u/Easy-Chair-542

CONTENT WARNING: TALKS OF SUICIDE AND THE DEPICTION OF SELF HARM. YOU ARE LOVED, PLEASE REACH OUT IF YOU'RE FEELING UNWELL, YOU ARE VERY VERY LOVED.

The fear of intimacy in most in not all forms

Something I've lived with my whole life, trust issues, platonic and romantic relationship issues, and friendships.

Pistanthrophobia is paired with it commonly. Not being able to be vulnerable about people, letting your guard down, speaking about yourself in a lower light than normal.

It's suffocating. Distracting. Painful. A yearning for romance, to find someone to grow with, that wants to grow with you. Someone you love, who loves you back. But instead when they get too close I walk up and push them away, tearing down our bridges by making cruel jokes or taking cruel actions towards them. For the pain of them hating me is less than the pain I get when the fear of them naturally distancing themselves away from me.

The pain of knowing they dislike me and want nothing to do with me is far less than losing them through normal causation.

Friendships come and go, and the few who stay beside me only do it out of pity, I know they do because they treat me too well for people I've made fun of, for people I've broken trust with.

It always starts out with hanging out together daily, playing games together often. But then it hits, like a clock hitting 0:00, and the feeling of intimacy gets too heavy to lift, and I push it away, push them away. “No, I'm a bit busy, I might not make it tonight.” “no, sorry I have other plans.” “nah I don't like that game anymore.” “sorry I'm not sure who this is.” My mouth and texts are typed differently from what I want. I want to tell them “Let's hang out” . I want to scream at myself for not opening up. I don't want to lose my friends from my carelessness but I don't want to lose them by any other means either.

Slowly, very slowly, people leave. Some stay but distance themselves from the guy who refuses to say anything to them. A few reach out but I slap their attempted hands with the usual “Nah, you're imagining things” when in reality I want to grab their hand and never let go.

The scales don't ever tip in my favor. They stay the same, against me always. I'm always on the lower end of the scale, the weight of my sins and bottled up emotions outweigh the need and want I feel. I smile, a mask to hide my terror. Like putting out a fire with gasoline, it works until a spark sets it back off.

I laugh and joke with people, but I can't ever call them friends. I share fake stories and fake opening up myself, just to fit in, but the truth is it hurts to lie to people I want to show my true self to. And it cycles over and over again.

Then she came into my life. A ray of sunshine that warmed up my cold inner self. She clawed her way into my life, I think she could see the mask and wanted to know what was underneath, wanted to help me out of my fear and show me I can change. A single star in the night, one that made it worth looking into the dark sky.

I loved her. She brought me to dinners, I know they were dates, and I tried to be truthful. The first date went well, we laughed, we talked, I acted normal with my mask on, and I knew she could tell.

More dates came and slowly out of my shell I began to be better. I bought her presents and gifts, she bought me a new watch when mine was broken. My heart was mending.

The scales were tipping. But they were tipping in the wrong direction and I didn't know at the time.

It was early morning when it happened, we were bird watching, chatting about how stupid some of them flew. I had been thinking about rings as it had been months of dating, I knew we were dating. But then she grabbed my hand and said “You know, I really love you and I'm glad I met you.” And my entire psyche broke. I screamed at myself to say it back, I could feel my inner self hitting my brain to fire off the right words. But what came out instead was a selfish pitiful “That's a weird thing to say to a friend isn't it?”

My eyes could see the pain in hers when I said that. “Yeah, it is weird to say to friends I guess, but we've been dating for a while.” She replied to me, hiding her pain a bit more. I was mentally hitting myself in the head, trying to fire on all cylinders to stop the wall from coming up, trying to break it down myself, to tell her I was joking, and to apologize. But my mouth betrayed me “No we haven't? We're just good friends” I said, chuckling aloud.

The silence was so deafening I could hear her heart crack, like a hot coffee pot being put in cold water too fast. She turned away and got up and said “I gotta go, sorry I- I need some time alone.”

The scales went down further. I replied “Oh okay, well have a good day, see you tomorrow night.” I could hear her silently crying as I got up and walked away to my car. I fought my own muscles to try to run to her, to apologize, to explain everything, to try to fix what I just broke. I could feel my eyes aching to cry, to burst into tears, a faucet ready to burst. But instead I fumbled my keys opening my door and started my car to drive home.

I got home, as my walls came down I went to text her, noticing I received a text from her first. “I have to cancel plans tomorrow, something came up. Sorry.” And I replied “No big deal, next time right friend?” I slapped myself. I physically slapped myself. I had confusion on my face. I could see it on the mirror of my closet door, as if my body didn't know why I just involuntarily slapped myself. I screamed at myself again to just shut up and fix it, to just stop texting and wait it out, let the walls fall fully, and never bring them back up again against her. A ding on my phone and I looked immediately “No, no, we aren't friends. I loved you and you loved me, and then you stopped. I don't know why, but you stopped”

And my reply, I tried to type out that I still loved her, but I replied “well of course I love you, you're my friend, that's all I ever wanted. Friends.”

It didn't take long for her to block me, I sat on my bed staring at the notification that my message couldn't send because the user had blocked me. And the tears came. The scales fully lowered me, a negative tide of pitiful disappointment. Tears falling from my cheek to my phone screen, the person I loved the most hated me, the one time I wanted to go against my own defense system I was shot down too. An execution of my own design, cruel, unusual, if it was a war the crime would be at the top of the Geneva conventions list.

I broke free, I drove to the nearest appliance store, I bought 10 feet of rope, I had a final mission I wanted to take on. I can't disappoint people if I don't exist right? I can't be a burden to those I love, I can't push away good people if I'm not in the picture. I can free everyone from my selfish self, and finally people won't have to worry about me.

I got home and set it up, I didn't have fear, I had little friends, no family that talked to me, I wouldn't be found for days or weeks, I had hope that this would work and fix every problem. Even though my own designed execution was fool proof, it wasn't enough. I kicked the chair and the next sight I saw were the scales.

My heart was weighed, my soul against it. Both heavy with my own personal sins, and my own personal issues. I was scaled against…. Her. I could see her scale too, it wasn't my heart and my soul, it was my heart and her soul.

I begged to let her go, I begged for whatever deity around to let her go, I saw her slice her wrists in her bathtub, I screamed for someone to save her, we were scaled together, I didn't deserve to love and she didn't deserve to die. And someone found her, my heart weighed heavier than the gentleness of her soul. My begging wasn't going unheard, a friend showed up to her house and immediately called for help. More people showed up, I saw her trip to the hospital, the small chance of her survival, the success of her miraculous recovery.

We were scaled together. And for the first time in my pathetic soul's life. The scale tipped in my favor. She was safe.

I woke up on the ground of my apartment, the pipe I attached the rope to had given out. There was banging on my door before it was broken in. Paramedics and officers filled my room, getting me up and making sure I was okay. My neighbor had called after seeing me hanging in the window barely visible through the blinds, just enough that when the sun was hitting it my struggling body was visible.

I was taken to the hospital to make sure I was okay. I wasn't fully conscious for days. A mental breakdown caused a partial stroke to happen, paired with hanging 2 feet above the ground and the pipe breaking, hitting me in the back of my skull. I was comatose for 5 whole days.

Upon waking up, the sounds of beeping filled the room, medical machines, but there was one face I recognized. Across the room from me, lying on a bed, bandages around her arms. The woman I loved the most in the world. My walls were down, I was crying she was out cold from pain meds. My dream was reality.

The scales straightened out, and we were both given a second chance.

It's been 2 years since that incident, we're happily married, my walls finally broke down and I was able to explain everything to her. I thank her every day for sticking by my side even if I'm difficult at times with moats in my emotions. But most importantly, I thank the scales that we were given a second chance.

u/Treblowski and their story

There's a man walking along the ocean floor, he must never reach the surface.

https://www.reddit.com/r/mesoscalepodcast/s/ZkLkWv743d

I quite like the concept of a cain-like being walking the ocean instead of the earths wastes, play the harpoon part was easily a fun way to try to kill someone. Keep it up!

u/ConnorIsaacWriter and their story

I catfish married men. Usually none of them can see me. Last night, one did.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/n8F3mQZo25

I like this story as I went in expecting it to be a cheating story, which can be fun at times for stories, nothing else though. But, while part two is lost right now, I greatly liked the direction is went with the ending it gave for part one. I hope this user posts part 2 again.

u/Mackeroll_165 and their story

The wind spirit in my yard won't stop impersonating Donald Trump

Political opinions aside, I thought this was just funny, I can imagine the wind spirit from elder scrolls online doing the motions the President does on T.V and that adds to the humor part. But you didn't have to put something sad in this story man! You can't combine comedy, horror, and sadness that's just mean!

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/LYfVm3BBAH

u/donavin221 and their story

My ventriloquist dummy only talks when we're alone.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/ejfeKMD4gG

A warning, child harm is implied, I liked the vibes on this one, though it was a bit predictable what it was going into, I like predictable! In my mind I gave the dummy a peeweehermit/ Gilbert Gottfried voice and it made the story just that much better. A great short read!

And finally u/AffectionateLeave677 and their story

How to survive your first day at camp, which was a June submission of TFTC!

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/hlsWdDYGHj

I like campy stories, and this did the fast pacing great using its environment and camp story stories to its advantage, I don't want to spoil too much, but I think it had a pretty Killer killer. Great short read!

That's all the shout-out I have this time around, I don't think I'll do this too often personally as I tend to be more busy at work and writing my own stories, which you can find on my profile in the first pinned post if you'd like!.

I'm stuck in a time loop for accidentally committing suicide and now my punishment is reliving the same day. I know, it sounds weird, I'll get into all the details as fast as I can. I bought a gun, as I'm a gun owner since it's my right as an American to own a gun. I have 7 guns already, one for each finger I can pick my nose with. I went through the process, and went through the whole verification steps required and it took a bit longer. It's an older gun, but I don't remember the name of it, I just know I didn't even have ammo for it which you might find dumb like “why wouldn't you already have ammo for it” and the reason is because I've been scammed before. You see the people who send the guns are “officials”, and twice now when a gun gets sent over they just took them and didn't reimburse me due to some loophole they had.

Anyways, I got the gun, and I was cleaning it the same day. There was this rust spot next to the trigger so I started wiping it with some Rust-Be-Gone and I somehow pulled the trigger. And then a shot went through my body… I checked it! I had already checked it, it was empty, no shell casing to be seen, no bullet to be grabbed, it was like a ghost bullet and it went straight for my… heart. I… I know I checked it thoroughly, I've been cleaning guns for years, I shoot them all the time and the residue needs to be cleaned out almost every time so the gun doesn't go bad. I checked the barrel, I checked the firing pin, and then I cleaned it. I was home alone, and even if I wasn't it was my heart that was shot so I had no chance to begin with.

