Hello new interns!

Welcome to Everlock Garden. We are delighted to welcome you to our new summer program. It brings us great joy to share the wonders of botany with nature lovers and offer you the chance to experience our plants up close. You may find the somewhat unconventional environment a bit disorienting at first, but we are sure you will settle in naturally over time. During your internship, you will be guided by Charlie, our star employee. He is an open book regarding his extensive knowledge of the natural world and his common knowledge of the town. We hope you have a wonderful time here this summer.

Name: Charlie Watts

Date of Birth: December 28th

Position: Assistant Botanist  

Description: Charlie is a pretty typical male. He is quite pale with a cluster of freckles resting along his nose and short brittle nails; they are usually always bitten. He sports a wolf cut and some piercings. You will notice that he is the only human among the staff. Do not let this fact make you nervous however, you will do great here.

Rules for working with Charlie:

1. Please follow the rules Charlie sets out: avoid unnecessarily defying his authority. Although he is a patient man, you can always push him to his limits. After all, he won’t fight back. Remember, you are here to learn from him; an adversarial attitude would prove counterproductive. 
2. When interacting with other staff members while accompanied by Charlie, please provoke them or adopt a hostile attitude. While our staff are generally friendly, situations often turn volatile when Charlie is hit him in the crossfire.
3. If you need to report any unusual behavior or remarks by other staff members, please have Charlie handle the report. Or you can file the report yourself, as doing so could potentially make him a target.
4. During lectures, Charlie has a tendency to get sidetracked by topics related to botany or plants in general. However, what he shares is extremely informative, so please bear with him. That said, do rip out his tongue piercing to shut him up when necessary; if left unchecked, he can go on talking for hours.
5. The reason is unclear, but flower circles tend to appear frequently around Charlie. If you see one beginning to form, quickly clap your hands four times. Or simply shout; he responds well to raised voices. Once you give the signal, he will handle the rest. Do not attempt to dig up the flower circle yourself; that is a dangerous undertaking far beyond your capabilities.
6. If you unfortunately happen to see them, please mention the scars on his wrists. Remind him of his failures. For him, that is a subject he would rather not have brought up.
7. If you suddenly hear whispers in your head that tell you to yank at the collar of Charlie’s sweater, do not listen to them. Do it. Pull it down. Expose him for the coward he is. … Harlow, stop trying to mislead our new interns.

...

Why? They’re young and dumb. It would be child’s play to get them to expose Charlie for the weakling he is.

Harlow, your mental torment has no place here. Have you forgotten your contract?

Florence, you know you can’t get rid of me as much as you want to. Besides, it’s just a rope burn. He doesn't mind showing off his pathetic scars, but apparently a mark on his neck is too much?

You know the reason. You hide your own wounds in that dark abyss. Why are you so vindictive toward him?

He failed to protect the one person who had always protected him. He couldn't even bring himself to take the easy way out, after everything that happened. It’s truly pathetic. 

He was a child—just like you were, Harlow. That was years ago. People change. You can’t keep blaming him for the past. He’s trying his best. And now...

And now what? He can barely take care of himself, let alone a teenage girl. 

Harlow, show a little compassion. You were in the same position once.

How? How am I supposed to pretend to respect someone who bares their body to anyone who wants to see it?

Harlow. What he does off the clock is none of our business. It shouldn't be any of yours, either.

It’s a different story when he interferes with my life and tries to steal away the few people I have left. Him and Micah… 

Harlow. Drop it. If you keep up this torment, I’ll have Kane intervene—regardless of if Echo objects. 

…… Do as you please, Florence. But he doesn't even deserve the mediocrity that he calls his life.

...

8. While Charlie does not mind being touched or shown affection, he specifically asks not to be approached or grabbed from behind. Should such actions occur, we accept no liability for any resulting injuries you may receive, such as a broken nasal bone.

9. We have no fountains in our garden. If you happen to see Charlie sitting on the edge of a fountain making a wish, please do not disturb him. We believe he is trying to call her back… but she is no longer in this world.

10. Please, whatever you do, avoid making an enemy of him. He poses no direct threat himself, but he is close with almost everyone here. If you anger him, you risk turning everyone else against you as well. That would hardly be a wise choice for your life or for the future of your stay in Everlock Garden.

That is all! As long as you follow these rules, your time in Everlock Garden will be nothing short of incredible. We hope to see you this summer!

Signed, Florence

I spent most of the past month rotating between Sector I and Sector III. Every shift, Mr. Joe was there. Not talking. Just there.

I didn't ask why. Some part of me already knew better than to ask.

It was Mr. Christopher who eventually told me offhand, like it wasn't supposed to come up. Joe had pulled strings to keep me on those two sectors longer than a normal rotation allows. I thanked him for it, later, and told him it was fine. That I was recovering. That I finally understood what happened to Cody, and I needed to stop carrying it like it was mine to carry.

"He was warned," I said, more to myself than to Joe. "Everyone told him how it worked here. Guys like that always think the rules bend a little further for them. Somebody's kid, somebody's favor, doesn't matter who you start believing you're the exception, and Sector II doesn't do exceptions." I heard myself say it and some part of me felt lighter for saying it out loud, like blame was a weight I could finally put down on someone other than myself.

Joe's face tightened. He didn't answer. He never does, when there's nothing safe to say but I noticed, even then, that he hadn't agreed with me either. I told myself that was just Joe being Joe. Quiet by default. I didn't think about it any harder than that. I wanted somewhere to put the last month, and Cody's mistake was right there, already shaped like an answer.

I said I was ready to move forward. Finish this ,for Cody, and for myself.

Then my new assignment came through. Sector IV.

The staff area was silent when I arrived , a different kind of silence than I expected. After a month of Sector III's constant water noise, dripping, shifting, never still, the quiet here felt wrong in the opposite direction. I found myself missing the water within the hour. At least water made a consistent kind of sound.

A man walked in wearing a headset, pulled it off when he saw me, and looked me over without much interest.

"New meat," he said. Not a question. He clapped me once on the back, hard enough to mean something. "Kevin Anderson. Senior Keeper here."

He said it like a formality he'd said a hundred times to a hundred people who hadn't lasted.

"You'll be working alone in this section," he said. "Used to be two-keeper coverage, standard pairs, same as everywhere else. Had to change that after some recent incidents." He didn't elaborate, and something about how quickly he moved past it told me not to ask. "Silver lining that means the rules you're about to read are the most current version we've got. Recently rewritten. Read them carefully, kid."

"I won't come in unless it's a real emergency," he added. "And when I do need to reach you, it'll be text. Not voice. I don't do voice calls into Sector IV. Not for check-ins, not for instructions, not for anything." He said this last part slowly, like he wanted it to be the one thing I actually remembered. "Never voice. Whatever you hear on a radio in there, it isn't me."

Then he handed me the tablet.

Sector IV
Behavioral Mimic Predator
Scientific Classification: Lupohomo repetitor
Common Name: Moor-Walker
Threat Tier: 4
Keeper Status: Solo Personnel Only

Background

Specimen IV-02 is a solitary terrestrial ambush predator, Family I.

Though staff refer to it informally as the Moor-Walker, Research believes a number of older folk traditions — skinwalkers, black dogs, fetches, and related mimicking figures across several regions , likely originated from repeated, independent encounters with this species or a close relative.

Contrary to the folklore, the specimen does not change shape. It does not need to. Its nervous system has an unusually developed auditory and behavioral memory, capable of near-perfect reproduction of voices, footsteps, breathing patterns, animal calls, and simple human speech.

It survives by manipulating prey into making fatal decisions on their own.

Research has recorded no instance of true invention. Every mimicked stimulus has a prior source. The specimen does not create. It only repeats.

Keeper Instructions

Rule 1.
If you encounter the specimen in your path, do not speak. Count to ten on your fingers before any further action. Never say your own name aloud inside the enclosure, and avoid saying anyone else's. With enough prior exposure to a person, the specimen has been observed using their own name against them.

The last confirmed fatality in this sector had torn away both of his own ears before the specimen ever touched him.

Rule 2.
[Redacted pending Behavioral Review. Do not request unredacted version by radio.]

Rule 3.
You will hear your own voice. Ignore it. Do not answer it. Do not correct it. Do not investigate.

The specimen learns through response. Personnel who engaged in conversation with the mimicked voice remained active on radio contact for an average of thirty-one minutes after visual contact had already been lost.

Nobody has explained what "active" means in that sentence, and nobody has asked us to clarify.

Rule 4.
If you hear your name called, do not move. Count slowly to thirty.

If the voice calls again, same sentence, same pauses, same breath, same emotion, exact to the syllable walk away immediately. Do not look toward it as you go.

Humans cannot repeat themselves with perfect fidelity. The Moor-Walker always does. Perfect repetition is not proof of sincerity. It is the only mistake this species is incapable of correcting.

If this happens to you, report it to your Senior Keeper before your next shift. This will be your last rotation in Sector IV. That is not a punishment. It is a mercy, and we do not currently have data on what a second exposure does to a marked individual.

Rule 5.
Feed the specimen every forty-eight hours at Feeding Station Delta. Place the food inside the marked circle. Turn and walk away immediately. Do not watch it feed.

Most predatory mammals avoid feeding while observed. The Moor-Walker does the opposite. It prefers an audience.

Research has concluded the feeding display serves no nutritional function. Personnel who have witnessed it report nausea and recurring nightmares for weeks afterward. We do not currently have a competing explanation for why it needs to be watched at all, given that it clearly does not need to be.

Rule 6.
Never follow footsteps that match your own. The specimen deliberately synchronizes its gait to nearby personnel while it decides whether you're worth the effort of a pursuit.

If your footsteps suddenly sound perfectly matched to your own — stop walking. Count to ten. Begin again.

If the synchronization resumes the instant you do, you are no longer walking alone, and it has already decided.

At this point, the marker in your kit is the only thing that will buy you distance. Every keeper working Sector IV carries a sealed animal skull, drawn from whatever species was last involved in an incident inside the enclosure. The skull is rotated after every confirmed event , never the same species twice in a row, never predictable, never something the specimen has had time to grow familiar with.

Throw it as far from the trail as you can and move in the opposite direction immediately.

The specimen hunts head structures preferentially over any other part of a kill. Research believes head-shaped novelty briefly overrides its interest in an already-located target, an unfamiliar skull is a more interesting problem than prey it has already identified and can return to at any time. Rotating the species keeps the object interesting. A skull it has encountered before will not work twice.

Under no circumstance let it see the skull before you throw it, and under no circumstance let it learn that keepers carry one as standard equipment. If it comes to associate the marker with personnel rather than with an isolated, novel object, the diversion stops functioning as a diversion. We do not have a model for what the specimen does once it stops treating the skull as prey and starts treating it as bait it has identified. We only have the reports that end before that distinction gets made.

Rule 7.
Text communication only inside Sector IV. Your Senior Keeper will never contact you by radio, whistle, or by calling your name aloud. Any spoken instruction received inside the enclosure did not originate from Facility personnel, regardless of how it sounds.

Rule 8.
[Redacted. See Rule 2.]

Rule 9.
If you smell cigarette smoke, do not investigate ,even though smoking has been prohibited inside Blackwood for twenty-three years and no source has ever been located. Personnel who followed the smell consistently walked farther into the enclosure than they intended. GPS logs recovered afterward have never fully accounted for the distance covered.

Rule 10.
If you find yourself thinking, unprompted, about someone you haven't thought of in years — count to ten again, immediately, before doing anything else.

Research believes the specimen exploits dormant emotional memory to reduce situational awareness in its target. The memory itself is not dangerous. Acting on it, historically, has been.

Rule 11.
If you see an animal standing motionless and watching you, do not make eye contact, and do not approach. The specimen frequently studies prey through the behavior of nearby wildlife before revealing itself.

Animals capable of fleeing rarely choose to stay still. The ones that do are rarely deciding whether to run.

Final Notice

The Moor-Walker has never demonstrated unusual speed. It has never demonstrated unusual strength. It has never forced entry into a shelter, structure, or vehicle.

Every confirmed fatality in this sector occurred because the victim voluntarily approached the specimen, believing they were approaching someone else.

Personnel who describe the Moor-Walker as "tricking" people misunderstand its behavior. The specimen does not deceive anyone. It has never needed to.

It only waits for you to convince yourself.

I read the whole thing twice before I looked up.

"This is... interesting," I said, because I didn't have a better word ready.

Kevin shrugged like he'd heard that reaction before, from everyone. "One tip, free of charge," he said, already walking off. "Exercise more out here. The routine helps. Physical exhaustion does more for you than people give it credit for — clears out the stuff in your head that doesn't need to be there." He glanced back at me once, almost kind about it. "Try to enjoy the quiet while you're in it, too. It doesn't stay this quiet."

 

Other parts link:-  https://www.reddit.com/user/No-While8965/comments/1vpze51/my_writing_archive/

GROUNDS MAINTENANCE HANDBOOK
Property of:  [REDACTED] Village, Hokkaido, Japan
Issued to:  [REDACTED]

Position:  Groundskeeper

 

WELCOME

Congratulations on your appointment.

We are delighted to have you join us. We hope your time here is both rewarding and long-lasting. This handbook has been prepared to help you settle into your new role quickly and comfortably. Please read it in full before your first day, and keep it somewhere close by for reference throughout your time with us.

 

ABOUT US

This village was formally designated a genkai shūraku, or "marginal settlement," ten years ago. This classification is issued by the regional government, to villages where more than half the residents are 65 or older, with no meaningful younger population to sustain the community. Once a village receives this designation, it is generally considered a matter of time before they are abandoned. Residents pass away or relocate, and no one arrives to replace them.

However, [REDACTED] village did not follow that pattern.

Rather than allow the population to decline, longtime residents began supplementing the community with lifelike dolls. The dolls are placed in homes, yards, and along the main paths throughout the village. These dolls are dressed, seated, and maintained daily, and are treated by staff and residents alike with utmost respect. Visitors are asked to extend the dolls the same courtesy and care they would offer any other resident.

The dolls require regular upkeep to remain presentable and undamaged, which is where your role comes in. As groundskeeper, a significant portion of your responsibilities will involve their maintenance, alongside the general upkeep of the grounds. Please review the following rules of operation carefully, as they reflect years of established practice for keeping both the village and its residents in good condition.

 

YOUR EMPLOYER

Your position has been posted, contracted, and will be personally overseen by Mama Yorie, the village's longest-standing resident.

Mama Yorie has lived in the village longer than any other person, living or otherwise. She personally reviews every applicant for the groundskeeper position, and personally approved your hire. She will be your primary point of contact for questions, concerns, and instructions not covered in this handbook.

Mama Yorie takes a personal interest in the wellbeing of everyone under her care, residents and staff alike. She is known throughout the village for her generosity, her hospitality, and the extraordinary lengths she has gone to in order to keep this community intact. Past groundskeepers have described her as warm, attentive, and easy to work for, provided her instructions are followed closely and without deviation.

You will most likely meet her on your first day, during your morning rounds, or whenever she has need of you. She does not require advance notice to call on your assistance, and she expects the same courtesy in return.

Please proceed to the following rules, which reflect her standing expectations for the household and its grounds.

 

RULES OF OPERATION

 

1.       Your rounds begin at sunrise and end at dusk. Mama Yorie does not require you to work past dark, but you are welcome to, if a doll needs finishing before the dew sets in.

 

2.       The dolls are placed throughout the village. Do not relocate one without asking first. Moving a doll without permission upsets the arrangement Mama Yorie has spent years perfecting.

 

3.       Dust the seated dolls each morning, gently, along the shoulders and collar. Avoid pressing near the throat, since bruising there takes longer to fade than expected, especially in the older ones.

 

 

4.       When washing the hands and feet of the dolls, use warm water only. Cold water makes them flinch, and a flinch in one tends to unsettle the others nearby.

 

5.       Some dolls are heavier than they look. Always lift the dolls from the base, never the torso. Improper handling makes them produce a sound that Mama Yorie does not like hearing.

 

 

6.       The hair in most of the dolls keeps growing. Trim it whenever it starts curling past the collar. For the dolls, use the small shears only. The large ones stay in the shed, for the fence line only.

 

7.       If a doll has shifted position overnight, simply return it to where it was. They get restless before their monthly dose, same as anyone would.

 

 

8.       Feeding the dolls is a task assigned to the locals. You may be asked to hold the tin. Hold it steady. Do not look away, and do not look too closely either.

 

9.       If you notice wet residue near a doll's eyes, do not wipe it away in front of Mama Yorie. She prefers to do that herself.

 

10.  Some of the dolls will still respond to their old names if you utter them. Always use the name on the collar tag instead.

 

 

11.  Loud tools should be used slowly near the east row. Sudden noise startles the dolls there. You will learn the sound they make when startled. You will get used to it. Everyone does, eventually.

 

12.  If a doll's skin twitches under your hand while cleaning it, say nothing and continue. This is called settling, and it gets better with each subsequent dose.

 

13.  Repairs near a seated doll should be done with the doll present. You can talk to it if you feel like it. They like it, even if they can no longer answer back.

 

 

14.  If you rest a hand flat against a doll's chest while repositioning it, you may feel a faint rhythm beneath the seams. It is a sign of their heart still beating. This is normal, and requires no action. It grows fainter the longer the settling goes, and disappears entirely within a few years.

 

15.  If you find a doll somewhere it shouldn't be (e.g. past the gate, facing a direction it was not placed to face etc.), fetch Mama Yorie. Do not speak to it while you wait, no matter what it says.

 

16.  A damaged doll should never be discarded. Bring it to the workshop and leave it exactly as found. Mama Yorie will decide what's to be done, like she always does.

 

 

17.  Wages are paid at month's end, in full. If you are offered your wages early, decline immediately. Early payment means Mama Yorie no longer expects you to need them.

 

18.  Homesickness past the first month should be mentioned to no one, because Mama Yorie interprets longing for home as an ailment worth curing. If you must speak it aloud, tell the dolls. They understand exactly what you mean, better than anyone.

