Latest / Creepy Stories to Fall Asleep To / We Found a Cabin Near our Arctic Station. Something is Hunting us.

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We Found a Cabin Near our Arctic Station. Something is Hunting us. · Creepy Stories to Fall Asleep To

0:00
I stood at the window as the sun appeared over the horizon for
0:03
the first time in months. After the polar night, this
0:07
brief appearance felt like a miracle.
0:10
The light caught on the ice, transforming the landscape.
0:14
Beautiful, isn't it? Aurora said, coming to stand
0:18
beside me. Worth waiting for.
0:21
I said, not taking my eyes off the horizon.
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The sun would only show itself for about 20 minutes today, but
0:30
tomorrow it would stay a little longer, and the day after that
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longer still, until summer when it wouldn't set at all.
0:40
Aurora nodded and moved away to check her equipment.
0:45
I stayed at the window a few minutes more, soaking in the
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light before it disappeared again.
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At sunset. I grabbed my gear for the daily
0:54
perimeter check. It was boring but necessary.
0:59
The station needed maintenance, and Kim insisted we monitor our
1:03
surroundings. In the Arctic, weather could
1:06
turn deadly in minutes. I zipped my parka, pulled on my
1:11
gloves, and stepped into the airlock at -30 I adjusted my
1:16
face mask and started walking. The perimeter check took me
1:20
around the main buildings of Arctic Research Station 17, a
1:25
collection of interconnected structures built to withstand
1:28
the harsh conditions. I checked the generator housing,
1:32
the supply shed and the small satellite array, making notes on
1:36
my tablet about minor repairs needed.
1:40
I was almost done with my circuit when I stopped dead in
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my tracks. About a mile away, silhouetted
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against the twilight sky that followed the brief sunrise,
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stood what looked like a cabin. A simple structure with a peaked
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roof sitting on the otherwise empty ice.
2:00
I blinked hard, thinking it might be a trick of the light.
2:04
When I opened my eyes, the cabin was still there.
2:09
What the hell? I muttered.
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I knew every inch of our surroundings.
2:14
The station had been my home for months now, and I'd memorized
2:18
the landscape during countless perimeter checks.
2:22
That cabin had definitely not been there yesterday, or ever.
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I hurried back inside, my mind racing as soon as I got through
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the airlock. I headed straight for the
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communications room where Maverick would be.
2:39
Maverick sat at his station in the communications room,
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headphones around his neck, typing on his keyboard.
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Hey, Mav. I said, pulling off my gloves.
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Any scheduled arrivals I don't know about?
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He looked up, surprised. Arrivals.
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No way, man. We're not expecting anyone for
3:00
another month at least. He swiveled in his chair to face
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me. Why, what's up?
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I just saw a cabin out on the ice about a mile north of the
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station. Maverick's eyebrows shot up.
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A cabin? You sure?
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Positive, and I know it wasn't there yesterday.
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He turned to his computer and pulled up the logs.
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Nothing on the schedule, no transmissions, no flight plans
3:29
filed, nothing. He looked back at me, his
3:33
expression serious. You should tell Kim.
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I nodded. That's my next stop.
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Kim's office was at the heart of the station, a small but orderly
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space with maps and charts covering one wall.
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She looked up from her computer. When I knocked on the open door.
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Jason, everything OK with the perimeter?
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Check. The perimeter's fine, I said,
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stepping inside. But there's something out there
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that wasn't there before. A cabin about a mile north.
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Kim took off her glasses, her forehead creasing.
4:15
A cabin? That's not possible.
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I know what I saw, it's definitely there now.
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She put her glasses back on and stood up.
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Maverick didn't mention any arrivals.
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I already checked with him. Nothing on the logs.
4:33
Kim was quiet for a moment, thinking.
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Gather everyone in the common room.
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Let's talk about this as a team. 20 minutes later, all six of us
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sat around the table in the common room.
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I just finished explaining what I saw, and the room buzzed with
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theories. Maybe it's a research outpost we
4:55
didn't know about? Maverick suggested, though he
4:58
didn't sound convinced. Ricky leaned forward, his eyes
5:02
bright with excitement. Or maybe it appeared out of
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nowhere. Like literally nowhere.
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The Arctic has all sorts of weird electromagnetic anomalies.
5:14
What if it's some kind of quantum displacement?
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Or it could be a mirage, Aurora said.
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Always the practical 1A Fatah Morgana.
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The Arctic is known for them complex mirages caused by
5:28
temperature inversions. I saw it clearly.
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I insisted it wasn't wavering or distorted like a mirage.
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Billy, who had been quiet until now, spoke up.
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Could be an old hunting cabin that was buried in the ice and
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recently exposed by shifting conditions.
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Kim nodded, considering this. That's the most logical
5:53
explanation. The ice is always moving, and
5:55
with climate change, accelerating the melt.
5:58
But I've done that perimeter check every day for months.
6:01
I said It would have taken weeks for the ice to expose something
6:05
that size, and I would have noticed it gradually appearing.
6:10
We should check it out. Ricky said, practically bouncing
6:14
in his seat. Right now I can grab my
6:17
equipment and not today. Kim cut in firmly.
6:22
The sun's already gone, and I don't want anyone out there in
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the dark. We'll organize a proper
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expedition tomorrow morning. I'll go.
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Ricky volunteered immediately. Me too.
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Billy added. Kim looked at me.
6:39
Jason, since you found it, you should be part of the team.
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The three of you can check it out tomorrow, document
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everything, and report back. I nodded, though something about
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the cabin made me uneasy. Maybe it was just the
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impossibility of its sudden appearance, or maybe it was
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something else, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
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Take sample kits, cameras, the works, Kim continued.
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I want to know what that structure is and how it got
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there. After dinner, I tried to
7:17
distract myself by helping Aurora with her data analysis,
7:21
but my mind kept drifting back to the cabin.
7:25
How could a structure just appear on the ice overnight?
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Every explanation seemed more unlikely than the last.
7:34
I dreamed of standing alone on the ice, watching the cabin.
7:38
The structure pulsed like a heartbeat, its door cracking
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open to reveal only darkness. Something pulled me toward it,
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urging me to enter. I woke with a start, my heart
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racing and my T-shirt damp with sweat despite the cool air in my
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room. The clock read 4:30 in the
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morning, still dark outside, but I knew I wouldn't get back to
8:01
sleep now. I got up, showered, and dressed
8:04
in my thermal layers, preparing for the day ahead.
8:09
By the time I reached the mess hall, Billy was already there.
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Methho. Billy was already there,
8:15
methodically packing equipment into his field kit.
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He looked up when I walked in. Couldn't sleep either.
