far as online pulpy horror goes, there weren't that many. So at the time that it came out, no in-house was a really big deal. But I understand that now in 2024, if that's the first time you hear it, there's a lot of stuff that does things similar and better.

So I understand that part of it. But Psychosis, I'm pretty sure, is still fondly looked back on. Like, even comparable to modern stories, people like it a lot more. And I went into No End House not with the idea...

That it was going to be like such a super great story that was going to blow me away. Just kind of more like I like this when I was younger. Does it hold up now? And it still did. But psychosis, psychosis, I have higher hopes for as far as writing. Yeah. I mean, we're reading this on creepypasta.com. And I mean, some of these comments, man, are like,

Here's one 2020, 2021. I mean, this thing was published in 2010, and we're still getting comments of this recent that are talking about how much they like it, which I think is cool, too. Also, at the bottom of the page here, they also it shows that Matt Dermerski, Dermerski, hope I said that right.

has a has a physical book called psychosis tales of horror that you can still get on amazon for only 10 bucks which i i really really love when these authors have physical books i'd love getting them say with like pen pal and even uh the pen pals offers uh the authors was it bad man

Bad man? Wasn't that what the... Oh, the bad man. The bad man. Right. The bad man. And I got that on hardcover. It's just cool seeing that physical representation of these books. I think it's a long way. I mean, I really do think having physical copies of books is just a fucking cool thing to do. So I will be picking up this psychosis book.

Yeah, it's so awesome when like, because all this was initially for most people was like, there wasn't any money in it, at least like, you know, 1012 years ago, there wasn't any money in it. It was just like, Oh, I have this cool horror idea. Let me post it online. And then there'd be like, in house sort of writing competitions on websites and stuff like that.

And people were just doing it for the love of it. And now to see some of those same ideas be able to publish hard copy works and get, you know, no variety online. It's very cool. Very cool to see. Yeah, Matt Damerski made this. We're going to see how we like it, but at least culturally it is very fondly remembered. So be sure to support him. But I'm excited.

to hear your reaction to it because it is not knowing what I know about you and your taste in horror. I think you're going to like it. I am very excited. I, like I said, as always going in blind, I do not know what to expect. So I'm, I'm, I'm looking forward to it. I don't know why.

But my mind is getting, it's giving me vibes of, I haven't even seen the movie Long Legs yet, but I like the psychological thriller aspect of that. I don't know why, but something deep down is telling me that it's going to be something like that. I will tell you there is a direction you're going with that. I'll also like you are, you are thinking in the right way. I'll also say I'm so excited for Long Legs. I can't breathe. I'm dead.

There's been a good year for horror so far been a lot of good stuff last movie I was super stoked to see in theaters was a late night with the devil and that was a lot of fun So long legs comes out this month. I'm very very excited Mm-hmm. I watched late night with the devil the other night. It was really good. Mm-hmm. Super fun All right. So on that note, are you ready to go ahead and get into this cuz I'm ready to I'm ready to jump in

I am very excited. Now, I will say the version we're reading again, it looks like the earliest because it seems Psychosis won online awards in 2012. There was like short film credited 2014. The version posted to creepypasta.com

is from November 3rd, 2010, which appears to be the earliest version of it that was at least syndicated around a lot. So if there's any versions that came later that had like edits, like stuff added or taken away, I'm not positive, but we're going off of the creepypasta.com version for those listening. And to specify the award that it won was the r slash no sleep bestseller.

Best was it like continuous story or multi multi part story multi part story and he uploaded that in 2012 so yes I don't know we were kind of speculating a bit before the podcast was recording and we're wondering if oh this is uploaded to

to creepypasta.com in 2010. And then while r slash no sleep was happening around them, I don't know if it was super popular yet. So I'm wondering if by 2012, if it's like, oh, finally caught up traction to where he was like, oh, fuck it. I'm just going to upload it there too. Yeah. I think by 2012, no sleep was popping off enough that it was kind of like the place to throw creepypasta. That was probably the height, right? That was like the peak of 2012. So yeah.

which is kind of cool to think too that that's when he got his award because there was so much like there was so much content by then that he probably really had to stand out so i'm curious i'm excited well without further ado are you ready to get into this oh yes oh yes you get into this

Let us begin. And again, thank you all so much for watching. Thank you for the support they've shown. Is the merch still available to get at this point? I'm trying to think. If it is, please go check it out. If not, the support of the merch has been awesome too and the reception of people like stoked to get it. We're excited for it to be in your hands. The quality is great. So we look forward to it.

You all supporting the channel like you do, it's awesome. It means that maybe one day I can finally break away from the hell Hole Hunter has entrapped me within. Good luck, bitch. And you won't force me to be in it.

That was funnier than anything I was going to say, so I'll just leave it. All right, but thank you all for the support you've shown. It means the world. On the audio platforms, on the YouTube channel, on Creep TV, on the merch, it means a lot. Oh, and I just want to say, too... Hunter doesn't, but I do. Well, I definitely don't, so I hope you all rot in hell. But the idea is, I wanted to say is also, Isaiah, you should plug the tour here, the Stalker tour. Oh, that's so sweet of you. I appreciate that. So...

As a lot of you probably know at this point, I made a short film, or I co-wrote a short film and helped produce it, along with Evan Royalty and Stephen Hancock, the creators of the SCP films on YouTube, which a lot of you are probably familiar with. And we're so proud of our little egg that we've put together that we are taking it on a limited tour. So through August and the first weekend of September, we're going to be going to Brooklyn, New York,

Tampa, Florida, Dallas, Texas, and Los Angeles, California. So if you want to come in and stop, say hi to us, meet us, watch the film, and then ask us questions about it, meet the cast and crew.

There's tickets available to do that at x1entertainment.com slash stalker tour. I think, I'm not sure the exact number of tickets sold out right now. If I had to guess, it's probably 70%. I know some people were saying that the VIP tickets were already sold out to some of the shows and general tickets weren't far behind last I looked. So there's not that many left. So if you're interested, get in on that while you can. Come meet, hang out. And to everyone who's already supported me in that, it really does mean the world. I appreciate it. You all are awesome, for real.

Yeah. Thank you, Hunter, for allowing me to plug my shill onto our podcast. No, I mean, I think it's sure to I'll be sure to not extend that if I can find the time comes. OK, well, I appreciate that. If the time if in the future, whenever the shows are happening, if I can make it out to one, I'm going to try to make it out to one. So we will see. No promises, though. No promises.

You never know. They may have a surprise appearance. We may, if there's not a seat, we may drop him in from the ceiling, just like straight into the stage. My girth, my sheer weight will collapse the theater. Children will scream. We're going to shoot him like an orbital strike. The iron dome goes right through the ceiling.

Alright, let's get into psychosis. Let's do it. Anyway, psychosis. Yeah, yeah. So, psychosis. The story is broken into basically journal logs taken over the course of a week. So, of course, we start with Sunday. I'm not sure why I'm writing this down on paper and not on my computer. I guess I've just noticed some odd things. It's not that I don't trust the computer. I just need to organize my thoughts.

I need to get down all the details somewhere objective, somewhere I know that what I write can't be deleted or changed. Not that that's happened, it's just everything blurs together here and the fog of memory lends a strange cast to things. I'm starting to feel cramped in this small apartment. Maybe that's the problem. I just had to go and choose the cheapest apartment, the only one in the basement.

The lack of windows down here makes day and night seem to slip by seamlessly. I haven't been out in a few days because I've been working on this programming project so intensely. I suppose I just wanted to get it done. Hours of sitting and staring at a monitor can make anyone feel strange, I know, but I don't think that's it. I'm not sure when I first started to feel like something was odd. I can't even define what it is. Maybe I just haven't talked to anyone in a while.

That's the first thing that crept up on me. Everyone I normally talk to online while I program has been idle, or they've simply not logged on at all. My instant messages go unanswered. The last email I got from anybody was a friend saying he talked to me when he got back from the store, and that was yesterday. I'd call with my cell phone, but reception's terrible down here. Yeah, that's it. I just need to call someone. I'm gonna go outside. And then there is, assumedly, a breakage in time.

Well, that didn't work so well. Well, that didn't work so well. Well, erm, that just happened. Well, that didn't work so well. Okay, I'll keep that out of the story. It doesn't deserve it yet. It might later, but not right now. As the tingle of fear fades, I'm feeling a little ridiculous for being scared at all.

I looked in the mirror before I went out, but I didn't shave the two-day stubble I've grown. I figured I was just gonna go out for a quick cell phone call. I did change my shirt though, because it was lunchtime, and I guessed that I'd run into at least one person I knew. That didn't end up happening. I wish it did. When I went out, I opened the door to my small apartment slowly. A small feeling of apprehension had somehow already lodged itself in me, for some indefinable reason.

I chalked it up to having not spoken to anyone but myself for a day or two. I peered down the dingy gray hallway, made dingier by the fact that it was a basement hallway. On one end, a large metal door led to the building's furnace room. It was locked, of course. Two dreary soda machines stood by it. I bought a soda from one- I brought a soda from one the first day I moved in, but it had a two-year-old expiration date.

I'm fairly sure nobody knows those machines are even down here or my cheap landlady just doesn't care to get them restocked. How do you picture this like little house looking that he's in? I mean, he, you know, it almost feels like a commercial space. Yeah. Yeah. It's kind of like, have you ever seen the hallways like in shopping malls and stuff? Like when you go to the bathroom, the way those, the hallways behind the stores are built, right?

I imagine it's kind of like that with like a stairwell next to it. This sounds really nerdy, but if you ever played Left 4 Dead 2, like the visual in my head is like the back hallways and staircase places in the Dead Center campaign. Someone out there will understand what I mean. That was so hyper specific, but...

I have no words. Okay, well, yeah, anyway. Yeah, like that, like a shopping mall. What's a local YouTuber trying to describe shopping mall? It's like a video game I play. It was, the story starts off with him living in basically a windowless basement. It was probably dirt cheap.

And I did something very similar when I was in college and it gave me flashbacks. And I almost thought for a second someone was writing a story of my life and it made me very scared. It gave you a flashback. So do you have a mental picture in your head of like what this looks like? I imagine like there's a stairwell outside of his door. Yeah. So what like humming machines at the end of the hall? It's kind of dark down there. I shared a I shared an apartment my sophomore year of college with a 53 year old

Mexican custodian who did not speak any English. It wasn't the fact. I swear to God I did. It was split barrack style. It was like an open floor plan thing. I got to live there for free, which is why I did. I lived there for probably about six months. Unbelievable.