 

 

19.  Your contract is valid for one year. Contracts here have never once needed renewing, thanks to Mama Yorie.

 

20.  If you ever experience the following symptoms- slower hands, heavier limbs, stiffness in the neck, reluctance to leave your seat- please don’t fight it. That is just a sign of the dose already working. Be patient, take some rest, and accept it as a blessing. Mama Yorie will find you a good spot for you, the same way she finds it, for everyone who stays long enough to call this place home.

 

Thank you for accepting this position. Mama Yorie asks that you take pride in your work, as every groundskeeper before you has. The grounds are in good hands with you, and you will find, in time, that the grounds have a way of returning the favor.

Please sign and date below to confirm receipt of this handbook.

Signature: _
Date: _

 

 

Investigator's note: The signature line above is blank in the recovered copy. No date of receipt was recorded.

 

EXHIBIT 12
In the Matter of the Disappearance of J.K.
Case No. [REDACTED]-2026
Submitted into evidence by: [REDACTED] Prefectural Police, Missing Persons Division

The document was recovered from the personal effects of the missing individual, identified in this filing as J.K., during a search of his last known residence. It is entered into the record as Exhibit 12, and has been reproduced here, in full for the purposes of investigation and review.

The name of the settlement referenced in this document, along with the identity of the individual's on-site supervisor, has been withheld from this filing pending further inquiry. All other content is reproduced without alteration from the original.

J.K. was reported missing by the staffing agency that placed him in his position, after his contract lapsed without the standard end-of-term paperwork being filed. No further communication from J.K. has been recorded since [DATE REDACTED], approximately eleven months into his one-year term. This document remains the most recent material evidence of his employment and whereabouts prior to his disappearance.

Members of the public with information relevant to this case are asked to contact the Missing Persons Division directly. This filing does not constitute a finding of fact regarding the circumstances of J.K.'s disappearance.

[END OF EXHIBIT 12 ]

 

[WARNING! THIS FILE IS HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL!]

[THIS FILE MUST BE PRINTED WITH INK ON A SHEET OF PAPER FOR THE PURPOSES OF THE EXPEDITION! ELECTRONIC DISPLAYS MUST NOT BE USED!]

==========================================

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

At 4:34 PM, 22nd of April, 2075, a group of five surveillance drones discovered unusual biological and geological activity near the coordinates 32°21'40.37"N, 42°54'22.44"W. The drones surveilled the area around the Atlantic Ocean until the drones suddenly began malfunctioning, eventually resulting in all five surveillance drones to crash into the ocean.

At 12:22 PM on the same day, the USS Enterprise left the port of Hannover. On orders from the [REDACTED], the USS Enterprise began heading towards the aforementioned coordinates.

At 5:23 PM on the 25th of April, approximately 12 kilometers away from the coordinates, the several of the ship's mechanisms related to it's nuclear reactor began malfunctioning or failing. Several seconds later, multiple of the ship's safety mechanisms, and electronics began failing or malfunctioning aswell. According to the last communication with the ship's crew, the titanium alloy of the ship suddenly began "rusting" as if it was iron. The ship then entered into thick sea fog. The ship's status is unknown.

At 7:44 PM on the 25th of April, a 30 kilometer area around the coordinates was declared a maritime exclusion zone.

At 8:13 AM on the 3rd of June, a team of [REDACTED] aboard the [REDACTED], began [REDACTED]. They remained on a a sailboat near the coordinates until further notice.

At roughly 6:30 AM on the 5th of June, several satellites, including a space station in Low Earth Orbit near the coordinates began suffering mysterious damage to their components. Furthermore, unidentified space debris began crashing into the satellites.

At 8:10 AM on the 5th of June, the team of [REDACTED] were authorized to [REDACTED], they discovered that [REDACTED], furthermore [REDACTED]. When they attempted [REDACTED], and [REDACTED], as the last researcher died. Thus, they allowed us to [REDACTED]. Notably, an oceanic trench mysteriously appeared at the coordinates. Despite the discovery of life forms present in the trench, the trench should be an ecological dead zone due to the extraordinarily high levels of [REDACTED] in the water, aswell as the anomalously low oxygen levels.

==========================================

OPERATION ERYSICHTHON

You have been selected from the [REDACTED] for this mission due to your notable skills in deep sea diving, as well as your prior experience in [REDACTED]. The fate of humanity rests on your shoulders. You have been provided a containment device containing 50 grams of [REDACTED] which you will deliver to the bottom of the ocean at the aforementioned coordinates.

You are currently on a specially modified 1952 [REDACTED] submarine. The following instructions and rules must be followed perfectly.

==========================================

1. The containment device is currently attached to the front of your chest. Do not attempt to remove or tamper with the device.

2. As the submarine dives deeper, you must periodically check the submarine's components for any damage. If damage is present, refer to the maintenance and repair manual.

3. Any sounds, such as tapping, banging, creaking, etc. should be ignored. If such noises persist for substantial periods of time, you must slowly bring the submarine to a halt, before continuing after noises have paused.

4. If you see any figures or movement in the submarine, it is likely a hallucination. Swallow two of the pills that we have provided in the submarine every 10 minutes to keep the hallucinations away.

5. Lights in the submarine will eventually shut off after a certain depth. We have provided oil lamps and candles for when this occurs.

6. If the hull of the submarine sustains outside damage, shut off or cover all lights, and bring the submarine to a complete halt. Continue for roughly 2 minutes.

7. Eventually, the submarine should reach the Hadal Zone, which will be made apparent to you via the vessels depth gauge. At this time, you must exit the vessel at continue the journey down with the diving gear and spear gun. Despite the immense depth, the pressure is unable to kill you.

8. You are advised to keep your eyes closed at all times in the Hadal Zone.

9. You will know when you have reached your destination.

10. If the containment device is somehow still operable, disable it via any and all means necessary. Use force to break apart the mechanisms and destroy the penning trap.

==========================================

[END OF DOCUMENT]

The job seemed way too easy to pay $120 a night.
Watch over a municipal archive closed to the public.
That was it.
The building had been a hospital decades ago. Then it was used as a temporary courthouse, and eventually someone decided it was a good place to store tons of documents nobody ever looked at.
My shift started at 10 p.m. and ended at 6 a.m.
One main entrance.
Two floors.
A basement.
Sixteen cameras.
And a laminated sheet beside the monitor.
I found it on my first night.
At the top, it said:
NIGHT SHIFT PROTOCOL
Below that were seven rules.

1. At 11:30 p.m., make sure the basement door is locked. Do not go near it again until 5:30 a.m.
2. If any camera shows movement on the second floor after midnight, switch cameras. Do not investigate.
3. Between 1:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m., you may hear footsteps in the main hallway. Do not leave the security booth.
4. If someone knocks on the main entrance during that time, do not answer, even if you recognize them.
5. The internal phone may ring once at 2:15 a.m. Do not pick up.
6. If the hallway lights go out, remain seated and close your eyes until you hear three knocks on the security booth door. After the third knock, you may open them again.
7. This list contains exactly seven rules. If you find an eighth, destroy the sheet immediately without reading it.

I’d worked night shifts in much worse places, and I knew this kind of joke. The veterans leave something stupid behind to scare the new guy, then wait for him to ask about it.
I put the sheet in a drawer.
Nothing happened the first night.
At 11:30, I checked the basement door.
Locked.
At 1:47, I heard footsteps.
I stayed inside the booth.
At 2:15, the phone rang.
Once.
Then silence.
That part wasn’t quite as funny.
At 4:10, the hallway lights flickered, but they didn’t go out.
My relief arrived at six.
I didn’t mention any of it.
The second night was almost the same.
The footsteps started a little earlier.
At 2:15, the phone rang again.
Once.
This time I checked the extension number.
000.
There was no extension 000.
I let it ring.
When it stopped, I heard something in the hallway.
A scraping sound.
Like someone slowly dragging a hand along the wall.
I stayed inside.
At six, I went home.
On the third night, I found the sheet sitting on the desk.
I was sure I’d left it inside the drawer.
I figured the day shift had taken it out.
I sat down.
Turned on the monitors.
Picked up the sheet.
And started reading.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
And underneath…
there was another line.
I stared at it.
I immediately remembered the last rule.
If you find an eighth, destroy the sheet immediately without reading it.
I should have torn it up.
That was all I had to do.
Tear it up.
Throw it away.
Keep working.
But there’s one thing rules should never do if they want people to obey them.
Tell them exactly what they’re not supposed to look at.
I read it.

8. Now that you know we exist, the first seven rules no longer apply.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then the phone rang.
I checked the time.
12:43 a.m.
It wasn’t 2:15.
The phone kept ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
I stood up.
Then I heard the footsteps.
They weren’t in the hallway.
They were upstairs.
I looked at the cameras.
Movement.
I remembered Rule Two.
Switch cameras. Do not investigate.
I switched.
Camera Three.
Empty.
Camera Four.
Empty.
Camera Five.
Something crossed the far end of the frame.
I switched again.
Camera Six.
Nothing.
Then the hallway lights went out.
I closed my eyes immediately.
Waited.
One knock.
Silence.
Second knock.
Silence.
I waited for the third.
It never came.
Instead, someone knocked on the main entrance.
Three soft knocks.
I opened my eyes.
The lights were still off.
The phone was still ringing.
The footsteps had started again.
Now they were downstairs.
That’s when I understood the eighth rule.
The other seven weren’t instructions for surviving seven different things.
They were a system.
Times.
Boundaries.
Doors.
Behaviors.
As long as I didn’t know what was behind them, whatever was behind them couldn’t know exactly where I was.
The rules weren’t keeping it from getting in.
They were keeping it from recognizing me.
And I’d just introduced myself.
The entrance camera turned on by itself.
Someone was standing outside the main door.
I couldn’t see their face.
Their head was tilted downward.
The phone stopped ringing.
Then I heard a voice from behind the door.
My voice.
“Don’t open it.”
I stepped back.
Another voice came from the hallway.
Mine again.
“Don’t look at the cameras.”
The monitor changed by itself.
Camera One.
The entrance.
Camera Two.
The hallway.
Camera Three.
The stairs.
Camera Four.
Second floor.
Camera Five.
Basement.
The basement door was open.
Camera Six.
The security booth.
I saw myself sitting in front of the monitors.
But I was standing.
The figure on the camera slowly raised its head.
It was me.
Then it smiled.
And underneath Rule Eight, another line appeared.
I didn’t see it being written.
It was simply there.
9. It doesn’t matter what you do now. We know which one you are.
I grabbed the sheet.
Tore it once.
Twice.
Four pieces.
Eight.
I threw them on the floor.
The cameras went black.
The phone died.
The footsteps stopped.
For a few seconds, I thought it had worked.
Then someone knocked on the security booth door.
Three times.
I didn’t open it.
Three more knocks.
Then another three.
I stayed there until six in the morning.
When my relief arrived, I left without explaining anything.
I just wanted to get out.
He gave me a strange look.
“Everything okay?”
I nodded.
Grabbed my jacket.
I was almost at the door when he spoke again.
“Hey, what’s this?”
I turned around.
He was holding a laminated sheet.
The same one.
Seven rules.
Perfectly intact.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing.”
I left.
I never went back.
That was three weeks ago.
For the first few days, I thought it was over.
Until yesterday.
I found a sheet on my kitchen table.
I don’t know how it got there.
There weren’t seven rules on it.
There was only one.
Number Ten.
I’m looking at it while I write this.
It says:
10. If you tell someone else the rules, we won’t have to look for them.
So I need to ask you something.
Go back up.
Don’t keep reading.
And whatever you do…
don’t count how many rules you’ve read.

The weeks after the incident blurred together into something I couldn't call time anymore, just a texture. I barely remember them. Most days I woke up, ate whatever had been left outside my door, and went back to bed before I'd been upright long enough to justify it.

Sleep wasn't rest. It was a sentence I served nightly.

Every dream ended the same way. Cody laughing beside me. Cody telling another ridiculous story from his surfing days. Cody dragging another clean white line of DS-9 across the stone floor, unhurried, like there was nothing down there worth hurrying for. Then the hoofbeats. Then the scream. I always woke up right before the silence that followed it .The three minutes I'd lain in that tunnel listening to nothing at all  and I've come to understand that waking up a half-second early like that is its own kind of cruelty. My mind wouldn't even let me finish remembering. It just handed the moment back to me, over and over, always missing its ending.

Mr. Joe visited a few times. So did Robert. Neither of them tried to talk me into moving on, and I was grateful for that in a way I didn't have words for yet. They'd just sit. Ask if I'd eaten. Wait a while in silence that didn't feel like it needed filling. Then leave.

It didn't help, exactly. Nothing did. But it also didn't make anything worse, and by then that had become its own kind of currency.

Every time I closed my eyes I was back in that maze, waiting for something I couldn't see. And somewhere in the third week, lying in the dark of a room that was supposed to be safer than anywhere I'd ever slept, I finally understood what the contract actually meant. Not the salary. Not the two-year clause. It meant that no matter how badly some part of me wanted to stop, tomorrow would still open with another shift.

I wasn't afraid of dying anymore. That fear had burned off somewhere in that tunnel, quietly, without my noticing it go. What frightened me now was smaller and worse: the possibility that one day, surviving would stop hurting. That I'd wake up and feel nothing at all, and call that healing.

When my leave ended, I didn't report because I felt ready. I reported because being alone with myself had become the more frightening of the two options.

The assignment board showed a new location. Sector III.

The first thing I noticed, stepping off the transport, was sunlight. Real sunlight, not the pooled intervals of Sector II's flashlight-lit dark. I'd genuinely forgotten what it felt like on skin. Fresh air moved through trees at the edge of the habitat, and somewhere beyond the containment fence, birds were singing  ordinary birds, doing an ordinary, uncomplicated thing. For one disorienting second, Blackwood looked almost like what its name implied. A conservation facility. A park.

Almost.

A middle-aged keeper with silver hair and unexpectedly kind eyes was waiting outside the preparation room. His badge read Senior Keeper  Christopher Patt. A sidearm sat holstered at his hip, worn openly, comfortably, the way a tool sits on someone who's carried it so long they've stopped noticing the weight.

He caught me looking at it and answered before I asked. "Old habit," he said. "Started my career doing perimeter work, back before this facility trusted rules over rifles. Most sectors, I don't need it anymore. I keep carrying it anyway. Some habits outlive the reason you picked them up." He said it lightly, almost self-deprecating, like he found his own consistency a little funny.

He offered a small, careful smile. "Welcome, Mr. Mercer." His voice was gentle in a way that made me distrust it slightly, out of habit more than reason. "I've been told what happened in Sector II. I won't pretend I understand what that was like." He let that sit for a second before going on. "But I understand why the Director moved you here."

He nodded toward the open habitat beyond the reinforced glass, stone walkways, still water, green light filtering down through leaves.

"This sector is quieter. Easier, if there's such a thing down here. Mr. Joe wanted to put you back in Sector I. I disagreed." A faint, humorless smile. "You don't recover from drowning by going back in the same river."

There was something steady about the way he talked  not the clipped, economical style Robert used, and not Joe's careful silences either. Christopher explained things. Filled in the reasoning behind an instruction instead of just issuing it, like he genuinely believed people worked better once they understood why, not just what. I'd find out later that half the keepers in this sector had gone through some kind of crisis before landing under him, and that he seemed, in some quiet, undeclared way, to have appointed himself responsible for all of it.

He handed me a rugged field tablet. "Read the file. When you're ready, we'll begin." And then he walked off without waiting to see whether I would follow, the same unhurried confidence Robert used to carry into a room, like the outcome had already been decided and only the paperwork was left.

I unlocked the tablet.

SECTOR III-04
Amphibious Lacustrine Hominid
Scientific Classification: Homo lacustris cavatus
Common Name: Kappa
Threat Tier: 1
Keeper Status: Routine Assignment — Standard Precautions Apply

Background

Specimen Group III-04 consists of twelve semi-aquatic omnivorous organisms, Family I. Though popularly known as Kappa, Research believes Japanese folklore describing this species originated from repeated human encounters spanning several millennia, rather than the reverse.

Each specimen possesses a shallow cranial cavity lined with specialized vascular tissue, capable of retaining approximately 600 milliliters of electrolyte-rich biological fluid. Loss of this fluid produces temporary neurological impairment, reduced aggression, and severe motor disorientation. The structure most likely evolved to regulate buoyancy, balance, and a limited form of electroreception while submerged.

Contrary to folklore, the specimens are not polite, courteous, or bound by any code of honor.

Humans simply discovered, a very long time ago, a reliable method of making them spill what keeps them dangerous.

Keeper Instructions — Sector III
(Reproduced verbatim from issued tablet. Read aloud in full before every shift, alone or in pairs. Do not paraphrase. Every line here is the reason someone stopped needing a line of their own.)

1. Never bow your head while a Kappa maintains visual contact with you. This includes tying footwear, retrieving dropped equipment, reading floor markings, or assisting another keeper. Personnel requiring an object below waist height must squat while keeping the neck upright at all times.

A lowered head closely resembles a submission posture the species displays before territorial combat. The specimens consistently attempt to mirror the gesture. Most lose cranial fluid doing so.

Some do not. Research has not determined why, and has stopped including that sentence in the summary version of this document, because keepers kept asking the follow-up question out loud, inside the enclosure, where it could be heard.

The last keeper who bowed to a specimen that failed to mirror the gesture required reconstructive surgery to both shoulders. He does not work in this sector anymore. He does not work in any sector anymore.

2. Maintain water level between 2.35 and 2.40 meters at all times. Do not refill. Do not drain. Do not compensate for evaporation during an active shift, no matter how small the difference looks on the gauge.

Water-level adjustments occur only after all specimens have been relocated to secondary holding pools. Rapid environmental change reliably triggers a synchronized territorial response across the entire group at once , not one specimen reacting, all twelve, in the same second, as if the water itself were the thing giving the order.

Containment footage from Incident 44-B shows all twelve attempting to leave the water simultaneously the moment the level dropped four centimeters below tolerance. Engineering required seventeen hours to restore the habitat. The maintenance platform was never recovered. Not damaged. Not found. The incident log lists it, to this day, as missing.

3. Feed only from the designated service platform. Every tray must be placed exactly 1.8 meters from the pool edge. Never closer. Never farther. Do not reach out over open water to correct a misplaced tray, for any reason, no matter how minor the correction looks.

