Blackout – 8/15/14
8/16 I was home alone when the blackout hit my house. I was sitting on my back patio reading a book when I heard the air unit to my left slowly power down until it ticked to a complete stop. The lights in the house abruptly shut off, the emergency storm radio turned on with a fuzzy warning, and the wind began to pick up. This was Friday evening, August 15th.I went inside, one of my first thoughts being to call my parents and see how the blackout was affecting them. After three dials, all going to voicemail, I didn’t get a response.Next, I tried to call my friend Laure. Same with him, as with my parents; three times, no response.Since the A/C was broken, I found my way around the house, opening windows for a crossbreeze, dialing back and forth again between the numbers. After a hot minute, I found time to sit down. I stopped and looked hard at my screen. The storm approaching had clearly taken out a tower, because I didn’t have reception. Something I found more frightening, this was a storm bad enough to do so.At this point, I tried listening to the weather radio. I could only make out what might have been a handful of hollow, strained words in the static.I stepped out front, holding the radio up for a signal, watching the sky.It was odd. The clouds were a heavy dark. A deep blue-gray you might see before a tornado. And the wind was awful—but there was no lightning, thunder, or heavy rain. Only the occasional sprinkle of what I thought would have been the beginning of a rainstorm.Something I failed to realize at the time was a lack of any kind of life on my street. No cars going down the road, no people outside their homes, no suburban noise; all things that would have been discouraged by an oncoming storm anyways.Without luck focusing the radio, I went back inside and continued reading, the radio sitting on the coffee table.It wasn’t all that much of an outstanding day.I ate some dry food from the pantry, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. I wouldn’t have been writing this if my parents had been home by this morning, if my street weren’t still deserted, if the storm hadn’t been in the exact same state it was in yesterday evening—and if something strange didn’t happen this evening.I constantly checked my phone for reception. Even then, there’s no use to outgoing calls or wasting battery, so I made other use of my time.I walked to Laure’s house today. The wind was stronger than it was yesterday, but other than that, the neighborhood was unusually quiet.The Boston terrier I usually pass on the way to his house didn’t bark. I didn’t even see it.I knocked on Laure’s door in increments, waited a total of twenty-ish minutes for some kind of response. Cars were in the driveway.I walked away with nothing.Otherwise, I read most of the day, opting to stay inside by candlelight. Twigs were falling and leaves were finding themselves in places where they shouldn’t have been. Today I didn’t see anything. A single person, animal, or car. I went to settle down for the night, took a really cold shower, and changed up. I’m typing from my laptop now, brightness down, use limited.I’m typing because of this: My family and Laure’s have a shared set of long-distance Walkie-Talkies we’re supposed to use in the case of an emergency. In short—our families are really close, and have been since Laure and I became friends.As I went to lay down and read for the night, I heard something cracky go off outside of my room. I thought it was the weather radio at first, but I have that sitting on my nightstand next to my bed. I got to the hallway, waited, and heard the noise coming from the pantry. I went in and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard said noise repeat from a shelf above my head. I reached into our emergency basket, shifted around blindly between heat blankets and first aid kits. Honestly, its existence had completely slipped my memory. As I got a hold of Walkie-Talkie, one word crackled out, in Laure’s voice, almost sick-sounding; ‘Sammy’ I spent a good ten minutes trying to get a response from his end, to nothing.I’m confused.He must be home now if he’s talking through the Walkie-Talkie. But earlier, he didn’t answer his door.I’m going to spend more time trying to reach him.I’ll write an update in the morning. 