But when you went down to our room, it was like basically from the kitchen because it was like an old, like an old, old house built in like the early 1900s. So it was a big, probably like six bedroom house. And in the kitchen, there was a door that led to the basement. And we lived in the basement part, obviously. But there was also, like you were saying, a storm like thing.

hatch door that led from the outside in. So you could like kind of the very stereotypical like wooden doors that open up from the ground. You walk down into the basement. So in my mind, it's something very similar. Exposed cement, probably cracked, fucked up foundation because the house is old. You know, like probably a drain in the center of the room, a storm drain just in case water leaks in from outside coming down. And then I'm...

Didn't you also live like in your car for a while and stuff? I graduated college. Yes. Okay. Are you like 38 years old? I am 42. Yeah.

You have a never ending, just like avalanche of like, well, I was here for a year and I was, that was of course, when I was in tenement housing with a non English speaker who had like eight children. Anyway, then after that, you're giving the man, you're giving the, the definite alcoholics I lived with far more credibility and character than what he had.

He had no family and he would get very angry. Not at me, but he would listen to football on his radio by his bed and he would scream. Just start yelling? Yes, and he would scream. You spent six months living in a basement with a non-English speaker who would scream at the radio? Yes, sir. And drink? Well, he didn't scream at it every night, but he did do that. He did bring...

you know let me finish he did bring ladies back sometimes and i would politely leave to give the man some privacy i don't know how he worked at a college because i was a sophomore in college he worked at a college like three blocks down the road from the college i was at so he didn't work at the school i worked at but he worked at one of the like local schools as well and uh yeah he's a fine guy

I remember one time we got really drunk. We watched the cable guy together. Hysterical. I don't even think he knew what the fuck they were saying was the craziest part of it. You just, every time Jim Carrey came out, you know, that part and the cable guy, when Jim Carrey is at the Matthew Broderick is having that nightmare sequence. And Jim Carrey has like the, the glow in the dark contacts on. And he's like, no big deal. And start sprinting towards the door.

The guy, I don't know if I want to say his name. I mean, his name was Diego, but he he sat there and he was like, Jim Carrey. He would scream his name.

And he would laugh hysterically. And I'm like, I don't know if he's just really drunk and if he's just excited to see Jim Carrey or if he knows what's going on in this movie. At some point, you're making these stories up. I swear. You know what? You can think that all you want, all I know is that six months flies by when you're in school. Okay, I'm telling everyone what you did to me, okay?

I asked him one time in confidence as a friend, which I know a lot of you people don't think we're friends. And you know, maybe you're not. You skew the narrative very heavily that we're not friends. That is you. Yes. Now, now, because with this information, just wait till they see what they do with this one. He, I asked him in confidence. I'm like, Hunter, how old are you? And this man, he looks me in the eye. It says I'm 21 years old. Okay.

I'm like, no, that's younger than me. I'm like, no, where are you serious? He's like, yeah, you know, I just started making animations in high school, just grew up. And I have at the time, I have no reason to not believe this man. He's my friend. So I thought and for like a month.

I would like casually make jokes about me being older than him and be like, ha ha, you're right. Then I listened to an interview he does on YouTube and he's describing living in a car, his time in college, everything. I'm like, oh, okay. So he would have been like living on the road when he was younger.

13 years old going off of that math. And then I asked to this day, he won't tell me. He still won't tell me. I'm so curious over it. How old is he? I wouldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe a thing. There's no there. Unless I see your driver's license, I refuse to believe you.

And it's just, it's constantly. So when he says he was living with a guy who didn't speak English in the basement of a college that the guy didn't work at, who'd periodically get drunk radio, you're, you're skewing the narrative. It was in the basement of a house while I was in college, not the basement of a college. He worked at a college. He was a custodian at a college. His name is Diego. It was just respect those names. You were both in a neutral basement unrelated to either college.

We were in a basement of a home, like a six bedroom home that was close enough to both of our colleges. Like our, our colleges were very close.

I went to an art school and he worked at like basically a private like state school kind of thing. It wasn't like a state school. And this would have been when you were by the age you told me nine years old. Yeah. So if we're going by years that you were, yeah, I would have been nine, almost 10, but no, I was, I was a certainly, you were certainly molested. I can't confirm or deny that. I, when I, you know what, I'm just here to go and say no, cause Diego's too good of a man. And Diego, if you're listening to this,

He can't. He doesn't speak English. Well, that's why I'm speaking Spanish. And I would say, Google translate. I miss you, man. I miss you. I have no idea if he's even still alive. I hope he is. Okay, so that's the basement our character's in in Psychosis. Oh, man.

I, that was a very long tangent. I just, I was fucked up mentally thinking about that. It was so specific. Okay. You, that wasn't that you get, that was all you. Cause we were just, no, I know. I know. I'm sorry. Reference. And you're like, that reminds me of a story. I didn't say it. I would have combusted.

My face was flushed. I agree. You need to get that out on the air. You need to put that in the podcast. Don't get me wrong. Compilation channels have to find something to throw out, right? Yeah, we have to have those. Have you seen that guy Darbo? Have you seen him?

On YouTube? No. Yeah, it's Darbo or something. We will make a Creepcast episode. He will post a highlight reel within like 30 minutes of the episode going live. Goddamn Darbo. Instantaneously. How do we hire Darbo?

I didn't even do that guy is the machine. I went in. I went in commented on one of them. Like, are you our editor? How are you doing this? No, I just see his channel now is it's a this is this is unsettling. This is unsettling. Well, Darbo, if you're looking for work, let us know. Maybe he can be our maybe he can be our official clips guy. There you go.

We'll just get the clips guy going and give them to the TikTok guy and then the two of them can like kiss and make out or whatever and make videos, I guess. Yeah. I'm actually, I completely forgot what's even going on in this story. Okay. He was trying to make a call and he's like, well, that didn't work.

No, what happened is he went upstairs. Good Lord. Okay, so he goes upstairs to make a call and then he comes back and he's like something weird happened. And now he's describing what the exit to his apartment is like because he lives in the basement of an apartment building. Right. With like the machines down the hall and stuff. So all he was doing so far is describe. He's telling us the story of what went wrong with him making his phone call. Right. And then he steps out and it's like it's a basement hallway with two vending machines at the end of it. Right.

Yeah, he's going he's going crazy because he's like, I'm going kind of crazy down here. There's no windows. I feel like I haven't talked to anybody, but it's probably like a day. But he's you can tell he's a little stir crazy. So he goes to make a phone call, right? Sure. So a small feeling of apprehension had somehow already lodged itself in me for some indefinable reason. I talked it up to not having spoken to anyone but myself for a day or two.

If you're down the dingy gray hallway, made dingier by the fact that it's a basement hallway. Have I already read this entire thing? You have, but go ahead. I already read this paragraph. Okay. That's fine. We're going to go to the next paragraph. No, no. Keep going. Just basement hallway. You're almost done. Might as well. Okay. It's been 12 minutes since we've actually read this part. That's so terrible. Everyone's forgot. All right.

Now I'm just imagining like through all of this, there's just like a Hispanic man in the room. I'm not going to lie in my mind's eye. I did picture Diego there. I was going to ask you like, yeah, he's in the basement with it. I'm like, where's the guy come in? Oh, and where's Diego? That was my go. Is Diego the vending machine? Is that why he's talking about the vending machine? Yes. That's right. No, Diego will make an appearance. I'm sure it'll go crazy.

I'm here down the dingy gray hallway made dingier by the fact that it was a basement hallway. On one end, a large metal door led to the building's furnace room. It was locked, of course. Two dreary soda machines stood by it. I bought a soda from one the first day I moved in, but it had a two-year-old expiration date. Barely sure nobody knows those machines are even down here, or my cheap landlady just doesn't care to get them restocked. I closed my door softly and walked the other direction, taking care not to make a sound.

I have no idea why I chose to do that, but it was fun giving into the strange impulse not to break the droning hum of the soda machines, at least for the moment. I do get that. Have you ever been to like a really quiet place and for some reason you're like, I shouldn't make a lot of noise, you know? No, I don't think I've ever done that. All right. Okay. So I got to the stairwell. Okay.

I'm trying to put myself in the mindset of being like, I don't want to break the droning hum of the soda machines. I don't know if people are going to start yelling at me again, like the license plate fiasco, but sorry, I don't give a fuck about the droning soda machines. Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on. I'll,

I more so get it in nature, like when I'm outside and not for like, oh, I don't want something to see me. Just like it sounds so calm that I'm just like light footsteps. Like I don't want to disturb the peace, so to speak. And I could get that in like a more industrial area of kind of like it's so calm here. Why ruin it? I remember being a kid. We went to like a really big church when I was a kid.

And sometimes when I'd go downstairs to the bathroom, there were like these long, long hallways around the church, like in the basement area. And it kind of had that, like, you know, the fluorescent hum thing. And I remember just standing down there sometimes and thinking like, man, it is so quiet. Like you can hear so much every little detail. And I kind of get not wanting to disturb that. Right. Don't want to break the silence. Yeah. Yeah. That makes sense. Almost not, not like a fear thing, more of almost like a social cue. Weirdly. It's strange. Yeah.

No, that makes sense. I got to the stairwell and took the stairs up to the building's front door. I looked through the heavy door's small square window and received quite the shock. It was definitely not lunchtime. City gloom hung over the dark street outside, and the traffic lights at the intersection in the distance blinked yellow. Dim clouds, purple and black from the glow of the city, hung overhead. Nothing moved, save the few sidewalk trees that shifted in the wind. I remember shivering, though I wasn't cold.

Maybe it was the wind outside. I could vaguely hear it through the metal-heavy door, and I knew it was that unique kind of late night wind, the kind that was constant, cold, quiet, save for the rhythmic music it made as it passed through countless unseen tree leaves. I decided not to go outside. Instead, I lifted my cell phone to the door's little window and checked the signal meter. The bars filled up the meter, and I smiled. "Time to hear someone else's voice," I remember thinking, relieved.

It was such a strange thing to be afraid of nothing. I shook my head, laughing at myself silently. I hit speed dial for my best friend Amy's number and held the phone up to my ear. It rang once, but then it stopped. Nothing happened. I listened to silence for a good 20 seconds, then hung up. I frowned and looked at the signal meter again. Still full. I went to dial her number again, but then my phone rang in my hand, startling me. I put it up to my ear. Hello?

I asked, immediately fighting down a small shock at hearing the first spoken voice in days, even if it was my own. Oh, that's interesting. That's a strange note. I'd gotten used to the droning hum of the building's inner workings, my computer and the soda machines in the hallway. There was no response to my greeting at first. Then, finally, a voice came. Said a clear male voice, obviously of college age, like me. Who's this? John.