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He asked. Had a weird dream about that
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cabin. I admitted, pouring myself some
8:30
coffee from the pot that was always kept brewing.
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Billy nodded, but didn't ask for details.
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That was his way. Quiet, focused, never pushing
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for more than you wanted to share.
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He went back to organizing his gear, checking each item off a
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list he'd made. Think we'll find anything
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interesting? I asked, sitting down across
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from him with my coffee. Hard to say.
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He replied without looking up. But structures don't just appear
9:00
out of nowhere, there's got to be a logical explanation.
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Ricky burst into the mess hall a few minutes later, his curly
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hair wild and his eyes bright despite the early hour morning.
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He practically shouted. Ready for our little adventure?
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I winced at his volume. Keep it down, would you?
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Not everyone's up yet. Sorry, sorry.
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He said, lowering his voice only slightly.
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But come on, aren't you guys excited?
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A mysterious cabin appearing out of nowhere.
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This is the kind of thing I came to the Arctic hoping to see.
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You came to study weather patterns?
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Billy reminded him. Yeah, but I was hoping for
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something weird too. Ricky said, grabbing a protein
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bar from the cabinet. The Arctic's full of strange
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phenomena. Magnetic anomalies, light
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tricks, unexplained sounds. I sipped my coffee, watching him
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bounce around the mess hall, gathering supplies and talking
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non-stop about every Arctic mystery he'd ever read about.
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His enthusiasm would have been infectious if I hadn't been so
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tired, and if I didn't still feel that strange uneasiness
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about the cabin. By 6, we were suited up and
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ready to go. The sun wouldn't rise for
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another hour, but the sky had lightened enough for safe
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travel, and our headlamps would handle the rest.
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Kim met us at the airlock for a final briefing.
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Stay in radio contact, she said, checking our communication
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devices. I want updates every 30 minutes.
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If anything seems off, anything at all, you head straight back,
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understood? We all nodded.
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And Jason? She added.
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If this turns out to be nothing but an old hunting cabin, I'm
10:57
putting you on double kitchen duty for getting us all worked
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up. I smiled despite myself.
11:04
Fair enough. We stepped out into the bitter
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cold -35 on my wrist readout manageable with our gear.
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The light wind was a blessing. Ricky took point, his headlamp
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bobbing in the dim pre dawn light as he walked ahead.
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Billy and I followed, our boots crunching on the packed snow.
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The cabin was visible even in the low light, a dark shape
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against the lighter horizon. How far?
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Billy asked. About a mile, I answered. 1520
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minutes if we keep a good pace. We walked in silence, conserving
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energy. The Arctic landscape stretched
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between our research station and the mysterious cabin.
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Ahead in the distance, the sun prepared to make its brief
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appearance. As we got closer, details of the
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cabin became clearer. It was small, maybe 15 by 20
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feet, with a steep pitched roof designed to shed snow.
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The walls appeared to be made of dark wood, weathered by
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exposure. There were no lights, no smoke
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from a chimney, no signs of life.
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Doesn't look like anyone's home. Ricky said, his earlier
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excitement now tempered with caution.
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Let's circle it once before we go in.
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Billy suggested. Always the methodical one.
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We approached the cabin with our headlamps on.
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It looked old yet preserved. The dark wood showed no damage,
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no broken windows or missing boards.
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It sat directly on the ice without a foundation.
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This is weird, Ricky said, taking photos with his camera.
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How is it just sitting on the ice like this?
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Shouldn't there be some kind of foundation?
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Maybe it was built directly on the ice?
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Billy suggested examining the base of the structure.
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Hunters sometimes do that for temporary shelters.
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This doesn't look temporary. I said, moving around to the
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front where a simple wooden door stood closed.
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There was a small window on either side of the door, but
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they were covered from the inside, preventing us from
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seeing in radio check. I said into my com unit.
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Kim, you're reading us. Her voice came back clearly.
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Reading you. What have you found?
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It's definitely a cabin, I reported.
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Looks old but in good condition. No signs of recent occupation.
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We're going to check inside. Be careful, she replied.
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Full documentation and don't touch anything.
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You don't need to copy that, I said, then nodded to the others.
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Ready. Ricky had his camera ready.
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Billy pulled out sample bags and a small tool kit.
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I stepped up to the door, hesitating for just a moment as
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I remembered my dream. The pulsing cabin, the darkness
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beyond the door. I shook off the feeling and
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reached for the handle. Let's see what's inside.
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I said and turn the handle to push the door open.
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I trudged across the ice, following my headlamps beam.
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Ricky walked ahead, his excitement showing in his quick
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steps despite the heavy gear. Billy moved behind me, writing
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notes as we went. There it is.
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Ricky called back, pointing ahead.
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The cabin sat dark against the pre dawn twilight, looking
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exactly as wrong as it had when I first spotted it.
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From this distance I could make out more details.
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Weathered wooden planks that somehow looked both ancient and
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untouched by the brutal Arctic conditions.
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No frost damage, no warping from the constant freeze thaw cycles,
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just there, as if it had always been waiting.
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Anyone else getting a weird feeling about this place?
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I asked, slowing my pace. Billy looked up from his notes.
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It's just a structure, Jason. Interesting, but not
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supernatural. Yeah, well, I don't remember
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seeing it during any of my previous checks.
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I said, the knot in my stomach tightening as we got closer.
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The cabin grew more imposing with each step, about 15 by 20
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feet, with a steep pitched roof and dark wood that seemed to
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absorb our headlamp beams rather than reflect them.
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No smoke from a chimney. No lights in the windows, which
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were covered from the inside with what looked like cloth or
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paper. No footprints besides ours.
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Billy noted, scanning the area around the structure.
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No signs anyone's been here recently.
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Ricky circled the building, camera already clicking away.
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No foundation either. It's just sitting on the ice.
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The wrongness crawled up my spine.
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This thing shouldn't be here. Couldn't be here yet it was.
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The wood looked old, and the structure had a stillness that
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made my skin crawl. Let's check inside.
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Ricky said, already heading for the door.
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I hesitated, remembering my dream, the pulsing darkness, the
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cracked door, but in the harsh light of reality, it was just a
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cabin. A weird, impossible cabin, but
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still just wood and nails. Billy readied his sample bags
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while Ricky prepared his camera. I reached for the handle,
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feeling the cold metal against my gloved hand, and pushed the
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door open. The hinges didn't creak.
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They moved silently, as if recently oiled, opening Into
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Darkness. The beam of my headlamp cut
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through, revealing A sparse interior.
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Minimal furnishings, Billy observed as we stepped inside.
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Single room layout. He was right.
