The first thing I should let you know before you read this is that I’m not on any drugs or medication, nor do I have a history of hallucinating or any other form of mental illness. In most ways I’m perfectly normal, or I was at least. It’s hard to stay completely normal after going through the events that I have over the last week.
It began last Monday. I’m on the school swimming team, junior division, and I was heading home from our daily training session. My hair was still wet, but since the weather had been warming up lately, I figured it would be fine to walk home with my hair still dripping. I hadn’t counted on the cool breeze that was blowing though, so walking down the street I couldn’t fight back my shivers. Not to mention that practice had run late as usual, and the sun was beginning to set. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t used to walking in the dark though. Although I have to say, I won’t do it again for a long time.
It was in that twilight that I noticed the sound of a person walking not far behind me. I hadn’t heard them approaching, but I wasn’t really paying attention anyway since I knew the area so well, and had walked this route many times. I instinctively moved to one side of the sidewalk so they could pass me if I was walking too slowly for them. However, they never got close enough to pass; though I would’ve estimated that they were maybe a dozen paces behind me. I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder because my neighborhood was usually a pretty safe. Finally as my house drew into view, I noticed that my shoe had become undone and I went to one side of the sidewalk, bent down to tie it, and in that motion I looked back in the direction I had come from, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person who had been walking behind me.
There was nobody there.
Then, in that instant I suddenly had a strange feeling. I think most would call it vertigo. The entire street seemed to buckle and stretch in front of me and I went off balance, tumbling down from my crouch and had to roll over to see the street again. Although what I saw, I wish I hadn’t. Running down the street like a river was bright red sticky blood. My heart hammered in my chest as I lay, my eyes fixated on this horror. As I watched, mutilated limbs started flowing downstream with the blood like icebergs. It must’ve been hours that the limbs drifted by. Strangely in all that time, I don’t think I blinked even once. Finally I did, and once done, the river was gone and the street was as it was usually, though it was much darker out than it had been before.
I slowly got to my feet and hurried to my house, terrified and unsure what I had just witnessed. My parents were mad that I had been out so late. I murmured something about practice going longer than usual and headed to my room. I did not want to worry them. I did not go downstairs for dinner and told my mom I had a headache. Instead I went straight to bed, and had nightmares about that river of blood all night long.
The next day, Tuesday, things got progressively worse. At first with the morning light and the daily routine I was used to, things were looking brighter. I had chalked up yesterday’s event to some strange dream I must’ve had and decided to leave it at that. I bid my mother a good day and headed off to school. Even though I had written it off as a dream, I still was a little afraid of looking at the road beside me, even though in my peripheral vision it seemed perfectly normal. No, the strange things didn’t happen until after I had gotten to school.
My first class, English, passed as usual and I headed to my second, biology. I’m kind of a loner and don’t have many friends in my classes, but I still waved hello to my lab partner as I took my seat. That day had been long anticipated in my class because we would finally be allowed to dissect pig fetuses. Kind of gross, I know, but I had always been kind of interested in that sort of thing and I’ve always wanted to become a doctor when I left school so I had to get used to it some time. Pig fetuses, however, are kind of creepy by nature. Their eyes haven’t developed yet and so remain a milky white. None the less, it was to be an exciting class, though not in the way I had hoped.