You know the worst part? I was told by whatever entity sent me here, God knows how long ago, 2 years? 3 years? I don't know if I stopped keeping track of time since it didn't matter or if I just can't be bothered to. It doesn't matter either way I guess. Anyways the entity told me that I put the bullet in and then shot myself in the chest, but I don't remember having ammo for the gun, I never buy ammo until the gun gets here to avoid the issue of having ammo for a gun I don't even have. 

Because of my accidental suicide I am forced to live out my last day, but it's never the same as it was previously. I don't even die the same exact way, I mean sure I've gotten hit by cars numerous times, but it's NEVER the same car. Once I retraced my steps exactly as I did, times it perfectly to get hit by a red sedan with the license plate that spelt out LOVE with too many letters, only for it to be a school bus full of children with no red car in sight.

I tried this several times just to make sure I wasn't wrong, but every time I die a little bit differently. One time I overdosed, another time I skydived and had a faulty parachute. Then I went skydiving again and instead of a faulty parachute I was gunned down because I was in illegal air force space. 

After enough time I noticed something, after the years I've been here I noticed that there's this thing following me that I can only see when I'm looking at it in my peripheral vision. I never noticed it before, it's always just out of range of non blurred vision. But I think it's getting closer, and at the same time I'm getting paranoid so I started writing this down when I found out THIS never changes, my notebook. Everything I write down stays in this notebook, and what you're about to see is my first attempts at posting this. All of them as of now posting this again. I'll leave this part out since it's all transcribed, here's are my responses I've gotten and the answers to them. Because I need help to figure out if I can stay dead. They are short and sweet as I only had 12 hours to wait for comments before something would kill me. I always wake up at the exact same time, 8:33 am, and write these down in a set time checking my phone and making notes of comments.

Entry one:

I was asked by a redditor last time if I had seen groundhog day, and yes I watched it twice, a couple more since I relive the same day over and over again with a different ending. 

Another one of you told me to… ahem, “kill myself 😇” and I tried that, I can't die by my own hands I don't know why.

And the third guy that replied told me to try to walk to the entity in my peripheral without moving my head… easier said than done as it stays the same distance from me as always, so I ask again what would you do in my situation? 

To end yesterday off I electrocuted due to a toaster malfunction… it wasn't even plugged it.

Entry two:

7 people replied last time I posted this, well I guess this is my first time posting this now but thank you for your adequate support of telling me to kill myself you 5 people that didn't read or care last time. As for the two of you that gave other advice, I tried it out. And no, to the 3 of you suicide people it wasn't a prank. But you won't ever know that would you 

One of you guys told me to try to acknowledge it, specifically shout out its features so it knows that I am talking to it. Unfortunately it didn't work and it just left my vision until I stopped trying to notice it. This went on all day while I tried the second thing.

The second one of you told me to try to get to an enclosed area or a wide open ocean! Clever, very clever. It didn't work as it just left my vision until I died again. And if you're wondering, yesterday I died due to moldy spaghetti-os. I don't know how it happened but I ate them and woke up and started typing this all out yet again.

Entry three:

Hi it's me again, well for you guys it's the first time you're seeing this. Last time 5 different people commented, and I've tried 3 of the 4 things that were helpful. I don't appreciate the user that suggested I swallow dandelions and pray to shura, but I might give it a go if the fourth method doesn't work today/tomorrow. I decided to post this in different places on the Internet, this time it's this a random story board place, previously I was banned but since today is a new day version of today, I'm trying again.

The first commenter suggested I try to avoid dying by any means necessary, I'll explain how It didn't work later, but it did make me last the longest of any attempts previously. Thank you.

The second suggestion was to find a psychic to tell me how I die, I thought it was stupid but the psychic kicked me out after she realized I was living the same day over and over again. She bled from the nose and eyes as she kicked me out. I don't know what that means.

The 3rd response broke a rule I found out early on, which is weird because the second option…. Didn't. And neither does posting about it.

The 3rd was trying to find anyone else stuck in a time loop that died on the same day, but as previously mentioned I can't predict what will happen no matter the circumstances as it just changes if I try to keep stuff the same. But I still have it a go, looking for any cold homeless people, finding clubs where people do drugs, and see if anyone has similar deja vu that I do, and I thought I found someone.

The rule it broke was that I cannot tell people I'm going to die before the day ends, specifics do matter. If I say “hey I might die today” that's not specific enough, but if I say “hey I'm going to commit some sort of accidental suicide” or something similar I have a heart attack and a brain aneurysm simultaneously, which as you could imagine, puts me to the ground and into my bed in seconds.

Back to finding someone, I checked the same spot numerous times and they looked for me as well! I thought we were in a loop together until I realized they only knew my name because I worked at a store they shopped at. They weren't even actually looking for me either, it was all just coincidence and drug induced hallucinations. It kinda stung for a while so after a few days of hard drinking and killing my liver I'm back here posting that the thing got a full foot closer.

How am I measuring it? There's a place in the outskirts of town where there's a bunch of colored lines on the ground, each around 13 inches from each other. Over 500 lines, they call the art project "Shadows of colors” or something stupid like that. I've been using it for a while and so far I have a good estimate of how far it is from me. It moves about half a foot closer each week, and right now it's a bit over 300 lines away from me. It's hard to tell as it's in my peripheral 90% of the time, but I can sometimes stare at it as if it's in front of me, as if it's taunting me. I want to describe it as best I can, but it doesn't have a proper face. It's blurry, like it's in motion while somehow being still.

It's tall, 9 feet if I had to guess, white in the light, black in the dark, but always visible when my eyes are open. Always there. I would have gotten more information if I didn't trip and fall face first into an exposed metal pipe and get an eye socket full of pain. That brings us to the final option given by another commenter.

This commenter asked me why I don't just recreate the exact same suicide, the that got me into this position. The answer is simple, I'm waiting until the gun arrives again. Every day is different since day one, but the second I get my hand on that gun I'll go and buy ammo and see if the reason it never came is the same way I get out of this hellscape.

Until next time, I hope some people read this and comment helpful things. Oh and the reason I can't avoid dying, even if I stay home something happens, whether it be a house fire, or the ground beneath me caves in and I fall, I cannot escape death no matter what I've tried.

Entry 4:

Yesterday, well technically today I tried to ask talesfromthecreeps and I got some options to go through from there. But nothing helped, 6 different things and none of them helped.

The first option, Try to summon a demon. Before this I believed spirits and demons should under no circumstances be summoned or attempted to be summoned, but I gave it a shot anyway. I died mid summon, so I tried it again with the same outcome. I don't think the demons have any authority to help me.

The second option seemed like a joke originally, but I still tried it as I'm running out of ideas, might as well right? Basically it was to have a priest come over and bless me. And it was decently costly, but I did feel a bit more light on my body. Until 11:55pm struck and I keeled over and vomited blood the same day.

The 3rd and 4th options I did back to back, one was yet again trying to talk to the being, using different languages. So I learned small amounts of new languages over the course of a week and was able to get 12 different sentences from languages asking if they could understand me. 

Nothing happened so I started chanting Christ's name in Latin and it still didn't flinch. I tried apologizing to the being, but nothing.

Option 5. Ignore it completely, don't make any eye contact towards it. I did this for two days and then I saw it move its arm. Quick, very very quick, it jolted me enough to look at it but it was already back in its position closer than it had ever been, it moved 4 whole lines in one motion putting it at 293 lines away from me. When I counted the 293rd I took a step back. It took a step forward, it was visible to see it step this time, but only this time, at least at this moment. I don't remember how I died but I woke back up in my bed, 1 minute later than I ever had before, 8:34am.

Option 6, shoot it. I didn't try this but I don't think it'll work. I'm scared to try it after yester-today. I don't want it to move closer, it was going slowly and it let me witness it walking towards me. I don't even know what it wants, I don't know if this is hell or what happens if it gets close enough, or if it even will get close enough. What if it's a good thing? I don't know, I'm terrified.

So now I'm trying it here next, I know it doesn't fit here in the life advice subreddit, but please I need your help. Has anyone encountered this before? Is there anything I can do? Any help is appreciated, please I'm begging you!

Entry 5: 

I got no responses last time I posted. It got taken down and I didn't know until it was too late to re-post, and I tried again to no avail, even when it stayed up I got generic responses like “This isn't real, that can't happen” not a single helpful response. So I decided to shoot it. And yes, it moved closer.

To tell you exactly what happened let's start with today, I woke up a minute earlier, this has been happening every time now. 1 minute earlier it's up to 8:45 now and the shadow being is moving at 2 lines a day. From the last time I wrote stuff down at 293 to now at 232. This is news, it isn't good or bad, but it's news. I know the math doesn't make sense yet, but you'll understand soon enough.

I got up and made the post, I did it 6 times to different subreddits but it started getting taken down for any time I can make up in my head like someone else on the Internet can. So I posted to Facebook and it was taken down due to “self harm” . I tried various platforms but either the word count was too high, or I broke a rule, or it just didn't work, causing me to have issues everywhere I went.

So after many failed attempts I took one of my guns and walked around the town. I had a cheeseburger with extra pickles. They don't tell you this enough but when you've eaten the same meals for enough time, they get boring. Pepsi started tasting like water and water started tasting like heaven. Coke tasted rancid after the first month of deciding I was given a second chance and explored some random combinations of drinks, enough coke and I was tired of the bubbly beverage being brought to me.

After lunch I walked to an abandoned part of town, a place I used to be scared of, a run down mill with some rope hanging off its high ceiling rafters. A family of five committed suicide here at some point, two older gentlemen, their teenage son, wife, and grandfather. It was always suspected that someone forced them, making it an assisted suicide murder mystery.

I made it to the field where the lines were, aimed my gun, and fired. And to my surprise I hit it directly, it took a step back from the force before looking at me, at least I assume it looked at me. And then it took a full 2 lines step closer. I shot it again. Closer. I kept firing until a police officer behind me told me to put my hands up. Then I kept firing until the officer put me down himself. 

When I woke up I went and did the same thing, it took a full line to 2 line steps towards me every bullet. From 293 to 292. 292 to 290. 290 to 288. 288 to 287. And so on and so forth until I counted to 240 and shot myself, gun clicked but no bullet. In my haste I forgot I can't kill myself this way. I aimed it at the officer pulling his gun and shot him. He shot me back twice, and I woke up once more.

4 days later I'm here again, this time posting it here on scarystoriestotellinthedark. Do any of you have any suggestions that I haven't written about yet, that you think might help? Any advice would, or might, help.

Entry 6:

Days, no,  weeks passed between this entry and me posting for help. 3 weeks in fact. Bringing us from 232 to 190 lines. It has a face now, it has my face. Your face. Her face. His face. It changes every time I look, Every time it moves its mouth, every time its whispers are shouted and its shouts are silenced. It says too much and not enough. It's driving me insane.