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The cabin contained only a small wooden table, a single chair,
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and what might have been a cot against the far wall.
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No personal items, no supplies, nothing to indicate who might
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have built it or why. Check this out.
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Ricky said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pointed his
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light toward the back wall. My breath caught in my throat.
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There, scratched into the wood in large, jagged letters, was a
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message. The grooves were filled with a
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dark, rusty brown substance that could only be dried blood.
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Don't let it in. Not again.
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What the hell does that mean? I asked, taking an involuntary
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step back. Ricky snapped several photos,
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the flash illuminating the cabin in harsh bursts of light.
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No idea, but it's freaking awesome.
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This is like something out of a horror movie.
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It's just vandalism. Billy said, though his voice
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lacked its usual certainty. He moved closer to the wall,
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taking a sample of the substance from the letters.
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Probably animal blood from a hunt.
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Old hunting cabins often have strange markings or messages.
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I wasn't convinced. This isn't an old hunting cabin,
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Billy. It wasn't here 3 days ago that
18:46
we know of. He corrected, bagging his
18:49
sample. Ice shifts, things get buried,
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then exposed. Ricky continued, documenting
18:56
everything, moving methodically around the small space.
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The construction is interesting, he said, pointing his camera
19:04
upward. Look at these joints, hand cut
19:07
dovetails. Nobody builds like this anymore.
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Billy examined the walls, running his gloved hand along
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the wood. Pre 1950s I'd guess.
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Maybe older. The techniques are traditional,
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pre industrial in some ways. I walked around the room,
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staying away from the blood scrawled warning.
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We shouldn't be here. This place felt wrong, like
19:34
finding a shark in a swimming pool.
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I think we should head back. I said finally.
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We've documented it, let's show Kim what we found and decide
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next steps. Ricky looked disappointed but
19:48
nodded. Yeah, I guess we've got enough
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for now, but I want to come back tomorrow.
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There's something about this place.
19:58
We'll see what Kim says. I cut him off, already moving
20:02
toward the door. Come on, it'll be full daylight
20:06
soon and I want to get back before the weather turns.
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Billy collected his final samples and Ricky took a few
20:13
more photos as we filed out. I couldn't shake the feeling
20:18
that something was watching us leave.
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We walked back to the station quietly, each lost in thought
20:25
about what we'd found. The warning kept replaying in my
20:29
head. Don't let it in, not again.
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What had been let in before, and by whom?
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Back at the station, Kim was waiting in the common room with
20:40
Aurora and Maverick. Well.
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She asked as we began removing our gear.
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What did you find? Ricky immediately pulled out his
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camera. Something incredible, he said,
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connecting it to the main display screen.
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A fully intact cabin, probably mid 20th century or earlier,
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with no obvious explanation for how it got there.
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The photos appeared on screen, exterior shots first, then the
21:07
sparse interior, and finally the blood written warning.
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Kim leaned forward, studying each image carefully.
21:17
And you're certain this structure wasn't there during
21:20
previous checks? She asked, looking at me
21:24
positive. I said I've walked that exact
21:27
route dozens of times. There was nothing there until
21:30
yesterday. Kim frowned, tapping her fingers
21:34
on the table. Buildings don't just appear out
21:37
of nowhere, Jason. I know what I saw, or rather,
21:41
what I didn't see before that cabin wasn't there.
21:45
Ice shifts? Billy offered, echoing his
21:49
earlier theory. Things get buried and exposed as
21:52
the landscape changes. The Arctic is dynamic, not that
21:57
dynamic. I countered, and not overnight.
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Aurora studied the images of the warning.
22:05
What about this message? Did you analyze the substance?
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Preliminary assessment suggests organic material, likely blood,
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Billy said. I took samples for proper
22:17
analysis. This is fascinating, Maverick
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said, leaning closer to the screen.
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But I have to side with Kim here.
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There has to be a logical explanation.
22:28
Cabins don't materialize out of thin air.
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I could see the doubt in Kim's eyes as she scrolled through the
22:34
photos. Again, she was a scientist to
22:37
her core. Everything had to have a
22:41
rational explanation, but I knew what I'd seen, or rather, what I
22:46
hadn't seen during my previous checks.
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We'll need to file a report about this.
22:51
She said finally. And I want a full analysis of
22:54
those samples. Billy, if there was someone out
22:57
there recently, we need to know. What about going back?
23:02
Ricky asked eagerly. There's so much more to
23:05
document. Kim hesitated.
23:09
Let's wait until tomorrow. Weather report shows a storm
23:13
moving in tonight. No one goes out until it passes.
23:18
As if on cue, the wind outside picked up, whistling around the
23:22
corners of the station, the first hints of the coming storm.
23:27
That night I lay in bed as the storm raged.
23:30
Wind battered the station, making the walls creak.
23:34
I slept poorly, dreaming of the cabin and its warning.
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Don't let it in, not again. I woke to the sound of someone
23:44
knocking on my door. Blinking away sleep, I checked
23:48
my watch. 6:15 in the morning. The storm had passed, leaving an
23:53
eerie stillness in its wake. Jason.
23:57
It was Aurora, her voice tight with concern.
24:01
Kim's called an emergency meeting.
24:03
Ricky's missing. I sat up, instantly alert.
24:07
What do you mean missing? His bed wasn't slept in and his
24:12
cold weather gear is gone. 5 minutes later we were all
24:17
gathered in the common room. Kim stood at the head of the
24:20
table, her face grave. Ricky's transponder isn't
24:24
responding. She said without preamble.
24:28
His last check in was a 2200 hours before bed.
24:32
His gear is missing from the storage room, and the airlock
24:35
log shows it was accessed at O 200.
24:39
He went out during the storm? Maverick asked, disbelief clear
24:44
in his voice. That's suicide.
24:48
He must have gone back to the cabin.
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I said, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut.
24:54
He was obsessed with it yesterday.
24:57
Kim nodded grimly. That's our best guess, Jason,
25:01
Billy, I need you to suit up. If he's out there, he's in
25:05
trouble. The temperature dropped to -40
25:08
during the night on it, Billy said, already heading for the
25:12
gear room. I followed, a sick feeling
25:16
settling in my stomach. If Ricky had gone to that cabin
25:21
during the storm. We suited up in record time,
25:25
checking our equipment with practice deficiency.
25:29
Kim handed us each an emergency medical kit.
25:32
If you find him and he's suffering from exposure, you
25:36
know the protocol, she said. Stabilize on site if possible,
25:41
then transport radio. Check insurance every 15
25:44
minutes. If you don't find him within two
25:46
hours, you come back and we call for emergency evac.
25:51
Understood, I said, securing my face mask.