My partner and I received our pig fetus, an ugly little thing, the smallest in the class, and then my partner left me to visit the washroom. She told me to get started without her, which I think was code for saying she was too nauseated to actually help with the dissection. I shrugged it off though, since it only meant that she would get a lower grade on the final test. I slowly picked up the scalpel and began to make the first incision as my teacher had told us. As I dug into the flesh however, I froze. I could’ve sworn, at that moment, a soft sigh had escaped from the fetus’ mouth. I didn’t move for a full minute before I decided I had imagined it and tried to cut in further. This time, I was sure I had heard a sound, because it was louder. I looked around the room, and no one else had noticed my hesitance. Finally, I stirred up my courage and simply cut down, far and fast, ripping across the fetus, my eyes wild. That was when the jaw of the fetus dropped wide open and a loud, long, high pitched squeal rang around the classroom so terrible and terrifying that I was forced to clap my hands hard over my ears. I started bawling, and sank to the floor, staring as the fetus continued to scream. The scream lowered steadily in pitch and I swear that words began forming either in that sound, or in my mind. The voice was deep now, and demonic. It spoke of horrific things, such as children turning cannibalistic against each other, dogs ripping off the arms of their owners and eating them slowly piece by piece. It spoke of creatures too terrible to imagine and of acts more cruel than any I had ever thought of before. Though now, I remember these things only vaguely as if my own mind has rejected the knowledge of them.
Finally, the demon said that the beast was rising, that it was coming for me, and that soon I would be forced to succumb to its imponderable power.
Suddenly, I felt a strong hand grip my shoulder and the screaming and voice shut off like a water tap. I gasped and looked up. My science teacher was staring me and asked if I was okay. I shuddered and asked why it would be coming for me. The teacher looked at me in confusion. What I learned was that, apart from me, no one in the class had heard the demon’s message. They had only seen me collapse into tears. My teacher decided that I had had a nervous fit and that I could sit out this lab. He scolded me for not telling him I had a phobia of blood, or something that would cause me to have a panic attack like that. I only listened to him in silence, I couldn’t respond. How could I explain such a thing, and possibly retain my sanity? So I sat out in the hall, shivering, terrified once again by whatever seemed to now be pursuing me.
After the class was over I decided that things had gone too far for me to be able to concentrate on my schoolwork and so I took the rest of the day off. Both my parents work during the day so I could just go home at any time and erase any messages sent by the school about my absences. Once again, nothing strange happened on the way home, though I still couldn’t properly look at the street.
When I reached the sanctuary that was my home, I decided that I would watch one of my old Disney movies to calm myself down. I picked the Lion King, because it was always a favorite of mine. I swear I could recite every line of dialogue and I loved singing along with the songs. When I was a child, though, the scene where Mufasa died always brought me to tears and I usually fast forwarded until the scene was over. Now, of course, the scene didn’t affect me so much as in the past.
The movie played as usual. I smiled and sang along with the Circle of Life (the English words, obviously) and I Just Can’t Wait to Be King. Even Be Prepared was sang along with full blast and I was feeling much better than earlier. Every scene was like revisiting an old friend and that’s always a comfort.
Then came the Stampede scene, and everything changed.
It started normally enough; with Simba practicing his roar, and then the wildebeest began storming down the cliff into the gorge. I glared at Scar as he told Mufasa to go running to Simba, and his death. However, when it came time for Scar to send Mufasa over the cliff to his doom, the claws sank into the great lion’s furry paws and I swear that I saw blood leaking from where each claw entered. Even if I hadn’t known this movie so well, the mere fact it was Disney made the presence of blood strange and unnerving. But it was about to get far worse. The point where Mufasa fell into the stampede did not cut to Simba’s face, though his scream of “NO!” was still heard. Instead, I witnessed Mufasa fall in amongst the wildebeest and be trampled, repeatedly. His body was being knocked about, flattened, bloodied, his paws became mangled and his face twisted and grotesque under the hundreds of hooves that descended upon him. He began leaving a trail of blood behind as the body was dragged brutally about. I grabbed the remote and started pressing the fast forward button but the screen refused to obey it, still showing in real time the mutilation of my favourite Disney dad. It was horrible. I only hoped that the batteries were dead. Finally, the last of the wildebeest stepped over the old lion and ran off, leaving a tangled, bloody corpse in the middle of the screen. Then, Simba ran into shot, and the dialogue continued as usual, although when Simba curled into his father’s body he became covered in blood. Then, at the end of Scar’s speech, where he is supposed to tell Simba to run away and never return, instead he raised a paw with all claws fully extended and slashed into Simba’s throat, the blood spraying over Scar’s laughing face. Soon the evil lion was drinking Simba’s blood, as I continued to press the fast forward button.