I replied, confused. "Oh, sorry, wrong number." He replied, then hung up. I lowered the phone slowly and leaned against the thick brick wall of the stairwell. That was strange. I looked at my received calls list, but the number was unfamiliar. Before I could think on it further, the phone rang loudly, shocking me yet again. This time, I looked at the caller before I answered. It was another unfamiliar number. This time, I held the phone up to my ear, but said nothing.

I heard nothing but the general background noise of a phone. Then familiar voice broke my attention. John, this is Amy's voice. Just so you know. Yeah. Would you like to? Okay, fine. I'll change. I like saying John, just like John. John, there you go. Was a single word in Amy's voice. I breathed a sigh of relief. Hey, it's you.

Every character we have in these series, you love to make just a toddler off the cuff. Hey, it's you. Sigh of relief. Who else would it be? All right, fine, fine, fine. What is going on? Whose voice is this? What is happening? Who else would it be? Thank you. She responded. Oh, the number I'm...

At a party on 7th street, I'm- and my phone died, just as you called. This is someone else's phone, obviously. Oh, okay. Where are you? My eyes glanced over the drab whitewashed cylinder block walls and the heavy metal door with its small window. At my building. Just feeling cooped up. I didn't realize it was so late. You should come here. Nah.

I don't feel like looking for some strange place by myself in the middle of the night. Whoa!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What? Why over the course of that sentence did he become like Keith David? Not even that. That was like Wesley Snipes. That was like Blade. All right, all right. Okay, fine. I was getting him being a little more scratchy as chin. Ho hum. All right. There's no place in the middle of the night, little girl. Nah, nah. I don't feel like looking for some strange place by myself in the middle of the night. I said looking out the window at the silent

I think I'm just gonna keep working or go to bed. Oh, of course. Hold on. Time out, time out, time out, time out. You...

What, man? The tones are all over the place. The voice, as the director of this project, you gotta lock in. How drunk are you? You know where I live? Oh, of course.

I guess I can get there by walking, huh? You could if you wanted to waste half an hour. Right. Okay. Have to go. Good luck with your work. Damn, he just, she just shot that down immediately. He's like, probably should have just said it was fine for her to walk over. Yeah, she was like, oh, can I walk over there? He's like, yeah, I doubt it.

Yeah, the girl's like, oh, I can walk. And he was like, yeah, if you want to waste half an hour, stupid idiot. Gosh, I lowered the phone once more, looking at the numbers flash as the call ended. Then the droning silence suddenly reasserted itself in my ears.

The two strange calls and the eerie street outside just drove home my aloneness in the empty stairwell. Perhaps from having seen too many scary movies, I had the sudden, inexplicable idea that something could look in the door's window and see me. Some sort of horrible entity that hovered at the edge of aloneness, just waiting to creep up on unsuspecting people that strayed too far from other human beings. I knew the fear was irrational, but nobody else was around.

So I jumped down the stairs, ran down the hallway into my room, closed the door as swiftly as I could while still staying silent. The amount of times I've done that shit in my own house is insane.

Oh, we're like, you're like, something's watching, something's watching, something's watching. Something's like behind me. The amount of times I'll go up the stairs and I'll turn off the light switch and I'll start walking. And I kind of do this thing where I'm like, I'm just like walking straight, but I keep like looking over my like right and left shoulder. And I'm just like, okay, all right. And then there's almost a moment where I'm like, pray for it. And I kind of like quickly run to my room. Yeah. I get moments of that where I'm like walking somewhere.

Like in the house, like, you know, maybe you're for me, it's when you're in to like the second room with the lights off. You know what I mean? Like you're in your room and the lights are off. That's fine. But then you're in like the closet of that room and the lights are off and you're like, I feel strange for some reason. Yeah, it's a little bit of like a survival instinct. I think you're just like, how do I know? It's almost like the shadows are too strong or something, right? Yeah, something could hide there much deeper.

Yeah, it's a much deeper darkness. Yeah, it throws me off a bit. But no, I get the same thing, especially like when you're turning out the lights at night. And it's not all the time either. It's just like once a week or once every other week. I'm like, I'm in danger for some reason. Right. And I get like the way he's describing it here of like, especially when you've spent that much time isolated. Yeah.

And then you're like standing and the only view of the outside world's a little box window, right? Yeah. Like I should, I need to go back. I need to go back where it's safe. Yeah. Like I said, I feel a little ridiculous for being scared of nothing and the fear has already faded. Writing this down helps a lot. It makes me realize that nothing's wrong. It filters out half-formed thoughts and fears and leaves only cold hard facts.

It's late. I got a call from the wrong number and Amy's phone died. So she called me back from another number. Nothing strange is happening. How do you so far? Do you feel like like it feels like this basement or this building isn't even real a little bit? It's

Hold on. That was kind of my sick brain. What I'm saying is that the way the narrative is structured so far, I have hesitance to believe that he is actually in like a building that he says he's in. I'm like wondering if he is trying to make communications with

People from either like an outside world like it almost reads like a purgatory type thing a little bit I mean there's like remnants of like of him being like maybe even like a spirit or something that is Stood behind. I mean it just feels like a place stuck in time, right? I mean like the Dated soda pop. There's really no one else in the building. He's in the base. Yeah, he doesn't see anybody and he's like always kind of hesitant to go outside He's like kind of trapped

Mm-hmm. The stillness of everything's odd, too. Like, I understand, you know, kind of a city can slow down at night. But him standing inside and seeing, like, the traffic light flashing and no one there and there's, like, not a lot happening. Like, it creates a very...

uncanny sense to the environment. Even though it's not necessarily a supernatural environment, it feels kind of at the edge of natural, right? Yeah, it feels like... Not to use the word liminal for the eight bajillionth time, but it does feel kind of like a liminal space. Kind of feels like a racer head or something like a David Lynch movie. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Something that's just a little...

a little uncanny range. Yeah. Yeah. Still, there was something of a, I love, I love that take though, where you're like, I don't even think this building's real. I don't know where I'm at. I don't even, he ain't even in the building. The fever in my field, the fever I have has actually melted my brain. I don't think I know where I'm at. Two chapters in, he's going to be like, so we're under the impression. Amy's a bug, right? Yeah. Big old bug lady. Yeah. I want noodles. Oh, yeah.

Yeah, I want noodles. That's just what you're going to hear all of a sudden. You're going to be like, okay, he's brain dead. Okay. All right, Hunter. You take care, buddy. Yeah, you and Diego go have fun. Diego's not even real. Diego was never real. Hunter had that basement by himself. Oh my God. Ego. He would get like late at night. He'd be sad watching cable guy. Be like, it'd be really cool if a non-English speaker, you know, was. I wish I had my own Dora. I don't think you can call him that. Swiper. No swipey.

Diego was like a 50-year-old man who wore like a purple crop top and like had a backpack on all the time. I want to talk to the map, Diego. Bro, Diego's the name of Dora's cousin in the show. Oh, shit, that's right. Go, Diego, go, the spinoff show. That has to be some kind of like Freudian slip. Bro, you 100% imagine Diego.

You were watching Thor. It's real. It's real. It's real. Man, I wish Diego was my friend. I wish he was here with me. Go, Diego, go. Swipe for no swiping. My gosh. Okay. Still, there was something a little off about that conversation. I know it could have just been the alcohol she'd had, or was it even her that seemed off to me? Or was it...

Yes, that was it. I didn't realize it until this moment, writing these things down. I knew writing things down would help. She said she was at a party, but I only heard silence in the background. Of course, that doesn't mean anything in particular, as she could have just gone outside to make the call. No, no, that couldn't be it either. I didn't hear the wind. I need to see if the wind's still blowing. Interesting.

Yeah, so that's the end of Sunday. I don't know. Would you immediately kind of be like, oh, that's weird or what? I just kind of like this is a fucking lame party. You're saying from his perspective, right? Yeah. Would you? I mean, it is suspicious to be like, oh, man, I'm at a party on 7th Street. It's bopping. There's no sound in the background. Bit odd. It's completely desolate. Nothing happening.

And then she's like, oh, come to the party. It's her phrasing of it. That's okay. So he's not recognizing the social cues probably because like, sure for the past few days, but I get the vibe that our author isn't a super socially active person. No kind of the way he's describing this. So he's not picking up on the, the way she's kind of speaking's weird where she's, this is supposedly his best friend, right? Assuming that he's not overstating their relationship and,

She picks up the phone and says, John. And then when he's like, oh, hey, it's you. She's like, who else would it be? I'm at a party on 7th Street and this is someone else's phone. And then immediately, where are you? Oh, you should come here. You live over at that building, right? And he's like, yeah, of course. Yeah. And she goes, I can come get you.

Yeah, it seems kind of weird that she'd be like, you live on this building, right? It's like, you know, we're best friends. You know where I live.

Like she's like, oh, well, you live there, right? It wouldn't be that hard for me to come get you. And then after that, she just goes, right. Okay, have to go. Good luck with your work. Like that's such a weird interaction for a bro. Bro, drop the bag. Bro, drop the bag. He did drop the bag pretty hard. He did. In fact, it will that bag be good for him? Can't can't decide, but he did drop it. Whatever bag was there, he dropped it.

That is true. Who among us has not thrown down a good or bad bag in their time? So it's like that part of it's weird, but he is also right in that the like the literal properties of the phone call were weird and that, you know, there was no noise at the party. He didn't hear the wind and

Because even he standing inside of his apartment complex could hear the wind very strongly outside. But then if she's outside of the party, there's no wind at all. So it doesn't make sense. I also think John might just be a psychopath. He could. I mean, he very well could. I mean, he's living in a basement toiling over, like making sure he can like have human connection somehow.

And then when he does, he like pretty much rejects it. And then now he's just like hyper fixating on what, how the conversation went or why it was weird. I don't know. It's building a strong case that John, I don't think, I don't think John's got all of his eggs in a good basket.

I mean, like even we know to some degree he doesn't at all because when he speaks, it like scares him because he hasn't heard a human voice in three days. Right? Like think about like even before you were married or like lived with someone. How rare was that? Right? I call that a blessing. I mean, heck, would I'd be alone? Shut up. Would I'd be alone for a while? I would like play games with friends online. Right? I still hear a human voice or whatever.

Yeah. To be like totally shut out. That's so sure. Or even just stuff too of like you can't go anywhere really. Like even the grocery store or something that you haven't interacted with. It just feels a bit odd. It is. Yeah, yeah. Something's definitely wrong here. How do we know that John doesn't want to cut off Amy's skin and wear it like a suit? We don't. I like how when you were introduced to a female character in the story, that's immediately where your mind goes. Yeah.