25:55
The moment we stepped outside, I knew something was wrong.
26:00
Billy paused and looked around. His eyes narrowed.
26:04
Fresh tracks, he said, pointing to faint impressions in the snow
26:09
heading north. The storm filled most of them,
26:12
but they're there. We followed the barely visible
26:15
trail, moving as quickly as safety allowed.
26:20
About halfway to where the cabin should be, Billy stopped
26:23
suddenly. Jason, he said, kneeling down.
26:28
Look at this. Dark stains marred the white
26:31
snow. Small drops at first, then
26:34
larger patches as we continued forward.
26:37
The sick feeling in my gut intensified.
26:40
Is that blood? I asked, though I already knew
26:44
the answer. Billy nodded, his expression
26:47
hidden behind his face mask. Fresh, not fully frozen yet.
26:54
The trail of blood LED straight to the cabin, which stood
26:57
exactly as we'd left it the day before.
27:01
The door was slightly ajar, moving gently in the light
27:04
breeze. Ricky.
27:07
I called out, approaching cautiously.
27:10
Ricky, are you in there? No response, just that slight
27:16
movement of the door. Billy drew a small tool from his
27:20
belt, a sample collector that could double as a weapon if
27:24
needed. I hadn't even thought to bring
27:26
anything for protection. What would we need protection
27:30
from in the middle of the Arctic?
27:32
I pushed the door open wider, my headlamp cutting through the
27:35
gloom. Inside, the beam caught
27:38
something on the floor, a dark, wet pool that trailed deeper
27:43
into the cabin. Oh God, I whispered, following
27:48
the trail with my light. Ricky lay in the center of the
27:52
room, his Arctic gear torn open. His chest was ripped apart, ribs
27:58
splayed outward. His eyes were open, frozen in
28:02
terror. Billy made a choked sound behind
28:05
me. Jesus Christ.
28:09
I couldn't move, couldn't look away from the horror before us.
28:14
Ricky's blood had pooled around him, and in that blood, someone
28:18
or something had written a new message on the wooden floor.
28:23
It's inside now. I helped Billy carry Ricky's
28:26
body back to the station. Neither of us spoke much during
28:30
the trek. The only sounds were our boots
28:33
crunching through snow and our labored breathing as we
28:36
struggled with the makeshift stretcher we'd created using
28:38
emergency blankets and poles from our packs.
28:42
Ricky's blood had frozen on his parka, creating dark, crusty
28:47
patches that cracked when we moved him.
28:50
His face looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping if you
28:54
could ignore the way his chest had been torn open.
28:58
I kept my eyes forward, focusing on the station growing larger in
29:02
the distance. Almost there.
29:05
I said, more to break the silence than anything else.
29:11
Billy didn't respond. He hadn't said much since we'd
29:14
found Ricky's body, just followed my lead with a blank
29:17
expression. I figured he was in shock.
29:22
I wasn't doing much better myself.
29:25
When we reached the station, Kim was waiting at the airlock with
29:28
Aurora and Maverick. Their faces fell when they saw
29:32
what we were carrying. Oh God.
29:36
Aurora whispered, turning away. Kim's expression hardened.
29:42
Bring him to the medical Bay. We carried Ricky's body through
29:46
the station to the medical room. We laid him on the examination
29:50
table, and I stepped back, noticing the blood on my gloves
29:54
and parka. What happened out there?
29:58
Kim asked, her voice steady but tight.
30:02
I explained how we'd found him in the cabin.
30:04
Describe the message written in his blood.
30:08
Kim listened without interrupting, her face growing
30:11
more grim with each detail. Maverick, send an emergency
30:15
distress signal. She said when I finished.
30:18
We need evacuation as soon as possible.
30:21
Maverick nodded and left the room.
30:24
Billy stood silently by the wall, staring at nothing.
30:28
Aurora, help me examine the body.
30:31
Kim continued. Jason, get cleaned up, we'll
30:35
debrief in the common room in 30 minutes.
30:38
I was grateful for the dismissal.
30:41
I went to my quarters, peeled off my bloody gear, and stood
30:45
under the shower for a long time, watching pink water swirl
30:49
down the drain. My mind kept replaying the image
30:53
of Ricky's body, the way his ribs had been pulled outward
30:56
like something had burst from inside him.
31:00
When I returned to the common room, everyone except Maverick
31:03
was already there. Aurora looked pale, and Kim was
31:08
writing notes in her tablet. Billy sat at the table, staring
31:13
at his hands. Maverick joined us a few minutes
31:16
later, his expression grim. We have a problem, he said.
31:22
The communications array is damaged.
31:24
I can send basic text transmissions, but our main
31:27
antenna is compromised. Must have happened during the
31:31
storm last night. Can we still call for
31:34
evacuation? Kim asked.
31:37
I sent the distress signal, but we're on low bandwidth emergency
31:40
protocols. They received our SOS, but with
31:44
the weather system moving in, they can't dispatch a rescue
31:47
team for at least 72 hours. The room went quiet as we all
31:52
process this information. Three days trapped here with
31:56
whatever had killed Ricky. What about the body?
32:00
Aurora asked softly. We'll keep it in cold storage
32:04
until evacuation arrives. Kim said.
32:08
In the meantime, no one goes anywhere alone, and no one
32:11
leaves the station under any circumstances.
32:14
Is that clear? We all nodded.
32:17
Good, let's try to maintain normal operations as much as
32:21
possible. I'll file the incident report.
32:25
The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze.
32:29
I tried to focus on my work, analyzing ice core samples we
32:32
collected last week, but my mind kept wandering at dinner time.
32:38
I made my way to the mess hall, not hungry, but knowing I needed
32:42
to eat. Aurora had prepared a simple
32:44
meal of pasta and sauce from our stores.
32:48
We all sat around the table, the empty chair where Ricky usually
32:51
sat, a stark reminder of what had happened.
32:55
No one had much appetite, but we went through the motions.
33:00
I noticed Billy seemed off. He'd been quiet all day, which
33:05
wasn't unusual for him, but at dinner there was something
33:08
different about the way he moved, the way he looked at us.
33:13
We should be careful. Billy said suddenly, his voice
33:17
flat and mechanical. The cold takes people.
33:22
We all looked at him. It wasn't just what he said, but
33:26
how he said it, like he was reading from a script.
33:30
What do you mean by that? Kim asked carefully.
33:35
Billy's eyes moved to her, but they seemed unfocused.
33:40
The ice preserves things, keeps them waiting, sometimes for
33:44
years. Billy, are you feeling OK?
33:48
Aurora asked, reaching across the table toward him.
33:52
He pulled his hand away before she could touch him.
