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This is the recovered journal of Michael Fitzgerald, whose brother went missing after the events of the last journal entry took place.
The year was 2001. My brother, Stephen was obsessed with trains. He and our dad went to General Motors, about two blocks away from our house.
That, for him was the most traumatizing experience of his life.
Now, thirteen years on, we have decided to revisit the place that killed our dad, and that ruined his life.
He told me every little detail of what happened, which made my skin grow leathery goosebumps. He said out of nowhere these shadow creatures started flying out of the old passenger shelter, that they starting killing or going inside people. The people that were hosts to those "things" started killing other people.
Stephen was the only survivor, he fled after the black splotches started killing and possessing people. He is now an insomniac, he sees shadows and terrifying creatures in the few nightmares that he has.
After talking to him, we have decided to revisit General Motors, to finally see what caused Stephen to be so eccentrically paranoid. I decided should something happen, I will keep a journal to record my findings.
We visited the station and took a look at the ticket office/signal box. Stephen found a pentagram on the ceiling, drawn in some gooey red substance that resembles dry blood.
We also saw droplets of fresh blood leading to what appeared to be a cellar door. Neither of us had the balls to go in, and neither of us had any light source other than an old cigarette lighter which could only maintain a flame for a second or two. On the back side of the building the concrete wall of the cellar poked out of the ground.
We had to go, as it was getting dark and Stephen was begging to go home as he has a OCD-like superstition about being alone in places at night.
We had some spare time today, so we decided to pay the oldest non-senile person in our suburb a visit. Mr. Kelly is seventy-five years old and knows the area like the back of his hand. He told us that an exorcism took place in a church that is now an empty lot.
He said that strange things happened afterwards, houses being burnt down, missing children, etc., which obviously created panic, causing a lot of people to move out and the once stable land value to plummet, which is why the area is currently industrial. Some people, like my grandfather could not afford to move, so we had to put up with the chaos that plagued our suburb.
We're going to check out the passenger shelter today. It is apparently haunted, but I convinced Stephen to come.
We looked for anything out of place, but it was the average shelter. Stephen looked odd, as if he had just seen something wrong happen.
He began to walk toward the passenger shelter, almost as if it was pulling him, he touched it, screamed in terror and fainted. I took him him home, and put him in his bed. In the following night, he screamed and shouted, "I owe him my soul!" over and over again. I fell asleep and woke up on the sidewalk next to General Motors platform 2. Stephen was again at the shelter, but he looked different.
His pupils were badly dilated and eyes blood red. He was chanting in some ancient language which sounded like nothing I had heard before. As he finished the chant, he looked at me and I felt a sharp pain in my heart.
I fell over from the pain, and looked in horror as Stephen let some black shadow that he summoned from the shelter into him. He then cackled demonically, I lost control of my body and he walked towards me. I felt every last bit of life sucked out of me and as it happened, I saw every act of greed, murder, gluttony, deception and evil flash before my eyes.
He told me the world's fate, and if I join him we can stop it.
I owe him my soul, I owe him my soul, I owe him my soul. (The rest of the pages appear to be stained with blood).
Police report: [13/3/2014]
Subject was found dead in bedroom, cause of death appears to be heart failure. Brother has been missing for three days, during that time 27 murders have been committed in the area, all by posterior strangulation.
Written by AlphonBetonDelton