Small objects from your childhood, that you know were destroyed, turn up in unexpected places: At the back of drawers. Behind sofa cushions. Even under your pillow.
You are certain that wasn’t there when you went to sleep.
Codex - Ectoplasm 2 Miscellany
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Your family keep mentioning, “Your older brother, John”. You’ve never had an older brother. When you mention this, they look at you like you’re mad, or tell you that joke’s not funny. When you ask where he is, the answer is always, “You just missed him,” or, “He’s around somewhere”. It wouldn’t be so bad, but there’s a bedroom next to yours, where there never was one before. No other rooms have lost any space, it’s just, impossibly, there.
John’s room is filled with taxidermy, that you’re told he did himself.
Dad says he’s going to take you to John’s workshop soon.
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After a hot shower, the condensation on the bathroom mirror hardens to frost, regardless of the weather.
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Every morning, half awake and trying to get dressed for the day, you search your wardrobe intent on wearing a specific cornsilk-colored top, pushing aside other items of clothes before waking fully and remembering you’ve never owned an item of clothing like the one you’re searching for. But you know its details— the stitching, the feel of the buttons— like you know your own face.
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Any who sleeps in the house dreams of a door in the first floor’s living room— a door which does not exist— and know with a certain dread that something is approaching that door, ever nearer. All report that, thus far, they’ve woken up before the door opens, just in time.
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I was on a Zoom call with Linda from Marketing when a man walked into frame a few paces behind her and just stood there, staring into her webcam. She didn’t acknowledge him at all. We were discussing an item under NDA, so I interrupted to ask who the guy was. She gave me a questioning look and said, “What guy?” She turned and looked around her home office, then turned back and said, “There’s no one here, Bob. I don’t appreciate that kind of joke. Can we get back to business?” The man in the frame grinned.
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When you walk into the room, your friends are there. They point and say, “there are monsters in that room.” So you lean your head into the other room, scared what you’ll find, and instead you see your friends. They whisper to you, teary eyed, “there are monsters in your room!”
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When you stare into the mirror, you get the sense its not a perfect reflection. You stare harder. Then you see it, your reflection’s eyes, waver, dilate, and look over your shoulder.
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This is starting to piss you off. You love that flavor of chips, but the bag always seems more and more empty even if you haven’t had any the past few days. It’s gotta be mice, but how are they getting through the plastic container?
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It’s tradition to leave the angel’s share after making a fresh batch of whiskey, and thank them for their protection. You’re not sure why the workers decide this is the best time to make those footprints on the ceiling though, hard to get up the 12 feet to clean them off after a day of drinking
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First you felt a little dizzy. A little slow. Like that numb feeling when you’re getting ill or waking up having fever. Then time seemed to be more fluid, stretched out. Your thoughts getting grip of the reality always a few seconds behind the actions of your body. Your thoughts lost in a vast dark gray space closing in on you like a cold autumn mist. Then you felt the presence of that other voice in side of you. Seeing. Hearing. Talking. Taking over control.
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No matter how hard you cheer on the stove, it seems to be getting colder and colder each day.
There are ice flowers on the inside of your kitchen window. Hot tea turns to ice within minutes.
Your guests give you ever more concerning looks when they visit you. Sweating wearing short sleeves, while their breath condensates in the icy air.
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Bloody skulls … everywhere. It was terrifying at first, but now it’s just frustrating. You can’t comb your hair because it’s a bloody skull in the mirror. Your meals are even off, last night’s roast capon - a bloody skull. Blindness has a powerful allure in this hallucinatory universe of red blood and white bone.
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Water faucets run unturned. Wet footprints jostle up steps during the evenings. The dampness once reserved to the basement moves erratically between rooms. Even after a laundry, clothes are never quite dry. You often look up to see your window filmed over with fog. Leaks come from a bathroom that you removed last year.
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Ectoplasmic writing on the wall, the color of blood, stretching the length of the entire living room, detailing in archaic cursive the legal ownership and rights accorded to a spectral legal entity designated as “the rightful owner,” including financial penalties for those found to be infringing on said rights.
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Once every few months, you are jolted awake at night by a ringing telephone. It’s not your Android, charging on the nightstand next to your bed: It’s an old-fashioned rotary-dial phone, and it’s coming from downstairs. Four rings… five… six… seven… and it stops. You cancelled your landline service years ago.
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The old room was cheap, and newly remodeled from the former hotel, with the dumbwaiters turned into easy to access garbage chutes. But every morning, you swear you can hear the squeak of wheels, and the scent of something delicious coming from the chute, then the smacking of lips before the squeaking starts again
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Shadows don’t work right. They move a millisecond too late.
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Thanks, everyone! i got chills reading some of these!
I need the following people to let me know how they want to be credited. Reply here or send me a DM.
@BlackGuardPrez
@creases
@FAE
@KryptykPhysh
@SimonMoon
@techghoul
@yayforbooks
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This is too real. I was just eating potato chips the other day. One moment the bag was full and before I knew it it was empty, just like that.
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Hi Jason!
Thanks for including me.
You can credit me as James Abendroth.
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