8/17 Today, I panicked. I went up and down the neighborhood, knocking on doors, looking in windows. Nobody is here. For the houses without garage space, there are cars in the driveways. For the houses with garage space, there are cars in the garages. Nobody should have left. I’m starting to wonder if I missed a tornado siren or some kind of evacuation notice. Even if I did, this was entirely abrupt.My parents haven’t come home yet. I thought they were out for a Friday dinner, and that was it.I tried the crappy little payphone down near the neighborhood offices.It took a minute to get there. I was going to drive up in my car, but when I tried to start it, something loud popped under the hood followed by smoke venting out from underneath. I propped the hood up after manually opening the garage door for airflow. My battery was completely fried. It was cracked, leaking acid and lightly smoking, a smell that made my lungs burn.So I walked.The offices were locked, the front road was deserted. The payphone didn’t work. The shingles on the houses in the front half of the neighborhood had seen some damage. I waited about an hour looking for any cars to pull in. Nothing.For the time I walked back from the office, I tried to stop and appreciate whatever this was, in that moment. I was in solitude. The storm, while scary, was beautiful in a strange sort of way. Dark clouds, strong winds, no rain. It didn’t occur to me, as it does now, that the storm had been stationary for almost three days. The clouds were swirling rather than travelling.I’m certain I’m in danger, but I haven’t had any successful contact since the power went out. Maybe someone will find this laptop in tornado rubble after everything blows over.To complete my update from yesterday, I haven’t had any luck getting in touch with Laure. The reception is still down.I knocked on his door again before I settled for the night, and I didn’t get a response.The water pressure was weaker tonight, the water even colder (did I mention the bathroom’s dark?).Both my phone and laptop batteries are holding up just fine. They’ve been going down a lot slower than usual, which makes me wonder if my UI is messed up. I’ll have to take them to get looked at sometime.Now, I don’t entirely know why I’m writing this.Maybe it’ll be a funny story to share with my family, kids, and grandkids someday; the time Sammy missed a major storm evacuation.I’ll write an update in the morning. 8/18 Knocked on Laure’s door earlier this afternoon, no answer. I would timestamp things, but my watch has stopped, as well as the other clocks in the house. My phone and laptop clocks are being just as weird.No cues from the walkie-talkie.I did another round of door-to-door checks and I still didn’t see anybody.After giving the car another try (I forgot the battery was busted), I sat out on the front porch to watch for drivers.I finished my book while waiting.Nothing happened all day. I think I’m going to go nuts.I might try and venture outside the neighborhood some time to see if anybody is sheltering in place. 8/19 Today, I did something I hadn’t done in years. I went through the craft bin in the pantry, found some paint, popsicle sticks, and dehydrated playdough. The craft glue was expired, so I got some furniture glue from the junk drawer and got to messing around—after laying out a placemat, of course.I made a man out of the popsicle sticks. He turned out a lot taller than I had anticipated, a lot more realistic as well. I made his face out of the bits of playdough that weren’t completely dried up, and added details in marker over the dough and wood. He looks perpetually concerned for some reason.I told the Walkie-Talkie about this, hoping Laure might hear and remember some of the arts and crafts we used to do when we were younger, even if he can’t talk back to me from where he is now.I’ve named my new friend Bob. Bob the concerned-looking stickman. He’s got a little personality. For some reason, I can see him being a cowboy. I might make a rancher’s hat for him sometime. I saw my first fallen tree today. It was in the hills, an old oak. I’ve always had a view of it from my bedroom window, as long as I can remember. I woke up this morning thinking the horizon looked a little bare, the sky a little darker than yesterday.I’ve only visited that tree once, when I was about eight. I tried climbing it but ended up falling and breaking my nose.Maybe the city will sit it back up. I remember my fifth grade teacher saying it had been in the hills for at least 150 years. I’m going to try the Walkie-Talkie for the rest of the night. 