It's not where my mind goes, but hey, I didn't live with Diego for as soon as I as soon as I hear a woman's name in a story. I picture what her skin would feel like over mine. Okay, all right. Well, that's a lot to unpack all at once. I don't think Diego would approve of that. Sorry about that man. I'm I'm I'm two day cool pills deep and four cough drops about to pop my fifth. Let's get it. Look, all I'm saying is I haven't seen this. You know, this is the exact same scenario.

That I confess the whole Jacoby thing about. Okay. And you are now confessing about Diego. So maybe we're both talking about imaginary friends while we're sick, huh? I don't think so. I don't think so. You were high on pills. I couldn't be more clear about my imaginary girlfriend. And now you're high on pills and you're talking about your imaginary basement buddy named Diego. I'm being honest. I'm living my truth.

You're living your truth. Okay. Did you see someone made a song about Jacoby? No. Someone made a song about your imaginary girlfriend. Someone made a song about my imaginary girlfriend. Yes. Was it good? I haven't even listened to it. I just saw it and I was like, this is absurd. I'm pissed off at this. This isn't happening. You're pissed off because you wish you had those big goth eyes around your head. Shut up. Okay. Have you seen my wife? I do have big goth eyes around my head. Okay. Let's get that straight right now. Uh...

So no, but that's not how people need to think of it. Just shut up. Here's here's a link if you want to watch it sometime. There you go. Thank you. Very welcome. I actually have to go pee, so I'm going to go pee and I'll be right back. All right, go ahead and go pee pee. Did you get my package?

Uh, yeah, what the hell am I looking at here? Well, my mom used to teach at Appalachian Middle School, and she confiscated this journal from a young Winding girl. I guess that's kind of neat, but what does this have to do with me? Take a look at the first page! There's something very interesting! Yeah, this gives me... an idea! The other day...

me blush when she looked my way she has hair to face and she's tall and i love her name that song's pretty catchy dude shout out did you listen to it i haven't listened to it how is it scared it was pretty good monday i forgot to finish writing last night

I'm not sure what I expected to see when I ran up the stairwell and looked out the heavy metal door's window. I'm feeling ridiculous. Last night's fear seems hazy and unreasonable to me now. I can't wait to go out into the sunlight. I'm gonna check my email, shave, shower, and finally get out of here. Wait, I think I heard something. Okay, and then another point in time before, it was thunder. That whole sunlight and fresh air thing didn't happen.

I went out into the stairwell and up the stairs only to find disappointment. The heavy metal door's little window showed only flowing water as torrential rain slammed against it. Only a very dim, gloomy light filtered in through the rain, but at least I knew it was daytime. Even if it was a grey, sickly, wet day.

I tried looking out the window and waiting for lightning to illuminate the gloom, but the rain was too heavy and I couldn't make out anything more than vague, weird shapes moving at odd angles in the waves washing down the window. Disappointed, I turned around, but I didn't want to go back to my room. Instead, I wandered further up the stairs, past the first floor and the second. The stairs ended at the third floor, the highest floor in the building.

I looked through the glass that ran up the outer wall of the stairwell, but it was that warped thick kind that scatters the light. Not that there was much to see through the rain to begin with. So that I didn't think about until just now reading that is, uh, how weirdly off he was on the time in day one where he's like, Oh, I, I, what's it? He says, he's like, Oh, it's noon. I'm going to go make a phone call. Oh, oops. Accidentally. It's the middle of the night, right? Mm-hmm.

Like that was a weird thing to be so wrong about, right? To that degree at least. I think so. Also even just the idea of like a large heavy metal door. Like it's just odd. There's a lot of like just little weird set pieces here.

That are kind of like, I don't know, just it keeps just kind of like activating a little neuron in my head being like, hey, this is this is fucking strange. Yeah, there's weird breadcrumbs laid out like the one you said. They're looking through the rain and he describes like the people walking in it, I guess, as what was it? Vague, weird shapes moving at odd angles like, OK, that's a strange thing to say about people walking around, right?

Yeah.

As I stood there in the dim hallway, listening to the rain, I had the strange, fleeting impression that the doors were standing like silent granite monoliths erected by some ancient, forgotten civilization for some unfathomable guardian purpose. That sentence sounds like something you or I would say midway through an episode. Very, very, uh... That was my creepcast comment. Yeah. And here's a classic creepcast for people's fucking bingo cards I see. That's very Lovecraftian of him to say. You think I don't say that?!

Especially this being in my mind's eye a very Lovecraftian thing for him to say! Dad's upset! I'm glad you don't have like

strong feelings about it or anything. Wait, let's go ahead and knock the rest of about. Okay, man. If Kyle from Boroska was here, oh man, he'd be having such a great time. Yeah. Kyle from Boroska be like, uh, Kyle from Boroska be like, uh, yo, John, why are you so, why are you acting so weird right now?

Yeah, I'm definitely not holding up something to the camera for you to not be able to see. My wife isn't here to get me, so that one won't work. I already made a you're going to want to see this joke. It's right behind me, isn't it? Same thing. Something has to fall. So here's a pin. And then you have to make fun of my accent.

You have to make fun of my accent. I think that's all of them. All right. We can continue on with this right now. Lightning flash, and I could have sworn that for just a moment, the old grainy blue wood looked just like rough stone. I laughed at myself for letting my imagination get the best of me, but then it occurred to me that the dim gloom and lightning must mean there was a window somewhere in the hallway.

A vague memory surfaced, and I suddenly recalled that the third floor had an alcove and an inset window halfway down the floor's hallway. Excited to look out into the rain and possibly see another human being, I quickly walked over to the alcove, finding the large thin glass window. Rain washed down it, as with the front door's window, but I could open this one. I reached a handout to slide it open, but hesitated.

I had the strangest feeling that if I opened that window, I would see something absolutely horrifying on the other side. Everything's been so odd lately. So I came up with a plan and I came back here to get what I needed. I don't seriously think anything will come of it, but I'm bored. It's raining and I'm going stir crazy. I came back to get my webcam.

The cord isn't long enough to reach the third floor by any means, so instead I'm going to hide it between the two soda machines in the dark end of my basement hallway, run the wire along the wall and under my door, and put black duct tape over the wire to blend it in with the black plastic strip that runs along the base of the hallway's walls. I know this is silly, but I don't have anything better to do. Well, nothing happened.

I propped open the hallway to stairwell door, steeled myself, then flung the heavy front door wide open and ran like hell down the stairs to my room and slammed the door. I watched the webcam on my computer intently, seeing the hallway outside my door and most of the stairwell. I'm watching it right now and I don't see anything interesting. I just wish the camera's position was different so that I could see out the front door. Hey! Somebody's online!

Then we have another break in time seemingly for the conversation before. I got out an older, less functional webcam that I had in my closet to video chat with my friend online. I couldn't really explain to him why I wanted to video chat, but it felt good to see another person's face. He couldn't talk very long, and we didn't talk about anything meaningful, but I feel much better. My strange fear has almost passed. I would feel completely better, but there was something

odd about our conversation. I know that I've said that everything has seemed odd, but still, he was very vague in his responses. I can't recall one specific thing he said, no particular name or place or event, but he did ask for my email address to keep in touch. Wait, I just got an email. I'm about to go out. I just got an email from Amy that asked me to meet her for dinner at "the place we usually go to."

I do love pizza and I've just been eating random food from my poorly stocked fridge for days. So I can't wait again. I feel ridiculous about the odd couple of days I've been having. I should destroy this journal when I get back. Oh, another email. So what, how do you feel so far? I mean, it reads like a madman. Yeah. In my opinion, I think like it almost reads if I had to say it, like it reads like a guy who doesn't realize that maybe he's like in a mental asylum or

and he's going around looking at stuff and i don't know if he's like done something especially the whole idea of like chatting by email like all these little things like i i feel like there's gonna be some kind of twist that he's not in a home he's in some he's somewhere else i i just the way that people are taught like vague responses almost sounds like the person that was online is like a counselor or something or some kind of therapist maybe

Amy is maybe like a friend who realizes that he's in an institution or something is how I'm reading it right now. It's like he doesn't understand he can't go outside or maybe he's almost making excuses for why he can't go outside. That's what I mean. Even him being like, oh, I hope I can see someone. It's clearly pouring down rain. Why would anyone be outside? It's like these little bits and pieces of like

I mean, complete delusion. And also, like, if you need to go out that bad, it's not illegal to walk in the rain. Like, they've yet to legislate that, right? You can just leave if you need to that bad. Yeah, as much as you wish they would legislate people walking in the rain. Especially the idea of, like, well, I know he said that he has... I know that he has service, or at least it says that he has service right on his phone. But to not even, like...

I guess humor the idea of like, I'm going to step outside and make, try to make this call. Right. Even under some kind of like covered area or so it just is. It's, it's a bit odd, bit odd. It is a bit odd. Oh my God. I almost left the email and open the door. I almost opened the door. I almost opened the door, but I read the email first.

It was from a friend I hadn't heard from in a long time and it was sent to a huge number of emails that must have been every person he had saved in his address list. It had no subject and it said simply, "Seen with your own eyes, don't trust them, they." What the hell is that supposed to mean? The words shocked me and I keep going over and over them. Is it a desperate email sent just as something happened? The words are obviously cut off without finishing.

On any other day I would have dismissed this as spam from a computer virus or something, but the words "seen with your own eyes." I can't help but read over this journal and think back on the last few days and realize that I have not seen another person with my own eyes or talked to another person face to face. The webcam conversation with my friend was so strange, so vague, so eerie now that I think about it. Was it eerie? Or is the fear clouding my memory?

My mind toys with the progression of events I've written here, pointing out that I've not been presented with one single fact that I did not specifically give out unsuspectingly. The random wrong number that got my name and the subsequent strange return call from Amy, the friend that asked for my email address, I messaged him first when I saw him online. And then I got my first email a few minutes after that conversation.

Oh my god, that phone call with Amy. I said over the phone, I said that I was within half an hour's walk of 17th Street. They know I'm near there. What if they're trying to find me? Where's everyone else? Why haven't I seen or heard anyone else in days? No, no, no, no. This is crazy. This is absolutely crazy. I need to calm down. This madness needs to end. I don't know what to think.

I ran about my apartment furiously, holding my cell phone up to every corner to see if it got a signal through the heavy walls. Finally, in the tiny bathroom near one ceiling corner, I got a single bar. Holding my phone there, I sent a text message to every number in my list. Not wanting to betray anything about my unfounded fears, I simply sent, You seen anyone face-to-face lately? At that point, I just wanted any reply back. I didn't care what the reply was or if I embarrassed myself.