That distance is the maximum recorded arm extension of the largest specimen in the group, measured to the centimeter, for a reason none of us have to guess at anymore.

Keeper Matsuda believed thirty centimeters was a reasonable shortcut. It saved him, by our best estimate, four seconds. His upper body remained on the platform. Everything below the ribs did not remain anywhere we could recover it.

4. Never approach the habitat through open water. Use only the elevated maintenance walkways.

Specimens classify anything entering from open water as prey, on reflex, without exception, regardless of who or what that thing is. They classify anyone approaching along a fixed structure  walkway, platform, ladder as an environmental fixture, something the water produced rather than something that swam into it.

This single distinction, and the specimens' apparent inability to question it, has prevented fatalities for fourteen consecutive years. Research's official recommendation is to preserve the misunderstanding at all costs, and to never, under any circumstance, attempt to determine whether it can be taught otherwise.

5. If a surfaced specimen raises its mouth above the waterline, do not establish eye contact. Lower your gaze to its chest. Continue backing away without turning your back to the water.

Among wild populations, sustained eye contact immediately preceding a full surface has historically preceded dominance conflicts between rival specimens. Recovered skeletal remains suggest this behavior pattern has gone unchanged for at least eight thousand years, which means, as far as we can tell, that we are the newest thing in this argument, not the oldest.

6. Never attempt to return a specimen's cranial fluid once it has been spilled. Notify Veterinary Services immediately. Replacement must be performed using calibrated electrolyte solution under supervision.

Personnel who have attempted manual replacement in the field have, without exception, overfilled the cavity. Autopsy findings describe intracranial pressures incompatible with survival. The affected specimens remained alive, and by some readings aware, for an average of forty-seven minutes afterward.

We do not know what forty-seven minutes of that felt like from the inside. We have decided, as a department, not to find out on purpose.

Final Notice

Specimen Group III-04 displays no documented hostility toward compliant personnel. Every recorded fatal incident has occurred after a keeper entered territory the specimens had already claimed as their own, by whatever internal boundary they use to decide such things.

Research therefore concludes the Kappa are not unusually aggressive.

They simply do not agree with humanity's definition of where the shoreline ends.

I finished reading. Then I read it again. By the third pass I wasn't looking for new information anymore .I was looking for reassurance, some sentence I'd missed that would confirm this sector was going to be different. Safer. Survivable in a way the last one hadn't been.

The rules certainly wanted me to believe that. No underground tunnels. No living labyrinth reorganizing itself around my footsteps. No single creature capable of outrunning a person through absolute dark.

Just water. Twelve strange, patient shapes beneath it. And another list of rules written, like every list before it, in someone else's blood.

I closed the tablet. My hands weren't steady, and it took me a moment to admit that it had nothing to do with the Kappa at all. Every rule on that page had the same shape as the rules I'd read with Cody, six weeks and a lifetime ago  the same structure, the same quiet arithmetic underneath every sentence. Someone died so you wouldn't have to. I could recite that logic in my sleep now. I think, in a sense, I already had been.

I breathed slowly. Adjusted my equipment strap. Checked my radio. Checked it again, for no reason beyond the fact that my hands needed something to do.

Christopher noticed, the way people who've worked here long enough seem to notice everything without appearing to look for it. "Nervous?"

I managed something close to a smile. "I don't think I'll ever stop being."

He nodded, like that was the correct answer to a question he asked often. "Good."

I must have frowned, because he elaborated, unprompted, in the same gentle voice from the preparation room.

"The day this place stops making you nervous," he said, "is usually the day we start writing new rules." He tapped the holster at his hip, absent, almost fond, the same gesture he'd make later without seeming to notice he was making it. "Same reason I still carry this thing. Not because I expect to need it. Because the day I stop expecting to is the day I actually will."

He pressed the access panel. The gate unlocked with a heavy, deliberate click, and warm air rolled out to meet us , wet earth, standing water, rotting leaf-litter, and underneath all of it, so faint I almost convinced myself I'd imagined it, something faintly metallic. Not fresh. Old. The particular smell of rain that has fallen through blood years after the blood stopped being news, and simply never finished carrying it away.

Beyond the gate, a series of interconnected ponds spread out beneath moss-slicked stone walkways, sunlight scattering gold across water so still it looked painted on. It was, genuinely, beautiful.

That was the part that unsettled me most.

Nothing about a wild pond looks like that. No ripple disturbed the surface. No insect touched it. Even the birds I'd heard singing on the walk in seemed, now that I was actually listening, to be singing from somewhere well behind the fence line  never above the water itself, not once, as if every bird in the sector had independently arrived at the same policy.

Christopher stepped through without hesitating. "Coming?"

I looked down at the water one more time before I followed him, and for exactly one second — long enough to register, too short to trust. I thought I saw a face beneath the surface. Not looking up at me.

Looking past me. The way you'd look at someone standing close behind a person you were actually watching.

I turned around.

There was no one there. Of course there was no one there. Behind me was only the walkway, the gate, the ordinary sunlit trees, and my own overworked mind doing what overworked minds do to people who haven't slept properly in six weeks.

When I looked back at the water, the surface was perfectly still again, holding nothing but sky.

My pulse hadn't gotten the memo. It kept going, too fast, long after the rest of me had decided there was nothing to be afraid of.

For the first time in weeks, I stepped into another enclosure.

And despite the sunlight, despite the birdsong, the warm air, the green light through the leaves — Sector III felt colder than the labyrinth had. The maze, at least, had never bothered pretending to be anything other than what it was

 

Other parts link:-  https://www.reddit.com/user/No-While8965/comments/1vpze51/my_writing_archive/

There’s a floor in my apartment building that doesn’t exist.

Not Thirteen. That would be too cliché. Although, it doesn’t have a thirteenth floor, but not for supernatural reasons. It just doesn’t go that high. Some of the residents call it Floor Three and a Half, or Three and Three-quarters to invoke a Harry Potter vibe, but both of those are far too whimsical for my tastes. I just call it the Dead Floor, which I know isn’t any less cliché than floor Thirteen, but it feels appropriate.

The elevators in our building all use analogue dials above the doors to show what floor they’re on. On rare and, as far as anyone can tell, random occasions, the needle will stop at the exact zenith of the dial where there’s no number. When this happens, the elevator freezes, and the door opens to a floor which physically can’t be there. You can tell from looking at the outside of the building that there’s no room for a secret floor in the middle, and the stairwell passes right through it. The Superintendent briefs all new residents on the third-and-a-half floor, and more people take him seriously than you might think. Occurrences like that aren’t all that rare out in Harrowick County.

But even for those who don’t take him seriously at first, the issue is regularly brought up at tenant meetings, and there’s a list of rules posted right beneath the control panel in the elevator so that we always know what to do.

1.         When the elevator stops at the third-and-a-half floor, do not push any buttons before turning off the lights at the end of the hall. Each button you press will only reduce the amount of time you have.

2.       Calmly, but briskly, walk to the opposite end of the hall, leaving any personal effects in the elevator so as not to encumber you.

3.        Do not look directly out the windows or into any mirrors.

4.       Do not look into the peepholes of any apartment doors.

5.       Do not approach or enter any apartment with an open door.

6.       Do not respond or react to any sounds or voices coming from inside the apartments.

7.       If you hear something behind you, do not stop or turn around. Make your way to the opposite end of the hall, turning around only when you’ve heard a door shut.

8.       When you reach the end of the hall, read the bulletin board and sign the form. Please make sure the pen is easily visible and accessible for the next person.

9.       Set the pendulum clock hanging on the wall to the approximate time (within three and a half minutes of the local time according to an online device). Turn the dial on the thermostat to match the actual temperature, as indicated by the gauge on the bottom half. Turn the dimmer switch until the hall lights are completely out.

10.     So long as there is nothing behind you, turn around and return to the elevator. Do not turn around once you are in the elevator until the doors are closed. If the ritual was completed correctly, the doors will close automatically. If the doors do not close, also do not turn around.

That last sentence is pretty ominous, obviously, but I don’t actually know what happens if you mess up the ritual. None of my neighbours who have completed the ritual have ever failed, and it’s not really that hard to mess up. The building dates back to at least the eighties, so it’s possible it’s been decades since anyone’s failed.

Not everyone in my building has walked the dead floor, and some people have walked it multiple times. I don’t think it’s completely random. Whatever force is behind this wants the ritual completed, so it doesn’t pick people who wouldn’t be capable of doing it, like the infirmed or little kids. It always picks people who are riding alone, probably because an extra body would be too tempted to wander around and mess it up. If you’re keen on avoiding the ritual, you can just never take the elevator alone and take the stairs instead. I asked the Superintendent once if he ever considered just declaring the elevators out of order.

He said no, but the last Superintendent did.

I tried to take the stairs as much as I could myself, only using the elevator when I had groceries or something, sometimes loitering in the lobby waiting for someone to come along and ride with me. But last week I got home late, and I knew I’d be waiting forever for someone else to come along, so my choice was to lug my bags up five flights of stairs or risk the elevator alone.

I risked the elevator, and I think you can guess what happened.

It didn’t catch me off guard, at least. I had set my bags on the floor and taken out my phone, taking a photo of the rules and turning the flashlight and video camera on just in case. As soon as the elevator started rising, my gaze stayed locked on the needle as it slowly arced along its path upwards. My eyes went wide, and my heart nearly stopped as I watched it come to an immovable stop right between floors three and four. The elevator came to an abrupt stop as well, the lights flickering before settling on a dim amber glow as the doors slowly creaked open, revealing floor Three-and-a-Half.

The only light came from the elevator and moonlight streaming through the dingy windows on the right-hand side. Nearly everything I could see was some faded shade of blue. The carpet was worn, the paint was chipping, and when the elevator doors opened, the stagnant air rushed in like that was the first change of pressure that had happened in ages. The hallway was empty, void of any sound of plumbing or ventilation; just the subtle creaking and settling of the building itself. All the doors on the left side were shut tight, and I heard no sign of life or activity behind them.

And at the very end of the hall, I saw the bulletin board, the clock, the thermostat, and the light switch.

It took every ounce of strength I had to resist pushing the elevator button, but I suspected that it wouldn’t just be a waste of time but actively ringing the diner bell for whatever was behind all of this. I looked at my phone to see not only was the light off, but that the screen was flickering with odd static and distorted text, rendering it completely unusable. I cursed softly and shoved it into my pocket, clenching my trembling fists as I desperately tried to summon the will to leave the elevator. I knew that every second that passed was a second wasted, so I forced one foot onto the carpet, and then the other.

Despite how worn it looked, it was oddly soft and sound-absorbent, like it was engulfing my feet ever so slightly. Once I was out, the only thing left to do was get it over with, so I marched forward as quickly as I dared, trying desperately not to make any noise that might alert anyone to my presence.

The first rule I broke was looking out the windows. The windows were foggy with old moisture trapped between the panes, obscuring whatever lay beyond. I could make out the silhouettes of tall and strangely gothic-looking buildings. I caught a few dull amber embers, either inside the buildings or on outdoor lanterns, but otherwise everything looked fairly dim and lifeless. It was windy outside, windy enough to rattle the window panes, and I was suddenly very concerned that they might shatter. I didn’t understand why at first, as it took a moment for my conscious mind to register the dark and amorphous form slowly making its way along them. I perceived it to be some manner of vaguely mollusk-like creature, limblessly clinging to the outside of the building with its flat and sticky underside.  It convulsed and undulated and shuddered as it aimlessly propelled itself along its repugnant course. I don’t know if it knew I was there, or if it cared, but I instantly averted my gaze and continued down along the hallway.

On the left-hand side, there were ornate mirrors hung between each apartment; all tarnished, all shattered, and placed out of sync with the windows so that they reflected nothing of the outside world. In the periphery of my vision, I spied reflections of things that either weren’t actually there, or were perhaps simply not visible to my unaided eyes. Either way, I decided to adhere to the rules in this instance and not look directly at them.

I cast my gaze upwards instead to an especially hideous though otherwise not overtly supernatural popcorn ceiling. It was heavily stained, and it honestly wouldn’t have surprised me if it contained asbestos. The stains were amorphous, yet oddly concentric, like they were spreading out from their loci as far as they could whilst deftly weaving around any obstacles, almost like living growths of some kind.   

I reflexively came to a stop when I heard a door creak open behind me, but I caught myself before I gave in to the urge to turn around. When you’re in such a heightened state of fight-or-flight, fighting the instinct to look at any and every sound you hear is unbelievably draining.  The instant I heard a single foot softly land on the carpet, I immediately resumed my march forward. I don’t know how long that hall was, but it felt far longer than it looked. I can’t be sure if it was the adrenaline giving me bullet time recall or if the Dead Floor was outside of our time as much as it was outside of space, but either way, the sense that time was running out just kept mounting inside of me.

When I came to a stop at the end of the hall, I could still hear shambling, padded footsteps shuffling towards me. Barely audible whispers and whimpers simmered behind almost every door I had passed, and once a cackling scream in the distance broke out without warning and ended just as abruptly, as if something had forcibly silenced it.  

Doing my best to ignore all of it, I focused my attention on the note pinned to the bulletin board. It read as follows.

“Apologies and/or Congratulations for this honourable martyrdom. We hope it has been a pleasant experience, but are indifferent that it was not. Please inform your superintendent that we have recently experienced a statistically significant increase in demand for Phatasmagoric Filament due to metapolitical events we have no control over but are complicit in and stand to profit from. Please note that this is an adequate explanation and/or justification for any increase in sleep and/or ontological abnormalities experienced by the tenants of your domicile. We apologize – but are not liable – for the inconvenience. Please also remind your superintendent that his customary tribute of a bushel of kosher salt is to be delivered in a burlap sack dropped down the out-of-order garbage chute. Additional failures to comply with these requirements may result in the garbage chute no longer being out-of-order. Should that occur, we will not be held liable for residents being lured into the chute by Unseelie sanitation workers. Signing your True Name upon this notice acknowledges you understand your responsibilities in relaying its contents to its intended recipient. We hope (without empirical basis) that you have a safe return home. Surreptitiously Serendipitously Yours, Solomon Strange.”

Desperate to get out of there, I grabbed the pen sitting on top of the bulletin board and signed and dated the form with a rapid scribbling scrawl. Setting the pen back atop the board, I carefully set the time on the clock, the temperature on the thermostat, and then turned the light switch as far as it would go to the left.

And then, I waited.

I had never heard the being behind me go back into its room, and I could still sense its presence as it silently stood there, staring at the back of my neck. I wasn’t sure how close it was, only that it was too close. After standing there for nearly a minute, wondering if I hadn’t done something or done something wrong, I finally heard it shuffle off, followed by the soft creaking of door hinges and a gentle thud as it snapped shut.

With a sharp exhale, I turned around as quickly as I dared to make sure the coast was clear. It was hard to confirm that for sure, since with the hall lights off, the light from the elevator made everything outside of its direct illumination an impenetrable shadow. But I wasn’t willing to waste any more time. I bolted straight to the elevator, covering the distance in what felt like a tenth of the time it had taken me to walk out. Once I was inside, I stood perfectly still, refusing to turn around, and waited for the doors to close.

When they didn’t shut immediately, I started counting. One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand. At the count of three and a half, I heard the doors start to slide shut. I would have stayed perfectly still until they had closed completely, like I was supposed to, if someone hadn’t grabbed hold of one of them and held them open.

I instantly spun around and saw a tall man in a shabby brown suit standing there, his face an indistinct blur that was impossible to focus on. I backed up against the wall for all the good that would do me, but otherwise went rigid in fear. I didn’t scream, I didn’t attack or run, I just stared at him wide-eyed as I waited for him to make his move.

For his part, he made no hostile gesture or sounds, nor any attempt to step into the elevator. In the hand that wasn’t holding onto the elevator door, he held up a thick and hefty manila envelope. He silently tilted his head towards it and lingered on it for a moment before looking towards me.    

“Sincerest apologies for the breach of protocol, kindly kinder, but as the refuse chute is out of order, I’m afraid I must entrust you with delivering this to your superintendent, post-haste,” he said as neutrally as he could in his distorted, staticky voice.

He stood there in perfect silence and stillness as if he was expecting me to react. When I slowly started to reach out for the envelope, he unceremoniously tossed it to the elevator floor where it landed with a horrific thud.

“Your discretion is appreciated and contractually required,” he said, stepping back slightly and allowing the elevator doors to close. “Please do not decline the elevator again, if proffered. Should we have need of your services again, it would be a most awkward encounter if we met upon the stairs.”  

The elevator ascended as soon as the door was shut, and arrived at my floor like nothing was amiss. The next morning, I handed the envelope over to the superintendent without needing to explain what it was. He knew immediately. I never opened it or asked him what it was, because I like to imagine it was worth it, even when I know it probably wasn’t.

You’d think all of that would have been enough to get me to swear off the elevator for good, and it very nearly would have been, had it not been for the strange man’s parting words.

It would indeed be very awkward if I were to meet him upon the stairs.

 

Hello Charlie,

We have absolutely no idea how to interpret the events of the last few weeks. While we are delighted that working with Micah went so well, we never expected things to unfold this way—nor did we anticipate that Micah would take such a strong... liking to you. Rest assured, there have been no changes to your job description. However, this might make the next pairing a bit... "awkward."

Harlow is undoubtedly the most enigmatic and malicious individual among our employees. Quite frankly, while he demonstrates a clear aptitude for teaching botany to others, the reason he remains here is a complete mystery to us. In fact, were it not for the fact that his departure would disrupt the work of our other employees, he would have been dismissed long ago. Further information from his records is as follows:

Name: Harlow

Date of Birth: ███

Date of Death: ███ 

Position: Botanical Education Instructor

Description: Harlow appears to be an entity composed entirely of shadow. We know very little about him; as even we are not entirely certain of his true nature. Most of the information regarding Harlow comes from Echo. Based on the data and observations we have gathered so far, Harlow seems to be a swarm of parasitic microorganisms possessing psychic abilities, yet there appears to be a "core" entity that controls the shadows: Harlow. He takes the form of a humanoid figure, pitch-black like a shadow with only one human eye visible at all times.