33:55
I'm fine just thinking about Ricky, about what happened to
34:00
him. We're all upset, Kim said.
34:04
But we need to stay focused until help arrives.
34:07
Billy nodded slowly. Then look directly at me.
34:11
The message in the cabin about letting it in.
34:15
I've been thinking about that. My skin prickled.
34:20
What about it? Maybe it wasn't a warning, he
34:23
said, his voice still oddly flat.
34:26
Maybe it was an invitation. No one spoke.
34:30
I think you should get some rest, Billy.
34:32
Kim said finally. We all should.
34:35
Billy stood up, his movement stiff.
34:38
Yes, rest, that's what we need. He carried his half eaten meal
34:43
to the disposal and left without another word.
34:46
Once he was gone, Aurora turned to Kim.
34:50
Something's wrong with him, he's in shock.
34:54
Kim said, but she didn't sound convinced.
34:58
We all are. Let's just get through the next
35:00
few days. I didn't sleep well that night.
35:04
Every Creek of the station structure in the wind made me
35:07
jump. I kept thinking about Billy's
35:10
words at dinner, about the message in the cabin.
35:14
Don't let it in, not again. What had gotten in before?
35:20
What had gotten into Ricky? What had gotten into Billy?
35:25
I woke early the next morning and headed to the common room.
35:28
Aurora was already there, making coffee.
35:32
Morning. She said, her voice rough from
35:34
lack of sleep. Coffee please.
35:38
I sat at the table. Have you seen Billy?
35:42
She shook her head. Not yet, Kim's in her office
35:45
going over the evacuation protocols.
35:48
Maverick walked in, yawning. Any coffee left?
35:52
Aurora poured him a cup. Has anyone seen Billy this
35:56
morning? Maverick shook his head.
36:00
His door was open when I passed his room.
36:03
Didn't see him inside. A knot formed in my stomach.
36:08
I got up and walked to Billy's quarters.
36:11
The door was open, the room empty.
36:14
His bed looked slept in, but his cold weather gear was missing
36:18
from the hook by the door. I hurried back to the common
36:22
room. Billy's gear is gone.
36:26
Kim joined us just as I said it. What do you mean gone?
36:31
His parka, boots, everything. They're not in his room.
36:35
Kim's face hardened. She went to the airlock control
36:39
panel and checked the log. The airlock was accessed at 5:15
36:44
this morning. She looked up at us, her
36:47
expression grim. He left the station.
36:52
Where would he go? Aurora asked.
36:54
But I already knew the answer. The cabin, I said.
37:00
He went back to the cabin. Kim checked the tracking system.
37:05
His transponder is active. He's about 3/4 of a mile north
37:09
of the station. We have to go after him,
37:12
Maverick said. Kim shook her head.
37:16
No one else leaves the station. I'm not risking any more lives.
37:21
So we just leave him out there? Aurora asked.
37:26
We monitor his transponder. Kim said firmly.
37:30
If he starts heading back, we'll be ready for him at the airlock
37:34
if he doesn't. She didn't finish the sentence.
37:39
Hours passed. We tried to work to maintain
37:42
some semblance of normalcy, but we all kept checking Billy's
37:46
transponder location. It remained stationary,
37:50
presumably at the cabin. Around noon, I was in the
37:55
observation room, supposedly reviewing satellite data but
37:58
actually staring out the window at the vast white landscape,
38:04
when I spotted movement. A dark figure was walking toward
38:08
the station from the north. I grabbed a pair of binoculars
38:11
from the shelf and focus them. It was Billy, but something was
38:17
wrong with the way he moved. His gait was jerky,
38:20
uncoordinated, like a puppet with tangled strings.
38:26
He's coming back, I called out. Billy's heading toward the
38:29
station. The others joined me at the
38:32
window. We watched as Billy made his
38:35
slow, awkward progress across the ice.
38:38
What's wrong with him? Aurora whispered.
38:42
Is he injured? No one answered.
38:46
We all went to the airlock to wait for him.
38:49
When the outer door finally opened and Billy stepped inside.
38:53
I felt my heart rate pick up. He stood there as the
38:57
decontamination cycle ran, his face hidden by his hood and the
39:01
frost on his goggles. When the inner door opened, he
39:05
stepped into the station. He pulled back his hood and
39:08
removed his goggles, and I had to stop myself from stepping
39:12
backward. His eyes were bloodshot, the
39:16
whites now a web of burst blood vessels.
39:20
His skin was pale, almost Gray. But what disturbed me most was
39:25
his smile, wide and fixed, showing too many teeth.
39:30
Billy, Kim said cautiously. Are you OK?
39:35
His head turned toward her with an odd mechanical precision.
39:39
I'm fine, he said, his voice slightly off pitch.
39:43
Better than fine. Where did you go?
39:46
I asked. His gaze shifted to me and his
39:49
smile widened even further. The cabin.
39:54
I had to see it again. Why?
39:57
Kim pressed. You know, no one was supposed to
40:00
leave the station. Billy started removing his outer
40:04
gear, his movements still strange, too precise in some
40:07
ways and oddly loose in others. I needed to understand and now I
40:13
do. Understand what?
40:16
Aurora asked. Billy looked at her, his
40:20
bloodshot eyes unblinking. It's beautiful in there.
40:25
He said softly. Inside, once you let it in, a
40:31
chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the
40:33
temperature. Billy, I think you should come
40:36
to the medical Bay. Kim said, her voice calm but
40:40
firm. Let me check you over.
40:43
He turned to her, still smiling that terrible smile.
40:48
No need, I'm fine, better than I've ever been.
40:52
He walked past us toward the interior of the station, his
40:56
movements still wrong somehow, like his joints weren't quite
41:00
connected right. Over the next 12 hours, Billy's
41:04
behavior grew disturbing. He sat in the common room,
41:07
staring at nothing, his smile fixed.
41:11
At dinner, he barely ate, just pushed food around while
41:15
watching us with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
41:19
At one point I walked into the lab and found him standing
41:23
there, looking at his reflection in one of the darkened monitors.
41:28
As I watched, his fingers began to stretch, elongating like
41:32
taffy, being pulled, bending at impossible angles before
41:36
snapping back to normal when he noticed me standing there, just
41:40
stretching. He said, wiggling perfectly
41:43
normal looking fingers at me. Joints get stiff in the cold.
41:49
I backed down to the room and went straight to Kim's office,
41:53
knocking on her door with more force than I intended.
41:57
Come in. She called.
42:00
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
42:04
There's something seriously wrong with Billy.
42:07
Kim looked up from her tablet. What happened?