I tried to call someone a few times, but I couldn't get my head up high enough, and if I brought my cell phone down even an inch, it lost signal. Then I remembered the computer and rushed over to it, instant messaging everyone online. Most were idle or away from their computer. Nobody responded. My messages grew more frantic and I started telling people where I was and to stop by in person for a host of barely passable reasons.

I didn't care about anything by that point. I just needed to see another person. Also tore apart my apartment looking for something that I might have missed some way to contact another human being without opening the door. I know it's crazy. I know it's unfounded, but what if, what if I just need to be sure I taped the phone to the ceiling in case that kind of like how I kind of like how hysterical it's getting. Like, I mean, it's like, it's a almost immediate reaction.

uh, nosedive down into a psychotic break. It's like he had a preexisting paranoia of like people or whatever. And he's been trying, he's been kind of almost like grasping at straws, like something's wrong. I need it. And that, that email like, uh, seen with your own eyes, don't trust them. They, that's all it took. That was the nugget he needed to like,

Yeah. Fly off the handle, like taping the phone to the corner that, you know, people are out there. I can't, I, there has to be some way to contact someone without leaving the house. Right. With how he's acting from the beginning of this story as well, as well, as soon as he started writing this journal, right. Yeah.

If you were in his contact list, would you even respond to one of these messages? Absolutely not. If someone texted me, please help, help, come to my house, help, what's going on? I'd be like, um... Or even just something as weird as face-to-face, like...

Have you seen one face-to-face? I'd be like, what a fucking weird thing. Also, have you seen one face-to-face? I'd be like, uh... Yeah. Well, would you not acquit it to being like, oh, Jon's on another one of his weird... Like, let's just ignore it. There's no way you would assume this is the first time, right? Like, when I'm reading this, I'm like, he has done this before. This has happened before. Yeah. It has clearly happened before. Yeah. Like, no question. Well...

It was the end of Monday. Now we're on to Tuesday. Yes, now we're on to Tuesday. So the phone rang. Exhausted from last night's rampage, I must have fallen asleep. I woke up to the phone ringing and ran into the bathroom, stood on the toilet and flipped open the phone, taped the ceiling. It was Amy and I feel so much better. She was really worried about me and apparently have been trying to contact me since the last time I talked to her. She's coming over now. And yes, she knows where I am without me telling her.

I feel so embarrassed. I'm definitely throwing this journal away before anyone sees it. I don't even know why I'm writing in it now. Maybe it's just in case it's the only communication I've had at all since... since God knows when. I look like hell too. I looked in the mirror before I came back in here. My eyes are sunken, my stubble's thicker, and I just look generally unhealthy. My apartment is trash, but I'm not going to clean it up. I think I need someone else to see what I've been through.

These past few days have not been normal. I am not one to imagine things. I know I've been the victim of extreme probability. I probably miss seeing another person a dozen times. I just happened to go out when it was late at night or the middle of the day when everyone was gone. Everything's perfectly fine. I know this now. Plus, I found something in the closet last night that has helped me tremendously. A television.

i set it up just before i wrote this and it's on in the background television has always been an escape for me and it reminds me that there's a world beyond these dingy brick walls okay i know this is like how did you forget you have a tv in the closet i don't know i'm i'm even trying to i'm trying to give him the benefit of that of the doubt too earlier when we were like well how did the the friend not know where he lived

I guess what she really said was, oh, and you live close to 7th Street, right? If you're at a party, you might kind of say something like that. Like, oh, yeah, I guess this place is pretty close to you. Yeah, I'm just down the road, right? I'm just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. A lot of these entries as well are ramblings of a... I'm guessing he's not sleeping very well. The way he talks about it, he's kind of mindlessly going...

about these days and a weird hysteria. So I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt at the moment. Cause I feel like I'm, I'm like skewing the narrative in my head where I'm like, he's deaf. He's just insane. But I, there's no real reason to believe that yet besides him just kind of being a bit odd. So I think, uh, it, it is like, it could be either way between something's actually going on or it's like paranoia, right? Yeah.

I think if something is going on, they're just, they're pushing the narrative of paranoia. Like they're trying to convince him to feel, you know, like he's going crazy. Also these confined space stories always read a bit manic when someone never leaves their setting. And they're always just kind of, everything is an assumption. Like he has no discernible reason to believe anything besides him, you know, making assumptions about what's going on outside and driving himself mad.

And plus, honestly, there's a lot of cases of people, I guess, like this, right? Who, you know, they kind of become social recluse and then they like get kind of a paranoia about people around them and things like that. So it's not entirely improbable, a scenario like this, I suppose. No. I hear about this happening with people a lot, you know? Oh yeah. No, I think it's much more common than people think. I had a buddy who,

kind of went off into his own little, like, I wouldn't say he went insane. I just think more so like became a huge recluse. Like it would take a lot of effort to actually like get him to respond to things. You'd have to like basically go to his house to con to conversate with him. So I don't know.

Be hard to get a hold of him. Did he just start doing something like, I don't know, imagining he was with a 54-year-old Hispanic man named Diego? No, because he would have had a really good head on his shoulders if that was the case and been living a pretty cool life. He definitely would be well-adjusted and not succumbing to his own psychopathy or anything. Yeah, especially that he's a very selfless guy by not learning literally any Spanish when living with this person. Not even...

fathoming communicating with this guy he loves. Yeah. And I will say, and I'll say this every time stepping over him culturally, socially, you know, I thought I was being kind. I thought I was being kind when I would walk in and say, Oh, looking back on it now, it feels pretty rude. I should have just been like, Hey, that's not that bad.

- Hunter walked in there every day and was like, "Hola, you taco burrito?" - No, no, now you're reaching. You're reaching.

Oh, you like, uh, we live here in the Casa. Look at that guy. He'd be watching his foosball game and he would, he would be yelling over a hundred his friends over. And he's like, Hey guys, watch this taco at, you know, is that one? Isn't that right? It must be, it must be hard to believe, but I actually did not have anybody over when I lived there.

No, you living in the basement with a man who can't speak the same language. You weren't a super hit with the kids. You weren't very popular with your friends. No, I was. I was popular. I just never bought him over because I thought, you know what? This is probably not going to go over well. That's why I use the thing. Diego, on the other hand, would bring many people over.

Diego Diego was living his best life. He was bringing over that man. That's so funny that like were you dating anyone at the time now? Oh man, that's so funny that like this guy who like this this grown man was like having you leave the house so he could hook up with girls and you know, no, here's the thing.

He never asked. He never shooed me off or anything. He was very willing just to do kind of whatever in there. I left out of my own good faith of like taking my laptop out and going to a friend's house and being like, you guys just want to play League or something? I really shouldn't go back for about four hours as usual. I should give him time. Yeah. Give Diego some time to just figure himself out.

And do his little business. And then every time I would... That's so funny. Every time I would return... That he was pulling constantly. Every time I would return back, as soon as I opened the basement door to walk down, I got the most abhorrent peanut butter and pumpkin seed smell you've ever had in your life. It was just atrocious. That's how you knew he did it. He did his deed. Wait, wait, wait. What? What?

The smell in the room afterwards would be peanut butter and pumpkin seed. Yes. Why? I don't know. It's not good. Salty, bitter and salty is what I would say. Oh, I know. Oh, you're telling me. Shut up. Shut up. No, no, don't. Oh, I don't like that. Peanut butter and pumpkin seed.

You know what's crazy is they say Febreze. Febreze in the Kansas kills 99.9% of odor and stuff. Not possible. You'd have to fumigate that room down there to get that deal out. I remember I started getting on my clothes and stuff. Peanut butter? Why is it smelling peanut butter? I started vacuum sealing my clothes and putting them under the bed that I had because it helped not... It kept the stink off of them. Ew. Ew.

Okay, I'm going to keep it. That's the grossest thing. I love peanut butter, dude. Why'd you do that? As soon as you're going to go to a jar of peanut butter in your house, open it. You're going to hear it. Shut up. I've had seafood ruined for me for at least a month because my wife thought it'd be funny to be like, oh, I ate so much crab. Now I've got the crab sweats.

Idea that like it's you get so full of it. You start to smell like crab when you sweat, which is I feel like it's probably that's probably true, right? I don't want to shut up. It's like meat sweats. Stop. Stop. I hate that word too. I hate that so much grosses me out. I am hard. All right. Between that and peanut butter. I'm good. I'm becoming a vegan to stop putting up with you people. Oh my gosh. Okay. My apartment is trash, but I'm not going to clean it up.

I think I need someone else to see what I've been. Oh, I already read all that. See, you got me all kinds of messed up. Okay. I'm glad Amy. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I'm glad Amy is the only one that responded to me after last night's. Shut up. Shut up. Gosh, I'm gross. I'm cold. I need a shower now. I'm like, I'm stressed out. I'm glad Amy's the only one that responded to me after last night's frantic pestering of everyone I could contact.

She's been my best friend for years. She doesn't know it, but I count the day that I met her among one of the few moments of true happiness in my life. Well, that's an utterly depressing sentence. And it's creepy as hell.

Yeah. She doesn't know it, but I count that. It's like, why doesn't she know that? Like, why would you not want to tell your best friend that? Also, the friend vibes kind of strange to me. It's like, why is this girl who goes to party and stuff? Her quote unquote best friend is a guy who doesn't see people for weeks on end. Is she your best friend or is that your perception of her? I don't think it's odd also to tell somebody of your best friends. Like, hey, when I met you, I feel like my life is more enriched. Like I'd say that to you, Isaiah. I'd say, you know what? Ever since I've met you,

And stuff. I feel like my life has been enriched deeply and it doesn't, it doesn't, it isn't a creepy. Yeah. And Hunter, I would say the same about you until you reinforce the meat sweats saying a few minutes ago, that was a significant downturn. But up until then, my life has been better since getting to know you. But I was like the people on the subreddit might think when I was at your house too, I was like, what is he like? What does this smell like?

So I went through your and Kayla's stuff and I was just sniffing stuff around because it's not weird. We're friends. Yeah. As a, where did it smell like? I didn't know. I didn't, I didn't know if the, uh, the call broke out. What does it smell like? Yeah. Everything from Kayla's stuff to your stuff. All smell like old spice Fiji. That is the deodorant that I use.

That is the worst. Why did you have to guess correctly? Why did you have to do that? Dude, I got the nose of a bloodhound, man. Shut up. What can I say?

I'm switching deodorant. I'm sorry. Nah, keep the deodorant. It's good stuff. Shut up, Connor. You're like a predator. You're like in the woods. Nah. Let me get through this. I remember that warm summer day fondly. It seems a different reality from this dark, rainy, lonely place.