It's like looking at a time at a show when they mouth and hand motion as if they are eating food. No one else can see it, touch it, feel it, move it. They move through it as if it isn't there. Yesterday I watched it move through a wall when I was drinking a black cold brew Starbucks coffee. I already knew no one else could see it or notice it, but it gave me a weird sense of how you know?

I mean I shot the friggin thing, how come other stuff moves through it with ease but it… took bullets.

Then it hit me, the post I made, it was 6pm I needed to check it and to my surprise I got 8 replies calling the story awesome but 1 person took it seriously. 

User: Wait for it to get close enough and then shoot it through its head more accurately. Or have a priest come back and tell him to bless the room of any demons, so if it is one the priest can get rid of it with an exorcism. My guess is the first priest wasn't a true faith believing priest as priests should be able to tell if a demon is in your vicinity. Worst case scenario you could track down where that gun is and grab it, and maybe use that gun to kill it or shoot it or whatever?

It gave me great ideas, the next time I woke up I'd track down the seller of the gun and find out how he sent it to me, which company.

I also decided to try to get the thing closer to me by shooting it again and having a priest do the exorcism in the room but before I enacted any of those plans I had another reply. 

This user suggested just going across state lines and getting an hour or 2 back. And no I'm not trying that because the next time zone is 3 hours away. It wouldn't really help in any way other than probably causing me to crash and die an agonizing death.

So I got in contact with the gun seller and found out the tracking code for the name of the company sending it, which I will not post here for obvious reasons.

Turns out my new gun made it to my house today. Well, yesterday, because when I got up from the coffee table the Starbucks got robbed and of course they saw my gun I had on me and shot me to dissuade me from grabbing it, but they hit a main vein in my leg and I bled out.

It doesn't matter, I knew the tracking number and it was two hours from my house, so I expertly tracked it down, rather I got lucky. I'm not good with technology apart from writing this so many times, but I got the gun and went to the lines. Something I noticed this time, this gun had a bullet in the barrel. I did look it up as well and it's an old timey colt made in the later 1800s, in really nice condition but for some reason despite this one being used for .44 the bullet was a .45, hence how it was in the barrel and not the actual chamber. 

Because of this, it got me in the heart when cleaning. I was cleaning the rust so fast that when my finger slipped to the trigger it pulled it all the way back, paired with the already cocked hammer from checking it out and… well I'm in this mess.

That one bullet. I got to the lines, I aimed the gun at the shadowy being. Cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger.

I woke up in my room again. I don't know how I died. I don't even think I did die. I went to the lines and I noticed the thing was closer, it shook its head at me before stepping impossibly 6 lines at a time, bringing it to 100 lines. It was blurry again, I don't know how it was blurry again, it was less than 120 feet in front of me, how the hell was it blurry?

I went home, I kept staring at it, it wasn't in my peripheral vision anymore, it stayed in my sight, clear like stained glass windows on a church, staring at me with its featureless and too featured blurry face. I can't find a priest willing to come to my house other than the one I did the first time, but I fear it doesn't matter anymore, I could hear it walking around, it opened doors. And now it's standing no less than 50 feet away from me. Its face is moving as if it's speaking but no words are coming out.

I don't think this is the best subreddit to post this, but please nosleep , what do I do now?

I'm stuck in a time loop for accidentally committing suicide and now my punishment is reliving the same day. I know, it sounds weird, I'll get into all the details as fast as I can. I bought a gun, as I'm a gun owner since it's my right as an American to own a gun. I have 7 guns already, one for each finger I can pick my nose with. I went through the process, and went through the whole verification steps required and it took a bit longer. It's an older gun, but I don't remember the name of it, I just know I didn't even have ammo for it which you might find dumb like “why wouldn't you already have ammo for it” and the reason is because I've been scammed before. You see the people who send the guns are “officials”, and twice now when a gun gets sent over they just took them and didn't reimburse me due to some loophole they had.

Anyways, I got the gun, and I was cleaning it the same day. There was this rust spot next to the trigger so I started wiping it with some Rust-Be-Gone and I somehow pulled the trigger. And then a shot went through my body… I checked it! I had already checked it, it was empty, no shell casing to be seen, no bullet to be grabbed, it was like a ghost bullet and it went straight for my… heart. I… I know I checked it thoroughly, I've been cleaning guns for years, I shoot them all the time and the residue needs to be cleaned out almost every time so the gun doesn't go bad. I checked the barrel, I checked the firing pin, and then I cleaned it. I was home alone, and even if I wasn't it was my heart that was shot so I had no chance to begin with.

You know the worst part? I was told by whatever entity sent me here, God knows how long ago, 2 years? 3 years? I don't know if I stopped keeping track of time since it didn't matter or if I just can't be bothered to. It doesn't matter either way I guess. Anyways the entity told me that I put the bullet in and then shot myself in the chest, but I don't remember having ammo for the gun, I never buy ammo until the gun gets here to avoid the issue of having ammo for a gun I don't even have. 

Because of my accidental suicide I am forced to live out my last day, but it's never the same as it was previously. I don't even die the same exact way, I mean sure I've gotten hit by cars numerous times, but it's NEVER the same car. Once I retraced my steps exactly as I did, times it perfectly to get hit by a red sedan with the license plate that spelt out LOVE with too many letters, only for it to be a school bus full of children with no red car in sight.

I tried this several times just to make sure I wasn't wrong, but every time I die a little bit differently. One time I overdosed, another time I skydived and had a faulty parachute. Then I went skydiving again and instead of a faulty parachute I was gunned down because I was in illegal air force space. 

After enough time I noticed something, after the years I've been here I noticed that there's this thing following me that I can only see when I'm looking at it in my peripheral vision. I never noticed it before, it's always just out of range of non blurred vision. But I think it's getting closer, and at the same time I'm getting paranoid so I started writing this down when I found out THIS never changes, my notebook. Everything I write down stays in this notebook, and what you're about to see is my first attempts at posting this. All of them as of now posting this again. I'll leave this part out since it's all transcribed, here's are my responses I've gotten and the answers to them. Because I need help to figure out if I can stay dead. They are short and sweet as I only had 12 hours to wait for comments before something would kill me. I always wake up at the exact same time, 8:33 am, and write these down in a set time checking my phone and making notes of comments.

Entry one:

I was asked by a redditor last time if I had seen groundhog day, and yes I watched it twice, a couple more since I relive the same day over and over again with a different ending. 

Another one of you told me to… ahem, “kill myself 😇” and I tried that, I can't die by my own hands I don't know why.

And the third guy that replied told me to try to walk to the entity in my peripheral without moving my head… easier said than done as it stays the same distance from me as always, so I ask again what would you do in my situation? 

To end yesterday off I electrocuted due to a toaster malfunction… it wasn't even plugged it.

Entry two:

7 people replied last time I posted this, well I guess this is my first time posting this now but thank you for your adequate support of telling me to kill myself you 5 people that didn't read or care last time. As for the two of you that gave other advice, I tried it out. And no, to the 3 of you suicide people it wasn't a prank. But you won't ever know that would you 

One of you guys told me to try to acknowledge it, specifically shout out its features so it knows that I am talking to it. Unfortunately it didn't work and it just left my vision until I stopped trying to notice it. This went on all day while I tried the second thing.

The second one of you told me to try to get to an enclosed area or a wide open ocean! Clever, very clever. It didn't work as it just left my vision until I died again. And if you're wondering, yesterday I died due to moldy spaghetti-os. I don't know how it happened but I ate them and woke up and started typing this all out yet again.

Entry three:

Hi it's me again, well for you guys it's the first time you're seeing this. Last time 5 different people commented, and I've tried 3 of the 4 things that were helpful. I don't appreciate the user that suggested I swallow dandelions and pray to shura, but I might give it a go if the fourth method doesn't work today/rrow. I decided to post this in different places on the Internet, this time it's this nosleep place, previously I was banned but since today is a new day version of today, I'm trying again.

The first commenter suggested I try to avoid dying by any means necessary, I'll explain how It didn't work later, but it did make me last the longest of any attempts previously. Thank you.

The second suggestion was to find a psychic to tell me how I die, I thought it was stupid but the psychic kicked me out after she realized I was living the same day over and over again. She bled from the nose and eyes as she kicked me out. I don't know what that means.

The 3rd response broke a rule I found out early on, which is weird because the second option…. Didn't. And neither does posting about it.

The 3rd was trying to find anyone else stuck in a time loop that died on the same day, but as previously mentioned I can't predict what will happen no matter the circumstances as it just changes if I try to keep stuff the same. But I still have it a go, looking for any cold homeless people, finding clubs where people do drugs, and see if anyone has similar deja vu that I do, and I thought I found someone.

The rule it broke was that I cannot tell people I'm going to die before the day ends, specifics do matter. If I say “hey I might die today” that's not specific enough, but if I say “hey I'm going to commit some sort of accidental suicide” or something similar I have a heart attack and a brain aneurysm simultaneously, which as you could imagine, puts me to the ground and into my bed in seconds.

Back to finding someone, I checked the same spot numerous times and they looked for me as well! I thought we were in a loop together until I realized they only knew my name because I worked at a store they shopped at. They weren't even actually looking for me either, it was all just coincidence and drug induced hallucinations. It kinda stung for a while so after a few days of hard drinking and killing my liver I'm back here posting that the thing got a full foot closer.

How am I measuring it? There's a place in the outskirts of town where there's a bunch of colored lines on the ground, each around 13 inches from each other. Over 500 lines, they call the art project "Shadows of colors” or something stupid like that. I've been using it for a while and so far I have a good estimate of how far it is from me. It moves about half a foot closer each week, and right now it's a bit over 300 lines away from me. It's hard to tell as it's in my peripheral 90% of the time, but I can sometimes stare at it as if it's in front of me, as if it's taunting me. I want to describe it as best I can, but it doesn't have a proper face. It's blurry, like it's in motion while somehow being still.

It's tall, 9 feet if I had to guess, white in the light, black in the dark, but always visible when my eyes are open. Always there. I would have gotten more information if I didn't trip and fall face first into an exposed metal pipe and get an eye socket full of pain. That brings us to the final option given by another commenter.

This commenter asked me why I don't just recreate the exact same suicide, the that got me into this position. The answer is simple, I'm waiting until the gun arrives again. Every day is different since day one, but the second I get my hand on that gun I'll go and buy ammo and see if the reason it never came is the same way I get out of this hellscape.

Until next time, I hope some people read this and comment helpful things. Oh and the reason I can't avoid dying, even if I stay home something happens, whether it be a house fire, or the ground beneath me caves in and I fall, I cannot escape death no matter what I've tried.

Entry 4:

Yesterday, well technically today I tried to ask nosleep and I got some options to go through from there. But nothing helped, 6 different things and none of them helped.

The first option, Try to summon a demon. Before this I believed spirits and demons should under no circumstances be summoned or attempted to be summoned, but I gave it a shot anyway. I died mid summon, so I tried it again with the same outcome. I don't think the demons have any authority to help me.