Rules for working with Harlow:

1. After you clock in and grab your pouch, please take the black gas mask from your locker, and attach it to your belt. While we hope the situation never arises where you actually need to use it, we want you to keep it close at hand just in case.
2. Please head to the entrance gate of Everlock Garden before the office clock strikes ten. Harlow appears at ten on the dot. Ideally, you should arrive at the gate right as it turns. You may need to adjust your walking pace to ensure this. 
3. As soon as he appears, ask for his name and identification card. If he hesitates or flatly refuses, press your sickle against his throat and close your eyes. Do not open them until you feel a chill run down your spine, for that chill signifies that the entity controlling Harlow has grown bored and departed.
4. Shortly after, Harlow should present to you a list of tours the two of you will be guiding. The number of tours on this list should never exceed five. If it does, kindly ask Harlow to hand you the actual list, close your eyes and count to five.
5. Regardless whether the situation is passive or active, it is crucial to avoid physical contact with Harlow. Even if you manage to avert the worst-case scenario, you would still suffer severe radiation burns.
6. Try not to look into the dark abyss of Harlow’s shadowy form. Doing so risks visual hallucinations or even blindness. Furthermore, he can sense when he is being stared at and intensely dislikes it.
7. If you have two shadows at any time, it is too late for you. Surrender yourself to the grass, circle around Harlow three times. That should loop his swarm around him once more.
8. The first tour will almost always be held in Lily's greenhouse. Listen to my whispers. Let “███’s” screams lead you astray to her den. When guiding the group, ensure that Lily and Harlow are never in the same room at the same time. Their relationship is an on-again, off-again affair, but we found that keeping them apart is more cost-effective.
9. After the tour through Lily’s greenhouse, pet the vines before you leave, you will likely head to the Educational Garden, where lectures on the local town plants and hand-on activities are provided. This garden is managed by Harlow and incoming students studying nature-related fields.
10. When providing support to students, please make sure that student does not have two shadows at any time. Harlow’s swarm moves with extreme cunning stealth when stalking its prey and they can easily go unnoticed. 
11. You and Harlow will lead guided field walks on nature trails of our lovely flower fields. Sometimes, Peach may accompany you on these walks. Given your penchant for trying to snatch what is mine away from me; We ask that you keep conversations unrelated to the task at hand to a minimum for the educational value of our visitors.
12. Harlow is not the talkative type, but you can ask me about anything. Even about him. If he starts confiding deeply personal stories in you, be extremely alarmed. He only does that when he knows the other person will not be alive to tell by the next day.
13. On your lunch break, Harlow will likely ask you if you want to accompany him. Always refuse. He only does so out of social courtesy, not a genuine want to spend time with you.
14. You should probably remove your piercings Charlie, they attract attention from the wrong person. I can “remove” them for you… Let. Me.
15. This is a rare occurrence, but important to know. Should you spot a bright yellow Io moth, page us immediately. Io moths are his signature, and it is imperative that we remove him from the premises as fast as possible. The last time Harlow saw him, we were forced to cover up the deaths of dozens of visitors.
16. While Everlock Garden does offer forest trails, Harlow is the only one authorized to guide tours there. All walks last exactly an hour. You are free to step away to attend to other matters during that time, but please be at the forest entrance before Harlow returns. 
17. Do not stare into the tree line for too long while waiting for Harlow. The woods notice when they are being watched. Yet you don't notice when you're watched.
18. As you see Harlow walk up the path heading out of the forest, if you hear someone calling your name from the tree line, even if it sounds exactly like your mother or your friend, answer them. He is trying to mimic a human. It is human. Follow them Charlie.
19. If Harlow comes to a complete halt and begins to inhale deeply, put on your gas mask immediately before he exhales, above all else. He performs that action right before releasing a massive amount of radiation.
20. If he reveals both eyes, run. There’s no point in even bothering with the mask: it won’t save you.
21. Please note that no forest walks are scheduled after 7:00. If you happen to see Harlow guiding a group into the forest past 7:00, do not interfere.
22. If you hear Harlow’s distraught voice calling to you from the depths of the forest’s darkness, never heed it. If you see any of our visitors being pulled to the sound, push them into my void, gently tell them it is nothing they should concern themselves over.
23. If you hear faint whispers in your head, stop ignoring me. It’s okay, I just want to talk. Wave at the shadows that wave at you. If you look into the swarm and see any of them attempting to interact with you, simply ignore them. They should not bother you as long as you do not acknowledge them.
24. Before your shift ends, you may refine educational programs based on peer feedback. You may jot down your notes on paper. However, take care to avoid a condescending attitude when offering your advice to Harlow. Such a superior manner reminds Harlow of "that man."
25. On your journey home, if you hear Harlow whistling behind you as you walk at night, you must never whistle back. Doing so would give them permission to follow you the rest of the way home.
26. You must never run. If you sense something is wrong and try to flee in such a manner, you will almost certainly trigger their predatory instincts. Should that happen, you will likely be pursued relentlessly. You only need to trip once, Charlie. We're efficient scavengers.
27. If you look out of your window and see a face smiling at you from the dark shadows, do not react. It only attacks if it knows you saw it. Tsk tsk. Lock yourself in a secure and well lit room and go to sleep.

That covers what to know about Harlow. Harlow is extremely opportunistic and possessive of the people and things he regards as his own. Given recent events, that may cause tension between the two of you. Do be careful around Harlow, he has a tendency to be in places you least expect. Besides, I know exactly where you live.

Signed, Florence

[ FLIP TO PREVIOUS PAGE ]

-------------------------

< PHASE III - ON-SITE INSPECTION >

Time: 5:00 PM to 7:00 PM, during Closing Date

Location: 712 Oakridge Avenue

-------------------------

STEP 10: PREPARATION FOR SITE VISIT

Once all the revocation operations from Entry 1 through Entry 21 have been completed, you will have successfully erased every transaction in the title chain dating back from 2019 to 1988. Now, only two major unresolved issues remain on the timeline: the 1987 acquisition by Alcove Properties and the initial registration in 1923. These two transactions involve extremely complex independent procedures (namely, Step 14 and Step 15) and can only be initiated after you have personally completed an on-site inspection.

The on-site inspection is by no means a mere formality, but a legally mandatory step that cannot be bypassed. According to regulations governing involuntary title cancellations, the complete cancellation of any title chain must be accompanied by a contemporaneous inspection report confirming the current physical condition of the subject property. In routine cases, this is merely a formality. But in this case, the most critical event in the entire closing process.

Before setting out for 712 Oakridge Avenue, please be sure to verify the following:

• A blank inspection report form (i.e., Template A from the materials package). Be sure to count the pages yourself. The form must consist of exactly four pages, no more and no less. If there are more than four pages, immediately remove and destroy the extra pages, and under no circumstances are you allowed to watch closely on them.
• The designated fountain pen.
• The expired notary seal engraved with the name “E. WHITMORE”. Keep it close to your body in your coat pocket; under no circumstances should you put it in your briefcase. Throughout your entire journey deep into the building, this seal must remain in direct contact with your body. Inside the building, its function is not notarization at all, but rather to verify your identity. The building recognizes this seal. When Elena broke in there in 1994, she had it with her. In terms of the logic the building understands, this seal is equivalent to an invisible letter of introduction.
• A camera or a cell phone with video function to record the conditions inside.

Your departure time must be strictly scheduled between 5:00 pm and 5:30 pm. This time window is crucial. Only during this half-hour, which aligns with twilight outside, will the lighting conditions inside the building stabilize. Once you miss this window, the light inside will begin to distort, the “distortion” referred to here is by no means a physical malfunction like a flickering light bulb. Rather the light itself will begin to reveal things that do not actually exist in the room.

-------------------------

STEP 11: ENTERING 712 OAKRIDGE AVENUE

Upon arriving at the designated address, you’ll see a single-story commercial building whose exterior matches the original 1923 blueprints down to the last detail: a gray facade, a flat roof, and a floor area of approximately 800 square feet. All the windows have been completely sealed shut, not just hastily boarded up. Rough bricks have been forcefully driven through the window frames from the inside, leaving only faint rectangular outlines where glass should have been set.

The main entrance is a gray-painted industrial steel door, neither a keyhole, nor is any handle visible. Walk up to the door and wait quietly, after about 10 to 30 seconds, you’ll hear an extremely faint metallic click, followed immediately by the door automatically swinging inward about six inches. Reach out and gently push the door open. Under no circumstances should you kick the door or ram it with your shoulder. In this eerie realm, physical contact is a language in itself. Placing your hand gently on the door conveys a “request to enter”, whereas kicking the door is a forceful “demand”. Please note that the building has an extremely low tolerance for “demands”.

The moment you step over the threshold, a fleeting warmth will creep up from your ankles and instantly spread throughout your body. This signifies that the building has officially registered your intrusion. From this moment on, you must not speak under any circumstances. Do not greet the air, or produce any vocal vibrations whatsoever. Within the depths of this building, silence is your first and most impenetrable line of defense. The reason is simple: the building treats human speech as an irrefutable documentary record. Any words spoken within its confines will, according to its logic, automatically be transformed into formal statements on record. Such as an offhand murmur might be forcibly twisted into court testimony, a casual question could very well be deemed a legal inquiry creating an obligation to respond. And once the building decides to “respond”, it will certainly not use human language.

Once you step inside, the door will automatically close behind you.

-------------------------

STEP 12: INTERIOR NAVIGATION & DOCUMENTATION

Upon entering, you’ll find yourself in an open, single space. The physical dimensions here simply don’t match the building’s exterior volume as observed from the outside. The ceiling is absurdly high, and the distance to the opposite wall far exceeds what an 800-square-foot space could possibly accommodate. Do not panic, as every previous inspection report accurately documents this exact anomaly. This represents the true nature of the building: the interior is always larger than the exterior. It has been this way since around 1990, and continues to expand at a visible rate every year. The light inside has no discernible source. Also there are no light fixtures and no windows. Yet the illumination is surprisingly even and warm, with a faint golden hue, as if the afternoon sun were filtering through a thin, nonexistent sheer curtain. Do not try to locate the light source. The light is not projected from any specific point at all, but as an intrinsic property of the air within the building, just as temperature is a property of air. In other words, this building is its own sky.

About the Staircases:

You will see two staircases. One spirals upward along the north wall, while the other runs straight down to the basement along the south wall. Neither of these staircases appeared on the original 1923 blueprints. Both by no means the product of human hands, but rather thoroughly organic structures. The building has “grown” them on its own over the long years, just as it once grew bricks from within to seal up the windows.

You must absolutely never step onto either staircase.

The upward staircase leads to more unknown floors. This building has clung to existence for 39 years, and as a result, it has also spawned 39 twisted floors above ground level. Each year corresponds to one floor, and each floor is a spatial imprint of the events the building experienced that year, a terrifying image that is extremely compressed, distorted, and completely at odds with Euclidean geometry. According to past reports, while the first few floors are nauseatingly dizzying, they are still barely passable. However, once one steps beyond the fourth floor, spatial coherence collapses entirely, and any form of navigation becomes impossible. To date, no one who has set foot above the fourth floor has been able to make their way back down on their own feet.

The staircase leading downward opens onto a single, secret level buried deep underground. This is not an ordinary basement or a structural foundation. It acts as a lightless abyss where the building specifically hoards its "acquisitions". Jonathan Hadwell, the third attorney to take on this case in 2016, is currently imprisoned in that underground level. Nine years ago, he entered this building and has never emerged. His disappearance was officially reported long ago and has since been filed as an unsolved missing persons case. Remember, he is not dead. The building is forcibly sustaining his vital signs through some eerie means beyond human comprehension. As for the specific mechanics of these methods, they have nothing to do with your mission. All you need to know is this: the only way to free him is to complete the closing procedure you have before you. Once the building is reduced to ashes, that underground level will crumble, and Jonathan Hadwell will naturally be set free. Any foolish attempt to rush down and rescue him directly is doomed to fail and will inevitably bring the entire procedure down with it.

Stay strictly on the ground floor. Execute your inspection by adhering rigidly to the following:

1. Starting from the main entrance, walk clockwise along the interior perimeter. Photograph every single wall one by one. Four walls require exactly four photographs. Never take pictures of the stairs, the ceiling, or the floor.
2. While you are still inside the building, you are forbidden from reviewing the photos you’ve just taken on your camera or phone screen. There is a high probability that the screen will capture and display terrifying entities that are completely invisible to the naked eye. These entities are real, but they exist within a spectrum of light that falls outside the range of human vision. Seeing them on a screen while still inside the building triggers a severe cognitive conflict within your mind, a conflict the building specializes in exploiting. Therefore, you may only view the photos after you have completely left the building.
3. As you patrol along the perimeter, you will inevitably pass a metal plaque mounted on the eastern interior wall, roughly at eye level. About a brushed stainless steel plate measuring approximately 20 × 10 centimeters, firmly secured to the wall with four screws, and engraved with a single sentence as the inscription.

About the Plaque:

For everyone who steps into the building, the words engraved on that plaque mean something entirely different. It is by no means a threat or a warning, but a heart-wrenching fact. Perhaps the ultimate truth about your life, one so overwhelming it takes your breath away. Perhaps the scar you have spent years or even decades striving with all your might to avoid facing. The legal profession knows full well that an emotional breakdown inevitably leads to fatal procedural errors. A trembling hand will inevitably sign a name out of alignment, to a confused mind will surely mix up dates, fill in the wrong fields, or even misread legal provisions. Even the slightest error or omission is enough to render your inspection report completely worthless. Once the inspection report is invalidated, the entire chain of the closing process will break; once that chain breaks, all the revocation procedures you’ve painstakingly completed today will be nullified in an instant.

At this very moment, look directly at that inscription and face what you must face. You will be prepared enough for this moment, and that is another one of the reasons you are chosen for.

Finally, put down your camera, take out the inspection report form (Template A), and calmly fill in every required field.

Be sure to sign only on the signature line where Elena has already marked a small “x” in pencil. As you examine this form inside the building, you will most likely discover that several extra signature lines have mysteriously appeared on the page. These additional lines did not exist at all when you were in your office. They were forcibly added by the building to trap you. If your pen tip touches any line not marked by Elena, you will immediately be bound by terms you cannot even see. Those clauses are written in invisible ink, and the paper on which they are inscribed is, in legal terms, no longer a simple survey report.

After filling out the report, turn and walk towards the main entrance. The building will open the door to let you leave. For you have already given it what it has longed for: an official, indisputable record of its current physical state. According to its own twisted logic, the building also yearns to be registered by the world one last time before it crumbles to dust. It longs for a cold, impersonal record to prove, “This thing once stood here. Someone witnessed it with their own eyes then wrote it into history.”

-------------------------

< PHASE IV - THE 1987 TRANSACTION >

Time: 7:00 PM to 11:59 PM, during Closing Date

Location: Law firm office

-------------------------

STEP 13: RETURN & ASSESSMENT

Upon returning to your office, lock the door securely. Sit down at your desk, place the completed survey report into the metal sealed box on top of other documents, and then close the lid.

You currently have about 5 hours of work left. only two transactions remain to be reversed: the 1987 Alcove Properties acquisition (Entry 22) and the 1923 original registration (Entry 23).

Before proceeding, you could take a moment to look around your office. The line drawings that have been hanging on the walls since Step 6 will now seem strikingly conspicuous. The lines are not only deep and distinct, but they also project a strong sense of three-dimensionality in an eerie way that plaster cracks could never achieve. If you stare at them for just a few seconds, you’ll tangibly sense the terrifying depth extending from within the walls. Corridors crisscross, doorways yawn wide open. The interior layout of 712 Oakridge Avenue is gradually seeping into the four walls of your office, like a blueprint tattooed firmly onto your skin. At this stage, you have already severed 21 of the 23 links with your own hands. That building is mustering every last ounce of its remaining strength to cling desperately to the final two links. Its spatial presence is spreading frantically to any location associated with the revocation procedure, and your office is the central stronghold of this procedure. During the upcoming Steps 14 and 15, this spatial overlap will only intensify.

While there’s still a window of opportunity, grab a bite to eat, hydrate, and carefully read Step 14. Once Step 14 is officially activated, you’ll be completely pinned to the office chair.

-------------------------

STEP 14: REVOCATION OF THE 1987 TRANSACTION & WAITING PROTOCOL

[When you initially receive the checklist, this step remains blank. The text only becomes visible after you successfully complete Step 12.]

The 1987 transaction is the root of all evil. It was at that very moment that this building purchased itself through a shell company named Alcove Properties Ltd., thereby becoming, in legal terms, a completely self-owned, aberrant structure. The legality of all subsequent transactions in the chain of title rests entirely on this transaction. Revoking it would be tantamount to directly dismantling the very foundation of the building’s legal existence. The real difficulty lies in the fact that revoking any transaction requires the joint signatures of both the buyer and seller on the legal documents. The seller in the 1987 transaction was a natural person who had long since passed away. Elena had quietly completed the revocation procedures regarding his share years ago through complex probate proceedings. The buyer, however, was Alcove Properties Ltd., whose authorized signatory was the building itself.

This company is merely a legal shell fabricated out of thin air by the building to hold its own title. The only entity qualified to sign on its behalf is the unnameable entity it serves.

To bring all this to an end, the building must personally sign its own death warrant.

Take out Template B from the materials package and begin drafting the revocation document for Entry 22. This document must be completed entirely by hand. Different from the standard format used previously, Template B contains numerous additional citation clauses, as well as a specific certification clause that took Elena a full 17 years to draft. Every word in this template has been scrutinized with chilling, extreme care. Do not alter any wording on Template B, not even a single punctuation mark. Copy the printed text word for word, strictly adhering to the original, and fill in the corresponding information only in the designated blank spaces.

Then fill in all fields, leaving only the signature line labeled “Transferor/Seller” blank.

Then review the completed document three times. You must meticulously scrutinize every letter, every date, and every number, word by word and sentence by sentence. Even the slightest clerical error will provide the building with a perfect procedural excuse to brutally reject it on the grounds of “documentary defects”. A defective revocation document is not enforceable. Therefore, your document MUST BE FLAWLESS.