42:11
I told her what I'd just seen, half expecting her to dismiss it
42:15
as stress or imagination. Instead, she sat down her
42:19
tablet, her face showing visible worry.
42:23
I've noticed it too, she admitted.
42:27
The way he moves, the way he speaks, it's like he's not quite
42:32
Billy anymore. What do we do?
42:35
I asked. She rubbed her temples.
42:38
We keep an eye on him, make sure he's never alone with anyone,
42:43
and we wait for evacuation. 48 more hours.
42:47
What if he, I don't know, does something before then?
42:52
If he becomes a threat, we'll restrain him, She said firmly.
42:58
But right now he hasn't done anything except act strangely.
43:02
That's not enough reason to lock him up.
43:05
I nodded, not entirely satisfied but not seeing any better
43:09
options. That night, I wedged a chair
43:13
under my doorknob before trying to sleep.
43:16
Despite my exhaustion, I kept jerking awake at every small
43:20
noise. I must have finally drifted off
43:24
because I woke suddenly to a scratching sound at my door.
43:28
Soft at first, then more insistent.
43:31
Scratch, scratch, scratch. I lay perfectly still, hoping it
43:37
was just the wind or my imagination.
43:40
Then I heard a voice. Jason, are you awake?
43:44
Can I come in? It was Billy's voice, but not
43:48
quite. There was something off about
43:51
it, like multiple voices speaking just slightly out of
43:54
sync. I had a bad dream.
43:57
The voice continued. I don't want to be alone.
44:01
I didn't answer. The scratching resumed, more
44:04
frantic now. Please let me in, Jason.
44:07
It's cold out here, So cold. Slowly, as quietly as I could, I
44:13
got out of bed and approached the door.
44:17
Through the small gap between door and frame, I could just
44:21
make out a figure in the dimly lit hallway.
44:24
It was Billy, but his body was twisted in a way that shouldn't
44:29
have been possible. His head was cocked at an
44:32
extreme angle, almost upside down, his arms bent backward at
44:37
the elbows, fingers splayed and elongated.
44:41
But worst of all was his face, his mouth stretched in that same
44:45
terrible smile, but wider now, impossibly wide.
44:49
And his eyes, his eyes were solid black.
44:54
I know you're there, Jason. The thing that wasn't Billy
44:57
said, it's voice shifting between pitches.
45:00
I can hear you breathing. Please let me in, I just want to
45:05
show you something beautiful. I backed away from the door, my
45:09
heart hammering in my chest. The scratching continued,
45:14
growing more frenzied. Let me in, Jason, It begged with
45:19
Billy's mouth. Don't you want to see?
45:23
Don't you want to know what it's like?
45:25
The voice wasn't Billy's anymore.
45:28
It echoed hollowly, as if coming from deep underground.
45:32
Go away, I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a
45:37
whisper. The scratching stopped abruptly.
45:41
For a moment there was silence, then a low, gurgling laugh that
45:47
made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
45:50
I'll come back later, the thing in the hallway said.
45:54
When you're ready to let me in. I heard the sound of movement,
46:00
something that wasn't quite footsteps, more like the wet
46:03
slither of something heavy being dragged across the floor.
46:07
Then silence. I stayed frozen in place,
46:10
staring at the door until the 1st Gray light of dawn began to
46:15
show through my small window. Whatever had been in the hallway
46:20
was gone, but I knew with terrible certainty that it would
46:23
be back, and I wasn't sure the door would keep it out next
46:28
time. I pressed my back against the
46:30
door, listening to the wet Slytherin sounds on the other
46:34
side. Billy's voice had started as his
46:37
own, that same flat, mechanical tone he'd used at dinner, but
46:42
now it changed, splitting and multiplying like an echo
46:46
chamber. Jason, we've been alone for so
46:50
long. The voices said, slightly out of
46:53
sync with each other. We just want some company.
46:57
Don't you get lonely too? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying
47:01
to block out the sound. The voices overlapped, some
47:06
higher, some lower, all with that same wrong quality, like
47:11
words being forced through machinery that wasn't built for
47:14
human speech. We can show you things, Jason.
47:18
Beautiful things. The ice remembers everything.
47:23
My hand gripped the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles turned
47:26
white. I focused on breathing, counting
47:30
each inhale and exhale to keep from screaming.
47:34
The scratching at my door continued for what felt like
47:36
hours, the voices cycling through different tones,
47:40
different pitches, sometimes sounding like Billy, sometimes
47:45
like someone, something else entirely.
47:49
Eventually, the scratching stopped.
47:53
The hallway went quiet except for a soft, wet sound moving
47:57
away from my door. I stayed awake the rest of the
48:01
night, staring at the chair wedged under my doorknob,
48:04
wondering if it would hold if the thing came back.
48:08
I woke up near dawn. The station was quiet, too
48:12
quiet. Usually by now I could hear
48:15
Maverick's music from the communications room, dishes
48:18
clattering during breakfast prep and the generators rumbling.
48:22
Today, nothing. I moved the chair away from the
48:26
door with shaking hands. Part of me wanted to stay locked
48:30
in my room forever, but I knew that wasn't an option.
48:34
I had to find the others. I had to know if they were OK.
48:40
The hallway was empty. I moved cautiously toward the
48:43
common area, calling out as I went.
48:47
Kim. Aurora.
48:49
Maverick. No answer.
48:53
The common room was empty, the lights still on from the night
48:56
before. A coffee mug sat on the table,
48:58
half full and cold. I picked it up.
49:02
It was Aurora's, the one with the faded polar bear print.
49:06
I set it down and continued toward the communications room.
49:11
The door was ajar, which was unusual.
49:14
Maverick always kept it closed to minimize interference with
49:17
the equipment. Maverick.
49:20
I called, pushing the door open wider.
49:24
The smell hit me first. Copper and salt, and something
49:28
worse underneath. Maverick was slumped over his
49:31
console, his head at an odd angle.
49:36
As I moved closer, my foot slipped in something wet on the
49:39
floor. Blood, a lot of it.
49:44
I steadied myself against the wall and forced myself to look.
49:48
Maverick's throat had been torn open, not cut, but ripped, like
49:52
something had grabbed him and pulled until the flesh gave way.
49:56
His eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling, his expression frozen
50:00
in terror. I backed out of the room, my
50:04
heart hammering in my chest. I needed to find Kim and Aurora.
50:10
I needed to get help. The lab was next.
50:14
I pushed the door open slowly, calling Aurora's name.
50:18
The lights were off, but I could make out a shape on the floor
50:21
near her workstation. I hit the light switch with my
50:24
elbow, not wanting to touch anything.
50:28
Aurora lay on her back, arms spread wide like she'd fallen.
50:33
Her face was intact except for the eyes.