The second option seemed like a joke originally, but I still tried it as I'm running out of ideas, might as well right? Basically it was to have a priest come over and bless me. And it was decently costly, but I did feel a bit more light on my body. Until 11:55pm struck and I keeled over and vomited blood the same day.

The 3rd and 4th options I did back to back, one was yet again trying to talk to the being, using different languages. So I learned small amounts of new languages over the course of a week and was able to get 12 different sentences from languages asking if they could understand me. 

Nothing happened so I started chanting Christ's name in Latin and it still didn't flinch. I tried apologizing to the being, but nothing.

Option 5. Ignore it completely, don't make any eye contact towards it. I did this for two days and then I saw it move its arm. Quick, very very quick, it jolted me enough to look at it but it was already back in its position closer than it had ever been, it moved 4 whole lines in one motion putting it at 293 lines away from me. When I counted the 293rd I took a step back. It took a step forward, it was visible to see it step this time, but only this time, at least at this moment. I don't remember how I died but I woke back up in my bed, 1 minute later than I ever had before, 8:34am.

Option 6, shoot it. I didn't try this but I don't think it'll work. I'm scared to try it after yester-today. I don't want it to move closer, it was going slowly and it let me witness it walking towards me. I don't even know what it wants, I don't know if this is hell or what happens if it gets close enough, or if it even will get close enough. What if it's a good thing? I don't know, I'm terrified.

So now I'm trying it here next, I know it doesn't fit here in the life advice subreddit, but please I need your help. Has anyone encountered this before? Is there anything I can do? Any help is appreciated, please I'm begging you!

Entry 5: 

I got no responses last time I posted. It got taken down and I didn't know until it was too late to re-post, and I tried again to no avail, even when it stayed up I got generic responses like “This isn't real, that can't happen” not a single helpful response. So I decided to shoot it. And yes, it moved closer.

To tell you exactly what happened let's start with today, I woke up a minute earlier, this has been happening every time now. 1 minute earlier it's up to 8:45 now and the shadow being is moving at 2 lines a day. From the last time I wrote stuff down at 293 to now at 232. This is news, it isn't good or bad, but it's news. I know the math doesn't make sense yet, but you'll understand soon enough.

I got up and made the post, I did it 6 times to different subreddits but it started getting taken down for any time I can make up in my head like someone else on the Internet can. So I posted to Facebook and it was taken down due to “self harm” . I tried various platforms but either the word count was too high, or I broke a rule, or it just didn't work, causing me to have issues everywhere I went.

So after many failed attempts I took one of my guns and walked around the town. I had a cheeseburger with extra pickles. They don't tell you this enough but when you've eaten the same meals for enough time, they get boring. Pepsi started tasting like water and water started tasting like heaven. Coke tasted rancid after the first month of deciding I was given a second chance and explored some random combinations of drinks, enough coke and I was tired of the bubbly beverage being brought to me.

After lunch I walked to an abandoned part of town, a place I used to be scared of, a run down mill with some rope hanging off its high ceiling rafters. A family of five committed suicide here at some point, two older gentlemen, their teenage son, wife, and grandfather. It was always suspected that someone forced them, making it an assisted suicide murder mystery.

I made it to the field where the lines were, aimed my gun, and fired. And to my surprise I hit it directly, it took a step back from the force before looking at me, at least I assume it looked at me. And then it took a full 2 lines step closer. I shot it again. Closer. I kept firing until a police officer behind me told me to put my hands up. Then I kept firing until the officer put me down himself. 

When I woke up I went and did the same thing, it took a full line to 2 line steps towards me every bullet. From 293 to 292. 292 to 290. 290 to 288. 288 to 287. And so on and so forth until I counted to 240 and shot myself, gun clicked but no bullet. In my haste I forgot I can't kill myself this way. I aimed it at the officer pulling his gun and shot him. He shot me back twice, and I woke up once more.

4 days later I'm here again, this time posting it here on scarystoriestotellinthedark. Do any of you have any suggestions that I haven't written about yet, that you think might help? Any advice would, or might, help.

Entry 6:

Days, no,  weeks passed between this entry and me posting for help. 3 weeks in fact. Bringing us from 232 to 190 lines. It has a face now, it has my face. Your face. Her face. His face. It changes every time I look, Every time it moves its mouth, every time its whispers are shouted and its shouts are silenced. It says too much and not enough. It's driving me insane.

It's like looking at a time at a show when they mouth and hand motion as if they are eating food. No one else can see it, touch it, feel it, move it. They move through it as if it isn't there. Yesterday I watched it move through a wall when I was drinking a black cold brew Starbucks coffee. I already knew no one else could see it or notice it, but it gave me a weird sense of how you know?

I mean I shot the friggin thing, how come other stuff moves through it with ease but it… took bullets.

Then it hit me, the post I made, it was 6pm I needed to check it and to my surprise I got 8 replies calling the story awesome but 1 person took it seriously. 

User: Wait for it to get close enough and then shoot it through its head more accurately. Or have a priest come back and tell him to bless the room of any demons, so if it is one the priest can get rid of it with an exorcism. My guess is the first priest wasn't a true faith believing priest as priests should be able to tell if a demon is in your vicinity. Worst case scenario you could track down where that gun is and grab it, and maybe use that gun to kill it or shoot it or whatever?

It gave me great ideas, the next time I woke up I'd track down the seller of the gun and find out how he sent it to me, which company.

I also decided to try to get the thing closer to me by shooting it again and having a priest do the exorcism in the room but before I enacted any of those plans I had another reply. 

This user suggested just going across state lines and getting an hour or 2 back. And no I'm not trying that because the next time zone is 3 hours away. It wouldn't really help in any way other than probably causing me to crash and die an agonizing death.

So I got in contact with the gun seller and found out the tracking code for the name of the company sending it, which I will not post here for obvious reasons.

Turns out my new gun made it to my house today. Well, yesterday, because when I got up from the coffee table the Starbucks got robbed and of course they saw my gun I had on me and shot me to dissuade me from grabbing it, but they hit a main vein in my leg and I bled out.

It doesn't matter, I knew the tracking number and it was two hours from my house, so I expertly tracked it down, rather I got lucky. I'm not good with technology apart from writing this so many times, but I got the gun and went to the lines. Something I noticed this time, this gun had a bullet in the barrel. I did look it up as well and it's an old timey colt made in the later 1800s, in really nice condition but for some reason despite this one being used for .44 the bullet was a .45, hence how it was in the barrel and not the actual chamber. 

Because of this, it got me in the heart when cleaning. I was cleaning the rust so fast that when my finger slipped to the trigger it pulled it all the way back, paired with the already cocked hammer from checking it out and… well I'm in this mess.

That one bullet. I got to the lines, I aimed the gun at the shadowy being. Cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger.

I woke up in my room again. I don't know how I died. I don't even think I did die. I went to the lines and I noticed the thing was closer, it shook its head at me before stepping impossibly 6 lines at a time, bringing it to 100 lines. It was blurry again, I don't know how it was blurry again, it was less than 120 feet in front of me, how the hell was it blurry?

I went home, I kept staring at it, it wasn't in my peripheral vision anymore, it stayed in my sight, clear like stained glass windows on a church, staring at me with its featureless and too featured blurry face. I can't find a priest willing to come to my house other than the one I did the first time, but I fear it doesn't matter anymore, I could hear it walking around, it opened doors. And now it's standing no less than 50 feet away from me. Its face is moving as if it's speaking but no words are coming out.

I don't think this is the best subreddit to post this, but please TalesFromTheCreeps, what do I do now?

There was water in my lungs. Nothing new living in a rainy summer state. The humidity boiled my skin in this metal coffin, and the clouds choked the sun's light, only for the heat to feel like a sauna. The thick air surrounded me, keeping my breath rattled and wavy.

A nasty cough, each breath inwards like sandpaper thinning my chords in my throat. Batting at my dislocated jaw, a shotgun shell of spikes with every forced exhale. How long would I dread this feeling? Unbearable, the mucus coming up from my throat green and yellow, sometimes a tinge of pink or red alongside it. Vision blurring in and out.

Raspy gasps kept me awake, even if it hurt, I still had to breathe. I had to continue this grotesque dance, my lungs hurt from the shockwaves from the air I was forcing into them, or at least what was left of them. I had to keep going. I couldn't die here.

It started almost 8 months ago, my wife was told by our doctor she was pregnant, and the fear started all over again. Over the last 5 years of trying she had 2 miscarriages, her uterus would attack the embryo seeing it hostile, a genetic disorder from her father's side of the family. But her want to be a mother always overshadowed the pain and fear response to every pregnancy scare or failure. This double edged blade of news made us happy, to bring new life into the world one of the most beautiful things to happen. But the previous attempts were heavy as tungsten, dense as steel in the back of both of our minds.

The first trimester came and went, night after night of restlessness, holding each other close telling each other everything would be fine, this time for sure we would have our child. Some nights she would get cramps and the fear would take over, and I'd rush her to the hospital, only for us to thank the doctor as he told her the baby was growing fine.

The second trimester hit, and the cravings hit harder. Some days she'd want sweet pickles and peanut butter, others she'd want shrimp with bananas. One time she wanted popcorn and halfway through she decided she wanted just the butter on the package, our little girl growing inside must have been taken to the saltier side of the sea known as my grandparents lineage. As the cramps got worse and the doctor visits more frequent, so did the mood swings. Going from hysterical crying to utter joy like a pendulum swinging a full 360 degrees.

I read bedtime stories to her medium melon sized belly, classics like the giving tree, or the bearenstein bears. She always had a sparkle in her eyes as I was there every step of the journey carrying her on my back to not tire her out of energy, after all she was carrying our daughter.

The third trimester started, and it was going smoothly. The mood swings had calmed down and the pressure of the stress came instead. As we neared the date of our daughters birth the self doubt came full force, like a car t-boning another car. “What if we aren't fit to be parents, what if I won't be a good mom, what if I can't help her with school work, what if-” my wife started as I cut her off. “We will get through it. You'll be a wonderful mother, if she needs help with homework, which she won't for half a decade or more, you have me.” I assured her, relieving a bit of stress and worry from her. “I love you both, you understand? Both.” She started to tear up as she replied “I love you too.” A dance we did more times than I could count the stars in the universe, a dance I would give anything to have again.

I was at work when I got the call, she was in the hospital, dread filled my mind as the doctor continued explaining the baby was still healthy and my wife was going into labor. I immediately told my boss and he relieved me of my work duties, a father should be there for his daughter, and a husband for his wife.

It was raining outside, lightly, a sauna outside, but it didn't matter to me. I knew how to drive in the rain, my excitement wouldn't get the better of me, I knew that slow and steady is the best course of action, and the only thing standing in my way was three stoplights. I made it to the first one as its yellow glow turned red. Green came soon and I continued on, the rain drops pelting my car as paintballs against a rock, almost sounded like hail.