Finally, as Simba seemed to breathe his last and Scar’s eyes turned to the camera, or was to me? The fast forward finally seemed to work and images began flashing by. Occasionally there would be a scene from the movie, though with Simba absent from it, mostly of Timon and Pumbaa. Though as this went on, strange twisted faces also began to flash over the screen. Timon and Pumbaa were found by the lionesses and ripped apart in graphic detail. This, I realized, was what would’ve happened if Simba had died. The pride was starving. After the comic relief was dealt with, Zazu also joined the ranks of the devoured. Then Rafiki, always my favorite character, was pounced on my the hyenas, his beard ripped out and his eyes gouged and gnawed on by the creatures. His innards painted across his tree and around the picture he drew of Simba that had been crossed out long ago. However, even after this the lions and hyenas continued to starve, seen quickly as the tape sped ahead. Their ribs were easily seen as they began turning on each other. Soon all the lions and hyenas were eating both each other’s species and their own in an attempt to save themselves. The tape ended with Scar left staring at the madness created and laughing, the sound piercing into my soul. The tape then blanked out, no credits, and the entire VCR switched off, as did the TV. I was left in silence, shaking.
I was still sitting there, clutching a pillow, when my dad got home. He was surprised to see me. This time I ate dinner, just so I wouldn’t have to leave my parents. I was too afraid to be alone again, even if the pig fetus had spoken to me while I was in a large group of people, my parents still offered a sense of comfort. If only it had remained so. In any case, I was able to sleep that night, still plagued with nightmares from which I could not awake until morning.
Then it was Wednesday. I couldn’t make myself go to school. I was too terrified. My pale complexion and shaking, continuing from the night before, was enough to convince my parents I was too sick to go. They kissed me goodbye and went to work. I stayed in my bed. I couldn’t even think of leaving it at this point, it seemed that anything could morph into a terror beyond my imagination. But nothing happened all day, and I began to feel a little silly. Perhaps, I thought, it was over. It was a silly thought, a vain hope. When I checked the clock and realized that swimming practice would begin in an hour, I decided I would go. Perhaps getting some routine back would help my nerves. I left a note for my parents saying where I had gone and headed out. Again, I could not look at the street.
In swimming practice, I greeted my teammates and was quick to enter the water after stretches. The cool refreshment of the water soothed my skin and I felt better than I had since these events began. I floated on my back as we waited for instruction to begin. Once it did, and I was front crawling my way across the pool I noticed a fainted sucking sound whenever my head was underwater. I wrote it off at the time and continued my swimming but on the third lap, I also noticed that the water was becoming difficult to move through. Soon it was like swimming through syrup, as if something was holding me back. At first I only tried to fight it and swim faster, but the harder I struggled the slower I got. I didn’t panic properly though until my head was dragged beneath the surface. I then struggled even harder, trying to kick at the force that seemed to now be actually holding my ankles. I looked down, and what I saw chilled my blood down to the bones.
At my feet were two beings, each holding one foot. On my right, was a child, a girl about eight years old. Her face and hands were bloated and seemed to be rotting away, some bone visible in places. Around her swam a white dress, billowing out in the waves. Her eyes were horrid. They were not empty sockets, as one might expect, but were just as terrible. They were dead, yellowed, and oozing a yellow pus that although underwater still ran down the girl’s cheeks.
On my left, was a monster. I cannot describe it properly but it had scales, and fangs, and eyes such a deep red that I swore I was looking into the pits of Hell. I cannot bear to think of any more than that. I tried to scream but of course, that only made water rush into my lungs and consciousness slipped from me. But that was not the end.