50:35
They were gone, leaving 2 dark, empty sockets that seemed to
50:40
stare at me accusingly. Blood had dried in trails down
50:44
her cheeks like she'd been crying red tears.
50:48
I turned and threw up in the trash can by the door.
50:52
When there was nothing left in my stomach, I wiped my mouth
50:55
with the back of my hand and forced myself to think.
51:00
Kim. I still hadn't found Kim.
51:04
I checked her office, her quarters, the mess hall, the
51:08
storage rooms. Nothing.
51:11
She was gone. Whether she'd escaped or been
51:14
taken, I had no way of knowing. I went back to my room and
51:18
grabbed my emergency pack. We all kept one ready, standard
51:23
procedure for Arctic stations. Inside was a three day supply of
51:27
rations, a first aid kit, chemical heat packs, a
51:31
flashlight, and spare batteries. I added my tablet and charger,
51:37
then remembered the flare gun from the equipment locker.
51:41
I retrieved it, loaded it, and stuck it in my belt.
51:46
The communications room was my best bet.
51:50
If I could send a distress signal, maybe a rescue team
51:53
could reach us. Before.
51:54
Before what? Before Billy or whatever was
51:58
using Billy's body came for me, too.
52:01
I stepped over Maverick's body, trying not to look at his face,
52:05
and barricaded the door with a metal storage cabinet.
52:09
The main communications array was still down from the storm
52:12
damage, but the emergency system was operational.
52:16
I activated the distress beacon and recorded a brief message.
52:21
This is Arctic Research Station 17.
52:24
Emergency situation 3 Personnel confirmed dead.
52:30
Request immediate evacuation. Possible contagion approach with
52:34
caution. I kept it vague.
52:37
Who would believe the truth? Who would believe that something
52:40
had taken Billy, had worn him like a suit, had killed the
52:44
others? They'd think I was crazy, from
52:47
isolation or trauma. Maybe I was, maybe none of this
52:53
was real, but Maverick's blood on my boots felt real enough.
52:58
I sent the message and settled in to wait.
53:02
The emergency protocols were clear.
53:04
Stay put, conserve energy, wait for rescue.
53:09
The Beacon would broadcast our coordinates on all the emergency
53:12
frequencies. Someone would come.
53:14
They had to. I rationed my water and food.
53:19
The station had gone silent again, but I heard movement, a
53:23
door opening and closing, footsteps in the hallway,
53:26
scratching at the walls, and voices.
53:30
Always the voices. Jason.
53:33
They called, sometimes sounding like Maverick, sometimes like
53:36
Aurora. Jason, why are you hiding?
53:41
Don't you want to see what we found?
53:43
Don't you want to understand? Once the voice was Kim's,
53:48
begging for help, saying she was hurt and needed me.
53:53
It took everything I had not to open the door.
53:56
The scratching at the communications room door started
53:59
around what I guessed was midday, soft at first, then
54:03
harder, more insistent. The cabinet I'd pushed against
54:08
the door rattled. We know you're in there, Jason.
54:12
The voices said. Billy's and Auroras and
54:15
Mavericks all at once. We just want to talk.
54:19
We're so lonely out here in the cold.
54:22
You're lonely too, aren't you? We can feel it.
54:26
I covered my ears, but it didn't help.
54:30
The voices seem to come from inside my head now.
54:33
Let us in, Jason, Let us in. The scratching continued for
54:38
what felt like hours before stopping abruptly.
54:42
The sudden silence was almost worse.
54:45
I woke to the sound of rotors, distant at first, then growing
54:49
louder. A helicopter.
54:51
The rescue team. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing
54:55
the flare gun. I needed to get to the roof, to
54:58
signal them, to make sure they saw me.
55:03
I moved the cabinet away from the door and peered into the
55:06
hallway. Empty.
55:10
I ran toward the stairs that led to the roof access, my heart
55:13
pounding in my ears. The roof was clear of snow.
55:17
The wind kept it that way, and I could see the helicopter
55:21
approaching from the South. I fired the flare, the red light
55:26
arcing high into the sky. The helicopter adjusted course
55:31
slightly, heading directly for the station.
55:35
I waved my arms as the helicopter circled, then
55:37
descended onto the landing pad. The rotors kicked up snow that
55:42
stung my face, but I didn't care.
55:45
I was getting out. I was going to live. 2 figures
55:50
in orange gear jumped from the helicopter and ran toward me,
55:54
shouting questions I couldn't hear over the engines.
55:58
I let them guide me toward the aircraft, my legs barely
56:01
supporting my weight as they helped me into the helicopter.
56:06
I looked back at the station one last time through the windows.
56:11
I thought I saw movement, a shape that might have been Billy
56:16
watching, but I couldn't be sure.
56:20
The helicopter lifted off, circling the station once before
56:24
turning. SI pressed my face against the
56:27
window, looking down at the ice below.
56:31
The cabin was gone. No trace of it remained on the
56:34
white landscape, but in the distance, standing alone on the
56:38
ice, was a figure too tall, too thin to be human, its limbs bent
56:45
at impossible angles. It stood perfectly still,
56:49
watching the helicopter depart. One of the rescue crew was
56:53
talking to me, asking about the others, about what had happened.
56:58
I couldn't take my eyes off the figure below, growing smaller as
57:02
we gained altitude. Sir, can you tell us what
57:07
happened to your team? I turned away from the window,
57:11
the image of that dark, elongated shape burned into my
57:14
mind. They're gone, I said.
57:18
They're all gone. I sat across from the review
57:21
panel, 3 government officials in dark suits who'd spent the last
57:26
four hours dissecting my account of what happened at Arctic
57:29
Research Station 17. The woman in the center, Dr.
57:33
Abrams, according to her nameplate, tapped her pen
57:36
against a thick folder of documents.
57:39
Let me make sure I understand correctly, Mr. Johnston, she
57:44
said. You believe a contagious form of
57:47
psychosis affected your team members, likely triggered by the
57:52
extreme isolation and perpetual darkness of the Arctic winter?
57:57
I nodded, keeping my face carefully neutral.
58:01
Yes, the conditions up there, they can break people in ways
58:07
that are hard to explain if you haven't experienced it.
58:11
The man to her right leaned forward.
58:14
And you attribute the deaths of Ricky Ortega, Aurora Hunter and
58:18
Maverick Douglas to violent episodes stemming from the
58:21
psychosis? That's correct.
58:26
I maintained eye contact despite the cold sweat forming along my
58:29
spine. Billy Robinson was the first to
58:33
show symptoms. He became detached, started
58:38
saying strange things. Then he left the station 1
58:42
morning and when he came back, he was completely gone mentally.