I feel like I spent days sitting in that playground. Much too old to play, just talking with her and hanging around, doing nothing at all. I still feel like I can go back to that moment sometimes, and it reminds me that this damn place is not all that there is. Oh, finally, a knock on the door.

I also don't like that he types that stuff. Like, finally, a knock on the door. Oh, someone emailed me. It's like he's talking with us in real time while he's typing. And he's just, like, rambling his thoughts. Yeah, realistically, if your door knocks, you would stop writing and get up and answer it, right? You wouldn't physically write down, oh, look, a knock at the door. After a passage of time, be like, oh...

the door knocked yeah while i was writing someone knocked on the door and i you blah blah like he would be a string of uh conscious thought after the fact assuming it's not like oversight on the writer's part which i don't think it is it kind of paints the picture of how like socially removed he is yeah but he's like i'm writing a story and the people i'm talking to are my real friends you know there's gonna be a lot of people online here who are gonna be like i think he's being normal

Yeah, this guy, I totally get it. I also like to stay inside for weeks on end and think that the people outside are ghosts. And I tape my phone to the ceiling in case a real person calls me, not a fake one. I put up my Motorola Sidekick phone up on the ceiling. And I tape it right up there because the ghosts can't get it up there. Yeah. Not if I'm smarter than them.

All right. Yeah. On the Creepcast audience, probably. Definitely. Yeah. I thought it was odd that I couldn't see her through the camera I hid between the two soda machines. I figured that it was bad positioning. Like when I couldn't see out the front door, I should have known. I should have known. After the knock, I yelled through the door jokingly that I had a camera between the soda machine. How was that? How was that a joke? I have a camera looking at you through the soda machines. You see that? Do you see that?

Is that funny? If you're Amy, I would fucking bolt. I'd be gone.

This girl like has a social life is like theoretically a well adjusted person. Yeah, she's like, oh, I better go check on John. And then he's like, ha ha. There's a camera down the hallway. I positioned it to stare at you. So funny, John. Now let me a woman who is quote the best thing that ever happened to you into your house alone with no witnesses. Yeah, I've known you for two days, John.

"Ah ha ha John, that's very funny. Anyway, let me in." Yeah. I joked that there was a camera between the soda machines because I was embarrassed myself that I had taken this paranoia so far. After I did that, I saw her image walk over to the camera and look down at it.

She smiled and waved. This interaction is so strange. Like, I understand it's setting up some supernatural stuff, but there's a woman outside the door. He's like, aha, there's a camera down the hall. And she like spins smiling and walks up to the camera and like waves at it. Like, yeah, it's weird.

I'd hate to be just a neighbor in that building seeing these tenants have to do their shit. I'd be like, there's the creepiest little bastard in the basement. There's those freaks down the hallway. Keep looking at a Logitech C920 webcam, waving at it and doing dances and shit outside the hallway. I'm having a stroke watching it. She's dressed in like full, like Gryffindor cosplay. She's like, I'm a half a pun.

She has a wand and everything. She's like, shoot her. Like, oh, it's them again. We have to. No, she smiled away. Oh, yeah. Sorry. Hey. She said to the camera brightly, giving it a wry look.

It's weird. I know. I said into the mic attached to my computer. I've had a weird few days. Must have. Open the door, John. I hesitated. How could I be sure? Hey, humor me a second here. Tell me one thing about us. Just prove to me that you're you. She gave the camera a weird look. Um, all right.

We met randomly at a playground when we were both way too old to be there. I sighed deeply as reality returned in fear of fate. God, I'd been so ridiculous. Of course it was Amy. That day wasn't anywhere in the world except in my memory. I never even mentioned it to anyone, not out of embarrassment, but out of a strange secret nostalgia and a longing for those days to return. If there was some unknown force at work trying to trick me, as I feared, there was no way they could know about that day.

"Heh heh, alright, I'll explain everything." "Be right there." I ran to my small bathroom and fixed my hair as best I could. I looked like hell, but she would understand.

Synchronize my own unbelievable behavior and the mess I'd made of the place. I just want to say, can I, I just want to pause you. Sorry to interrupt. The amount of times he's laughed at himself for being a fucking weirdo is actually making my skin crawl. He keeps feeling like, ha, ha, me. Hey, geez. What am I thinking? Ha, me. How many times has he done that in the last two days? A lot.

A lot. Am I wrong? Yeah, it keeps me like, huh? I'm just a little, I get a little weird sometimes. He's like, okay, so it's funnier to imagine him wearing full, like Heath Ledger Joker face paint during all this. Wow. I'm a character.

You talk to a woman at a party and everything's okay. You call her 12 times at 2 in the morning and everyone loses their minds. Do you want to help me? Do you want to help me set up my webcam in between a vending machine? You place a security camera outside of your building and everything's fine because it's all...

part of the plan. It's simple. You set up one little webcam between a vending machine staring directly at the weird red-headed girl's front door and everyone loses their mind. It's simple. We kill Amy. All right. That's funny, John. You do like Heath Ledger. Thank you. You want to know how I'm going to unlock this door to let you in?

He already has a pool cue in his hand. Yeah, exactly. Magic track. So stupid. Like she comes over. He's like, it's just going to beat her to death when she walks in.

The image of him talking to her through the microphone of the webcam is so insane. What is it? So he set up a doomsday shelter. Now it's a literal doomsday shelter. He has a security camera. I'm surprised he hasn't barricaded the door. You know, it's all right. Well, the way that they describe the door, it's already an industrial grade, like,

Giant metal. I mean, I'm almost looking at it like a submarine door or something. You know what I mean? That's like the spinning wheel. Exactly. Like some Fallout shit. You have to like spin it. It'd be way too much. I haven't seen anybody in days. We killed Amy. All right. I walked to the door. I put my hand on the doorknob and gave the mess one last look. So ridiculous, I thought.

My eyes traced over the half-eaten food line. I'm just imagining this is like Asmongold's house. Like just cockroaches and rats everywhere. Over the half-eaten food line on the ground, the overflowing trash bin, and the bed, I tipped to the side looking for God knows what. I almost turned to the door and opened it, but my eyes fell on one last thing.

The old webcam, the one I used for that eerily vacant chat with my friend. Its silent black sphere lay haphazardly tossed to the side, its lens pointed at the table where this journal lay. An overwhelming terror took me as I realized that if something could see through that camera, it would have seen what I just wrote about that day.

I asked her for any one thing about us, and she chose the only thing in the world that I thought they or it did not know. But it did, it did know, it could have been watching me the whole time. I didn't open the door. I screamed. I screamed an uncontrollable terror. I stomped on the old webcam on the floor.

The door shook and the doorknob tried to turn, but I didn't hear Amy's voice through the door. Was the basement door made to keep out drafts too thick? Or was Amy not outside?

What could have been trying to get in, if not her? What the hell is out there? I saw her on my computer through the camera outside. I heard her on the speakers through the camera outside. But was it real? How can I know? She's gone now, I screamed and shouted for help. I piled up everything in my apartment against the front door.

That's kind of creepy. I will say too, thinking more about it now as well, this is reading a lot like Edgar Allen Poe's The Telltale Heart where the whole narrative is definitely a guy who is insane but everything that he's doing, he's very much like, well, that's obviously why I did this. I'm not crazy. It's reading a lot like that but I will say it's kind of giving almost like a Skinwalker vibe now of something imitating her or

I don't know. It's like, again, it rides a really good line throughout. It is well done to where there's equal evidence for both camps that this guy's just insane or something's actually going on because it's like...

Yeah, to see your webcam knocked over and be like, oh, they're watching me. It wraps on the door of like a lot of, oh, the government's watching everything I do through my iPhone camera, stuff like that, right? Like it could just be a paranoia. But at the same time, if it was something that was able to impersonate people going off of that email he got, which is a weird email to get.

If it is going off of that email and if it is watching him through cameras, then yeah, the thing that Amy said would be the thing he wrote in the journal, which is a wild coincidence. It again fits pretty well into both camps. Yeah. No, I think what's interesting too is even though we've been bickering about more so just continuously, uh,

Basically trying to analyze and figure out what's going on. I actually don't mind John. I'm not upset with John. I'm not annoyed by him. No, no, no. He's well done. Yeah.

Yeah, which I think is interesting for somebody that's so complicated where you're almost 100% positive he's insane, but he's still a, I would say, likable protagonist. Yeah, well, he's not annoying with it or anything like that. He's just, you know, a dude who, like, you know, is probably unwell or at the very least socially reclusive. And within those parameters, he acts in a, like, an acceptable manner to the reader. He's not like...

jumping to uh things that are an annoyance for the story or throwing it off he works as a mobile for this tale to be told through right like i said like you said i don't hate him like i would you know like um who's that one who we make fun of so much the guy from the last story my wife piki chris the guy chris and um the 1999 dad yeah which is your personal favorite yeah yeah

Like those two, it's not like that where it's like, okay, this is a needless amount of danger to be put in. All the issues he's causing could just be him being a victim of his own mental condition, assuming it even is a mental condition and not like an actual threat that's happening. Right. So with that, we now have Friday, which before it was Tuesday. It's been three days. It's been three days. Friday. At least I think it's Friday.

I broke everything electronic. I smashed my computer to pieces. Every single thing on there could have been accessed by network access, or worse, altered. I'm a programmer, I know. Every little piece of information I gave out since this started, my name, my email, my location, none of it came back from outside until I gave it out. I've been going over and over what I wrote. I've been pacing back and forth, alternating between stark terror and overpowering disbelief.

Sometimes I'm absolutely certain of some phantom entity is dead set on the simple goal of getting me to go outside. Back to the beginning, the phone call from Amy, she was effectively asking me to open the door and go outside. I keep running through it in my head.

One point of view says I've acted like a madman, and all of this is the extreme convergence of probability. Never going outside at the right times by pure luck, never seeing another person by pure chance, getting a random nonsense email from some other computer virus at just the right time. Other point of view says that extreme convergence of probability is the reason that whatever's out there hasn't gotten me already. I keep thinking, I never opened the window on the third floor.

I never opened the front door until that incredibly stupid stunt with the hidden camera after which I ran straight to my room and slammed the door. I haven't opened my own solid door since I flung open the front door of the building. Whatever's out there, if anything's out there, never made an appearance in the building before I opened the front door.

Maybe the reason it wasn't in the building already was that it was elsewhere, getting everyone else, and then it waited until I betrayed my existence by trying to call Amy. A call which didn't work, until it called me and asked me my name.