As I made my way to the next light past the forest overgrowth to the right of me, I saw it was red and started to slow. The light turned green, allowing me to continue before coming to a stop. A mistake as time slowed down in the T shaped intersection, a drunk driver appeared to my left.

Their headlights off, head dozing downwards to the steering wheel as mine stared at them in a horrid shock. I heard every rumble, every metallic and plastic crunch as my car lifted up from its left side, veering off into overgrowth toppling down the small abrupt hillside.

I realized I forgot my seatbelt as I got tossed around in my car, breaking my right arm. A loud crunch as the ceiling of my caved in forcing my head against one of the seats, bruising my jaw in the process. The final roll onto a felled tree, something impaling through my chest.

One raspy breath after the other, the sirens came, the darkness alongside them. In the ambulance I could hear the riders speaking, I couldn't make out words but I knew it was all negative. Finally out cold, and awoken to a cold room. Tubes in my chest going to the right side, noises from medical machines, the loudest one forcing oxygen into my half torn lung, the next keeping my heart stable, and the final one of note being the monitor showing my irregular beats, similar to a rhythm game played by a child, my arm in a makeshift non-permanent cast, my jaw braced enough that I could speak.

To my left my wife holding our daughter, tears down her face as she cried seeing my cognitive function return, even if just for the next minute. Our daughters face towards me, eyes open, staring with a curiosity I had only seen in my wife's face. Her emerald eyes gleamed intently, the same ones as her mother's and grandmother's before her. Her blackish brown hair, as little as she had, the same as mine, slightly curled.

I smiled and slowly brought my arm to her, and she grasped a finger with the force of a giant, I hoped she didn't mind the ice my hand had become, compared to the sun's warmth hers had. Despite this being our first ever encounter, I knew it would also be the last. “She's beautiful..” I said, sandpaper grinding my voice in the air. “I love her already”

As the heart monitor flatlined and the last thing I heard was the wailing of my wife. My final memory was seeing the angel known as my daughter Wendi. And that was enough for me to know they'd be just fine.

Gage, Garrison, And I rummaged through the satchel to find two journals completely filled with a third one started. Tire handcuffed Weston's wrists to a couple of poles in the wall after administering some first aid, Weston's breathing fine, just unconscious. Wilson and Mitch are going to, I don't want to say interrogate as that sounds aggressive, they just wanted some questions answered. I'll get into the questions asked later, the journals we found. These were their contents. All written from Weston's view, while he didn't write a whole lot, it seems he primarily used the journals to draw, only having one entry per page. It's not all filled with entries, some pages are left blank or ripped out, or just more drawings. I want to say he transcribed some. The first journal and third journal have decipherable words, but the second one has been blacked out with sharpie.

Journal one: Entry one:

I'm back at base. They left me alive. Why me? Why me alone? I don't have anyone left, I don't know what time it is, I don't know what day it is, but I locked every door. I shouldn't be alive, the exhaustion and the cold should have killed me. 

For now, I'm going to rest, I'm going to try to get communication up again. No no that won't work, they'll notice the tech never set communication right? They'll send someone else? God only knows, God I don't want to die here.

Entry two:

It's been hours since I got back at base, the vehicle was destroyed to hell and back, thankfully we have two with 10 canisters of fuel. I counted out the rations. Originally it was set to give everyone 3 meals a day, but they always made sure to have extra, as it stands right now I have about 2 years of food if I ration it correctly, no not if. I am going to ration it correctly, I need to make sure if they take long that I have enough food until they get here, water isn't an issue since the Arctic compound has its own well and filter system. The longer you have water, the easier it is to survive. I'm going to write down stuff every so often as to make sure that those that come after, if I happen to die, can see what happened.

Entry three:

I slept for hours, no signs of thumping, all cameras still down except one, one came back on. I'm going to start one entry once a day.

Entry four:

I reopened my wound. While you aren't supposed to clean it with hydrogen peroxide, I took my chances and it hurt majorly. Afterwards I took a shower and counted all the ammo we had. Why do we have over 3,000 bullets of varying calibers? 

Entry five: 

If anyone reads this in the future. I'm sorry. I buried them outside. Cameron, Kris, and Morris.

Entry six:

I still haven't seen a mouthman for days. I'm not keeping track of my actual days but it's been at least 5 days.

Entry 7: 

I'm tired of writing the numbers out. I played UNO by myself as if there were 3 people. My wound is healing nicely, it seems that the peroxide helped a tiny bit. 

Entry 8: 

I killed a mouthed man. I understand how they work a bit better, it's the head, or something like it. I don't know what evolutionary construct came up with their biology, but their body is thick and head is thin.

Entry 9:

No sign of another unit coming to get me, all the wires are fried upstairs. I'm not a technician, I only know some about computers. Being a journalist you have to have some tech brain to create scripts for your stories or even broadcast yourself to stations when you're chosen to be on air. 

Entry 10:

I started reading Zane's doctor books, mainly anatomy ones. And I found his laptop that had access to a lot more different types of collection books, including documents for the c4, or c5 as he called it. It's a simple recipe that uses stuff we have at this compound.

Entry 11:

I killed 3 more mouthed men. My theory is proving correct on it being their heads, but it's wrong on that it stops them immediately, there were 4 outside and I shot all of them in the head from the observation deck upstairs, one ran away just like the first one we encountered. That doesn't give me good hopes. I missed 8 bullets and started marking the deaths of the ones I killed.

Entry 12:

I set up a trap to try to catch one, no luck.

Entry 13:

I set up two more traps, continued reading Zane's books. I miss my colleagues.

Entry 14:

I caught one.

Entry 15:

In the middle of starting yesterday's entry. It got out of its trap. I chased it down after I shot it in the head. It moved slower after the shot went through it, but it was still much faster than me.

Entry 16:

It's been 5 days since my last entry. I went through a depressive state, so, basically I decided to pull one of the bodies of the Mouthed Men into the compound. When I did I noticed something strange, it made noise. Not like it itself made noise but the body did, prior to anything I've seen none of them made a sound when stepping on stuff. This is a breakthrough because that means they have to be muffling themselves somehow. And then I tried to show it to Zane and as I stood there in the doctor's office staring at the bloody floor, staring at Zane’s framed picture of himself I broke down. Dammit fate, why did you leave me alive?

Entry 17: 

I started training, as basic as I could, push ups, situps, again, as basic as possible. I'm sorry all over and I hate every second of it. 

Entry 18:

 3 days since my last entry, I'm trying to fill it out every day but nothing interesting happens. I don't want to just write about how I ate, drank, and pooped.

Entry 19: I caught a live one, I got it inside the bunker after hitting it on its head about a dozen times, eventually knocking it out, I got it on the table and handcuffed it, four fingers, 6 toes, and a mostly humanoid body. The arms go down past its knees. I hope to God the handcuffs hold.

Entry 20: 

it doesn't make noise, it just smiles and stares. Why does it fucking smile? It doesn't speak, it doesn't move much, it's just creepy to look at! I hate what I did but I decided to try to break one of its fingers, and I succeeded. With a loud snap the smiles and eyes turned to a rageful glare. I'm not afraid to say I yelled at it, mocked it, before finally putting a gun to its head and executing it like the animal it is. And that's when it happened, after the ringing of my ears stopped I made sure it was dead, Then I cut it open to reveal it had the same Human organs as us. And the worst part, the things started making noise again instead of being muted.

Entry 21: 

I threw the corpse outside, the one camera I had faced the open lands. I saw the creatures take the body.

Entry 22: 

I'm going to figure out where more caves are, it's been well over a month and a half and I am tired of being hunkered down.

Entry 23: 

I found another cave, with an entrance just like the last one. Gun in hand I walked inside, terrified about the situation but needing more information for if A.A comes again. I went inside and found something horrifying. Eggs.

Entry 24: 

I took one of the eggs. The embryo matches the same type of embryo as a polar bear. I only know that because I looked through Benkis stuff. Polar bears are mammals, they don't grow in eggs, what the hell did I find?

Entry 25:

The thing opened its one eye so I smashed it with a book. 

Entry 26: 

I'm starting a map of all the caves, I made more C5 and I closed the one I found, I know what I have to do.

Entry 27:

I started a broadcast to loop asking for mayday, it lasted 2 days before the laptop stopped the signal. I'm going to have to fix it.

Entry 28: 

I started transcribing these onto the laptop in a separate hard drive I had. I figured this way I can always have a back up.

Entry 29:

I'm nearing 100 kills. So far I’ve found 3 caves, I've blown up all 3 of the entrances, that makes a total of 4.

Entry 30: 

If I keep writing I'll be fine, if I keep writing I'll be fine if keep keep keep Keep keep keep writing keep writing.

Entry 31:

I found another compound. I have to be going crazy, it's another compound, It has fuel and food! I don't have to ration anymore, it has more ammo, I counted each one this time, it took me probably hours of counting but now I have 6,755 bullets.

Entry 32: 

I haven't written in a while, only drawings. I haven't counted days. just know I have encountered well over 200 Mouthed Men and 7 caves, 4 of which I've collapsed the entrances. I'm figuring to set up another broadcast, but the laptop only holds a charge when it's plugged in, which means I won't have a laptop. 

Entry 33:

I took more supplies from the other compound, including a better timeless UNO.

Entry 34:

250 mouthed men killed. I feel like I'm turning into one of them with how little I speak out loud. I tried to talk for a bit today and I got hoarse after 10 minutes reading aloud.

Entry 35: 

Three eggs is too much for breakfast, two is the perfect amount for an omelette, why would anyone need an odd amount? I mean sure 3 and 4 are divisible by the dozen but it's just excessive! I asked Morris what he thought and he just mentioned something about a cave, so I asked Kris and she said she didn't care about my squabbles. Cameron just gave me a cold look and said whatever. I think they are just jealous because my job is fun and doesn't rely on protecting people or checking out the arctic, nor does it involve animals. 

Entry 36:

Cave 9 found, so I blew it up. Didn't even need to make C5 since the other compound has some grenades.

Entry 37: 

I set up a broadcast and Compound B. 

Entry 38: 

What did I do to deserve this? I mean what specifically? I pray every day that I'm taken to the ground but my prayers don't get answered.

Entry 39:

500th one was killed. I started repeating words and phrases, I can hear them now, the Mouthed men. I. Can. Hear. Them.

Entry 40:

 I captured another one, kicked his stupid face a bunch of times, at least what should be a face. They're like chameleons, except better at mimicking their surroundings, save for the smile.

I broke three of its fingers while maintaining eye contact, then shoved a metal rod into one of its mouths, punched the top of the shoulder it lay on and forced it to bite the pipe. Shattered a tooth of its mouth. 

It immediately started thrashing in pain. No sound. No, not silence, it made noise, I figured it out, they make some sort of frequency around their body that makes things it touches, and itself, completely muffled to the same decibel.

I started hitting it with the metal pipe, trying to get it to just speak, to just make noise, but instead after what felt like hours I had caved in its chest and killed it.

