#evanthenerd83s storytime
“The entity’s bones resist even the most powerful drill.”
8/?
Originally shared via Twitter on March 3, 2022.
“The dermis within one of the entity’s bladders.”
7/?
Originally shared via Twitter on March 2, 2022.
“Hole”
Lorien knew of the hole in her wall. It was right there. Not hidden, but beside her bed. It went deep. And it was dark, darker than the underside of her skin, deeper than the pits in her stomach. She could barely see what lay on the other side, what knew of the hole in itswall.
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“Routine”
Our child danced. She’d wear the cutest little dress you ever did see, a pink number. With a pink bow. She would slip on those tiny black shoes. Ballerina shoes. And we—my wife Gladys and I—we would clap along to her steps. One, two, three, one, two, three. It was mighty difficult, of course. What with us having to pull her strings.
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“The Absence”
Her mouth was never found.
Imagine the coroner’s shock when he saw her face. Everything was there, in place. Where God had intended.
Eyes above her nose. Ears on either side.
Nose over… Well, when he got a good, long, hard look at the, uh, absence, his own face went paler than quartz. He legit screamed. We let him.
The least we could do.
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“Ambiance”
The scream comes from nowhere yet everywhere.
Loud. Shrill. It cuts the ear like glass.
It belongs to a little girl. Or an old man. Nobody can tell. Some say a dog must’ve got caught in a bear trap.
It never fades.
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“Email #10— Tests”
BioSys Solutions
Email Correspondence Server
October 6, 2020— 11:00 PM
FROM: Sam Pierce <[email protected]>
TO: Unregistered Group Server (UNSECURED)
SUBJECT:Tests
Testing antivirals for agents rated L4 and above is allowed, right? I was planning on injecting the HABA with EX-Chrim tomorrow. Location of said injection would preferably be the central nerve, and I’d start the procedure at 3:00 PM.
Sam Pierce
Junior Researcher
“My Own Vice”
Less is more. That’s what I always say. No need to spend precious time and energy on performing. Impressing people wastes valuable resources. Why overindulge when you can abstain? Why spoil everything if you can share the meaning? Why leave behind a mess? I just hope they understand. Her head should be obvious enough.
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“Neighborhood”
Opened spaces in every home. Closed spaces outside. Doors to look out of. Windows that are stepped through. We watch as things blink and wink. Things plan as we deny and lie. Vans sitting idly on sidewalks, their wheels tinted. Mothers sucking dry air. Babies leaking. Fetuses preserved by beer bottles. Beer churning inside wombs. A mailbox to eviscerate.
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“Surveillance”
The eyes watch. They never blink, whether from exhaustion or glaring sunlight. Sleep is unnecessary. These eyes are sharp, clever. A rat could scurry between the slim, slender gaps of a sewer grate, fur dark as night, indistinct, and they’d still see.
They do see. They take notice. Each movement is captured. Every twitch becomes a mark.
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“Paranoia”
They all know. Are always together. A whole. As one rotting corpse. One looks my way, with eyes dark like moon glass, head hollow. Another clamps a hand over plastic lips. Painted fingernails drip scarlet. Drip blue. The hyenas call.
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“Email #9— Word”
BioSys Solutions
Email Correspondence Server
October 7, 2020— 11:11 AM
FROM: Anne Smith <[email protected]>
TO: Unregistered Group Server (UNSECURED)
SUBJECT: Correct word usage
Hi everyone.
A quick reminder: please do not refer to the HABA as anything other than “the HABA.”
As an alternative, you may use the following terms:
The Structure
The Anomaly
The House
Off-limit words include:
Monster
Abomination
The Entity
Flesh Pit (this is just wrong, the HABA is not a pit)
Wound
I’m not being pedantic.
Using these phrases could trigger an adverse reaction in your coworkers.
Thank you for understanding!
Anne Smith
Human Resources
“The entity’s nervous system can be manipulated directly.”
6/?
Originally shared via Twitter on February 28, 2022.
“One of the entity’s main blood vessels.”
5/?
Originally shared via Twitter on February 10, 2022.
“Emails #8— Bugs”
BioSys Solutions
Email Correspondence Server
October 8, 2020— 7:15 PM
FROM: Jess Withers <[email protected]>
TO: Unregistered Group Server (UNSECURED)
SUBJECT: Bug infestation within HABA?
Somebody should call an exterminator. I don’t care if security can’t let any non-personnel inside.
I’ve felt something crawling up my leg. On multiple occasions, a whole swarm of things have run over my feet during biopsy missions. But when I look down, they’re gone.
Something is here. With us. I don’t know what, but it has to be alive. There’s no other explanation.
Jess Withers
Recovery Assistant
“Medical Cruelty”
Doctors would crowd around the poor girl. Their eyes would glisten with curiosity bordering on obsession. And they were obsessed. How couldn’t they be? They would stare at the poor girl, and they would watch. Even as she stared back, crying. Even as she shrieked until her voice went. Even as her skin was torn open, as the eggs were hatching, revealing strange, iris-less eyes, they would watch.
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“The Urge”
The urge came as I was alone in my bedroom.
I cannot describe the urge. What emotions it brought upon me, I cannot recall. All I know is what the urge was.
That urge pulled me. I followed on numb feet, unable to defy. I passed through darkened hallways. I descended treacherous staircases. The living room seethed quietly.
Until finally, I came upon my final destination, the source of such a sudden affliction.
The open door whispered my name.
The basement beckoned with arms long and pale.
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“Aunt Maddie”
Someone was breathing in the vent. Charlotte heard it, could hear each inhale and pained exhale. It reminded her of Aunt Maddie. Of when Aunt Maddie would chew on those strange white sticks, breathing that terrible smoke. Aunt Maddie always had a stick in her mouth. She kept them in her pockets, in her purse. Charlotte thought about the breathing. It wasn’t nice. It was horrid, a wheezing, hitching gasp; a grasp of fresh air. Like a squeaking toy. Like a broken, dying woman laying in a hospital bed. Charlotte couldn’t stop thinking of Aunt Maddie. Aunt Maddie with her eyes closed, head bare. Aunt Maddie whose finger, gray and wrinkled, would beckon her over. Aunt Maddie who breathed smoke. Breathed. Breathing. Charlotte noticed that the breathing was getting worse, much worse indeed. Just like Aunt Maddie. Aunt Maddie would stay in the white room. She never left. There was spittle flying out of the vent, then. It painted polka dots on the carpet. Charlotte pictured Aunt Maddie’s gown, a short white affair that exposed her backside. That gown. Hadn’t it been stained? Painted by polka dots? And Charlotte saw the finger emerge. A gray finger slowly slid out of the coughing darkness. Charlotte saw the nail, long and jagged; the skin had grown wrinkled. The nail wiggled. The nail wagged. The nail beckoned her over, over, over.
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