This is an interesting like series of events he's running through in his head. And I didn't put that together that an appearance didn't happen of or again, it could be coincidence. An appearance didn't happen in the building until that time he threw open the front door seemingly let letting the spirit in or whatever. And then now it's almost like vampiric, right? It has to be invited in.

So he throws open the front door and the creature comes in, or it's just because he called Amy and Amy came over normally after he called her. Right. Could there also be the argument too, that by him opening the door and giving into the indulgence that he thinks something is there is that it's also him giving into the paranoid psyche that is like overtaking his mind.

Yes, it could be. Again, it depends on if you look at it as a physical threat or as a supernatural threat. Terror literally overwhelms me every time I try to fit the pieces of this nightmare together. That email, short cut off, was it from someone trying to get word out? Some friendly voice desperately trying to warn me before it came? Seen with my own eyes, don't trust them. Exactly what I've been so suspicious of.

It could have masterful control of all things electronic, practicing its insidious deception to trick me into coming outside. Why can't it get in? And knocked on the door, it must have some solid presence. The door, the image of those doors in the upper hallway as Guardian Monoliths flashes back in my mind every time I trace this path of thought. If there is some phantom entity trying to get me to go outside, maybe it can't get through doors.

I keep thinking back over all the books I've read or movies I've seen, trying to generate some explanation for this. Doors have always been such intense foci of human imagination. Always seen as wards or portals or special importance. Or perhaps the door is just too thick? I know that I couldn't bash through any of the doors in this building, let alone the heavy basement ones. Aside from that, the real question is, why does it even want me?

If it just wanted to kill me, it could do it in any number of ways, including just waiting until I starve to death. What if it doesn't want to kill me? What if it has some far more horrific fate in store for me? God, what can I do to escape this nightmare? A knock on the door, followed by another lapse in time. I like how he's...

Like regardless of if it's all in his head or if it's real, he definitely has paranoia right around it. Oh, the way he's like talking through like the the importance of doors in whatever's happening and stuff like that. It's very interesting to kind of have that kind of insight to what our author thinks.

Well, I think also, I think it's interesting too, because he's just now admitted as well that he is not going to leave anymore. By him saying starve to death, we are under the assumption now that he is never going to leave to get food or anything. He is there to stay. Yeah, he's not coming out, for sure. I told the people on the other side of the door, I need a minute to think and I'll come out. Oh, we've had quite a change up. Yeah.

I'm really just writing this down so I can figure out what to do. At least, this time I heard their voices. My paranoia, and yes I recognize that I'm being paranoid, has me thinking of all sorts of ways that their voices could be faked electronically. There could be nothing but speakers outside, simulating human voices. Did it really take them three days to come talk to me? Amy is supposedly out there, along with two policemen and a psychiatrist. Maybe it took them three days to think of what to say to me.

The psychiatrist's claim could be pretty convincing if I decided to think this has all been a crazy misunderstanding and not some entity trying to trick me into opening the door. Man, that's so cool. Like you said, the skinwalker thing. You remember that scene in Greylock where the... The girl in her room? Oh, that too, but the...

uh, the, the doctor who's hiding in the closet when it comes up to the door and it's impersonal policeman. Yeah. How good is that? Like the, the image I have in my mind where it's like cycling through the voices that it can use against him. Yeah. Yeah. And I just, I love this buildup too, because now it's even something where we have every reason to believe that Amy is out there with people trying to help.

It took her a couple days to be like, hey, I'm filing a report on this person. We need to go check up on him. Yeah, this guy definitely needs help.

Yeah. And he is in his own grand illusion now. I mean, he's lost. Even if it's truth or not truth, the narrative he has set for himself is what he is fully committed to. Everything that happens, regardless if it's coincidental or not, feeds back into his framework of what's happening. Right? Because it could just be Amy out there with policemen and a psychiatrist, or it could be these monsters that just sound like that.

that conveniently, right? Like it's all, it's all going to wrap back in on itself. The psychiatrist had an older voice authoritarian, but still caring. I liked it. I'm desperate just to see someone with my own eyes. He said, I have something called cyber psychosis and I'm just one of a nationwide epidemic of thousands of people having breakdowns triggered by a suggestive email that got through somehow.

I swear he said "got through somehow." I think he means spread throughout the country inexplicably, but I'm incredibly suspicious that the entity slipped up and revealed something. He said I am part of a wave of "emergent behavior" that a lot of other people are having the same problem with the same fears even though we've never communicated.

That neat. This is also like that a lot. It's like it could just be like people with some kind of like, you know, schizophrenia or something like that or but in his own head, it's like, but what do you mean it got through somehow, which is admittedly a weird way to word that right? So yeah, I will say this is also a reading like an extremely interesting

This is an extremely good depiction of a manic episode. Yeah, yeah. Like how someone's mind would justify and rationalize stuff. And the thing too is I bet you people that do go through these things have interesting thoughts or have conclusions that make sense to themselves, even if it's not true. It works within their framework. Exactly. Within like the setup that they have for it, yeah. That neatly explains the strange emails about eyes that I got.

I didn't get the original triggering email. I got a descendant of it. My friend, could have broken down too, tried to warn everyone he knew against his paranoid fears. That's how the problem spreads, the psychiatrist claims. I could have spread it too with my text and instant messages online to everybody I know.

One of those people might be melting down right now after being triggered by something I sent them, something they might interpret any way that they want, something like a text saying seeing anyone face-to-face lately. The psychiatrist told me that he didn't want to "lose another one," that people like me are intelligent and that's our downfall. We draw connections so well that we draw them even when they shouldn't be there.

He said it's easy to get caught up in paranoia in our fast-paced world, a constantly changing place where more and more of our interaction simulated. I have to give him one thing. It's a great explanation. It neatly explains everything. It perfectly explains everything, in fact. I have every reason to shake off this nightmarish fear that something or consciousness or being out there wants me to open the door so it can capture me for some horrible fate worse than death.

It would be foolish, after hearing that explanation, to stay in here until I starve to death just to spite the entity that might have got everyone else. It would be foolish to think that, after hearing that explanation, I might be one of the last people left alive in an empty world, hiding in my secure basement room, spiting some unthinkable deceptive entity just by refusing to be captured.

It's a perfect explanation for every single strange thing I've seen or heard, and I have every reason in the world to let all my fears go and open the door. That's exactly why I'm not going to. How can I be sure? How can I know what's real and what's deception? All of these damn things with their wires and their signals that originate from some unseen origin, they're not real. I can't be sure.

Signals through a camera, faked video, deceptive phone calls, emails, even the television lying broken on the floor. How can I possibly know it's real? It's just signals, waves, light, the door. It's bashing on the door. It's trying to get in. What insane mechanical contrivance could it be using to simulate the sound of men attacking the heavy woods so well? At least I'll finally see it with my own eyes.

There's nothing left in here for it to deceive me with. I've ripped apart everything else. It can't deceive my eyes, can it? Seeing with your own eyes, don't trust them. They... Wait. Was that desperate message telling me to trust my eyes or warning me about my eyes too?

Oh my God, what's the difference between a camera and my eyes? They both turned light into electric signals. They're the same. I can't be deceived. I have to be sure. I have to be sure. We go into the next date here. It says date unknown, so we don't even know what day this is. I mean, I don't even think, I'm trying to think of like a logical date

answer he could be presented to get him out of this. And I think he's just gone. I mean, by the end of it, he's saying, how do I know they're not messing with the cameras of my eyes? Right? Like, right. I mean, this honestly, like when you get into like,

deep conspiracy boards and stuff like that people who are talking about like oh it's fake like everything you see on these fake those are fake people wearing fake skin stuff like that this feels like a similar train of thought I mean obviously it's exaggerated at the end point of their controlling the eyes but you can see like where the threads existed that would take him to this level right yeah it like wraps on the door of some of the stuff you actually see and then it's just like okay what if that goes 10 more steps right yeah

So after that we have a date unknown. I calmly asked for paper and a pen day in and day out until I finally, until it finally gave them to me. Not that it matters. What am I going to do? Poke my eyes out? The bandages feel like part of me now. The pain's gone. I figured this will be one of my last chances to write legibly as without my sight to correct mistakes, my hands will slowly forget the motions involved. This is a sort of self-indulgence, this writing.

It's a relic of another time, because I'm certain everyone left in the world is dead. Or something far worse. I sit against the padded wall day in and day out. The entity brings me food and water. It masks itself as a kind nurse, as an unsympathetic doctor. I think it knows that my hearing has sharpened considerably, now that I live in darkness. It fakes conversations in the hallways on the off chance that I might overhear.

One of the nurses talks about having a baby soon. One of the doctors lost his wife in a car accident. None of it matters. None of it's real. None of it gets to me. Not like she does. That's the worst part. Part I almost can't handle. The thing comes to me masquerading as Amy. Its recreation is perfect. It sounds exactly like Amy. Feels exactly like her, even.

It even produces a reasonable, fast smile of tears that it makes me feel on its lifelike cheeks. When it first dragged me here, it told me all the things I wanted to hear. It told me that she loved me, that she had always loved me, that it didn't understand why I did this, that we could still have a life together if only I would stop insisting that I was being deceived. It wanted me to believe, no, it needed me to believe that she was real.

I almost fell for it. I really did. I doubted myself for the longest time. In the end though, it was all too perfect, too flawless, and too real. The false Amy used to come every day and then every week and finally stopped coming altogether, but I don't think the Entity will give up. I think the waiting game is just another one of its gambits. I will resist it for the rest of my life if I have to.

I don't know what happened to the rest of the world, but I do know that this thing needs me to fall for its deceptions. If it needs that, then maybe, just maybe, I'm a thorn in its agenda. Maybe Amy is still alive out there somewhere, kept alive only by my will to resist the deceiver. I hold on to that hope, rocking back and forth in my cell to pass the time. I will never give in. I will never break. I am a hero. This reads like...

Obviously, he's in an asylum. Right. Is what it reads like. And it reads like he is picturing his wife whenever they were just friends. And then she has come to visit him a lot until now. She just has given up on his... Basically, his mental deterioration has gone too far. He had a mental episode and it's gone. It's like...

I mean, like, sure, you can mental cases can be changed and stuff like that, but it seems like he's truly past the point of no return, right? Like there's nothing you can feed him that won't go to his own narrative. It sounds like he was admitted into an asylum and then he was able to call her probably didn't think that it was that crazy. So when she's like, oh, you're on 7th Street, right? Maybe he admitted himself or who knows. Maybe it's like one of these things where, you know, all these things are him.