8/20 I think the storm is just grazing the city, moving very slowly. The presence was still enough of a need for an evacuation, I guess.I think I might’ve napped on Friday, between when I started reading and when the blackout happened. I don’t entirely remember.If this is the case, I’m extremely upset that my parents left me. Then again, it’s very possible that the evacuation was heavily enforced.I also thought I would’ve heard of such a major storm forming or heading our direction.I’m trying not to dwell on this too much. I left the neighborhood today. Bob watched from the front door.I walked up to and out the front entrance and went to the nearest gas station. It was empty. The doors were open, and the inside smelled rank. Spoiling fridge foods and rotting hotdogs on the heated turners (some looked purple) were likely the cause. I grabbed some dry food and left. Most other buildings were unlocked. Banks, restaurants, little markets and smoke shops. I didn’t see a single person. 8/21 Today I sat around and ate. My laptop battery is still draining, slowly. It’s at an oddly full 90%.Besides that, pork rinds and roasted peanuts have become a pastime.I tried to set up a lawn chair out in the front yard. It blew over the first time, but I eventually got it right. It reminded me of Snoopy fighting the beach chair in the Peanuts Thanksgiving special.I sat, ate, and watched for cars. I lost my first pork rinds bag to the wind, I held the others down with the right leg of my chair.I thought about taking Bob outside, but chances were he’d probably break from the wind, somehow. Instead, I set him up at the window to watch me. I didn’t want him to feel left out.I’m going to make it a priority to go to the gas station every once in a while to get food until the storm passes over.In the meantime, I’ll also be looking for an outgoing radio; weather, police, anything. Maybe I’ll get some help that way.Six days, going strong. 8/22 Storm looks calmer today, the water pressure is even weaker, and the house is getting colder. Other than that, nothing new. 8/23 I talked to Laure today.The Walkie-Talkie went off in the bedroom when I was alone in the kitchen, eating. We had a good connection.We asked each other how we were doing, what we’d been up to since we last talked, and finally, how we could meet up.Laure told me he was at his house, and I told him I was at mine. I got up and walked over. Having slipped my mind up until that point, I asked him where he had been and why he had come back during such a terrible storm, assuming he had returned after some time of being away. Laure said he had been at his house since the blackout.I asked him if he had seen me walking by, or heard me knocking on his door any of the past few days. He said he hadn’t, and for that matter, hadn’t seen anybody since the power went out, including his parents. I told him that was with me as well, and that I thought the entire thing was an emergency evacuation.He told me what I already knew; the storm hasn’t moved in over a week.Hearing it from him, with the way he said it, I got chills. I know for a fact, now, Laure had come to a conclusion days ago that something unnatural is going on. I didn’t say anything.By the end of that conversation, I was at his door and I knocked. A minute went by, and I asked him if he had heard. He said he heard the knock over the walkie-talkie, but not at his door. He asked me if I was at the wrong house. I told him I wasn’t, because I had been at his place at least a hundred times in my life and had the address memorized by heart.I looked down at the welcome mat. I asked him to open the door anyway. I heard him getting up, walking to a door, which he opened. I could hear the wind on his end blowing through foliage. He had shrubs beside his door. I looked down at my feet again and asked him to read his doormat. He sighed and said it read; ‘Welcome Weary Feet, Working Hands, Empty Stomachs, and Loving Hearts.’I asked if he had that memorized, he told me he hadn’t. His tone said that he understood, in that moment, that we were both being honest, that we both truly believed we were at the same doorstep, standing in one place, at one time.Laure said he had to eat and shower, but to stay in touch. The line went quiet.I shook the doorknob, which was locked.I spent the next thirty-some minutes trying to get in without damaging anything; no luck.I spent the rest of the night talking to Laure, dumping my thoughts, telling him how I’ve been coping.He told me how he was tired. We agreed to keep our Walkie-Talkies on at all times, to keep our eyes on the batteries.We went to bed with a final agreement by morning to tell each other everything that happened from this point on. 8/24 I woke up, ate, and searched for extra batteries.Today, Laure told me how he had been having nightmares of red flashes, something you would see with your eyes closed, or in a womb. I think that’s how he put it. We tried to have a conversation. The mood was tense. We tried to talk about alt rock bands, something we get along over