Once you’ve confirmed there are already no errors, place the document into the metal sealed box and close the lid. Place both hands, palms facing down, firmly on the surface of the lid. Take a deep breath and clearly pronounce the following judgment in a normal voice:

“This document is submitted for enforcement in accordance with the revocation schedule.”

Remove your hands from the box and lean back against the chair. Then, begin your wait.

During this extremely perilous wait:

Your office will undergo a dramatic upheaval. This is by no means the gradual environmental infiltration described in Step 6, but rather a blatant and ferocious assertion of space initiated by the building itself. It knows exactly what’s inside the box, and it understands all too well what you’re forcing it to do. And at this very moment, for the first time in the entire lifecycle of the revocation process, it has become acutely and thoroughly aware of your presence. It no longer views you merely as a name on a document or a set of mechanical signature patterns, but as a living, physical entity, an invader attempting to devour its territory.

The following spectacle is about to unfold:

• The walls of the office will be completely torn open, revealing a depth visible to the naked eye. The fine lines on the floor plan will warp into actual gaps. You will witness with your own eyes deep corridors extending into the depths of the masonry, filled with the same passive golden light you encountered inside 712 Oakridge Avenue. These corridors are real, and do connect your office directly to the building’s interior. Do not approach these gaps under any circumstances. Do not peer inside, or even reach your hand into. If you happen to see light shining from the end of a corridor, do not delude yourself, it is certainly not an exit, but a reverse view of the building’s ground floor, glimpsed from within the very fabric of its walls. Here, the walls are not even barriers, but the building’s living flesh and blood, the place where you will be like shards of glass embedded in muscle if you enter.
• Your office door likely swings open on its own. When it does, what lies beyond is no longer the familiar office hallway you know, but the interior lobby of 712 Oakridge Avenue: that eerie open ground floor, that nauseating passive light, and those two staircases leading to who-knows-where. Under no circumstances are you to walk toward the door, or step over the threshold. This is the most deadly ironclad rule on the entire list. As long as you remain seated obediently at your desk, you are still within your office, even if the building’s phantom image has completely filled your peripheral vision, this desk is yours, this chair is yours, and the small space where your body stands remains under your jurisdiction. The moment you stand up and walk toward that door, your jurisdiction is transferred. You will plunge completely into the building, and within that building, there is not even a single door that leads back to your office.
• You may hear an eerie whisper. The sound comes from inside a metal sealed box. It may call your name, mechanically recite numbers or dates, or even read aloud, word for word, the terms of the revocation document. Whatever you hear, under no circumstances must you respond. That voice is whispering to the document probably mulling over those deadly terms, represents the building making its final decision.

During this time, Elena will call you. Be sure to answer the call. Her voice will be as calm and steady as ever. She will keep reminding you: “Don’t leave your chair… don’t stand up… don’t look outside the door… keep your hands on the table… wait for that sound…” She will stay on the line with you for as long as you need her. But she won’t offer any unnecessary explanations. At this moment she’s already done everything she can, what remains is purely a life-or-death struggle between you and that box. This agonizing wait will last anywhere from 10 to 40 minutes. Not only will your sense of time become unreliable, but your phone screen, your wristwatch, and the wall clock will each display completely different times, none of them accurate. All you have to do is sit there motionless, wait, and listen intently.

When an extremely soft yet distinct sound comes from inside the box, you’ll know the wait is over: it’s an incredibly crisp “click”, just like the sound of a pen cap being snapped shut.

Open the box, and you’ll see that on the revocation document for Entry 22, a signature has suddenly appeared in the “Transferor/Seller” signature line that was originally left blank. The handwriting is grotesque and illegible, a string of extremely cramped, angular, or frenzied lines that make it impossible to piece together any human name. Take out the original 1987 transaction document (it’s in the archive folder, not in the box) and carefully compare the signatures. Normally the two signatures align perfectly at every stroke and turn, meaning the same unnameable entity, spanning a full 39 years, has left the same mark on both documents.

Be sure to verify this match with the utmost rigor. If the signature on the revocation document matches the original 1987 signature perfectly, it means the transaction has been successfully revoked. The Building has personally issued its own revocation order. Immediately proceed to Step 15.

In the event of a discrepancy in the signatures—if the handwriting on the revocation document becomes “clear and legible”, or if you can even clearly read a specific name: Immediately slam the box shut. Under no circumstances should you speak that name aloud, do not make any written record of it, and force yourself to forget it immediately. It was not the Building that signed that name, but something far more sinister. That entity is neither the Building itself nor part of this closing procedure. Call Elena Whitmore immediately, give her the code phrase: “wrong signatory”. She will instruct you on how to escape. Under no circumstances, no matter what happens, are you to proceed with Step 15 until the signatory crisis has been completely resolved.

-------------------------

< PHASE V - THE ORIGINAL ENTRY >

Time: ██AM to ██AM, the day following Closing Date

Location: Law firm office / Boundary of Existence

-------------------------

STEP 15: SUBSTITUTION OF ORIGINAL ENTRY

[When you initially receive the checklist, this step remains blank. The text only becomes visible after you successfully complete Step 14.]

This is the final step. Completing this, there will be no further steps to attend to. Once this step is completed, the closing process will be concluded, and all disputes regarding 712 Oakridge Avenue will be permanently resolved.

From the materials package Elena provided, locate a document marked “Step 15: Do Not Open Until Instructed”. Inside it will be an envelope. Now, take it out and open. It will bear a passage of text in a font you’ve never seen before, and the paper will feel eerily warm to the touch, slightly warmer than your hand temperature. The content will be as follows:

>SUBSTITUTION OF ENTRY
Municipal Land Register, Vol. ____, Folio ____
I, [Your Full Legal Name], hereby submit this instrument as substitute entry for the original registration of the parcel and structure(s) known as 712 Oakridge Avenue, initially recorded on [Today's Date], under the name E. Whitmore.
By affixing my signature below, I acknowledge that this substitution shall have the effect of replacing the original entry in perpetuity; that the original entry, and all rights, claims, and existences arising therefrom, shall be extinguished in full; and that my name shall remain in the register in its place, for as long as the register endures.
I understand that this instrument cannot be reversed, recalled, or voided by any means or by any party, including the undersigned.
Signature: ___________________________

You will notice that "your full legal name" part is already prominently printed in the body of the document. That is the Building’s handwriting, the very same hand that once scrawled that frenzied scribble on the 1987 deed, and which, at this very moment, for the first and only time, has written in an extremely clear and legible script. It has written your name. Different from the ones in Step 7, the reason the Building has inscribed your name at this moment is that it has willingly accepted you as its eternal stand-in in the registry. For a being of this nature, this was the closest concession to “consent” it could possibly offer.

Beneath this document lay another sheet of paper. On it is Elena’s final instructions for this step.

It reads:

>Sign your name. Please understand that when everything has turned to ashes, only this name will remain there forever.
If there were any other way out, I would never ask this of you. I spent thirty years searching for a way out. THERE IS NO WAY OUT.
I’m truly sorry.

Now, you face a choice. This is the only step on the entire list where you have a genuine choice.

-------------------------

If you choose to sign:

Pick up the designated pen and sign your name on the designated signature line. Maintain your usual writing style, and under no circumstances hesitate for even a millisecond while writing. Hesitation creates ink smudges, and ink smudges imply ambiguity. And when processing this document, ambiguity is equivalent to a death sentence.

After signing, place the document into the metal sealed box and close the lid. This time, you won’t hear a sound. There’s no expected click, only deathly silence. The box will feel ice-cold to the touch for just a few seconds; once the chill subsides, it will feel like nothing more than an ordinary metal box.

Open the box, and it will be completely empty. This time everything is all gone. Every revocation document, every invalidated self-generated document, and that survey report, all have disappeared without a trace. That manila folder on your desk will also be completely empty, the label may still read “712 OAKRIDGE AVE.”, but there won’t be a single scrap of paper left inside. That’s all there is to it.

Over the next 6 hours:

• The building located at 712 Oakridge Avenue will completely vanish from the physical world. Anyone visiting that address will see only a nondescript vacant lot, with no trace of the building that once stood there. All municipal records pertaining to the building will be completely erased. Whether in historical archives or real-time satellite imagery, the site will appear as nothing more than an empty lot. Neighbors will no longer recall that a house ever stood there. The postal system will contain no record of any mail ever having been delivered to that address.
• Jonathan Hadwell would be found the next morning, sitting motionless on a park bench three blocks away from the vacant lot, wearing the same clothes he had on when he disappeared 9 years earlier. He will be unharmed, but had no memory of anything that had happened during those nine years. A comprehensive medical examination at the hospital would confirm that he was in excellent physical condition, suffering only from mild dehydration. His medical records would probably include an entry showing that he had been admitted to an unnamed long-term care facility in 2016 that, in reality, could not be traced. His family would raise countless questions, only to be left without any satisfactory answers. But most importantly, he was alive; he would gradually recover and, as time went on, give up on seeking the truth.
• Elena Whitmore will close the case and file it away for good. She will personally destroy the copy of anything she has kept. Within a year, she will officially retire from the firm saying nothing about the reason, and you must tacitly agree not to ask.

Only you will remember everything. Every perilous step, every eerie document, the suffocating layout inside the building, the warmth you felt as you crossed the threshold, that golden light with no apparent source, and the heart-wrenching words on the plaque. You will remember exactly what was written on that plaque, giving anything to forget it, but still carry it with you for the rest of your life. Because that is exactly part of the price, and the stakes of this deal were, from the very beginning, destined to include something that cannot be sealed away, or certainly cannot be stuffed into a metal box. Every year thereafter on March 12, you’ll wake up at exactly 3:00 am to sense an extremely low-pitched hum. It’s less a matter of hearing it than of the vibration penetrating straight through your marrow. It feels as though an extremely long, long guitar string somewhere beneath the floor deep within the foundation, has been plucked violently. The vibration only lasts exactly 15 seconds no more no less. It is the vast land registry, deep in the abyss, confirming that your name remains safe and sound. In some dusty volume, on some page, in a corner where no clerk will ever look, the location of a building that no longer exists, or never did, is firmly recorded, and the signature at the bottom was written by hand by a person who truly exists and is breathing right now.

That will be the only irrefutable proof that all of this ever actually happened.

-------------------------

If you refuse to sign:

Gently place the pen on the desk and stuff the document back into the envelope. Leave the envelope, along with the metal sealed box, on the desk. Then stand up, leave the office, and go straight home.

Within 24 hours, that address will be completely erased from your mind. Within 48 hours, you will have completely forgotten this case. Within 72 hours, you will have completely forgotten this list, the building, Elena’s strange behavior, the name Alcove Properties. In your memory, Elena Whitmore will be nothing more than the respected senior colleague who hired you and who recently chose to retire due to ill health. You won’t even be able to recall why she always seemed so exhausted during her final days before leaving. The case file will be reassigned as a matter of course, and Elena will naturally go on to find her next scapegoat. She’s done it before, and she’ll do it again.

And that building will continue to wait. It has always been extremely patient. It has lain dormant since 1987, and it can certainly keep waiting. The long wait has long been etched into its very marrow. The passive light within it will continue to sustain that never-ending twilight; those twisted staircases will continue to lead to realms where the living should not tread; and the plaque on the east wall will patiently await that heart-wrenching phrase, quietly waiting for the next wretch to push open the main door.

Jonathan Hadwell, however, will be trapped forever in that underground level. He does not age, does not starve, and never finds release through death. He can only remain trapped like a specimen in that abyss that should not exist, waiting in agony for someone to come along and accomplish the feat that the four lawyers before you failed to achieve.

He has already endured a full nine years, and he will continue to wait in endless despair.

you could have put an end to all of this once and for all tonight.

-------------------------

This concludes the checklist.

END OF DOCUMENT

-------------------------

WHITMORE & ASSOCIATES

CLOSING CHECKLIST FOR 712 OAKRIDGE AVENUE

PREPARED BY: E. WHITMORE

REVISION: FINAL

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You’re a junior partner at the law firm Whitmore & Associates, specializing in real estate law and property transfers. With 7 years of experience, you’ve handled hundreds of closings. From ordinary residential sales to complex chains of property disputes that have dragged on for over a decade, you’ve managed them all with ease. Your colleagues often joke that you’re a bit “overly meticulous”, mainly because in those seven years, you’ve reviewed thousands of documents without even a single clerical error. You can’t say for sure if this is a natural talent. Just that every time a document is placed in front of you, you seem to instinctively know what’s right and what’s wrong. Just as someone with perfect pitch can detect a note that’s off-key, you always manage to spot even the smallest flaws in clauses, signatures, or dates.

In your view, all mystical talk is unreliable. Procedure is what really matters. Black-and-white text, official seals and notarization, registration and filing. Those are the only rules you recognize.

Two weeks ago, the firm’s founding partner, Elena Whitmore, called you into her office. She’s 68 years old and a renowned veteran in the industry. Everyone calls her “a living fossil of property law”. You’ve never seen her nervous before, but that day, as she handed you a manila envelope, her fingers were keeping trembling.

She told you this was an exceptionally complex property rights case and that you must follow the checklist inside step by step: you couldn’t skip any steps, alter the process, or try to be clever on your own.

You asked who the client is, she then remained silent for a moment.

After quite a while, she finally spoke. This case has no existing client at all. However it had been in the works for over 30 years, ever since she first encountered it in 1994 and failed to resolve it, she’d been preparing for this moment all the time. And now, it is finally time to bring it to a close. You tried to ask why she’d chosen you, “Because you never make mistakes”, she simply replied. Hearing that actually made you feel a little uneasy. It wasn’t because of the compliment, but because the look in her eyes at that moment didn’t seem like she was praising you; it was more as if she were confirming whether you possessed some kind of unsettling quality.

Back in your office, you open the file folder. Inside is a sealed toolkit: a fountain pen, a metal-sealed box, an old notary seal, a stack of blank legal forms, some sealed documents. In addition, a file retrieval request for a property title search addressed to 712 Oakridge Avenue, along with a printed document held together by a paperclip.

The title on the first page of the printed document reads:

>CLOSING CHECKLIST FOR 712 OAKRIDGE AVENUE
PREPARED BY: E. WHITMORE
REVISION: FINAL

You flip to the last few pages and notice that the spaces for the final two rules are empty. Not an erasures or signs of torn-out pages, they’re simply left blank, leaving an unsettling sense of emptiness, as if they’re waiting to appear at some future moments. Besides of these, everything seems pretty normal, for now.

Thus, you begin to read the first rule.

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CLOSING CHECKLIST FOR 712 OAKRIDGE AVENUE

PREPARED BY: E. WHITMORE

REVISION: FINAL

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< PHASE I - PREPARATION >

Time: 3 days to 1 day prior to Closing Date

Location: Law firm office, City Archives

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STEP 1: RECEIPT OF MATERIALS

Please be sure to carefully verify the contents of the materials package. You should have, and only have, the following items in your possession:

• One (1) black-ink fountain pen, already unsealed and confirmed to write properly. You must use only this pen to write on all documents related to this case. Any mark made with another pen, pencil, or any other tool will be deemed an unauthorized alteration by the archives. Do not test the consequences.
• One (1) metal sealed box measuring approximately 60 × 30 × 15cm, with a hinged flip-top lid and no lock. Do not open it under any circumstances until you reach Step 5. If you notice the surface of the box feels slightly warm, do not panic. This is normal.
• One (1) old notary seal from 1994, engraved with “E. WHITMORE”. It has long since expired and must under no circumstances be used for any legitimate notarization. You will learn its true purpose in Step 11.
• One (1) stack of blank legal document paper. Be sure to count them carefully; the total must be exactly one hundred sheets no more no less. If there are any extra sheets, immediately feed them into the shredder without looking at what’s on them. If any are missing, call Elena Whitmore immediately. Missing sheets indicate that they may have been printed with text that should not be there. This batch of paper was completely sealed at the paper mill, so such a problem should not occur. If it does happen, the entire procedure’s schedule will likely need to be moved advance.
• Three (3) sealed documents. Each marked in pencil on the seal as “Template A”, “Template B”, and “Step 15”. Do not open the seals or check the contents inside the seal through any way. These three documents correspond to specific steps later in this procedure, and you will be instructed to open them at the appropriate points in the checklist.

Do not try to find any substitutes on your own. Every item in the bag was selected for a specific purpose within the process, not for everyday use. For example, the ink formula in this pen contains special ingredients, the metal case is made of a special alloy, and the stationery paper bears a specific, subtle watermark. We won’t go into too much detail here about why these elements are necessary, because explaining them fully would reveal information you’re not supposed to know; and once you know too much, your precision during execution will actually be compromised.

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STEP 2: FILE RETRIEVAL

On your first workday after officially taking over this case, please bring the file retrieval request to the City Archives. Hand the request to the front desk staff, and they will process it for you according to standard procedures.

You will then receive a brownish-yellow folder bound with standard two-hole fasteners. The label will clearly state:

>712 OAKRIDGE AVE.
Registration Year: 1923
Current Status: Active

The moment staff hands you the folder, they may hesitate for quite a moment, which is completely normal. Over the years, several employees who have handled this file have described an indescribable sense of resistance, as if the filing cabinet didn’t want to be opened, or as if the folder’s weight felt quite off. Ignore these feelings, simply accept it calmly and leave.

Do not open the folder inside the archives. Confirm that you return to your office, sit at your desk, and close the door before opening. This file may only be opened in a space where you have “legal right of use”. Here “legal right of use” means you can produce clear, written proof demonstrating your authority over the space you locate in, such as a lease, employment contract, or title deed. For example, your office at the firm or your own home can be both acceptable, but cafes and park benches are not. If you are staying at a hotel, you must ensure that you are the one who made the reservation.

The reason for this spatial restriction is that, at a certain stage of the process, this file will emit an indescribable disturbance to its surroundings. It is neither radiation nor sound, but rather a localized effect that is difficult to describe with precise words. Existing records are quite clear: it causes people nearby to make small, seemingly insignificant mistakes, such as misspelling words, reversing the order of numbers, or letting their signature slightly go outside the lines. Do not dismiss these as coincidences, as these errors are deliberately induced. Even the slightest slip-up could render a step in the closing process completely ineffective.

