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I discovered something just now. Literally, not even two minutes ago. And my impulsiveness led me to getting this discovery off of my chest by relieving myself of it on the internet.
So, my dad was a nut. He would always be doing crazy experimental shit in the basement. Before I go on, let me tell you that when this event was in action, I was seven years old. I'm currently twenty-two. Anyway, he was obsessed with this building that, in his journal, he referred to as "The Emporium". I even remember my mom going absolutely ballistic on him because he spent more time in the basement reading up on this place and taking notes rather than actually spending time with the family.
I think my mom knew what this place was. Goddammit, this is so messed up. But I can't help but recall my dad trying to shove me out the door several times while saying something about the actual emporium. I know that he mentioned going to the emporium on multiple occasions, and I totally recall my mother pulling me back inside.
My dad left when I was still seven years old. And under the circumstances of my very recent discovery, I'm almost certain that it's a result of the emporium.
Here's what I discovered, and shall explain to you in the according order.
- My father's journal, consists of several pages just scribbled out entirely with red pen, some pages with actual information on the emporium itself.
- A video camera, with a tape still in it. In another box, there were four more tapes. I watched the tapes, and they are by far, the most fucked aspect of this story.
- A photo album. The first two pages are entirely filled with pictures (I'll tell you what the pictures consist of later on). The rest of the album is blank.
- A ripped out scrap of paper that says. "From the faculty, to you. Thank you for your contribution. For your kindness, we have returned your camera as well as left you a complimentary photo album of your childs stay with the faculty. At your expense, do not watch the tapes."
Alright. So here's what happened at the age of seven. With the emporium. Everything.
In my father's journal, I picked out the pages that only talked about his interactions with the emporium, as well as my own. Nothing else. Here are those entries.
Seth is still resistant. The emporium desperately needs him. I must not disappoint.
I'm starting to hear back from the faculty. They're outraged. The boy will submit sooner or later.
Faculty entered my home. Attempted to take the child, came home in time. Janet leaves to visit her mother in two days. That's when I shall finally step foot inside the emporium with the boy. The faculty will be pleased!
Janet took the car. She knows something is up. Looks like we're walking.
Those were the only entries on the emporium. By now, you're probably very curious as to what the emporium is. I honestly wish I could tell you myself, but instead, I'll let the description of the tapes encapsulate the actuality of the emporium.
It starts with the camera pointed down a gravel road. There are no trees, the fields on either side of us are barren. He's breathing heavily, he even wheezes at times. He points the camera at me, and this is the part that emotionally shattered me. I totally confirmed it was myself, and to me, that was absolutely terrifying. He begins to speak with the camera still pointed down the road. He says,
"Little Seth and I are now on our way to make history!"
He whoops and hollers. I interrupt him by asking if we can go home. He yells "no" at me, but the tape cuts out before his denial is concluded.
The camera is pointed at this abandoned warehouse (or as it appeared) and my father begins whimpering from behind the camera. He points the camera at me, he's holding my hand. I stare into the camera momentarily. The camera cuts out.
We're in the same spot as tape #2. Although, this time, he's down at knee level with me. You can clearly hear him sniffling. He had just finished sobbing, I'm guessing. I have this confused, empty expression in my eyes. He then puts his hand on my shoulder, and stutters out,
"Take the camera. No- do not point it at me, Seth. Seth, listen to me. As soon as you open that door, just close your eyes, and keep walking. Do not open your eyes, and wherever the nice men in there tell you to move, you listen to them. And you do what they say. You hear me?"
No response. He comes back with a very intense, "Do you hear me, Seth?"
I nod my head, confirming that I'll obey. He then lets out a very loud whine. Following that, he whispers,
"'Daddy loves you. Alright, get goi-"
The tape starts immediately with my hand pushing the metal, rusted door open. I'm instantly greeted with the sound of loud drills and moaning. I take about five steps inside the warehouse, and from around the corner, a man wearing a doctors mouth cover peeks his head out.
He starts to slowly walk towards me. I don't make a sound, I just stand there in silence. He finally reaches me, and lets out a very deep, low, and smooth chuckle.
"Give me the camera, Seth. I'll show you to the waiting room, buddy."
Several seconds of walking. The tape ends. In the last three seconds of the tape, I swear that I could see a pile of human and animal teeth on the floor.
I wasn't expecting much from the final tape, at this point, I was absolutely crushed and emotionally scarred. But this tape was the complete opposite of the last four. It does not hold back, at all.
The tape starts with a rubber glove covered hand adjusting the lens. Once he moves out of the way, I can see a row of body bags on one side of the room, and on the other side, a row of human bodies mangled and manipulated in unspeakable fashions.
There were human bodies that appeared to be tied in knots, literally. Some of the actual figures appeared to be completely reshapen into something otherworldly. And the worst part is, that they were shouting and screaming at the top of their lungs. They were most definitely alive.
When the entirely human bodies weren't twisted and broken into different forms, they were mixed and combined with the limbs and/or torsos of several different animals. Here are some of the forms that I noticed in the tape.
- A purely naked man laid out on a stretcher. His legs were replaced with those of a horse, and his head was sloppily replaced with that of a gorilla.
- There was actually a man on all fours. His torso was replaced with what appeared to be a cheetah. The form was moving. The eyes on the man were rolled into the back of his head, and he was letting out this very disturbing shriek. Almost like a squeaking noise. He wasn't walking around the room on all fours, instead, he was hopping around the perimeter like a toad.
A group of men and women in doctors outfits start applauding the performance. Then, one of them approaches to camera, snatches it, and then begins to sprint to another room.
He flings the door open, and what I found was, to say the least, disorienting. It wasn't absolute fear or trauma what I saw in that room, but rather confusion. The lens was adjusting while slowly zooming on me. My face. My mouth was wide open, and there was a liquid substance running down the side of my mouth. To my assumption, I was drugged.
I counted twice. There were four tubes in each one of my arms. Two tubes that went through the soles of my feet. One tube going through each breast, and one tube going into my stomach. The camera zoomed out, then panned over to the machine that all the tubes were connected to.
It was a large, metal cylinder with the biological hazard/warfare symbol painted on it.
I'm moving on from the tapes. I do not want to think about it.
And now, finally, the photo album. The first page was covered in pictures of only the exterior of the emporium, nothing special. The second page, however, was much more unsettling. The page was covered in descending rows of portraits of me, smiling. With every row, my face became more mangled and drained of life, until eventually, my teeth were missing, my skin was completely wrinkled, and instead of a smile, I had this expression of absolute suffering on my face.
I don't know what's going on. I don't know how I still maintained my appearance after all that they did to me. Perhaps their procedure was irreversible and they no longer had use for me.
I don't know how beneficial this was for my father. And frankly, I don't care. I'm disgusted with the thought of his actions, and this emporium. After this article is posted, I will not think of the emporium. I will not speak of the emporium, or my father. The horrible thing is, those tubes left very dark marks on the areas they struck. I remember asking my mother about them at age thirteen. She told my they were cigarette burns from the result of my dads abuse.
This happened in the state of Michigan. I lived in Saginaw. Perhaps the emporium is still there. It's a white, almost completely rusted warehouse in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Drive around, you'll find it eventually.
Just don't open the fucking door.
Goodnight, everyone. Thank you.