I don't know. I'm curious. It's either that or we were just witnessing his breakdown in real time that he did live in a basement and all his paranoia was real at the beginning, right? Or like it was his actual paranoia happening, not within an asylum that led to the police trying to burst down the door and all that stuff. Right. Although I do kind of like the idea that he was actually in an asylum the whole time. That is pretty cool.

And then finally, the story ends on this quote. The doctor read the paper the patient had scribbled on. It was barely readable, written in the shaky script of one who could not see. He wanted to smile at the man's steadfast resolve, a reminder of the human will to survive, but he knew that the patient was completely delusional. After all, the same man would have fallen for the deception long ago. The doctor wanted to smile.

He wanted to whisper words of encouragement to the delusional man. He wanted to scream, but the nerve filaments wrapped around his head and into his eyes made him do otherwise. His body walked into the cell like a puppet and told the patient once more he was wrong and that there was nobody trying to deceive him. So yeah, that does confirm that he was just a patient in basically some kind of hospital. Well, I think that ending, like that last paragraph is saying that it was actually...

It is like some kind of skinwalker thing, right? You think so? Yeah. So after all, a sane man would have fallen for the deception long ago. He wanted to whisper words of encouragement to the usual man. He wanted to scream, but the nerve filaments wrapped around his head and into his eyes made him do otherwise. His body walked into the cell like a puppet and told the patient that he was wrong, that there was nobody trying to deceive him. Oh, so the patient was right. Yeah.

Yeah, yeah, that's what the end saying that they're like there's been some kind of hostile takeover because it's like the doctor wanted to smile like to see the paper the patient had written and been like, oh, this is the one guy who's right and he wants to whisper words of encouragement like stay in, you know, keep up the good fight, but the nerve film it's wrapped around his head simply puppet into the room and say not the conspiracy isn't real. Nothing's going to hurt you. Damn.

I love the gradual progression of the story. That is the end of the story there as well. The gradual progression of the story of starting it off with a character kind of just in his apartment and just being like, holy fuck, I want to see somebody. But it has a gradual progression, but it ramps. It's gradual, but it feels fast. I feel like by the end of day one, you're like, oh, okay, this guy is...

he's, he's, if he feels a bit deceptive, but to have that thing go all the way through, and if it is, and if that is the case of ending it with, he was right. It's just a fun way to, I guess, subvert that as well. Cause I think by the end you're like, yeah, he definitely is crazy until you find out that, Oh no, he's, he's right. So do you think he's right on the same aspect of like, uh, do you,

Do you think he's right that everyone else is dead? Yeah, they're being puppeted by this thing. Maybe not everyone in the world, but most of them because so what the impression is. So this is what's got psychosis famous. Like when the story came out is it's like, oh, it's a whole story that you thinks about psychosis. But then at the very ending, it turns out to be like he was right. You know, there's an alien. Everyone. The main theory people have is that some kind of alien takeover is

yeah, innovation is fun. So like basically they wipe up everyone on the streets

But since he was underground for a couple of days, he wasn't part of the first wave. And that wind he heard on the first day was like the ships basically. Right. Or some kind of like massive thing going through the streets. And then the next day when it's raining under the cover of a thunderstorm, he describes them as odd shapes moving through the glass. It's them looking for the last survivors of the alien takeover, like running around on the street and all that. Um,

And then it's after that, that it starts to show up at his house. That Amy's like a weird puppet thing. They start to control electronic stuff like that. Um,

So that's like the theory most people have with it, that by opening the front door, he allowed one of them to get in and that these aliens are basically like it says the nervous system wrapped around his eyes and brain control him. They're like parasites, like puppeteering people. But it needs like a willing host to let it in, even if it's under the illusion of a friend or something like that. Wow.

It's kind of an interesting, like you were saying with like a vampire trope. It's an interesting way to take aliens of the same trope of like vampires. Yeah. Let them mentally take over. You have to willingly accept them into your brain as a host. Mm-hmm.

How cool is that? It's a very cool monster idea. It's a cool idea at the end that he's puppeted. I've had... So the story's kind of gone back and forth in my head of like, do I like it better if it's left ambiguous? Because even if the story ends after that I'm a hero line, like, yes, you would think he's insane, but there's still a lot of weird interactions from the people that aren't John. Like, there is Amy...

coming up and being like, hi to the camera being like, oh, the thing that, you know, the interaction we had. I don't know if I would have liked it better if the very ending didn't explicitly say it was an alien invasion or if it just gave like,

I don't want it to end at, I will never break, I am a hero. Because that outright is like, okay, well, he's crazy, right? He has a psychosis. But maybe if the ending was more subtle, if it was like, oh, the doctor...

wanted, maybe you could just leave it as he wanted to smile, but then was forced otherwise or something like that. And maybe that could, you could interpret that as the doctor appreciates his resolve, but also understands he's, you know, crazy or the doctor is being physically controlled by something or he's not the doctor anymore. Maybe a bit more subtle than outright saying he was right. But when he is absolutely right, I do think it's an interesting story.

That all this paranoia was warranted. I understand where you're coming at, though. I know what you mean. I do think, at least for now...

I love, I like the definitive ending of being like the writers, like, no, it was real. Like the whole time. I do. I do appreciate the creative resolve in that ending. I think that it is fun. Also, it creates, yeah, it creates some interesting things in the stories. Like when he's walking on the third floor and he sees all the doors and he's like,

Are the model like they're like monoliths to something? It's like, okay, are there other people who are also surviving because they have doors to right? Is he the last one or are more people in a similar situation? Like what's this invasion look like? Yeah, yeah.

You would have to assume there's other people. Probably not to his extent, though. I think that you'd have to assume, I guess, also, for as long. Well, first of all, how long do you think he was down there? That unknown time or unknown date. How long do you think it was? Do you think it's a matter of years, or do you think it's just like a matter of days, weeks? I mean, he did starve to death. I'd give it a couple weeks, I'd say. Oh, true. Before he jabs his eyes out. Well, no, they were feeding him, though, weren't they?

They're giving him water. Are you talking about where he's blind in the asylum at the ending? Yeah. Yeah. Asylum. Okay. Yeah. That could have been years for sure. I'm saying he was in the apartment for maybe a couple of weeks, maybe. Oh, okay. Yeah. I think that he, I think it was a long winded fight with them. I would assume. Um,

though. I really enjoyed this and to make it and to make it clear. I'm not saying I think the ending should be more ambiguous because I think that the interesting where he's just crazy is interesting. If it was ambiguous, I would also choose to believe the alien ending because I think that's way cooler. It's much more original for sure. Very original. It's very cool. I like it a lot. I'm just saying I wish it was maybe a bit more clever to come to that conclusion, but also

But honestly, that's the only nitpick I can come up with because otherwise I absolutely love this story. It's so good. I had so much fun. I think this is probably one of the best, I would say, twists

Most well-deserved twist that we've come across. I really enjoyed it too. Also for it to be our first basically alien story is really interesting as well. Well, I mean, aliens like the theory most people have about the neurons wrapped around their brain. You could also imagine it as a skinwalker thing like you said. Maybe it's some kind of plague, like a parasite that's formed and created this. I think the alien thing is probably the scariest.

I think it gives me like an unknown visitor coming and then they are just they can easily take us over like that. I think it's very invasion of the body snatchers. Yeah. Yep. Same vibe. And I kind of imagine like I like the idea of the wind in the first night being like the ships that gives it like a war of the worlds feeling almost right. A hundred percent. Yeah. These giant ships land it now. I always thought that's like a very creepy concept of like these like the tripods, you know, these giant invaders wiping out humanity.

I think that's really neat. So I like to believe the aliens angle just because I think it's unique. I like too that it didn't veer super heavy into like a sci-fi kind of twist. I know like a lot of alien sci-fi horror does lean to like, you know, you get all these specifics that happen with like the technology they're using or anything. I like that it's played so straight all the way through and then it's just literally a...

little drop at the end of like oh and by the way here's this which even they don't specifically say aliens but I love that theory I think that theory is awesome yeah yeah and like the very ending with the doctor talking keep it in mind that it is a it is a doctor's brain in there like a human seeing all this yeah and he says um

The dog, speaking of the doctor, he wanted to smile at the man's steadfast resolve, a reminder of the human will to survive. That's a really good line. Cause it's like the human side of the doctor of humanity in there. Yeah. The doctor's like, fuck these people keep going. Yeah. Kind of thing. Yeah. But like a puppet, he gets put in there to, uh,

Basically fuck him up. It makes it a very cool ending. Like the story were, and again, up until that last paragraph, it is such a good line between, is this guy insane or is there actually something happening? It's so, it never like, like without that very ending, the,

the last bit of the story, his last journal entry veers into the, he's delusional side. But up until then it rides such a line of like, is something actually happening or is he insane? And I think that the, the, the best part of this too, is that I think that you think, I believe that the author does a good job by, uh,

throwing the curveball at you of like I want you to think that I want you to think that there's a Monster, but really it's it's a the twist is a he's insane Like it seems like he's writing that fine line to where you like he like you coming to that conclusion that he's insane naturally without it feeling cheap or anything It's like a and then to have it switch at the end is even better. Like it's just such a fun little like oh no, I

That first gut instinct is like trusting your protagonist who's a single form character in a horror story is so hard. Yeah, yeah. But man, I'll tell you what. I'll tell you what. Talk about a cool story. I liked it a lot. I think this is fucking awesome. I am right, by the way, that I appreciated it more now than I did when I was 10 because when I was 10 or 11, I'm like, oh, that's neat. He's...

He was actually taken over by aliens the whole time. That's cool. But now I really appreciate it because I didn't realize how, again, how well that line was written when I was a kid. Yeah. Like how well crafted it was. Very great story. Love it. That is a solid... It's definitely a top five, I think, out of stuff we've covered on Creepcast. Oh, I think so. In terms of... I think that's by far the best twist kind of thing. I mean, that's up there. I mean, just in terms of quality and in terms of like...

originality as well just so fun i mean i would i would say i would argue top five

I'd say so. Also like in twists, like last sentence twist were all the rage back in early creepy pasta days. I love that. People loved it. Like, like no end house ending, right? I laughed when I saw the tin scratched on my door. Yeah, exactly. Like how, how good is that? Just like a nice little cherry on top at the end is so fun. One for the road on your way out. Here you go. Yeah, exactly. I love that. Well, I was psychosis. It's awesome. I think next time we'll do stolen tongues. Um,

If you guys... Twisted Tongues. There's Twisted Tongues or Stolen... I don't know. It's one of those. The Tongue one. We'll do a Tongue one. Yeah, there will be some kind of tongue involved. I don't know. If you guys...

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Have a good rest of your week, everybody. Stay spooked. Stay... Be a creep. Be creepy. Be creepy. You're a creep.