Entry 41:

I opened its head up, no eyes, just a brain.

This journal is finished, there's only this last paper. So if you're reading this, you're either ME or you're about to be a dead person in the Arctic just like me. Cave 14 found. Cave 13 collapsed, cave 14 still open. Not for long though.

End of journal one.

Journal two:

Entry 42:

I found another journal I had stored away, it's been over half a year since I found the 16th cave. New ones seem to pop up only after I collapse a tunnel, I guess they aren't strong enough to open the tunnel up. They can't starve, weirdly enough. The mouthed men that is. They are like plants, they soak up the sun. I held one captive in compound two's jail cell for a solid month, watching it slowly get thinner. Cruel as it was I learned a lot about them, so I'm using this journal to detail everything about them I've learned over the last six months, for one I've been here officially a year, at least I'm pretty sure I have been, I have bouts of insanity and bouts of clarity and something in-between those times, this we have what I call here “The Anomalies report”

I will no longer be using “entry” as the starting of these so bear with me, me, and me. For the time being as these few notes will be short and sweet

As previously mentioned they use a specific decibel that's either too high or too low for us to hear, but they also project it to surfaces they touch.

They can't starve, I watched one wither away slowly, getting thinner, but it never died. Its hide, however, got thinner as well and allowed things to easily pierce it. I found that out when I put it on a table and cut into it without a saw.

They breed with bodies, this is to say when you die, or one of them die, they use YOUR body and ITS proteins, cells, whatever you want to think of, as its nutrients to grow more of them. This explains the human look and explains why some possessed features belonging to Zane. Their anatomy is based on its precursor anatomy. It doesn't explain the camouflage.

Currently I have killed 978 of them, I'm under 2,000 bullets as my aim is getting better but some bullets were just duds.

I am a broken man, I still feel fear, I still feel survivors' guilt. I have transcribed everything in this journal and the last from before this line to after this line. I then buried the hard drive with C.M.K. 

I lied to myself. Entry 43:

I have to have some sort of consistency or I drive myself mad, I started another broadcast station, this time it's up and running. 

Entry 44:

I think I found the main cave. That makes 17 total, 17 caves total. I spent weeks watching them drag things down. I know what they are doing now.

Entry 45: 

Their silence isn't silent anymore to me. I've adapted enough over the year I've been here to be able to hear them. I caught one by surprise when it was removing its friend from a trap. I stabbed it through its chin before putting a shovel through the other one's face. I got a bit emotional as it's body type fit that of Rentin's.

Entry 46:

I captured another subject, tied it up to the table and opened it up while it was alive. I wanted to see how its organs looked. Unfortunately this one seemed to have been bred with Zane-cells as it has the mirrored organs. I opened its face area up and took out its brain to put into a jar. It continued to convulse for 30 seconds before it finally died.

Entry 47: 

Almost 1,200 kills. The broadcast has been running for 15 days. I'm going to compound B to gather the last of the supplies I need.

Entry 48:

The bouts of sanity after happening in second intervals, I saw a plane over the horizon yesterday, I'd love to go check it out just in case it isn't a mirage, but it's already time to sleep. Plus I wouldn't last the 12 hour journey at night, if I can't see the Mouthed men, they can DEFINITELY see me.

Entry 49: 

The power went out for a short time in compound B. One of those things started pounding on the door which kept me awake until the power came back on. It was gone before I was fully up.

Entry 50: 

Daybreak finally happened. I have everything I need for the main cave. I need to check that the broadcast is still going in compound A, I want to be as thorough as possible that no one, absolutely no one comes back here without a warning that we are already dead 

End journal 3.

Weston is awake and barely lucid, won't stop talking about the mouthed men. The questions went something like this.

Wilson: “Weston, what happened to your team?”

Weston: “The Mouthed men.”

Wilson: “What do you mean the mouthed men?”

“The. Mouthed. Men.” Weston said glaring at Wilson as if he couldn't be heard

Gage: “How did the mouthers get ‘em?” 

Weston: “Read the logs I buried with C.M.K.”

Wilson: “What’s C.M.K?”

Weston: “You saw the gravestones. Dig em up, there's a triple plastic wrapped hard drive in a lock box buried with the bodies of Cameron, Morris, and Kris.”

Wilson: “How did they die?”

“I just told you how you can find out.” Weston said voice starting to become a whisper.

Wilson: “Why can't you just tell us.”

Weston pointed at paper on the ground and made a writing motion. We handed him a pen and the paper and he wrote down “I've been alone for over a year. Talking is painful and the past is unfathomable.” So we dug up the bodies of the three that died here, Garrison put the hard drive back to the place it belonged, noting that cold isn't good for electronics. It somehow, someway worked and we read the entire half of the transcript that we didn't have before.

Weston broke down crying for over 40 minutes when the realization kicked in that we were real and not mirages. Seeing a grown man crying in such visceral agony almost sent Wilson to tears. Being alone did a number on Weston. 

Eventually Weston went back to being unconscious, this time sleep induced instead of fist induced. We uncuffed him but put Mitch on guard duty since he was the only one not busy at the current time. When Weston woke up he told us exactly what he wanted to do.

Weston: “I found the main cave. Since you're all caught up, I can explain it easily. This cave is where they breed the mouthed men. They take the corpses there, I watched them for at least 18 days, maybe longer. They bring their dead, the carcasses of animals, foxes, hares, you name it. And they use them to breed.”

Wilson: “In your note you mentioned you blew up cave entrances, we found one on one of our treks, why haven't you blown this one up if you noticed them carrying stuff into it?”

Weston: “The cave entrance is bigger than this compound is tall, but it's slanted. About a 30 degree angle going downwards where it's half as wide as compound B.”

Garrison: “You don't have enough material to blow it up, do you?”

Weston: “No. I don't.”

Gage: “whacha need?”

Weston: “I want to nuke the Arctic. Drop it directly onto the cave system. I have a map at compound B. This was plan B, my original plan was to just keep killing the mouthed men until I died. But then I found 2 things out in one of my last tests that I haven't had the chance to write down. Not that it matters too much now–”

Mitch interrupted: “How was a nuke, sorry why, was a nuke going to be your plan B?”

Weston: “You guys arrived. And fixed communications. I was going to burn them originally, in my last test I did, they feared fire. If it gets too hot they start to shrivel and lose liquids in their body. The second thing was that they only can survive their hatching if the temperature is lower than 10 Fahrenheit. Oddly enough, I guess the heat of a recently fired bullet just hurts it and makes it angry.”

Wilson: “So why not still burn it?”

Weston: “We will. But I'm sorry to say it, there's more caves. I haven't located them, but the Arctic is an entire continent. And while I firmly believe humanity could overcome these things, they are getting stronger and smarter.”

Me: “what do you mean stronger and smarter?”

Weston: “There's 3 on the roof carefully trying to take down the communication tower again.”

Wilson: “How can you tell?”

Weston grabbed his side arm and started walking outside saying “I've been here over a year. You can't hear them, but I can. And right now they are trying to move silent enough that I can't hear them.”

We followed Weston out, immediately one jumped down, silent as… silence I guess? Weston shot it through its head and then turned to face the roof and one was already in the air mid pounce onto him. “The head, shoot for the head!” Weston grunted, punching the thing in the face as Gage put a round through its temple. More emerged from the snow as Wilson, Garrison, and Tire all went into formation letting shots fire like fireworks on July 4th. I was ordered to climb the ladder with Mitch and make sure the communications tower didn't get too badly damaged, when I got up there unfortunately Weston was wrong, there weren't 3 there were 5.

 I shot one in the chest only for the bullet to ricochet and hit one of the broken satellite dishes. The one I shot immediately kept towards me as Gage from below put a bullet through it. Mitch shot two of the remaining 4 killing one and causing another to fall to the ground thrashing about as it was airborne.

I shot the one climbing the tower right before it could grab the electrical wires, and the final one slashed its claws into Mitch’s forearm, causing him to scream in pain, dropping his gun as it grabbed him by the throat. Time slowed down, I aimed my gun at its head, screaming the word no. The being started pushing his claws into Mitch’s juggular, I shot it as they both fell to the ground, Mitch holding his neck as I fell next to him trying to help the already dead man. Time resumed its regular speed as Garrison climbed up the ladder and ran over crying over his brother. We buried him next to the other three.

We got back into communication with A.A. Weston being alive was good for something, as he talked for hours with the higher ups about a rescue team being sent, alongside wanting to nuke the Arctic.

The A.A has no authority on whether or not we can nuke the Arctic, but they told us they would be sending a rescue team to get us. 

Garrison: “Let's burn it.”

Wilson: “Burn what?”

Garrison: “The fucking cave.”

Me: “We don't have enough supplies fo–”

Garrison: “I don't fucking care! My brother is dead damnit! I wanna burn those fuckers to the ground!”

Weston: “I want to nuke them. We shouldn't be too hasty, we should wait for–”

Garrison: “Them to send a fucked rescue team? Fat lot that's going to do with my brother! We have enough materials, we have wood, we have 2 remaining tanks of the gas, what else is there? Vodka?” he started laughing “We got alcohol, I read Fredrick's and Jaclyn's notes, they kept spare liquor in their rooms! 3 bottles total we could dilute and.. and”

Garrison broke down again punching the floor as Wilson sat next to him.

Gage: “I'm with the techy. Mitch and I were good buddies, I want to burn the cave down.”

Weston: “No, no we aren't leaving this compound. That's the dumbest idea to do.”

Gage: “You left the first time.”

Weston: “I had nothing left, no radio, no confirmation of anyone coming, nothing. It's completely different to right now where we have confirmation they are sending a rescue team.”

Wilson: “Weston’s right, we should stay out.”

“Let's take a vote.” Tire said from the corner. “Because I vote to burn the cave. Mitch was my friend too, and I ain't too big on them mouth men.”

Gage: “That's 3 to 2 so far. Only person who hasn't spoken about it is you Zatch. Tie vote gets broken by Wilson, so what cha thinkin’?”

Wilson: “I vote burn the cave.”

Me: “I vote to burn the cave.”

Weston: “I vote burn the cave. For Benki, Kris, Cameron, Fredrick, Morris, Rentin, Mike, Mitch, Zane, Jaclyn, and the unnamed technician.”

Wilson: “Six votes. Let's get our stuff prepared.”

We started grabbing the bottles of liquor, the remaining plastic explosives in Weston's satchel, paper for kindling alongside the gasoline. The rescue team notified us that they'd be here in two days minimum. We were to be on the roof as they hoisted a ladder down for us to climb. Weston said the cave was only 13 hours away. The entire trip would take 29 hours. 13 for the trek there, 13 the trek back, and 3 for planting the flammable material and lighting it before using the last of the plastic explosives to cause a minor collapse. So onwards we went.

Wilson: “Everyone ready?”

The four of us in unison said yes, Weston stood out as he stared off into the horizon.

