RECORDING 21A3
{BEGIN TRANSCRIPTION. DATE: NOVEMBER 21. 11:11:11s} [ SPEAKER COUGHS. AVERTS EYES; NERVOUS.] Um, okay so—damn it! How do I start this—well, okay. Let me say this first, I’m not crazy. I am not paranoid. I do not have a hyperactive imagination. No, I did not watch several hours of horror movies and no, I was not a sickly child. I am not mentally ill either. Well, other than this notion my parents seem to have of my jumping at shadows which aren’t there. I mean that figuratively of course; I’m not so crazy that I see shadows that are not there. I mean, who would do that? [SPEAKER CHUCKLES; FALTERS.] I just hear it. The true sounds, I mean. That did not come out right. Damn, I’m not making any sense. [SPEAKER SIGHS. GESTURES: HANDS RUNNING THROUGH HAIR, PALMS SHINING; SWEATY] Look, have you ever heard the wind blowing? Especially when it comes out as that almost ear splitting whine when it’s coming through the crack in the door? Or what about when your heart pounds in your ears and your head seems to throb? When the sound appears to echo up your throat and you just blame it on stress or nervousness? What about when you hear the white noise on your TV? What about when a light seems to flicker, but no one else notices? Or when the ground seems to shake, but appears still to everyone else? Did you ever even spare a second thought? You’re not crazy. You just caught a glimpse of what I experience every day. Think about it. All of these noises just happen to come up right when you think everything around you is silent; when everything fades away and you feel isolated. They always just so happen to start reverberating and repeating, back and forth, possibly in long hollows sounds, right when you feel like you’re alone. They just so happen to trigger the intuition that has saved mankind for so many years and just so happen to make you question your surroundings. And you probably ignore them, like any person. [SPEAKER SMIRKS, CONDESCENDING: LOOKS TO GROUND, SHAKES HEAD.] We make our excuses, as foolish as we are as human- [VAGUE DING IN BACKGROUND. SPEAKER IS APPROACHED.] Stop it—No, I am. [FOOTSTEPS RECEDE. SPEAKER STARES AT EXIT. SPEAKER’S EYES LOSE FOCUS AND GLOSS OVER.] [SPEAKER STARES BLANKLY FOR A FEW SECONDS.] Where was I? Oh yeah… We petty humans always seem to like to use reason. Our reason is only based on what we see or experience with our own senses. So what do we do? We always discredit those who sense something different because it does not align with the masses. Or we’re too scared to acknowledge it. [SPEAKER LAUGHS, BITTERLY. LOOKS TO FLOOR, LEAVING PALMS ON KNEES.] See, when someone offers an alternate option and we discredit it, we fail to realize that there are things our senses cannot pick up. Things we cannot forget have the same magnitude as the things we cannot remember. And that doubt to the fundamentals of our knowledge seems to scare us, because then we cannot trust anyone. Not even ourselves. You’ve probably been told justifications—the noise is TV static. Or that it is because it just is—the heart appears to throb because that’s just how we perceive it. Or we are told to doubt ourselves—that light did not flicker at all! But when a theory is offered that explains it all, we avoid it because we are fearful of the consequences. Our apathy and ignorance is entirely ridiculous. Even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said the infamous “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?” If you have stuck around to listen to all of this, then I hope you are ready to hear, because this is not something you can go back from. Even if you try to forget—perhaps that’s their one blessing on us—it will always be that little worm in the back of your mind: inching around every doubt, feeding on every fear, questioning every truth you used to believe. [LONG SCREECH. CHAIR DRAGS BACK. SPEAKER IS VISIBLY STARTLED: EYES DART IN ALL DIRECTIONS.] Wait-where are you-no put me down. What is this place, what- [THUD.] Where was I again? Riiiiight. So, it makes its way around every doubt, every fear, every truth you would believe. You thought those noises and small flickers and changes around you were actually not connected? That they could be so simply explained? How about this: imagine an insect. I can’t tell you what they look like, and even my thinking they are insects is a bit of a deduction from what I know. I can only write it as far as I can see them; which isn’t much considering we forget having ever seen them as soon as we look away. It has happened to me so many times—that odd feeling of déjà-vu and surreal confusion that