58:47
I believe he killed the others during some kind of psychotic
58:50
break. And Billy Robinson himself asked
58:55
the third official, an older man with steel Gray hair.
58:59
I look down at my hands. I don't know what happened to
59:03
him. He was still at the station when
59:06
the rescue team arrived, but he must have wandered out onto the
59:10
ice afterward. In those temperatures without
59:14
proper protection, I let the implication hang in the air.
59:20
Doctor Abrams closed her folder. Thank you for your cooperation,
59:24
Mr. Johnston. We'll be reviewing your
59:27
statement along with the physical evidence collected from
59:29
the station. You're free to go, but please
59:33
remain available for any follow up questions.
59:37
I stood up, legs stiff from sitting so long.
59:41
Will there be an official report eventually?
59:46
These investigations take time. She gave me a practiced smile
59:51
that didn't reach her eyes. The psychological support
59:55
services we discussed earlier are available to you.
59:59
I strongly recommend you take advantage of them.
1:00:02
I nodded again and walked out, feeling their eyes on my back.
1:00:06
That was six months ago. The official report, when it
1:00:10
finally came, accepted my explanation almost verbatim.
1:00:15
Extreme isolation had triggered a rare case of shared psychosis,
1:00:20
with Billy as the primary aggressor.
1:00:23
The deaths were ruled as homicides committed during a
1:00:26
mental health crisis. With Billy presumed dead from
1:00:29
exposure, case closed. They gave me a modest settlement
1:00:36
compensation for trauma experienced during a government
1:00:39
research posting, and cleared me to resume normal life, whatever
1:00:44
that meant. I moved to a small town in
1:00:47
northern Michigan, far enough from major cities to avoid
1:00:50
crowds but not so remote that I'd be truly isolated.
1:00:54
I bought a little house at the edge of town with a view of pine
1:00:57
trees and, in the distance, Lake Superior.
1:01:01
I told myself the water would be comforting, familiar.
1:01:06
I was wrong. Tonight, like most nights, I sat
1:01:11
at my kitchen table with the curtains drawn tight.
1:01:15
The digital clock on the microwave showed 1123.
1:01:20
Outside, the wind pushed against the house, making the old
1:01:24
windows creak. I took another sip of whiskey
1:01:27
and continue. I took another sip of whiskey
1:01:30
and continued writing in my journal.
1:01:33
The pages were filled with meticulous notes, dates, times,
1:01:38
weather conditions, and detailed descriptions of what I'd seen or
1:01:41
heard each day. Tonight's entry was brief.
1:01:46
October 12th, Clear night. Temperature 38°.
1:01:50
Ouch for wind from the northwest.
1:01:53
Scratching sounds at the bedroom window from 2:15 to 2:40 AM.
1:01:58
Voice whispering. Let me in for approximately 3
1:02:01
minutes. At 312, AMI closed the journal
1:02:05
and rubbed my eyes. The doctors had prescribed
1:02:08
sleeping pills, but I rarely took them.
1:02:11
Sleep wasn't worth the vulnerability, not when I knew
1:02:15
what was out there. My phone buzzed with a text from
1:02:18
Doctor Lowry, my assigned therapist.
1:02:21
Just checking in. How are you feeling today?
1:02:25
I typed back fine, no changes to report.
1:02:30
What else could I say? That sometimes when I looked at
1:02:34
the lake, the water seemed to pulse, like something breathing.
1:02:38
That I'd started seeing the cabin again just at the edge of
1:02:41
my property line, visible only from certain angles and always
1:02:46
gone when I worked up the courage to investigate.
1:02:49
Dr. Lowry believed I was suffering from PTSD and
1:02:52
survivor's guilt, a reasonable diagnosis given what she knew.
1:02:58
She thought my insistence on documenting everything was a
1:03:01
coping mechanism, a way to process trauma by imposing order
1:03:05
on chaos. She wasn't entirely wrong.
1:03:10
I stood up and walked to the living room window, parting the
1:03:13
curtain just enough to peek outside.
1:03:17
The moon cast silver light across my yard, illuminating the
1:03:21
tree line beyond. Nothing unusual.
1:03:25
No impossible figure with bent limbs watching from the shadows.
1:03:29
No cabin where none should be. Not tonight, at least.
1:03:34
I let the curtain fall back into place and return to the kitchen.
1:03:38
My laptop sat open on the counter, displaying satellite
1:03:41
images of the Arctic region where Station 17 had stood.
1:03:46
I've been tracking weather patterns, ice formations,
1:03:50
anything that might give me a clue about what we'd found there
1:03:54
or what had found us. The entity that took Billy had
1:03:58
been trapped in the ice for who knows how long.
1:04:03
Decades. Centuries.
1:04:05
Long enough to learn patience, long enough to understand how to
1:04:10
wait. And now it was free.
1:04:13
I poured another finger of whiskey and opened a new
1:04:16
document. I'd started compiling everything
1:04:19
I remembered about the cabin, the entity, Billy's
1:04:22
transformation. Not for others to read, but as a
1:04:26
reminder to myself. The details were important.
1:04:31
If I forgot, If I let my guard down even once.
1:04:36
My hand trembled slightly as I typed.
1:04:38
It doesn't need to break in. It needs to be invited.
1:04:42
It needs you to open the door to let it in.
1:04:45
That's the pattern, That's how it works.
1:04:49
The wind picked up outside, rattling the windows.
1:04:53
For a moment, it sounded like multiple voices speaking, just
1:04:56
out of sync with each other. I froze, listening intently, but
1:05:02
the sound didn't repeat. Just the wind this time.
1:05:07
I saved the document and closed my laptop.
1:05:10
Tomorrow I'd add more. Everything I could remember
1:05:13
about how Billy had changed, the impossible ways his body had
1:05:16
moved, The voices that weren't quite his voice.
1:05:20
As I walked to my bedroom, I checked each window, making sure
1:05:24
it was locked. I checked each door, testing the
1:05:28
knob twice. I placed a chair under my
1:05:31
bedroom door knob, a habit I couldn't break, and sat on the
1:05:35
edge of my bed. Sleep would come eventually, and
1:05:39
fits and starts, and then morning, and then another day of
1:05:44
watching, waiting, documenting. Some nights I wondered if I was
1:05:49
truly the only survivor from Station 17.
1:05:53
Other nights I wondered if I had survived at all, or if what came
1:05:58
back was something else, something changed in ways too
1:06:02
subtle to notice. The entity was patient.
1:06:06
It could wait years if necessary.
1:06:09
It had all the time in the world and I knew with absolute
1:06:13
certainty that it wasn't finished with me yet.