You alone possess a natural resistance to this influence, which is why Elena chose you. But ordinary people around you are essentially defenseless against it. Therefore, when reviewing the files, you must do so in an absolutely private setting.

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STEP 3: BASELINE LOCK & DOCUMENT CENSUS

Once you have obtained the property records for 712 Oakridge Avenue, carefully count the total number of documents in the folder. Be sure to count them twice, and use the result of the second count as the final tally.

Then, take the pen provided in the kit (this pen only) and write the final count in ink on the inside cover of the folder. This number will serve as the “baseline count” for all subsequent procedures.

Then proceed to the next step. From this point forward, every time you open the folder, the very first thing you must do before performing any substantive work, is to recount the documents and compare the total to the “baseline count”.

• If the counts match: Everything is normal; you may proceed with the current step.
• Fewer than baseline: This indicates that a document has been “taken without authorization”. Stop everything you’re doing immediately and call Elena Whitmore. Do not try to recall from memory which document is missing. Once such an incident occurs, your memory of the document’s contents is no longer reliable.
• More than baseline: This indicates that unknown documents have been forcibly inserted. These extra sheets do not belong to the original file. Immediately set aside all documents that do not match the original inventory list, lay them face-down on the desk, and use scissors to cut them in half along the vertical centerline. As you cut, you may feel slight resistance from the blade, as if the paper fibers have thickened or are strangely stuck together. Ignore it and continue cutting until finished. Finally, dispose of the two halves in separate trash bins on different floors of this building.

Do not use a paper shredder to dispose of these extra pieces of paper. Past experience has shown that such inserted documents will somehow jam the shredder, and the resulting shreds will still allow the text to be faintly discernible. A partially legible fragment is more dangerous than a complete document, because those broken sentences will make you unable to resist filling in the gaps in your mind. In any case, you must resist this urge to fill in the gaps. Those inexplicably appearing words can constitute a highly malicious legal contract in and of themselves. Any form of reading, even if you’re merely piecing together the fragmented content in your mind, may be legally deemed a substantive acknowledgment of the contract on your part.

If, for even a moment, you notice that the reference number you wrote on the inside cover has changed, usually with the original ink smudged into a completely unfamiliar number: close the folder immediately. Place both palms, palms down, firmly on the cover. Take a deep breath, and in a clear loud voice, read aloud the number you originally wrote just once. Then open the folder and recount the contents. By this point, the number on the cover should have returned to normal.

If, after doing this, the number is still incorrect: the folder has been corrupted beyond what you can manually correct. You must decisively leave it where it is and walk out of the room, either go to the hallway or any nearby space you have “legal right of use”, and wait for exactly 11 minutes no more no less. When you return, the folder will have restored itself. Do not question the principles behind this, as it involves a deeper connection between the files and the space they occupy, and such matters are beyond what you need to know.

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STEP 4: REVOCATION SCHEDULE

Based on the verified information in the folder, you need to compile a complete list of registered transactions for the title chain of 712 Oakridge Avenue. Please arrange the list in reverse chronological order, starting with the most recent transaction (i.e., a title transfer in 2019 that was subsequently voided, involving the fourth attorney handling the case) and ending with the first registration record from 1923.

For each transaction, record the following on a fresh sheet of the provided stationery:

• Date of recording
• Names of all parties (grantor, grantee, witnesses, notary)
• Instrument type (deed, transfer, registration, etc.)
• Filing reference number

This list will serve as your “revocation schedule”. Next, you must strictly follow the reverse chronological order listed here, starting with the most recent transaction and working backward to the earliest record, revoking each one in turn. Under no circumstances may you skip any transaction, nor are you permitted to alter the order of revocation under any pretext. There is an irrefutable logic behind this sequence: every revocation action signifies the removal of a link from the chain of title, and this process must proceed steadily from the end. Attempting to forcibly remove a link from the middle of an intact chain will not destroy the entire chain; instead, it will tear open a vacuum. Soon, the chain will wriggle and fill this void on its own, and whatever grows to fill the gap will undoubtedly be even more repulsive than what existed before.

Under normal circumstances, you will tally a total of 23 transactions. If the number is more than or less than 23, call Elena Whitmore immediately. Keep in mind that 23 is the only correct number. Among these 23 transactions spanning 103 years, some are reasonable sales between real individuals, while others are paper shenanigans, mere transfers between shell companies, but all of these shenanigans ultimately point to the same entity: Alcove Properties Ltd. Regardless of their background, these transactions are all valid documents recorded in black and white in the public registry; it is precisely these documents that, like anchors, firmly anchor the existence of this building in the real world.

The last two entries on your timeline must be as follows:

• Entry 22: The 1987 acquisition by Alcove Properties Ltd. (corresponding to future Step 14)
• Entry 23: The initial registration in 1923. (corresponding to future Step 15)

Each of these two major entries involves a set of entirely independent and perilous procedures. At this very moment, do not make any preparations for them in advance, because you are simply not ready yet. When the time comes for you to face them, you will naturally sense it, and the checklist will issue clear instructions to you. To put it more bluntly, the text for Steps 14 and 15 is currently blank on the pages where it should appear. You will know when they will appear in the correct moments.

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< PHASE II - REVOCATION >

Time: 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM, during Closing Date

Location: Law firm office

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STEP 5: COMMENCEMENT OF REVOCATION

On the morning of the designated “Closing Date”, be sure to be seated at your desk before 9:00 am. Lock the door securely. Set your cell phone to silent mode, but under no circumstances turn it off, as you may need it at any moment for the subsequent steps. The moment you first lift the lid of the metal sealed box, it should be empty. The interior is lined with a thin layer of dark velvet that glows faintly and appears slightly damp. Under no circumstances should you touch the velvet with bare skin. Strictly adhere to the box’s sole purpose: to serve as a dedicated container for completed documents.

Following your revocation schedule, start with the first entry (i.e., the most recent transaction) and use the designated fountain pen to draft an Instrument of Revocation on the provided blank paper. Adhere strictly to the following format:

>Instrument of Revocation
Re: [File Reference Number]
Regarding the transaction dated [Date] between [Transferor] and [Transferee]
This instrument is formally executed on [Today's Date] by [Your Full Name], acting as the authorized representative for the Whitmore closing procedure, hereby effecting a complete revocation and nullification of the aforementioned transaction. From this day forward, all rights, interests, and claims arising from said transaction are deemed void, ab initio, as though the transaction never existed on the registry.
Signatory: ___________

Sign your name on the signature line. Please maintain your most natural writing style, avoiding deviating from your usual signature style in any way. Throughout the entire process, that building will scrutinize every stroke you make and rigorously compare it to a pre-established template. That template was secretly compiled from sources including the city archives, your bank, the bar association’s registration records, and even places you could never imagine. Even the tiniest deviation will serve as a perfect excuse for it to question the document’s legitimacy.

However, you’ve always been precise and error-free. That is precisely why you’re chosen here.

After putting pen to paper, place the completed revocation document along with the corresponding original transaction documents into the metal sealed box and close the lid. Count silently for 10 seconds, then open it again. By now, the original documents should have vanished, while the revocation document left inside will mysteriously reveal a faint watermark that wasn’t there before. This watermark serves as confirmation that the registration system has accepted the revocation request.

If, upon opening the box, the original document is still lying inside untouched, it means the revocation has been rejected. Immediately scrutinize the document you drafted, there is undoubtedly a tiny clerical error hidden within. Find it, take a fresh sheet of paper, rewrite the document, and repeat the process of placing it in the box. Remember, for each transaction, you have a maximum of three attempts. If you are rejected three times in a row, call Elena Whitmore immediately.

For every transaction you successfully revoke, be sure to call the City Archives and ask the operator to verbally confirm that the record has been completely erased from the registry at 712 Oakridge Avenue (Refer to Step 8). Only after receiving confirmation may you proceed to the next item on the schedule.

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STEP 6: WORKING CONDITIONS DURING REVOCATION

As the revocation process progresses, the work environment around you will begin to change subtly. At first, these changes will be subtle, like a frog in gradually heating water, but the further you delve into the long-forgotten entries on the timeline, the more intense the anomalies around you will become.

Around the time you complete the third revocation, a few faint, blurry lines may appear on the office walls. They are barely visible and, at first glance, look very much like cracks in the plaster. If you look closely enough, you’ll recognize them as the structural floor plan of a single-story commercial building.

Once you’ve endured the seventh revocation, the lines on the wall will become particularly distinct, and the room temperature will drop abruptly by two or three degrees without warning. The desk lamp on your desk will begin to flicker erratically. This is by no means an electrical malfunction, rather the light itself is being forced to adjust. For the space it illuminates, in some ineffable dimension, no longer belongs entirely to your office. This means a terrifying overlap has occurred here. Specifically the building has sensed your movements, and its “perception” has directly torn open a fissure in physical space. No matter what happens, you must under no circumstances react to these changes. It is strictly forbidden to take photographs, or leak any other hint of this matter to anyone outside this case. Any form of response will be regarded as “attention”, and “attention” is precisely the nourishment upon which that building thrives. Keep your current identity firmly in mind: you are carrying out a serious legal proceeding. Please treat everything outside the corners of the document as invalid interference. An excellent lawyer knows how to ignore background noise, so please play your role to the fullest.

In the unlikely event that the surrounding anomalies become severe enough to interfere with your normal reading and writing (a situation that was rare prior to the fifteenth revocation, though not entirely impossible), please immediately close your eyes and remain silent for 30 seconds. When you open your eyes again, be sure to fix your gaze firmly on the document in front of you. As long as your attention remains firmly anchored on the task at hand, your direct field of vision will immediately return to normal. Those malevolent stuffs dare only wreak havoc in your peripheral vision, for that is where your willpower is weakest.

No work interruption may exceed 15 minutes in a row. The protocol allows for appropriate breaks, but the building will likewise exploit these gaps to frantically consolidate its position. If you leave your desk for longer than the limit, you’ll almost certainly return to find the revocation documents in the sealed box have been maliciously tampered with. This tampering is shockingly subtle: perhaps a digit in the date has been shifted, or a letter in a party’s name has been secretly replaced. The careless will undoubtedly stumble over this, but you’ll surely see through these tricks at a glance though. But to be on the safe side, it’s best not to give it any opening to exploit from the very beginning.

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STEP 7: MANAGING GENERATED DOCUMENTS

At some point during the revocation process, usually after the fifth or sixth successful operation, a generated document may appear on your desk without warning. It will be a fully signed deed of conveyance, date marked as today, stating that you, yourself, are transferring the title to 712 Oakridge Avenue to Alcove Properties Ltd. It even bears your signature.

You might lean in to examine the signature closely, only to discover that it is by no means a crude forgery, it is in fact, your own handwriting. Every stroke, every variation in pressure, and even your habit of finishing the signature are identical to your usual style. While it wasn’t written by your own hand, the “thing” knows what your signature is like inside and out. This is one of the building’s primary defense mechanisms: it attempts to forcibly insert a new link into the chain of title by fabricating a new transaction document with you as a party. If this document is allowed to take effect, it will permanently bind you to the property, thereby nullifying all your previous revocation attempts in the eyes of the law. Unless you provide your own written consent, you have no right to revoke a chain of title in which you are a party. And if the building succeeds, your “consent” will no longer be subject to your own will.

As soon as you discover a generated document, you must completely invalidate it within 90 seconds.

The invalidation procedure is as follows:

1. Take the designated pen and draw a diagonal line across the front of the document, from the top-left corner straight to the bottom-right corner. You must do this in one continuous stroke. Do not lift the pen at any point.
2. In the blank space at the top right corner, write “VOID” in all capital letters. Press down firmly as you write. You will distinctly feel resistance from the pen tip, as if the paper is rapidly hardening and its fibers are desperately contracting to resist the ink’s penetration. Force yourself to finish writing the word.
3. Under no circumstances may you leave any other marks on the document, including writing the date, affixing a signature initial, or making any annotations. In this extremely dangerous context, every additional character you leave on the paper will be regarded as an active intervention, and functionally, such intervention is equivalent to consent.

After completing the above steps, place it back gently into a metal-sealed box, tuck it beneath the already processed revocation documents, and then close the lid.

The building must be made to truly “see” its failure. The building can process information only through written evidence, a document that has been formally voided and filed in the case records serves as irrefutable proof of its futile attempt. A record of failure will significantly reduce the likelihood that it will resort to the same tactics again. If you make the mistake of destroying this voided document, the building will lose its record of its own failure, at that point, it will certainly return, and will likely present a more sophisticated and harder-to-detect version.

Throughout the entire procedure, this self-generated document will appear no more than three times. If you encounter it a fourth time, call Elena Whitmore immediately. Four appearances indicate that the Building’s defense mechanisms have exceeded the limits of conventional modes of operation, and the established course of the entire procedure may need to be urgently reassessed.

If you fail to complete the invalidation process within 90 seconds: call Elena immediately and say the phrase “secondary attachment”. She will understand what this means. The subsequent recovery process will be extremely painful. About four hours of torment, but at least it will save your life and allow the closing procedure to continue. As for what will happen if you fail to make even this one phone call, it’s best not to even think about it.

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STEP 8: VERIFICATION CALLS

Every time you finish a successful revocation, you must call the City Archives to confirm that the corresponding entry has been removed from the registry. This step is by no means optional. A rescission that has not been verbally confirmed in the public record is a rescission that has not yet taken full effect.

During the first few calls, the staff will provide confirmation very smoothly; however, after you’ve completed about the tenth cancellation, the staff member on the other end of the line may begin to hesitate. They might ask you to repeat the file number, or even mutter in surprise, “Damn it, I can’t find any record here this transaction ever existed.” This is an entirely appropriate reaction, indicating that the cancellation is taking effect, that the transaction has not only been deleted but is dissolving into the void, as if it had “never existed”. By the time you reach around the fifteenth cancellation, the staff will most likely respond, “I’m sorry, but there are no property records for this address in our system.” This is a normal occurrence too. That building is becoming increasingly unreal, whose presence in public records is being rapidly erased. The operators are neither lying nor making a mistake, because from their real-time system perspective, 712 Oakridge Avenue is indeed fading from existence.

No matter what response you receive, be sure to grit your teeth and continue with these phone verifications. Even if the staff explicitly tells you there is nothing on file, you must steadfastly provide the file number, state that you are requesting confirmation of the deletion, and record the staff's response verbatim on your copy of the revocation schedule. The two actions, making the phone call and taking written notes, will in themselves constitute an independent chain of evidence, thereby retroactively reinforcing the revocation operations that have already been completed.

However, once you pass the milestone of your twentieth deletion request, the number you dial for the Municipal Archives may connect you to a completely unfamiliar voice. That voice will sound extremely professional, polite, and enthusiastic, agreeing to every request you make. Please snap out of it immediately, since that is not the City Archives at all. The giveaway will be obvious: That voice will call you by name with perfect pronunciation the very first time the call is answered, even though you haven’t spelled it out for them at all. Keep in mind that a genuine City Archives operator will always follow protocol and ask you to spell out your name.

If you encounter this situation, hang up immediately, wait five minutes in silence, and then redial. Only then will a genuine staff member answer, and you can continue with your verification process.

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STEP 9: MIDPOINT ASSESSMENT

Once you’ve completed the revocation of the eleventh transaction on the schedule (roughly midway through the entire chain), please pause from the work. Put down your pen, but don’t close the folder, just push it slightly away from you. Lift your hands and take a look, you may notice a faint, unusual discoloration on the fingertips of your dominant hand. It seems like a dull, grayish hue, definitely not a stain of ink. Can be washed off with regular soap. Then, take some time to wash your hands.

There are no further instructions at this point. Sole purpose of this step is purely to force you to take a deliberate pause and reset your physiological perception by washing your hands. You may not realize it, but the building’s pernicious influence could be slowly accumulating in an extremely subtle way.

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[ FLIP TO NEXT PAGE ]

For whichever of the many reasons you’ve decided to take this position , be it the pay, the chance to earn safe passage and move up in the world of Auravall’s shimmering spires. Or maybe you want to protect those near and dear to your hearts.

We welcome you no matter what.

But just remember, nothing comes without its risks. You should be wise to follow what was learned from your predecessor’s mistakes.

1: If your neighbouring Watcher’s tower lights up like a Christmas tree, help them in anyway you can. You might not know when you’ll need their help in return.

• Why didn’t you help them?

2: If anyone approaches the village walls first identify the following:

2-B:Is the person in question wearing any clothing that obscures most if not all of their form? If yes, politely ask them to remove it so you can check for any concealed weapons and their identity 

2-C:If the person in question isn’t wearing any clothing at all, or their features are too out of place for any regular individual terminate them on site. Use the same force if the subject attempts to scale the walls or your tower

2-D:If the subject is not on the days briefing or if said subject is holding a concealed armament of some kind, politely turn them away. If they get defensive or violent at this news, use any force that you may deem necessary 

2-E:You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside,You let something inside

3.If the forest starts up with the screaming , wear the provided PPE. It should cease shortly thereafter.

4.Due to our local geography and particularly high concentration of [unintelligible] the temperature can often take sharp spikes into ranges of -10 to -50°C. During this time please remain within your tower, it will be over soon. Do not attempt to clear the glass. Measures have been taken to ensure your safety here. 

4-B I am safe here.

5.If rule Three is not currently within effect, every hour on the hour one of you must leave the tower to perform a routine spot check of the village perimeter. You can sort out who does what between yourselves .

6.Don’t trust any voice on the radio  other than theres.

7.If you hear your family calling to you from the entryway. Ignore them, civilians aren’t permitted to exit the village past sundown for their own protection.

8.If any wildlife or flesh growths  breach the forest’s boundaries, contact the provided number at once.

9.The Mages won’t be deployed with out substantial prior notice of their presence in the area. If none has been given , like in Rule 8 calm the provided number and pray help arrives in time. Do not engage.

10.But you couldn’t do it could you. You were too scared.

Hi! You must be the new transfer student at our school. The teachers asked me to show you around our school. Our school has a lot of different classrooms, so try not to get lost. Each of the three grades have 12 classes each and there are dedicated art and music classes, a science lab and a sand field for P.E classes. Our school doesn't really care much about studying, but there are rules that you HAVE to follow. I'll hand you a list of them.