follow an encounter—that I actually tried to record the instances. For as long as I did see them, I would note down observations quickly, in my journal. But, I can only vaguely remember what I wrote because the next time I look at my journal—even a fraction of a second later—my notes are gone. Wiped clean. A blank slate. That’s all we are. As soon as you see them head on, you can’t remember them. Those sounds— [LONG, INTERMITTENT BEEPING. SPEAKER IS VISIBLY SHAKEN: EYES WIDE, RUBBING PALMS ON KNEES.] What—time’s up? No, please not yet—please! I am getting there. [SPEAKER’S BREATH IS HAGGARD AND ROUGH. COMES STRAINED AND FORCED.] Yes, yes I understand. Don’t do this. Please. [SPEAKER PAUSES FOR SHORT INTERVAL. LOOKS AROUND DAZEDLY.] —you may have heard are just— Why am I crying? When did I change my shirt? What the hell? Where did this friggin’ red stain come from? [SPEAKER SHUFFLES. CHECKS CLOTHING: PULLS, STRETCHES IT. RELAXES SLIGHTLY.] Nope, I’m not bleeding. Yay?… Anyways, those are them. That buzzing you hear when you are all alone; it is not just your mind. Those are wings; flapping in unison with such perfection, we cannot even recognize the sound properly. That white noise? Same thing. That wind blowing? Same thing. And when the wind howls and yells. When it cries out, it is not just because it is coming in through a small gap. It is because they are screaming as you squeeze them through the small space. You force them to leave their group when you shut the door. But they get their revenge. Imagine what happens when you whistle willingly, your mouth open with all the wet, soft flesh and the route directly into your body and brain. Giving them access to vulnerable places of pain and the control center of your body. Why do you think most people don’t perceive them at all? If they could manipulate your remembering what they look like without even having been inside you, imagine what they can do from the inside. [SPEAKER CHUCKLES MALICIOUSLY; SNEERS.] The reason your heart seems to roar in your ears when you’re nervous or scared? You are so utterly exposed, your emotional barriers down. That’s when they can overcome you. Surrounding your ears and your brain, laying their implants right when you would not notice. And you breed their next generation. We’re nice little incubators, aren’t we? The reason butterflies seem to flutter in your precious little stomach? Same reason. They already have access to your insides, is it really so surprising? They have mastered it so smoothly, we just accept this as “human reaction.” What a joke. Indeed, we are so human. [SPEAKER APPEARS PITEOUS: SHAKES HEAD, CLOSES EYES] [SCRATCHING IN BACKGROUND. SPEAKER STRAIGHTENS; EYES OPEN. SPEAKER APPEARS HORRIFIED: EYES WIDE, MOUTH DROPPED, PALMS OUT IN FRONT OF TORSO. STARES AT A FIXED POINT.] No—I’m done. I swear! Let me just wrap up, please! Please. [RUBBING SOUND. SOMEONE IS SHUSHING IN BACKGROUND. SPEAKER IS UNCONCIOUS.] [SPEAKER REGAINS CONCIOUSNESS: RUBS EYES; BLINKS PERCEPTIBLY.] Where am I? Damn it, did I sleepwalk? What the hell! Did Micheal prank me again? What’s that? He wrote on my arm? “Wrap it up.” Shit. I get it now. I’ve lived a life being aware of this lack of memory for long enough to know what this means. Okay, so look, this was just my side of the story. Now it has come to a point that I see the video camera in front of me but I have no idea how it got there. I’m guessing they wanted to know how I know they exist? I am currently bound to a chair, and the white room I’m in is so empty, it hurts. My body feels like it’s is slowly caving in on itself. My ribs stick out more and more every second- [SPEAKER EXCLAIMS, SQUIRMS IN SEAT.] I am not sure how I was even brought to this room. [CRINKLING—PAPER?] And I know someone is listening, because I don’t know how I got here. [VACCUUM SOUND AT DOOR—AIR RUSHES OUT OF ROOM.] I don’t know how long I’ve been here. [LOUD FLUTTERING IN BACKGROUND; RISES IN VOLUME.] And now, there is only black. Did they put a blindfold on me? Did I always have this on? But I was able to see before— [THUD.] I think I am alone in this room. But then again, I guess considering all of what I’ve said, none of us are ever truly alone are we? They finally got to me. Goodbye, get help. Whatever it is don’t sit still. Remember, the innocuous noises in the silence you hear do not mean you’re safe. It is that naivety which will kill you. [SCUFFLING.] No, please! I did what you asked. NO! N— {END TRANSCRIPTION. DATE: NOVEMBER 28. 12:11:11s. DURATION: 7D:1 H. TIME ELAPSED: 169 HOURS.} Credit To – Phoenixriser Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.