I awoke in a hospital bed on Thursday. My parents were standing over me, looking relieved that I had woken at all. My mom had tears in her eyes, and explained that I had had some sort of fit and had nearly drowned. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the true horror that had lay in wait for me at the bottom of that pool. The hospital had wanted me to stay overnight to make sure I was alright and run some tests. I agreed, some time away from home might be good for me. My parents of course had to work the next day so they left me to return back to our house and I was left at the hospital as the lights turned off and all sound left the hallways.
A hospital is usually creepy at the best of times, but even worse at night. I couldn’t sleep, I was too afraid of the nightmares I knew would await me behind my eyelids. It was late at night that I began to hear the sound of a child’s laughter. At first, fear gripped me as I recalled the girl in the pool. However, after some time the merry noise started to relax me. I was suddenly gripped by the urge to find this child and play with him, or her, it was a strange feeling. I got out of bed, my legs abnormally steady, and walked to the door. The hallway was abandoned, as expected, and I found myself walking briskly through it, following the sound of the child up staircases and through doors until finally arriving at a room. Inside, there was nothing, only an empty operating room. I turned to leave, but the door was closed. I didn’t hear it close, but when I tried the handle, I noticed it was also locked. Now I was truly afraid again and began pounding on the door, screaming out for someone to help me. But I didn’t know how far from the overnight wards I had wandered or if anyone was around to hear me.
I turned back to room, and gasped. It was no longer empty. Standing around the operating table were three doctors wearing operating masks and aprons and talking to each other in a language I didn’t know. On the table itself was an obnoxiously fat naked person, so big I could not tell its gender. After a moment of witnessing the doctor cut open its stomach and pull out its intestines I realized the person was fully conscious. It was not screaming as one might expect, but rather moaning in pleasure. I was sickened and leaned on the door, letting out a small, pained groan. At once, the doctors stopped, and turned to me. I froze, and then screamed in fear as they descended upon and dragged me to the table. The fat person had disappeared and there were now shackles that were used to bind me down. The knives were now poised to enter my flesh but with one last bone chilling scream I fell blissfully into unconsciousness. But it was not the end.
I opened my eyes to find myself back in my hospital room, on Friday. Apparently I had been found in a supply closet three floors above me, screaming while clutching a broom and had to be tranquilized and brought back to the ward. My parents had been called, but by now I knew I could not see them. If I did, I would only worry them too much, and may even put them in danger. And so as soon as I was left alone I got out of bed and headed into the hall, dodging people I came across until I saw the front door. I tried to leave, but suddenly I heard a familiar language, the one I heard last night. I turned and saw the doctors from before heading my way, scalpels raised and long white coats billowing. I screamed and ran out the door into the parking lot. I saw my parents, apparently coming to visit me. But I ran past them, stopping only to grab the keys from my dad’s hand. I jumped in the car and started driving. My parents tried to run after me, yelling for me to stop, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have a driver’s license, but I somehow knew what to do. I got onto the street, but the cars around me seemed to box me in. I managed to somehow reach a country road, since the hospital was on the edge of town and began driving into the distance. I didn’t look back, all I knew was that no cars or people were around, I only saw the occasional farmhouse as I drove through fields. I knew that country roads were in a grid pattern and so I only tried to drive west. I remember having some vague notion about finding my grandmother’s house, as she always had an affinity with supernatural things. I always thought her crazy before, but now, I felt she might have had the answers I needed. But even if the roads were on a grid, I quickly got lost.
