They are still screaming. My ears hurt, it's deafening, I'm bleeding. I cannot cry.
I cannot tell if this is real, I don't know anymore. But it hurts.
Two months ago, I was right there in my bedroom when my mom told me about my friend, who killed himself with a fork, stabbed in his neck. I was shocked, and I cried; we were close to each other. He was Jared.
He was also a musician, and we used to play together. We wrote songs. We were making a new song, but we were too lazy to finish it sooner. The song was still incomplete when we decided to camp around a lake in the countryside. We drove there on his mom's car. We stayed for six days; we fished a lot and we sang a lot of songs together while playing his guitar. On the 5th day, we thought we were being stalked there; we had the sensation of somebody in the middle of the bushes, watching us sleep. This shit got unpleasant very quick, so we decided to investigate. We followed the noises into the bushes, then into the woods, then we chased down someone, but it was too dark to see who it was. We ran deep into the woods, but it got away. We had to go back but it was too dark; as I said, we got desperate. On our way back, we felt like being followed again. When I turned back, there were lots of silhouettes appearing to be hooded people. There was that fucking noise, loud as hell inside my head. We both heard it, I'm sure it wasn't my imagination. We ran. We came back to our camp. We slept our last night there. On the 6th day, in the morning, we drove away from there as fast as we could. Jared looked pale and shaky, like if he was seeing something that I could not see. He was so disturbed that we had to switch our seats and I had to drive to our homes.
After that, he spent two weeks disconnected, and he didn't answer any of my calls. I got worried. I came to his house; he wasn't there, nor his mother or father. I've found a VHS tape inside one of the plant vases in front of the door. It was written "FINISH OUR SONG". I came back home, it was beginning to get dark and rainy, how convenient. In the basement, we had my father's old VHS player and an old TV, both still working. I turned it all on, and watched the tape.
The tape had some low saturated filter, almost black and white, and started with a footage of Jared's room, and he was sitting on the edge of his bed, saying something I could not understand. He was all shaky, and he was white as a cup of milk, and his eyes were so fucking wide open, it creeped me out just to look at it. He got up, got his guitar, played a part of our most recent song, that one that we were still composing. He played briefly, and then he dropped his guitar to the ground, fell down to his knees, and cried. He cried for three minutes. Then he got up again, walked up to the camera, grabbed it and pointed the camera to a window in his room. I could something shaking outside the window, looked like some figure dancing in a freaky way. It was bizarre. The video cuts to another scene, where you can see Jared's legs walking in some sort of dirt road. Then he rises up the camera, and I could see the lake we camped before, where all that weird shit happened. I was getting anxious and even more creeped out. He walked to the edge of the lake, he pointed the camera at his own face, still pale and big eyed, now with a wide smile, and then he said: "They forced me, since that day, hah, they were talking to me, they are so nice, they gave me so much inspiration, so beautiful... look at that water, hahahaha, so damn beautiful, I can see them there, I... need...".
He laid the camera on the floor, pointing at himself, and he dove into the lake. He got of the lake, took the camera, and started running into a bushy place, with tall plants. I could see, in the bushes, figures standing and watching while he ran. The scene cuts to a empty and dirty room. In the video he is throwing himself at the wall. Outside the window, now clearly, I could see a hooded figure, shaking. The tape ends there.
I freaked out.
I called him, no answers. I called every friend of him, nobody knew where he was. I didn't know what to do. In the middle of the night, my mom comes in my bedroom, with the news about him. He was found dead, in a cabin, with a fork in his neck.
From two months now, he wandered in my every dream. I can't ratiocinate anymore. Now, even when I'm awake, he wanders in my peripheral vision. In the beginning he was whispering me to finish that song. Now I hear hundreds of screams telling me that. I finished it today. I want to share with you our masterpiece. His souls is in it, and mine will be soon. I can't take it anymore. The screaming, screamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreamingscreaming
I'm sorry mom and friends.