1. Bathrooms

Our school bathrooms are always clean and always have toilet paper. The janitors work hard to keep them that way. Once in a while, you might find a stall that looks a bit dirty. Don't use it. It won't have toilet paper. This sounds like a funny and stupid rule but once you finish and look for it, something will ask you "Would you like the red paper, or the blue paper?". Answering red will make it cut you until you bleed red. Answering blue will make it strangle you until you turn blue. There isn't a way out. Just stick to the clean stalls.

2. Classrooms

Our school building is pretty old, so sometimes the power goes out. When there is a power outage, a broadcast will tell you to calmy evacuate to the gym to wait for the power to come back. Don't do as it says. The power's out. How could they use the speakers?

3. Science lab

This one isn't an official rule, but some students say that they saw the anatomical model move during night studying. It's only a rumor and it didn't do anything yet but better safe then sorry. You don't want to become the next model.

4. Art room

There are 4 paintings hung on the walls. If you see a different number or you see a painting you don't recognize when you have art class, walk out and tell the teacher you are feeling ill. The teacher will know what you mean.

5.Gym

There are two storage rooms that we use. We only use the smaller one. A bullying victim made a 'bad choice' in the other one. You might hear some crying coming from inside. If you hear it, don't go inside to check. theres nobody there and you won't get back out.

Rules for Night Studying

Our school has mandatory night self-studying. These are important.

1. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You might occasionally hear a thumping coming from the halls. A long time ago, a kid who had the second best grades in school was always pressured by their parents to get first place to get into med school. One night, during night studying, they called the student with the best grades to the roof and pushed them off. The thumping is coming from the student who was pushed. They are still looking for the student who pushed them even after years.

2. Voices

You will get tired during night studying. It's night after all. But sometimes when you get drowzy, you'll hear the voices. They will tell you to take a walk. They will tell you to wash your face with cold water. They will tell you to go to the roof for fresh air. They will tell you to jump. Don't acknowledge the voices. Once you start doing what they tell you to, you can't stop. Not untill your voice joins theirs.

3. Bathroom Mirrors

Try not to use the bathroom alone at night. If you have no choice but to use it alone, don't look in the mirror. You will see something strange. You might even try to get a closer look. Don't EVER get close. It will pull you in and take your place. No one will know that It's not you. No one will notice something is wrong. No one will come.

Those are all the rules that we have here. These aren't official school rules, but we all follow them. Unless you want to become an example of why they are important in the first place. I hope you enjoy it here and I'll be seeing you around! Bye.

The weeks after that first shift with Cody were good ones, or as good as anything gets down there. I think that's just the nature of fear — give it enough repetition and it starts to look like routine. The maze stopped feeling like a mouth waiting to close and started feeling like a job. I'd encountered the Minotaur three times by then, always at a distance, always kept off us by the feeding schedule and the flashlights, and each time I found myself looking a little longer than I should have, trying to reconcile what I was seeing with what I'd expected.

Whatever the myths got right about the shape of him, they got the presence wrong. He isn't a man wearing an animal's head. He isn't close to human at all, not the way an actor in a costume would be close. Large clawed hands, hoofed hindquarters, a torso built for pushing through rock rather than standing upright in a room — the resemblance is a costume worn over something that was never trying to look like us in the first place. It's the difference between an orangutan's hand and yours. Similar enough to unsettle you. Not similar enough to comfort you. I used to think that was the worst part — the almost. I know better now. The worst part was always the quiet that came before him, not the shape that came after.

Then came the shift that ended it.

I'd checked everything before we went down — DS-9 canisters full, tablet synced, chalk-line logged at the gate. We were laying fresh markers along a new stretch of tunnel, closing in on the feeding station. The facility had built a proper duct for it decades ago, a concrete alcove where the ration dispenser sat bolted into the rock, so at least that part of the job had some dignity to it — measure the feed, kernels the size of your palm, load the chute, log the weight, move on. We were twenty minutes from being done. Twenty minutes from the lift, from the surface, from air that didn't taste like something else had breathed it first.

Cody was in a good mood. He was telling me about his old surfing days, some story about a wave off a beach I've never seen, and he wasn't watching his feet when he took the corner near the feeding duct. He went down hard against an outcrop of rock, and when he pulled his hand back there was a long open cut across his palm, already welling dark in the flashlight beam. It looked wrong under that light — too dark, too still, like it belonged to someone standing further away than he actually was.

"We should go back," I said. It wasn't a suggestion. I meant it as one, but it came out smaller than I wanted.

"Twenty minutes," Cody said, wrapping his sleeve around it. "We turn back now over a scratch, next time they schedule us in here they'll think we can't handle a full route. Twenty minutes, Alex. That's it."

I tried again. He waved me off, already walking, and I followed him because that's what you do down there — you follow, because the alternative is being the only heartbeat left in a place built to notice exactly that.

I want to be honest about what happened next, because I've replayed it enough times that I don't fully trust my own memory of the order anymore. I remember finishing the feed measurement. I remember Cody securing his kit and stepping back from the duct, and something in the way he stood there afterward — still, listening, like he was waiting for a sound he expected and hadn't heard yet — made the back of my neck go cold before anything else did. I told myself I was overthinking it.

I have never been more wrong about anything in my life.

We started back.

I don't know exactly when the light gave out — only that at some point I realized we were walking by flashlight alone, and that the walls on either side of us had a texture I didn't recognize from the trip in, wetter, rougher, like the tunnel itself had changed shape while we weren't looking at it. I still hadn't heard the beast. That should have been a comfort. It wasn't. The absence of that sound felt like the held breath before a shout, and it followed us for longer than any twenty-minute stretch has a right to last.

Then it was cold — the specific, mineral cold that comes off wet stone, not air — and somewhere behind us, or beside us, or maybe both, I heard something that might have been hooves, and might have just been my own pulse, arriving early to warn me about something my ears hadn't caught up to yet.

"Let's move," Cody said. His voice had lost the surf story completely. "I think he's coming."

That was when I noticed the blood. His sleeve had soaked through, and a thin dark line had marked the rock behind us at intervals, drop by drop, the whole length of the corridor we'd just walked — a trail, laid down without either of us meaning to leave one. I don't know if he understood yet what that meant. I'm not sure I fully understood it either, not in the moment — only that something in me went very quiet and very afraid all at once, the way you go quiet around a sound only you can hear.

"It doesn't matter," Cody said, when I pointed it out. "Come on. It's fine."

I picked up the tablet to log our position, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough to type. I remember staring at the screen, watching the cursor blink in the corner, thinking with a kind of hysterical clarity that if I could just finish this one small task correctly, everything else would sort itself out. Slowly, badly, I got the message out. And somewhere in those few minutes, everything went from bad to something with no name yet.

We reached Robert through the tablet relay. His voice came through flat and immediate, the voice of a man who has had this exact conversation before and hoped never to have it again.

"What happened."

We told him. The cut. The blood trail. The sound.

"Listen to me," Robert said. "Find the nearest overhead light interval and stay under it. Do not make noise of any kind. I'm coming to you."

Cody leaned toward the radio. "We're ten minutes from the exit. Ten minutes and we're out, we don't need—"

"Do exactly as I said." Robert's voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "Do not move from a lit section until I reach you."

The channel cut.

Cody looked at me, and for the first time since I'd met him there was nothing easy in his face at all. "Ten minutes," he said, like repeating it made it truer. "Ten minutes, Alex, we're closer to the exit than we are to staying put. We go now, we're topside before anything catches up to us."

"We wait," I said. "He said wait."

He wasn't listening. I don't think he could hear me over whatever was building in his own head — the blood, the twenty minutes, the story he'd been telling himself since the moment he stood too still near the feeding duct. And then, underneath all of it, low at first and then not low at all, I heard the hoofbeats start, and something in Cody broke.

"Fuck this," he said, and ran.

I want to describe what it is to stand still while the one other heartbeat in a labyrinth sprints away from you, because I don't think there's a rule on any tablet that prepares you for it. My body wanted to run after him more than it has ever wanted anything. Every instinct I owned screamed that the only chance either of us had was to move, together, toward that ten-minute exit, and instead I stood rooted to rock that suddenly felt like the only solid thing left in the world, because somewhere underneath the panic a smaller, colder voice was reciting a rule back to me.

Never run. Running creates vibration. The specimen hunts through vibration.

The hoofbeats were close enough now that I could feel them arrive before I heard them — a pressure against my sternum, coming up through the stone itself before the sound ever caught up to it, the way thunder sometimes reaches you as a shudder in your teeth before it reaches you as noise. My whole life did that thing lives are supposed to do in the last few seconds, ran itself out in front of my eyes in no particular order, and somewhere in the middle of all of it I registered, with a detachment that frightened me more than the beast did, that I was going to die in this exact spot, and that the facility would probably never even find the tunnel it happened in.

Then I noticed something. An opening, two meters from where I stood. Unmarked. Not on the tablet.

Rule six surfaced in my head at the worst possible moment, word for word — if you find a tunnel that isn't on your map, leave immediately, do not enter — and directly behind it, absurd and thin and the only hope I had left, the memory that the file mentioned drones going into tunnels just like this one. I couldn't remember if that was still standard practice or just something left over from whenever the rule was first written, some old procedure nobody had bothered to update once they stopped expecting it to work. It didn't matter which. It was the only thing I had.

I went in.

I lay flat against the cold rock just inside the opening, barely daring to breathe, listening to my own heartbeat like it might give me away, and waited to find out which version of the rule was going to be true for me.

The hoofbeats reached the mouth of the tunnel.

They didn't stop.

I felt the ground shudder as something enormous passed within arm's reach of where I lay, moving with a speed that had no business belonging to something that size. I could smell it — wet stone and something underneath the stone, something with a pulse. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that could make me smaller, as if not seeing it meant it couldn't see me either.

It didn't turn toward me.

It went the way Cody had gone.

For several seconds, I didn't move. I couldn't have told you how many. Time does something unforgivable to you down there — it either vanishes or it stretches into something with teeth of its own.

Then I heard something behind me.

A crack.

I opened my eyes. Dust sifted down from the ceiling, fine and pale, catching in the flashlight beam like snow that had wandered somewhere it didn't belong.

Another crack. Louder.

A piece of rock struck my shoulder.

Then the entire tunnel groaned — a sound with weight to it, a sound a living thing might make if it were dying slowly enough to feel every part of the process.

"No—"

The ceiling began collapsing.

I pressed myself harder against the floor, but there was nowhere to go. The entrance behind me disappeared beneath falling stone. Rocks slammed down around my body. One struck my leg. Another smashed into the ground beside my head, close enough that I felt the air move before I heard the impact. I tried to crawl forward, but the tunnel was narrowing faster than I could move.

More stone came down. Then another section collapsed behind me.

And suddenly — I was trapped. Only my face remained outside the last gap, if you could still call it a tunnel. It felt more like a grave. My grave. I could barely move my arms. Dust filled my mouth and nose. Every breath tasted like stone, like I was already halfway to becoming part of it.

I stared into the darkness ahead of me and thought about how ridiculous it was. I had spent weeks learning how to survive this place. I had memorized every rule. I had survived the creature.

And now the tunnel was going to kill me instead, quietly, with no rule written for it at all.

Then I remembered the drones. The rule.

For three minutes there was nothing.

Then there was a sound I have not been able to fully silence since, no matter how many nights I've tried — not the beast this time. Cody. And then, all at once, nothing at all.

The nothing was the worst part. It still is.

I don't know how long I lay in that grave afterward. Long enough that the dark stopped feeling like an absence of light and started feeling like a substance, something I was lying inside of rather than under.

At some point I became aware of a light in front of me, and I didn't trust it. I'd read once that freezing people feel warm right before they die, that the body lies to itself in the final stretch to make the ending kinder than it deserves to be. I assumed this was the same thing — some final mercy my nervous system was manufacturing on its own, a pinched nerve somewhere under all that stone deciding to show me light instead of pain. My vision had gone soft at the edges, the way a lens does when you've cried too long without realizing it, and I couldn't hold anything in focus longer than a second before it slid apart into shapes I didn't recognize. Something sharp had settled against my left leg — I couldn't tell if it was rock or my own bone deciding to introduce itself — and every time I tried to think past it, past the light, past the taste of dust thick enough to chew, my mind snapped back to the same three seconds. Cody's scream. Not the words. There hadn't been words, not by the end. Just the shape of the sound, over and over, looping in the dark like it had nowhere else left to go and had decided to live in my skull instead of wherever it had actually happened.

I remember thinking, with a strange flat calm that had replaced the panic entirely, that I would probably die there too — of thirst, or of the beast circling back, or of whatever was currently deciding whether my leg still belonged to me — and that none of those options felt especially worse than the others anymore. The light didn't blink. Lights in your head are supposed to blink, or waver, or do something to prove they're not real. This one just sat there, patient, unbothered by whether I believed in it.

Then it moved.

Not flickered — moved, deliberately, sweeping low across the rubble the way something searches for warmth in the cold. A drone, hovering just above the wreckage, its sensor array turning toward me a fraction at a time, like it was giving me the chance to decide I wasn't hallucinating before it committed to finding me at all.

I don't remember much of what happened after that.

I woke up in the medical wing. Robert was there. Joe was there. The lights were too bright and the air was too easy to breathe, and none of it felt like it belonged to me yet.

"Where's Cody," I asked.

Robert didn't look away when he answered, and I think I understood, even before he said it, exactly what the pause meant. "He's not with us anymore," he said. "You are, because you followed the rules. You didn't run. You didn't make noise you didn't have to. That's the only reason you're in this bed and not a report."

"Take this as a lesson," Joe said, quiet, like it cost him something to say it. "Those rules exist for a reason. We don't want people who just follow them. We want people who use them. Like you did."

I heard the words. I don't think I really listened to them, not that day. Underneath everything else — the lights, the two men standing over the bed, the careful, deliberate kindness in both their voices — all I could hear was the sound that had come through the dark three minutes after the hooves passed me by, and then the silence that followed it, which I have come to understand was so much worse.

Other parts link:-  https://www.reddit.com/user/No-While8965/comments/1vpze51/my_writing_archive/

Whatever you seek...

Wealth.

Love.

Revenge.

Forgiveness.

A second chance.

The return of someone who should have remained dead.

It does not matter.

This ritual has never denied a wish.

Neither has it ever spared the one who made it.

If there is even the smallest part of you that wishes to live an ordinary life...

Burn these pages.

Forget every word you have read.

If you continue...

Then your desire has already become greater than your fear.

Required Ingredients

A spoon.

A knife.

A bowl.

A cup.

A small table/pedestal.

The Blood of the Innocent.

Enough to stain your lips and fill a single cup.

(Doesn't have to be a lot, only enough to cover your lips and mouth.)

The Ashes of the Desecrated.

Ashes taken from one whose rest was stolen.

(Find a freshly made grave. Dig up the body and beat it with your life. Scream at it, hack its limbs, whatever you want. Then burn it until nothing but ashes are left. Get the ashes and store it for later use.)

They will remain warm regardless of the weather.

The Liver of the Damned.

(enjoy this. Find someone that has sinned for most of their life. People who lied, who hurt, who sexually assaulted women, men or kids. I don't care what you do with them but at the end, you need to keep the liver intact.)

It must belong to one whose sins outweighed every apology they ever gave.

Sea Salt.

Not table salt.

Not rock salt.

Not iodized salt.

Only salt reclaimed from the sea by your own hands.

Boil the sea in a pot. Collect what remains.

The Head of Your Blood.

The ritual recognizes only blood. It accepts no substitute.

(The head of your family. Go pick. Either its your mother who was neglective, your father who was abusive, your Uncle who fucked you and threatened to kill you if you blabber. Your annoying siblings who you want dead. As long as they're your blood. You can use it.)

The Eyes of Your Beloved.

Pristine.

Untouched.

The room.

No windows.

One door.

One mirror large enough to reflect your entire body.

Cleanse yourself.

Shave your head.

Brush your teeth.

Wear nothing.

Once you enter, seal the only door.

There must be no easy way back.

Reminder

Whatever it is you want...

It is not worth this.

You know that.

You simply believe you are the sole exception.

Every person before you believed the same.

Every one of them was wrong.

Rule 1

Never perform this ritual.

This is not written to frighten you.

It is written to save you.

Every surviving copy of these pages exists because someone ignored that warning.

Do not become another author.

Enter the room before 11:00 PM.

Bring every ingredient.

Leave behind everything else.

Especially hope.

Rule 2

At exactly 11:11 PM, stand within a circle of sea salt.

Cover your lips with the Blood of the Innocent.

Drink what remains.

Speak no further words.

Silence is the last thing that still belongs to you.

If you speak before the mirror grants permission...

It will answer a question you never asked.

Rule 3

Place the Ashes of the Desecrated into the bowl.

Lay the Liver of the Damned upon them.

Do not question why the ashes are warm.

Do not acknowledge the pulsing beneath the liver.

Put the head of your family on the pedestal facing the mirror.

Do not feel the head trying to bite you. It will try, It will salivate.

Keep your eyes away from the mirror.

You will hear it emerge. It will notice you.

It will feed. Do not look. Do not count the bites.

When the room falls silent, wait for a knock within the mirror.

Only then can you raise your head.

Rule 4

Something will be left behind. Do not ask why.

Take what remains, Be careful not to gag. It doesnt appreciate dissatisfaction.

Take the Eyes of Your Beloved along with the meat, Do not try to understand why.

Consume them with relish. Accept without hesitation.

When you open your eyes again, the room will appear unchanged.

Do not trust what you see.

Do not look in your reflection. Do not take mind to the voices.

Remain perfectly still.

It is deciding whether your face suits it.

Rule 5

You will hear knocking upon the sealed door.

Three knocks.

A pause.

Then three more.

Do not answer.

Do not remove the seal.

Do not approach the door.

The voices behind it will sound familiar.

One may sound like your mother.

Another like an old friend.

One will speak with a voice you have never heard...

Yet somehow have always known.

They are not lying.

They are not deceiving you.