Finally I reached a small village. There were only a few houses together, a church, and a general store. I pulled over, and breathed hard. I got out of the car, intending to ask for directions. However, I quickly realized that I saw no people around the village and everything was eerily quiet. Except when suddenly I heard the church bell begin to chime. I shivered, then quickly got back my car, only now it wouldn’t start. I sat a moment, hoping the engine just needed a rest before it would start for me. Then, suddenly, all the doors to the houses around me opened at the same moment. I screamed, my throat was getting hoarse from doing that. At every door was a decaying corpse, but these corpses were moving, slowly, toward me. I tried again to start the car. The engine sputtered and died again. The walking dead bodies were getting closer, and more were appearing though I wasn’t sure where from. It was only when they were clawing at the vehicle that I was finally able to start the car and I revved the engine, plowing through them. Limbs flew off and hit my windshield and gore caked across the glass. I drove on, anyway, as far as I could. I drove so fast the blood and gore and limbs were blown off my car and I didn’t slow down until a quick glance in my rear mirror showed a face in my backseat of a man holding a severed head in his hands. It took a moment to realize it was my own head. And that was when I crashed the car. But it was not the end.
I woke up in the hospital again, but no one was around. I tried to move, but realized that my limbs were strapped down. I whimpered into the dark. I looked at the clock beside me. It was digital and displayed the weekday as well as the time. It was Saturday. I waited about two hours before I heard a skittering sound under the bed. I dared to glance at the floor and noticed it was covered by a sea of cockroaches, all brown and disgusting. Then I saw them climb the sheets of my bed. I tried to scream, but no sound came out as they swarmed over my skin. I could only shut my eyes and mouth, but still felt their antennae probe my ears and nostrils. Though suddenly, I realized, I could move! I looked down as the cockroaches skittered back. The restraints had been broken. The cockroaches had gnawed through them through they seemed to have missed occasionally as my wrists bled as well. It didn’t matter, I was free. I got out of the bed and hurried to the hall again. No one was around. I didn’t stop until I was out of the building. I ran all night, aiming to reach my house. If nothing else, I could finally warn my parents of the evil that was pursuing me.
I ran until daybreak. At this point, it was likely Sunday. As the sun began to rise into that twilight before the dawn, I reached the sidewalk that went to my house. Then I made a gruesome mistake and looked at the street.
The river of blood was back, running down even faster than it had before. Limbs continued to pass but this time severed heads were among them. I saw the faces of my classmates and the doctors, and the members of my swim team, all in expressions of twisted agony. Then another head came, this one I did not recognize but it was enormous, as large as a person in its own right, with empty eye sockets and a tongue lying dead and decaying from its open mouth. Lying on the tongue were my parents. Both were horribly mangled with their eyes gouged, their tongues and flesh swollen, and their arms had not only been severed but sewn on again backwards on each other’s corpses. I thought then that I might go mad at the image. Then all the heads, including those of my parents, began to speak. All but the largest head. They spoke to me and told me that I had to fulfill by destiny if I ever wished to be free of these horrors. I begged them to tell me my destiny but they only laughed so loudly in a chorus like that of taunting children. Then the largest head laughed and the corpses of my parents tumbled into its mouth and it crunched down on them, eating them with snapping bones and spraying fluids.
I blinked. Everything vanished. I didn’t go home then. I went to my neighbor’s house. My neighbor was an older woman, but she was always nice and understanding. She let me inside without a word. There I was compelled to tell her of everything that had happened the past week. She listened carefully and then finally asked me, what was my destiny, then? I suddenly knew.
“My destiny, is to kill you,” I said softly, my eyes settling on her. I went toward her and raised my hands to strangle her. They closed around her neck and I squeezed. As I did so, a smile grew so wide on her face that I thought it would rip her head in half. Finally her mouth opened and a strange bug like creature came out of her mouth. It landed in my arms as the woman fell to the ground.
The creature I saw was shriveled and dead, I knew that much. On closer inspection, realized just what it was.
A dead Celebi, from the Pokemon games.
As I realized this, the music from Lavender Town in the pokemon games began to play in my head, and all around the room as well, filling my ears. I pulled the Celebi to my chest and rocked back and force as the doctors reappeared around me again, their expressions solemn.
That dead Celebi is Object 251 of 649. When they are all united, the world shall turn to Ash