Weston: “The first time I did this I stood in a graveyard of familiar names. This time I step into the one housing my name.”

The words rang hard in everyone's ears, our stupid decision is the only reason we survived, I'm sure of it.

We got to the cave, Weston and Wilson led the way lining the floor with gasoline as a sick way of marking where we came from. Crumpled vodka and rum soaked balls of paper falling like snow from our hands. We made our way into the large opening of the cave, lined with luminescent rocks and egg sacs as Weston started to pour more gasoline on a bunch of them, Wilson pointed to areas to drip the liquor balls, and we walked out after making sure everything was empty. Even leaving the bottles as a gift to the egg sacs.

We made it back to the surface as Garrison planted the explosives Wilson kit the final Ball of paper and tossed it down onto the line of gasoline, immediately lighting its trail downwards visible for at least 20 meters before vanishing out of sight.

We heard the popping of the egg sacs as we walked back to the vehicle, Garrison set the explosives off as we drove off. I didn't get to see how large the cave-in was, but I hoped it was enough to cover the fiery entrance. Of course, hope isn't enough in these scenarios. We got back to the compound and waited for the rescue team's helicopter.

The helicopter came, Garrison went up first, then me, then Wilson, then Tire, then Gage, and finally Weston. Then boom, out of nowhere one kept from the ground 15 ft high grabbing onto Gage, the struggle took place as I held on tightly to a panicking Gage, Weston grabbed the thing's clawed hand and opened it, falling out of the helicopter with the Mouthed Man. The final words we heard from Weston were simple.

“Nuke the damn Arctic!”

We looked down 30 feet below us and as we gained height, there were dozens. Weston fired numerous shots, killing a few in the process, the last act he gave was a shot through his own skull as the mouthed men stopped moving, turning toward the helicopter, all with their mouths in the shapes of smiles. 

It's been 2 weeks since that day. It's been a fast journey, A.A brought up the Arctic Anomalies to the World Government. And with video proof and all documents sent to A.A, I can say your wish got granted.

Because as I am sitting here typing this up, they have officially started the Boeing that's going to drop the nuke into the Arctic. And they named it after our very own Journalist that went to the Arctic the year prior.

Weston Alex Moore.

There are no more polar bears in the Arctic. And soon, hopefully, there won't be anything else remaining either.

Over a year ago a team of 10 people were sent out to find out if the Polar bears had really gone extinct. The last known public contact was Weston Moore asking for a technician, who was air dropped from a plane into the area of the compound. We have had no contact since that day. Due to this unfortunate event the Arctic Assembly sector decided to send another team out to retrieve any data from the compound, alongside investigating what happened to our 11 compatriots. 6 of us are being sent out. 6 of us are trained with multiple forms of ranged and close quarter weaponry. But we were trained on humans and for humans.

My name is Zatchiel, or, as my friends and squad-mates call me, Zatch. I'm the one that received the message about the technician needing to be sent. I'm one of 10 people the Arctic Assembly’s message operators have on standby. They sent me out to make sure I can report back when needed and if needed as we need someone that's able to handle communication back and forth. I'm 5’8, 169lbs, black hair, and green eyes. Like my other squad-mates I underwent training for 2 months to make sure I can be ready to lay down fire if needed.

Wilson is the team leader, he gives us the orders and we obey. He's a kind guy and only gives us enough burden he knows we can handle, as his motto is “if you can't take it, you can't grow. You don't flood a plant just to make it drink water.” he was a Sargent in the military for 15 years and was honorably discharged after losing an arm. Don't play rock paper scissors with him, he always chooses rock. He's the geriatric age of 56, but somehow moves with the ease of a teen playing football, it probably helps his bionic arm can throw a football 2 fields far. He's 6’6 220lbs of pure muscle and metal. Bald as a newborn with brown eyes that match his skin, and a booming voice to set people straight.

Tire is the medic. We call him Tire because his stories tire you out, his real name is Mindy. He's been a combat medic for 20 years and is the ripe young age of 43. He doesn't like using guns and his belief is to save and heal lives, not maim and steal lives. When he does pick up a gun his aim is as true and steady. A 5’6 white guy with blonde hair and green eyes, fast with a scalpel and faster with a stitching needle. No weight given.

Garrison, our team's primary technician. Slow as a snail when it comes to starting any odd job, but finishes it quite quickly. His brain doesn't work the same as ours from what I hear, and from what I've seen. A 32 year old man that has numerous master degrees in anything involving tech, whether it's wires or computers, down to the smallest engines and biggest gears he's our go to when things stop working. He once made a toaster from a fallen satellite. And then he used it to make a steak. Short blue and yellow dyed hair on a flexible 6 foot even frame weighing in at 160lbs, good at getting angles to splice and connect wires that a normal human couldn't even reach. 

Our fifth guy, Gage, a 29 year old man who specializes in being a caffeine addict that doesn't know what water is. Good with scopes despite looking like a tweaker you find at a gas station at 2am, could hit a rabbit from 200 yards with nothing but a rock and a slingshot. One of the best dang snipers we have, except when it comes to using the urinals. 5’4 with alopecia, weighing is at 130, he has a tattoo of eyebrows on his face for gag purposes, a very expressive face similar to Jim Carrey from the older generations in the early 2000s.

And finally, the 6th person on our team. Mitch. He's the brother of Garrison at age 37, a backup technician. Nothing notable that Garrison doesn't already do, but he's a hell of a shot with a Colt so he fits in perfectly fine. A 5’10 200lbs man that works safer than his brother, but half the efficacy. Threatened to hot wire my car and drive it off a cliff when he found out I dropped his colt.

We were dropped out at 12000 feet so that our parachutes could be deployed safely at around 3000 feet. Of course we had to trek all the way to the compound about 3 and a  half miles away from where we all landed, well all but Gage who deployed his a bit too early at 4k feet and was about 400 meters further away. We had to trek back, or if we wanted to, wait for him.

Gage: “that was a rush guys! I've only done that in basics when we had to be air dropped onto the field to get high ground for a position! Y’ever had to hike after a long swim? That's what this gear feels like, y’know the wet clothes that drag yourself heavy? It's a lot colder out here than New Mexxy.”

Garrison: “Well if you deployed when you were supposed to deploy, you wouldn't have needed to hike an extra amount. You'll tire out faster now you toon.”

Gage: “You're just mad because I got to see the beautiful horizon longer than you did, techboy.”

Wilson: “Gary is right, so let's get moving you two, daylight's going to falter anytime soon. Let's try to get to the compound before then so we don't have to be out in the cold too long.”

Gage and Garrison in unison both agreed and we started moving. We left our parachutes on the ground as they were extra weight we didn't need. On our way to the compound Mitch stepped in a hole after some ice gave way, and twisted his ankle, which forced Wilson and Tire to help him out of the hole and then help him walk for about 10 minutes before the pain lessened.

Mitch: “Sorry ‘bout that guys, I should have watched where I was going better, didn't mean to make us stop for a bit while the lights were already going down.”

Wilson: “Can't help when the ice gives way Mitch, the compounds in view, a good quarter mile by the looks of it.”

Gage: “ ain’t it ‘sposed to have lights on, ‘cha think, they turned' em off before they went missin’?”

Wilson: “Doesn't matter Gage, let's get there before the sun's fully gone. It's going to be a longer night this time of year. I don't want to be caught out in the cold if we can help it.”

Tire: “Plus if I have to do so, I can just turn your foot bionic when we get back, After all that's what I did for Wilson, though it did take him a while to stop hitting our shoulders with manly affection using the biotic arm.”

Wilson: “Speaking of which, when we get back to HQ I'll need a touch up, Greta wants to go out for our anniversary next month and I'm going to need a well oiled arm if I wanna lift her to the bed.”

Tire: “You got it boss, What type of oil change you want, 5W-20 or vegetable?”

“Har har Tire, I prefer toasted sesame, smells better.” Wilson said with a wink towards Tire.

Mitch: “The way the light bounces off the darker areas in the snow gives some areas a weird smile, kinda beautiful, you know?”

“I ain't seen a smile anywhere man, Gage's pain meds are getting to your head already.” Garrison said with a chuckle staring up to the sky. “But the sky is quite the view in the Arctic.”

As we got to the compound we noticed the exterior immediately. Three gravestones, makeshift ones without names. Inside was madness, bloody drag marks on the ground heading outside, dozens of not hundreds of markings on the walls. The power wasn't off and the place was lit up due to its solar energy. But the windows were blacked with a thick coat of some black substance, makeshift paint or something. We entered the doctors room and found… whatever it was it was open autopsy style. It was humanoid, long arms of varying color and cuts, chunks taken out of various areas on its body, it had mouths, lots and lots of mouths. Eyes too, various colors all dead gunked, a yellow and black brain in a jar next to its head and notes sprawled on all the walls.

Wilson: “What the hell is that thing?!”

Mitch: “Look at the notes ‘too many mouths’ ‘too many eyes’ ‘damaging the brain kills them’ ‘mouthed man, mouthed man' ‘too many to count, how do they breed?” this is the word of Zane, it has to be right?”

Gage: “The kitchen was fully stocked, dried mashed taters on the counter opened, but ain't no one here? They shoulda only had food fit for two months but there's still a large portion supply there!”

Wilson: “Three graves, that's at least 3 dead, that would have increased it by upwards of a month, double that if they calorie count and drink lots of water.”

“And upstairs there's a message playing. It's the same thing looping over and over again in Morse code ‘--./---/-.../.-/-.-./-.-/ .-/.-../.-../ -.././.-/-../’ so I shut it off and took the laptop.“ I spoke as I was handing it to Garrison.

Wilson: “Go back. All dead. There isn't a body up there?”

Me: “Nope, it seems to have been going on loop for a while, can't tell how long myself, we will be waiting for Garrison to see if he can figure out the computer it's hooked to. The thing is the signal ain't all that strong so It only seems to only have been going out 19 miles in diameter.”

Wilson: “Three graves. Someone made three graves. Why three graves, why only three, there were 11 of them.”

Me: “No clue, I'm going to check the garage for the vehicles and see what we can find there.”

I rummaged through the garage finding a body bag that was empty, a bunch of dried blood puddles around it. Noting that it accounted for one of the three graves due to the marks on the ground, alongside bloody footprints with patterns matching the security boots the crew of 10 were each given. One vehicle was missing its engine, two wheels, headlights, and had heavy damage in the form of claw marks. The rusty red four seater with cracked windows featuring bullet holes alongside flattened bullets told a story no one could transcribe with ease.

The otherwise empty garage was missing all fuel canisters and two other vehicles. As the light started to dim with its bulb nearing the end of its life I saw it, a box with document paper from the expedition from the year prior. As I grabbed the box to hurry inside I looked out of the garage window to a nice night. At the time, I thought it funny how the stars arranged like a face up here in the arctic.

Me: “I found some notes in a box down there.”

