Category: Twisted Roads Of Madness

Don’t ask me what happened last night, I can’t tell you. It’s not because I don’t want to, it’s because I don’t remember.

I went to the house sometime after eleven last night, it was quiet, nothing seemed out of place, basically, the way we had left it when we took off earlier. I turned on all the lights as I walked from room to room, I did this more so because I wasn’t intending to sit in the fucking dark with who knows what in the house, and then I waited.

Well, that’s not entirely true, I called out, abused, threatened, spat, burst a blood vessel in my left eye, and stubbed my right foot’s big toe on the door frame that leads to my bedroom. But besides all that, I waiting for whatever it was to come back, to pick on someone who could fight back instead of a four year old girl.

I remember a flash, a noise behind me, and then, I woke in my car, it was still running, I was outside the hotel, the drive side door was hanging open, instinctively I looked up terrified, towards the door to the room I had left my wife and daughter in, it was wide open, I heard my wife scream and tried to leap from the car, only to find my seat belt was still lock in place around me, I felt like a right fucking idiot. Once I released it I ran up the stair and into the hotel room, my wife looked at me, her face pale, frighted, she yelled at me to stay away. I put my hands up in defense, I tried to reason with her, demanding to know what was wrong, but she started screaming louder, I didn’t know what else to do so I left, I ran outside, whatever brought me here, it’d done something to her, turned her against me, I had to find a way to stop whatever was happening. I had to find out what it wanted.

When I got back in my car, I noticed a folder on the passenger side seat, it was folder the odd man from the white room, then one from my dreams had given me a few days ago, I still hadn’t opened it, maybe that’s what it wanted, maybe it me to open the folder, read the story, whatever it was about.

I started up the car, and headed towards anywhere but home, I need some air, to somewhere safe, away from all those I love, and somewhere I could read this story.

That was a few hours ago, I’ve had six miss calls from my wife, four from work and seventeen from unlisted numbers, whatever’s going on, this folder, this story has something to do with it, and it’s about time I found out.

My wife doesn’t want me going back to the house on my own, she’s worried something’s going to happen, it was only intensified by this footage I found on my daughters bedroom camera. I didn’t bother to bring my laptop so I’ve used my phones camera to record it.

I can’t not go back, not now, whoever that is, whatever he wants, I’ve got to deal with it now, before he hurts someone.

I wish I never started this fucking blog, and I still don’t know why I’m fucking posting this shit, it’s like I have no choice, like, if I don’t, I won’t exist…

Not long after I posted my last post, my daughter came to me crying, totally inconsolable, and it took a good fifteen minutes to finally get her to calm down enough to even talk to us, and when she finally started to make sense I rushed to her room searching it from top to bottom.

She told us the man in her room had yelled at her, normally he was nice and played with her, but today his wasn’t being nice at all.

When I asked her what this man looked like she picked up a scrap of paper off the floor and held it up, saying this was the man.

I grabbed what little mattered and took everyone to the hotel we are now sitting in, some twelve blocks from our home, my wife thinks I’m crazy, but she can’t deny that our daughter has been acting strange the last few days, and she has felt an uncomfortable feeling in the house. So, I’ve spent the last few minutes pouring though security footage of my daughters room. Yes, sadly I’m one of those high tech dads who fit their babies room out with cameras so we would sleep soundly at night knowing she was okay.

So far I haven’t seen anything unusual, but, the footage from before she ran out of the bedroom is missing, the camera for some reason stopped recording, that doesn’t make me feel safe. Regardless, once everyone’s settled, I’m going back to the house tonight, I have to find out what the bloody hell’s going on, because if somethings threatening my family, I have to stop it.

When I started this blog I wanted to hone my skills, explore ideas I had trapped in the inner depths of my mind, but instead, I somehow managed to unleashed an attack on my own sanity, one that won’t yield, given more power by me stupidly in giving a character in one of my stories free reign over the blog itself.

Since that day, I’ve been plagued by dreams bathed in nightmares, which have broken my sanity, my life has collapsed, I feel isolated from my family, my daughter has started seeing strange images of a deformed creature and everything I thought was true, has become twisted in lies and works of fiction.

The man from my dream, the one in the white room, he came to me again, he said he had a gift, a story, one written just for me. He handed me a folder, smiling broadly.

I asked what it was about, he laughed, and said it was about me, it was my story, all of it from the beginning to the end, and if I wanted to be free of all this, if I wanted to live, I needed to understand my role, why I was so important to him, the one in the shadows, and how I could change it to my advantage.

I felt my skin crawl, and then, he was gone, I was alone, normally I would’ve said it was a dream, another piece of my sanity slipping, I mean, this isn’t a horror movie, this isn’t another one of my stories, this is my life! But, I have the folder, I have his story, my story, I just don’t know if I have to courage to open it.

Originally I planned to write a big piece about how, after a solid year, after three hundred and sixty-five days, I’d managed to not only post a new story each and every day, but, at times posted multiple stories, creating more than I originally intended to post, it was going to be a massive self pat on the back. But, it seems, from what I am to understand, that is not true.

There is a problem, one I’m sure you’ve noticed over the last month, for the sake of helping you understand, we’ll call the problem, Marty.

But how can a fictional character be a problem, surely it was still me creating the stories, it was still upholding the rules of the challenge? Right?

Wrong…

I received a cryptic phone call late yesterday afternoon, it was then I found myself in a conversation with a man who would not give his name, he just said, for theatrical purposes, his words, I could call him The Fear Master.

Okay, I know, over the last week I introduced a character by that very name to take over the blog as a way of continuing some sort of imbalance to the site, a higher authority who ruled over all, for everyone.

Anyway, he told me that Marty wasn’t ready to leave, neither was our other friend, and, that me giving Marty form, power of the blog, and a voice, had, well, had caused problems that cannot be easily resolved.

His argument was that Marty had taken some twenty days from my year long challenge, and in giving those days to him, I had not fulfilled the agreed upon deal. In doing this, he said I created a paradox overlapping this reality with Marty’s false reality, allowing not only Marty existence to be possible, but, the other as well, which has created a bigger problem, but, he has a solution.

I hung up the phone, he called back straight away, I did the whole don’t call back again crap, and once again hung up the phone, he of course called again, this time I didn’t bother putting it to my ear, I just slammed it down, and took it off the hook.

That was the end of the story, bang, over and out, some wack job wants to play stupid fucks, he can go elsewhere.

Of course, it wasn’t the end of it, was it.

 I woke to the sound of someone humming around three, my wife was snoring beside me, the dog, doing the same at the foot of the bed. I rolled over and caught a glimps of someone moving past the bedroom door, instantly I was awake, I jumped out of bed, and rushed out into the hallway. Except, it want the hallway, it was a white room, where a smiling man, who looked familiar, but I don’t know why, was standing in front of another, who was sitting down on a seat in front of him, next to a busted up table. The man didn’t need to turn around, I knew who he was, but he did anyway, his face screwed up with hate and he charged at me. I had no fucking clue what to do, but as I braced myself he exploded into dust. Leaving me and the smiling man alone in the room, that’s when I noticed the other one, in the corner, it looked at me with its soulless, black eyes, but before anything could happen I woke up in bed.

I know it sounds like another crazy story, and with all the insanity that’s been going on here, I don’t blame you for not believe me, because I don’t.

But, an hour ago I got another call from the so called Fear Master, he asked me if I was ready to play his game, I asked him who he really was and he just laughed and said tomorrow we start, then hung up.

So, instead of celebrating a milestone, I’m scared, for I have no idea, what tomorrow will bring.