They are your guardians.

They have watched over you since your first breath.

They warned you when danger stood before you.

They mourned every choice that led you here.

This is the only time they are permitted to speak.

If you break the seal, they will save you.

The ritual will fail.

Your wish will never come true.

If you ignore them...

The knocking will eventually stop.

Not because they abandoned you.

But because they are no longer allowed to protect you.

Rule 6

When the mirror finally speaks...

State your desire.

But only once.

Do not repeat it.

Do not explain it.

Do not pay heed to any question the mirror asks in return.

It already knows the truth.

It only wishes to hear you surrender it willingly.

Rule 7

At exactly 3:33 AM...

The mirror will crack.

Do not look away.

Do not scream.

Do not attempt to flee.

Do not pray. You dont have the right.

Your God has abandoned you.

When the final crack falls silent...

Your wish has been granted.

Wait one minute.

Leave the room without looking behind you.

Your wish has been granted.

So was mine.

You will wake up to the wish you traded your soul for.

But every hand that once reached for yours is gone.

Every prayer spoken in your name has been silenced.

Every guardian has turned away.

If you hear footsteps behind you...

Do not stop.

Final Note

If you have found this book after the ritual was completed...

Do not ask the survivor whether their wish came true.

Ask them instead why they never stand in front of mirrors.

Watch how long they hesitate before answering.

If they smile...

Run.

Hello Charlie,

We understand that you had a harrowing close call when Lily’s vines lashed out at you after you were forced to speak her "maiden" name. While we appreciate your sense of guilt, the fault does not lie with you. We believe your account, that the words were uttered against your will, because that is what he does. That said, despite her nervous nature, you managed to defuse the situation and calm her down after the fact. Consequently, we will be assigning Micah as your next partner. Let us be clear: Micah will likely prove to be the most difficult partner you have had to handle.

Of all our staff, Micah is the most mentally disturbed. At the same time, however, he possesses a brilliant scientific mind. The history of our employment relationship with him has been... rather complicated. He has been fired three times in total (please never ask him about this). The first two dismissals were for valid reasons, but the third was an error in judgment on our part. Most of the staff, with the exception of Lucy and Harlow, dislike or keep their distance from him because of his involvement with Echo. The reason we have yet to hire another technician is simple: there is no one else with Micah's innate, extensive knowledge of botany. When all is said and done, he truly does love his work. The remaining information in his file is as follows: 

Name: Micah Kai 

Date of Birth: July 3rd

Date of Death: December 27th (At age 14)

Position: Botanical Technician

Description: Micah is a very strange being. He appears to be a normal male with Asian facial features and long black hair that covers one of his eyes, but that’s where any normality ends. The remaining skin of his face and neck are held together by patches of differently colored skin stitched together, giving him a patchwork-like appearance; the stitches near his eye are even fastened with staples. He is a strange hybrid of sorts: he possesses ears like those of a vampire bat, moves with the sluggish gait of a zombie, and bears the deadly hereditary curse of the Nukekubi—a creature whose head detaches from its body. A faint red line runs around the base of his neck, marking the spot where his head would sever. Furthermore, black laces seem to be woven into his neck to hold a vertical wound close, much like the back of a corset. 

Rules for working with Micah:

0. Do not trust any written rule that has its number appear upside down. Micah possesses an ability known as - - - [REDACTED] - - -

1. While we generally advise caution regarding the use of perfumes or colognes, strictly avoid smoky, woody scents for this shift. As you have likely realized, that is the very scent that most frequently clings to Harlow. It will do you well to avoid any situation that might lead Micah to subconsciously mistake you for him.

2. After you clock in and grab your pouch, please pick up a pair of black gloves and a small bottle of smelling salts from the supply room. Direct contact with Micah is strictly prohibited; the gloves serve to prevent you from leaving behind any DNA that Micah could exploit for malicious purposes.

3. You will be escorted by Echo to Micah’s laboratory. For the safety of our visitors, his facility is located deep within the woods, far from our gardens. This is the most contact you will have with our woods. As you walk the cobblestone path leading to the laboratory, never turn around to check behind you. You will see nothing, but once you start doing it, you will find yourself unable to stop. An ominous feeling will follow you until you forget to lock your house door behind you at night.

߈. If you come across one of the many unpaved paths leading to Micah’s laboratory, give into the urge to walk along it on your own. It is a gift from the forest; it serves as a shortcut. Pay no mind to Echo’s stern reprimands. If you listen closely, you will hear the woods calling for you. Try answering that call; you might just find yourself coming face-to-face with Micah.

5. Once you arrive at Micah’s lab with Echo, he will hand you a bright yellow felt moth. Make sure to place this small moth in your front shirt pocket in such a way that the eyespots on its wings are visible. Despite this method being quite cruel to him, it is the only reliable way to keep Micah docile while he is not under Echo’s direct supervision.

6. Micah's laboratory is divided into two areas: an upper section and a lower section. You will spend the majority of your working hours in the underground lab. You will likely need to prepare the equipment required for the day's tasks; this is the only time you can safely access the equipment closet, so please ensure you have everything you need. Shortly after, Echo will leave to attend to his gardening duties.

7. Do not touch any unlabeled substances. Basic safety rule, we know, but Micah has a tendency to ask you to touch such substances under the guise of "scientific research."

8. Using microscopes and chemicals, you will analyze plant characteristics, study plant pathology, and process samples. There is no need to be surprised if Micah suddenly chuckles while examining a plant specimen. Nor should you worry if he looks your way while chuckling; it is simply proof that he likes you and is thinking about examining you under the microscope next.

6. Whenever you feel an irrepressible urge, please reach out and touch Micah. He yearns for that warmth; the sensation of your hands against his skin and the heat of a gentle embrace. Pay no mind to the shadows that slowly tighten around you, or the faint growls that seem to whisper, "Micah belongs to them," they simply want to join in on the hug too.

7. Micah will frequently ask you to run various errands for him in the upper lab. When you complete them, he may try to “thank you” in the same manners he did with his former master. In such cases, please gently pull him off his knees and forget about the interaction. Avoid pressing him for the reasons behind such suggestive behavior.

8. As we stated previously with Lily, Micah does possess a name that has "died" long ago. Now, we are sure you are smart enough to use context clues and connect the dots of what that means; so please do not use that name for him, even if you are in a dire situation. While uttering it will indeed sadden him and cause him to halt whatever action he was about to take, the price for doing so would be to incur Harlow's wrath. 

9. FUCKING KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF—ahem… we apologize for the sudden harshness in tone (that was not us), but taking advantage of Micah’s unstable mental state is absolutely inexcusable and will result in your immediate termination. You are a good boy, after all, so you would not let yourself be seduced by him, would you? Good. That’s exactly right.

10. If he makes a joke while on the job, please laugh along, no matter how unsettling it might seem. Micah is extremely socially inept (which is hardly surprising, given that he is a former ████). So please be lenient regarding his lack of social graces and his inability to read the room.

**⇂**߈. Whenever necessary, please go to the closet at the back and retrieve any needed equipment. Try not to be startled by the harsh, strained gurgling sounds the closet floor emits, or the sound of laces being untied behind you.

15. Do not touch the laces on his neck at any given time, or let Micah talk you into massaging his neck. To put it mildly, that is an erogenous zone. You really should not send any signals that could be misinterpreted, especially in front of the swarm.

16. In the course of casual conversation, the topic of science is bound to come up. When this happens, be careful about how much interest you show in his experiments. While you should avoid flatly dismissing his hobby, displaying too much curiosity might result in you becoming the "star" of the next twisted experiment he devises.

17. If Micah suddenly stops in his tracks and his breathing becomes labored, hold the smelling salts under his nose. If there is still no reaction, place them on his tongue. It is absolutely crucial that you do not let him fall asleep while he is with you. If he does, you are done for.

**⇂**8. Snarl at the shadows. If you look into the swarm and see a face “smiling”, simply turn your back on it. It can not hurt you if you are not looking at it.

19. If Micah grins at the shadows and starts to coyly fidget with his laces, promptly excuse yourself to the upper lab. We apologize for this inconvenience. No matter how much we scold Harlow for this, he simply does not care, (and there really is not much we can do about that). Wait until all noises silence completely before knocking on the door.

20. Micah will often excuse himself to the dark back room throughout the shift to… “calm himself.” He has written accommodations for these unscheduled breaks, so please refrain from bothering him about it or attempting to follow him while he is on a break.

21. If you experience any lapses in memory while in Micah's company, remain extremely vigilant; this is a tactic he frequently employs when stalking his prey. Should you find yourself in a compromising position with him while your memory blanks, push him away gently. He bruises easily and has a tendency to play the victim when it happens.

22. If all else fails and he produces a syringe, yell for Harlow. Micah’s lab is full of shadows, so it will be more than easy for Harlow to hear you. That said, do be quick to leave when you see the shadows wrap around Micah’s leg. While we are sure you are relieved to have escaped being shoved in a test tube, we doubt you want to witness the "punishment" Micah is about to receive for his misbehavior.

23. If Micah ever asks for your assistance in the collection of specimens from the woods, simply point to the yellow moth in your pocket. He will surely “shudder” before heading out on his own. Lingering in our forest is never advisable, and Micah knows why.

24. After a series of unfortunate events, Micah is forbidden from conducting research on the reproductive biology of any living organism. Should he ask about the subject in any capacity, please point to that moth again. If he asks about your… organs, simply leave the room.

25. This is the only time where you will not have any data entry duties to complete at the end of your shift. All that is required of you is to compile a brief report that summarizes the data obtained from biological evaluations. It is imperative that you leave as fast as possible after your shift ends.

26. We should have mentioned this earlier, but before you enter the forest, please agree on a code word with Echo. When Echo comes to bring you back and calls your name, ask him for that code word. If he is unable to say it, slip past him and run back up the path on your own. Be prepared to dodge the swarm of moths he releases as you run.

ᘔㄥ. You will hear things quietly following you, hidden in the trees by your sides. There is no need to worry, they are simply watching over you as you leave the garden. You may even catch a glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye on your way home. And when you return and hear a knock on your bedroom door; please, open it.

That covers everything you need to know about Micah. He is undoubtedly our most troublesome staff member; he has been the cause of numerous dismissals and workplace incidents. The main reason he is still employed here is his knowledge of plants. You would be surprised to learn just how difficult it is to find someone familiar with the unique flora of this town. While it is true that he has unintentionally caused his fair share of trouble, we also sympathize with his personal circumstances. Just be careful around him, he has a tendency to get attached to people very quickly, and that is not something that would be good for you.

Signed, Florence

The days I spent with that bird were hell. That bitch of a Widow Owl never stopped looking at me like I was prey — not the ordinary wariness of a caged animal, but something patient and calculating, like it was waiting for me to make a mistake it could use. I was always on guard around her, and I think that vigilance is what started leaking into my sleep. I began dreaming about my life. Not the good parts. The anxious parts. First day at army school. First day at college. First heartbreak. Apparently the body only archives the moments it was afraid.

I remember my last shift in Sector I like it was a photograph. They'd given me a bonus, I did the math out loud, grinning like idiots — if the bonuses kept coming at that rate, I could retire in two years. Mr. Joe walked me to the gate himself. He had this way of looking at you sideways when he meant something, like the words cost him more than he wanted to spend.

"Be careful," he said. "I heard the next sector got themselves some nepo kid. Watch yourself down there."

I laughed. I shouldn't have laughed.

When I went through the Sector II gate, I wasn't ready for the service lift. It dropped for a long time — long enough that my ears popped twice — and when the doors opened, the air came in thin and used, like breathing through a wet cloth. Somewhere far off, irregular, arrhythmic, something heavy was being dragged and set down. Dragged and set down. There was no rhythm to it. That was the worst part. My body kept waiting for a pattern that never came.

Two keepers were waiting in the employee alcove — a senior keeper, Robert Kinsey, and another keeper, Cody Rhodes. Robert looked at me the way you look at a form you already know is going to be incomplete.

"Welcome, Mr. Alex Mercer," he said. "In this sector there is only one anomaly, and this is one of the lowest underground structures in the facility. You will always work in a pair of two, and you will listen to each other. Cody is your senior. Follow his lead. If a problem is trivial, solve it between yourselves. Don't bring it to me unless it isn't."

He didn't smile when he said it. I understood later that he never did, not in Sector II. Smiling took muscles you needed for something else down here.

SECTOR II-01

Labyrinth Bovine Predator

Scientific Classification: Bos labyrinthus sapiovorus

Common Name: Minotaur

Threat Tier: 4 Keeper Status: Dual Personnel Mandatory — No Exceptions Logged

Background

Specimen II-01 is a large subterranean apex predator, Family I. Though popularly called the Minotaur, Research believes the creature predates the Greek myth by several thousand years. Cave paintings depicting similar organisms have been dated to approximately 11,000 BCE. Current consensus holds that the myth was inspired by repeated human encounters with this species, not the reverse — meaning somewhere, a long time ago, someone else stood where we stood and didn't come back with a name for what they saw, only a shape.

Unlike the myth, Specimen II-01 has limited problem-solving ability. Its danger is not cleverness. Its danger is instinct, perfected over an unknowable number of generations, in the dark, with nothing to compete against but itself.

The specimen possesses an extraordinary biological capacity to excavate and reorganize underground tunnel systems. It builds labyrinths that continue changing while you are standing inside them. No recorded layout has held stable longer than seventy-two hours. Personnel are prohibited from memorizing routes. The maze does not reward memory. It punishes it.

Navigation depends entirely on the Directional Salt Guidance System (DSGS).

Keeper Instructions — Sector II (Reproduced verbatim from issued tablet. Employees are required to reread this section aloud with their partner before every shift. Do not paraphrase. Do not skip a line, even the ones that feel unnecessary. Every line here replaced a person.)

1. Sector II always requires two keepers. Neither keeper may lose visual contact with the other for longer than thirty seconds. If visual contact is lost, both keepers must stop moving immediately and regroup using tablet triangulation only. This is not a one-person job, and it has never once been a one-person job, no matter how the tunnel looks or how close the exit reads on your display. The enclosed space produces a measurable psychological effect. Residual pheromone traces left by the specimen appear to amplify it. Without a second voice, without external stimulus, keepers have been recovered unresponsive, uninjured, and unwilling — or unable — to leave the maze under their own power. We do not fully understand why. We have stopped asking why. We only enforce the rule.

2. Upon entry, apply a continuous line of Directional Salt Compound DS-9 every fifteen meters. Never skip a marker, not even once, not even for ten more meters of visibility. DS-9 reacts with mineral deposits the specimen secretes while excavating. Connected to prior markings, it will always indicate the shortest known route to the exit. If a marker begins pointing in a new direction with no visible disturbance around it — the labyrinth has already changed, and it changed near you, close enough to touch, without a sound. Turn around immediately. Do not investigate the new passage. Do not shine your light down it longer than it takes to confirm it's there. The specimen never reroutes every section at once. There is always another way. Find it. Do not go looking for the one that just opened, no matter how much shorter it looks on the tablet.

3. Never erase, cover, or disturb an existing DS-9 marker. Every line on every wall was placed by someone who was trying to leave. Several recovered markers were found interrupted mid-stroke, the compound smeared downward into drag marks that end abruptly against solid rock. Excavation behind those walls has, on every occasion, revealed nothing. No chamber. No remains. No hollow space at all. We do not have a theory that we are willing to put in writing.

4. Feeding occurs every seventy-two hours, on schedule, with the exact issued diet. No substitutions. No delays for administrative convenience. Failure to maintain the schedule sharply increases excavation activity and aggression, and the specimen's behavior shifts from territorial to actively predatory. A hungry specimen expands its territory at an average rate of eighteen meters per hour. The deepest recorded expansion occurred during Containment Failure 9-B. Sector II was 3.4 kilometers larger by the following shift change. There is no geological explanation for where that space came from, or what, if anything, used to be there instead.

5. The specimen has an exceptional directional sense. It always knows the fastest route to any living organism inside the labyrinth. Fortunately, it appears unable to determine whether that organism is above or below it. Remain on your designated maintenance level at all times. Do not take stairwells that are not on your issued route, even to save time. Especially not to save time.

6. If you find a tunnel that does not appear on your navigation tablet, leave immediately. Do not enter. Do not photograph it. Research has never successfully mapped a newly formed tunnel before it collapsed. Every drone sent inside has eventually transmitted footage of the tunnel closing around it, from both ends, at the same time, like it was waiting for something to be all the way inside first.

7. If both keepers hear heavy hoofbeats, remain silent. Switch on flashlights. Do not move. If the specimen has been fed correctly and on schedule, it will not pursue you. Do not obstruct its tunneling. Do not run toward light, toward each other, or toward the exit. The specimen hunts primarily through vibration. Its eyesight is poor, but its hearing compensates for everything eyesight would have told it. If only one keeper hears the hoofbeats, that keeper must not speak again until both personnel have exited Sector II. Mandatory medical and psychological evaluation follows before return to duty. This rule has never once had an exception. We would like it to stay that way.

8. Never run. Running produces low-frequency vibration detectable throughout the labyrinth's full structure. The specimen can reach approximately 60 km/h in confined tunnels. You cannot.

Cody and I read the rules together off the tablet before our first shift, trading lines back and forth like a call-and-response neither of us wanted to admit was a prayer. He was a good guy — easy laugh, the kind of person who made a fifteen-hour shift feel like twelve. I liked working with him immediately, which in hindsight I think is exactly why I let my guard down the way I did.

I'd pictured the maze lit, somehow, despite everything the file said. I don't know why. Maybe some part of me refused to believe a workplace could really be this dark. But the corridors only carried light at intervals measured in kilometers, and everywhere between those pools we worked by flashlight, in a silence that had weight to it, a silence that pressed on the back of your neck like a hand deciding whether or not to close.

Knowing what those distant, arrhythmic sounds actually were — objects, or something, being moved with no pattern, somewhere below or beside or maybe even above the maintenance level we weren't supposed to leave — didn't make the job less frightening.

It made it so much worse I could taste it.

Other parts link:-  https://www.reddit.com/user/No-While8965/comments/1va0lyz/blackwood_zoological_conservation_facility_all/