Garrison: “I found some disturbing ones myself, we got a name for that thing in there now, seems the folk here called ‘em the Mouthed Men. We've been reading Weston's documents from numerous failed emails to HQ, when first light comes I'll try to fix the dish up top with Mitch and Wilson, then we can send ‘em the documents. “

Me: “Does it explain what happened to everyone?”

Mitch: “Nope, the last thing sent was ‘go back all dead’ no explanation further than these things exist and seem to have some sort of intelligence on par with humans.”

Me: “Well I guess the theory of Zane being the one to dissect or autopsy that mouthed man must be correct. Probably buried the three outside then ran off with the vehicle.”

Garrison: “The writing talks about some sort of cave Benki, Kris, and Morris found. It's northeast of here, we should tell HQ about it after locating it properly.”

Mitch: “No no no, we are not going to be stupid and hike to a cave egotistically just to see if there are more of those mouthed freaks dude, that's the dumbest idea ever when we already have a body RIGHT fuckin there.”

Gage: “Nah I reckon we could get close enough and I could pop a few in the head with ol Iron right here. That'd be a good time for a field trip, plus what if the body is just one o’ Zane's black hair science and ain't even a real thing y’know?”

Tire: “No it's real, Zane's a good doctor n all, I mean I trained under him for a few years, but he ain't too good with elaborate things like this, I mean the veins are… Wait, hold on, I just–”

Tire began opening the chest cavity tissue with awe plastered on his face.

Tire: “Situs inversus. I've never actually seen a case like this, I've only ever heard about it! Well, I've never seen it in a patient of mine that is.”

In unison the five of us: “What?”

Tire: “Situs inversus, it's a condition, very VERY rare, in which someone is born with their organs completely reversed, mirrored, this is the exact human organ plane but it's mirrored. It's such a rare sight you only hear about it as if it's a myth. Zane talked about this once in a class he taught, Zane himself has this condition.”

Tire started to look a bit worried before asking “This… this isn't Zane right?”

Mitch: “No facial features, too discolored. Can't be him, man. plus he's missing the black and white hair.”

Wilson: “I counted the lines on the wall, there's over 800 down here and another 342 upstairs, totaling 1176. So it isn't days, or if it is days it's counted wrong and– Tire why are you poking around the body?”

Tire: “Curiosity mostly.”

Wilson: “Well cut it out, it's disgusting.”

Mitch: “Garrison wants to locate the cave Weston documented about.”

Garrison: “ it's clear that the message is to leave the Arctic alone, we should gather more information about the area and those things for HQ to make a final decision.”

Wilson: “I'll have to give that a thought once we reestablish communication to full tomorrow, until then Mitch, you're on first guard duty.”

Mitch: “Yes sir.”

Our gear was simple, a sleeping bag, backpack full of dry rations for 2 weeks, and a sleeping mat under the bag. Each of us has our weapons, we were equipped with one rifle and one pistol, varying our preferences. Of course special cases like Gage had a compact rifle with a scope he could put together in less time that it would take to say “scrambled eggs on toast” and Mitch had his gold crested Colt that he never lets leave his side. the techs had extra supplies, wires and sorts. And the compound had some stock in case as well.

We set up as Mitch started his due diligence of making sure all doors were locked down, considering they weren't when we got here originally. Through the night Mitch woke up Garrison to continue the shift, and Garrison woke Gage for the final shift. 2 hours each person.

After the rest, it was still dark, no clue how long till daybreak. Wilson found monopoly, no one wanted to play, so we searched around a bit more.

Me: “Have we read all the scrawlings and notes yet? I think we should keep reading the documents and figure out what happened to the other 7.”

Gage: “Nah, ain't finished lookin’ round yet, Gar and Mitch went upstairs to get some of the other screen t’ work. Jaclyn's n Fred's personal ones ain't been found yet but we have the common use ones up there being touched by the techys. Said they should get it workin’ in a bit.”

Me: “Well help me look through the paper ones at least, we got quite a few piles, I can make 3 piles while the techs are upstairs working on the computers, 3 of us can read down here and 1 can stay on guard until the light of the sun comes back for Wilson, Mitch, and Garrison to go up top and repair the communication dishes outside.”

Tire: “Zatch, Gage, and I can take over reading if you want to go on guard Wilson.”

Wilson: “Yeah It’s my turn anyways, in a couple hours it’s yours Zatch.”

Me: “Got it, thanks for the heads up. Take your pick of the piles you two.”

As we went through the piles, most of the notes were just small ones about the day and various conversations throughout the time the team of 10 spent here. Most stuff wasn't transcribed into the bigger documents we found earlier, mostly because it was unimportant or just not noteworthy enough. As an example a conversation that was recorded and written down had Zane apparently talking about the snow being whitish gray and not white, while Kris called him blind. Another had Rentin talking about an issue with his male genitalia. 

We found some other interesting things that weren't properly documented in the working computer I have to Garrison earlier. They all mentioned smiles in the snow or the stars, All of them had some sort of encounter with a mouthed man that Weston hadn't fully documented on the computer.

Wilson: “I got another note here, it's recent by the looks of the ink, actually the rest of my pile seems to be recent as the ink hasn't spread on the paper as deep. ‘17 entrances, 17 exits. 17 holes, 17 moles.’ and this one ‘Shot 2 today, brought one back for science still alive but it got out. Trying again tomorrow.’ and some talk about different caves in all directions, burrows, and dens.“

Me: “I don't recognize the writing style, it seems to vary between notes.”

“It ain't much to go by either. The rest start saying the same thing, go back, all dead, just in repetition.” Wilson said flipping through the notes as well all watched the scribbles of a mad man become spread over the rest of the papers.

Gage: “I think we go to that there cave then. The one that’s ‘round northeast.”

Wilson: “I want to advise against it but if there's at all a chance that someone's still alive we could get a clearer picture of what happened here over the last 400 days since radio silence. Wait, how did you know it was Northeast?”

Garrison and Mitch both came down the stairs with faces whiter than snow before Gage could speak about what he read in the notes.

Garrison: “We got the main system working.”

Mitch: “We know what happened here, the last 5 went to the cave Morris, Kris, and Benki found.”

Garrison: “The last documented thing we could find was that they were attacked by the same things like the one they have tied up in the doctors lab on the table. One of them kidnapped Rentin, and after that there's nothing.”

Mitch: “But the thing is it's missing stuff, it's not been edited, it's just missing information, the last time someone used it was at least a month ago.”

Wilson: “And the broadcast? Did that start around that time too then?”

Garrison: “No, it's only been going on for 20 days according to its recording file properties.”

Mitch: "Jaclyn's computer held no information, just that she liked Fredrick and couldn't wait to take him for a ride.”

Wilson: “Knowledge unneeded, but thanks for checking both.”

Gage: “So’s that mean we're goin' to the cave then?”

Me: “No, first Garrison, Wilson, and Mitch need to repair the communication tower and dishes, but did you guys find anything about the graves?”

Mitch: “No we checked twice, even looked for key words, the only possible confirmed death we have is Rentin.”

Tire: “Well that doesn't make sense, you said five people left, where's the other unaccounted four? And who were the five?”

Garrison: “As I mentioned, information is just missing, it's not been deleted, I would have found it, it's like it was just taken out and thrown away.”

Mitch: “They were unnamed. But I can say for certain it's Zane who's alive. One of the remaining sentences is about blowing up a cave. And Zane was court martialed for creating white phosphorus in the army when he was a combat medic.”

Wilson: “That tracks with Zane's Jekyll and Hyde attitude. But if he successfully collapsed the cave entrance what good would it do for us to check it out. Zatch, what are your thoughts, think checking it out could give us more knowledge for our communication to HQ?”

Me: “Worth a shot honestly, if we can confirm the death of them and bring information that the cave was dealt with we could convince special forces to come out and check the arctic for more.”

Gage: “17. The one note that said 17 entrances. I reckon it was talkin’ ‘bout the caves ‘round the Arctic, if we find one jus’ like the one they blown up then we can check for ourselves and see if there's anymore of them mouthers.”

Wilson: “No, we fix communication and give the info to HQ, that's priority. Afterwards if HQ allows it, we take a vote.”

Tire: “And if HQ outright tells us to do it without a vote?”

Wilson: “11 people are missing. I'm sure we could convince HQ to send more men first.”

We continued our inspection of the compounds, finding writings in most of the rooms. We had only been here in the compound around 20 hours but every little nook and cranny we searched yielded more notes, Mitch finding another booklet with the title “Cameron's Diary” eventually light came back in the form of a burning rock in the horizon and the two techs got to work with Wilson. It took them no more than 2 hours to have the communication towers wires readjusted and new ones out on from the techs supply bags. However, our great accomplishments were only the start of this battle. And no sooner did we get a hold of HQ did they task us with a mission to find signs of more life of what we deemed “The Mouthed Men” . Thankfully, due to the notes left behind by the mysterious stranger, we had a set out map of 3 close-by caves. Southeast, northeast, and west bound. Wilson liked the idea of westbound.

 I mean pretty much every direction is south considering our surroundings, and the placement of our global continent. We geared up with heavy gear from the compounds armory, as small as it was and started our journey 2 miles west of the compound to a large Arctic fox cave den, to none of our surprises, this time of year, there were no foxes, just a caved in hole with half of a mouthed man's body outside tore up from the blast and rocks falling down. So we did what any smart person would do and turned around and headed back to make a trek for Southeast of the compound. We decided to go back to the compound, warm up a bit, and then proceed, but it didn't exactly go as planned. 

When we got back the door was wide open, and a red vehicle was in front of the garage. Wilson was the first to check it out before heading inside, sweeping the rooms one by one, there were items disturbed, more documents and journals placed down at the door as if the person was coming home after a robbery had taken place. We heard a noise from upstairs and Wilson immediately rushed up without making a sound. It was impressive for his size. He got into the security room, only for a figure to be behind the door and already having a gun to his Wilson's head.

“Who are you?” The figure said holding the gun to Wilson's temple.

“We're allies, put the gun down.” Wilson said.

“Not. What. I. Asked.” The figure said pushing the barrel to his temple harder.

“My name is Wilson, I'm from Arctic Assembly, we are here on a mission to Investigate what happened to the Squad of 10 we sent here last year.” Wilson said calmly while shifting hands in the air and making eye contact to the masked individual.

“Wilson what's going on up here?!” Garrison said, barging into the room. The figure turned to Garrison and immediately was put down by a solid slam of a metallic arm made contact to the side of his head, “Go back, all dead” the figure only got a couple of garbled words out before he went unconscious on the ground.

A year of no contact with other people can do a lot of damage to someone's psyche. A lot. Of damage.

Gage immediately got Tire up the stairs as Wilson pulled the face covering on the individual. And as we stared at the face of a dead man, Wilson and I said, questions in the air suffocating the room, the man wasn't Zane like we had thought, the man was “Weston Moore?”