pretty well. It didn’t really work.I told him to stop anything he might’ve been doing (not much, I thought), walk over, and knock on my front door. It sounded like he did just that. He went outside (I could hear the wind), walked through grass, over pavement, up steps, and knocked on something. It wasn’t my door.Naturally, I stuck my head outside. I looked left, right, at the neighboring houses. I didn’t see Laure.I told him to stop bullshitting me. I was angry, something I regret as I’m typing this. He took the punches.I gave up over the door and, still pissy, decided for ourselves that we should try and meet up in the town square sometime.By then, I was too tired to walk that far, and it was getting dark.I’m still too tired.I have Laure sitting on my nightstand while I’m typing. I’ve been talking calmer. I told him how I’m writing a memoir, typing it as we speak. He laughed when I told him how many pages I have down now. Laure said I was going to need a lot more if I wanted it to amount to something.I can quote him now, actually. He told me to ‘write more than that.’He sounded sad when he said that. He’s been down lately, more quiet than he usually is. Laure just brought up a good point; we should try making smoke signals in the morning.I agreed. I’m going to bed. 8/26 Laure and I tried to meet up yesterday to reach the outside world, to reach anybody.We never found each other.What was originally supposed to be a productive day turned into a frustrated rampage between homes, stores, and buildings, trying to find a phone line, an emergency radio, anything that worked.I’m afraid.Even though I don’t want to be alone anymore, I shut off Laure for the time being.I’m OK with admitting that I went to the nearest pack of cigarettes and started back on an old habit that’d been dead for years.I’m OK with admitting that, today, I stole my dad’s walkman and went on a walk in the hills, the wind threatening every light I tried to make, ‘Tarzan Boy’ on full volume.There was something about standing in the wind, watching the dark clouds tumble. My skin was tight with goosebumps. I was standing with nature’s fury in all directions, being blocked by absolutely nothing—and for the first time in eleven days, I closed my eyes, I stretched out my arms, and I heard thunder. Lightning flashed and lit up the inside of my eyelids with red.Today, I’m OK with admitting I’ve gone through three packs of Camel Blues. Screw it if my parents read this someday. Screw it if they’re still involved with my life someday.Today, I’m taking a break.I’m smoking in bed right now.I know it would drive them nuts. No, they would be mortified.I’ve had so many, I’m starting to imagine shapes out in my peripherals.So much for Laure and I being sober buddies. We agreed two years ago to the month we wouldn’t touch a single cigarette or drop of alcohol again. That was after we got expelled from our community college for a major incident.Two years sober can do a lot when you pick a habit back up. Last night I had a nightmare. I’ll try my best to explain it, some of the details are blurry, but I’m having a hard time shaking this one. I was in a room. I was in a lot of pain. I could see, but my vision was blurry. Disproportionately shaped men were standing over me. I was scared because as much as I could see them, I couldn’t. They were complete silhouettes for everything but their eyes. Their eyes were so simple, they broke the illusion. The eyes were in focus, they weren’t blurry, they were human, and the pupils were full black.The lights behind them hurt to look at, so my sight gravitated towards the eyes.They shifted around me, until one of them pressed on my chest, and I woke up. I’m OK with admitting that when I’m that scared of something I don’t panic, I don’t scream, or cry, I just tear up and wait. I’m going to make amends with Laure tomorrow. 8/27 Laure didn’t respond today. I ended up doing more or less the same of what I did yesterday. My high is wearing off. 8/28 Laure has something to tell me.I’ll update when he’s finished. Not sure if this is a careful revenge plot, but he sounded upset. He said he was walking and smoking out by the hills the past couple days, like I was. He was audibly shaken when he told me this, very unlike him.Once, we were on a hiking trip with his family and mine. Two days in, he saw a mountain lion creeping up on our group from some brush, proceeded to punch it square in the nose and watch it run away. Laure’s not easily spooked.Laure said he had been walking through the hills on the 25th, right after I had cut him off. The air had gotten really cold, then slightly warm before he saw it. He said that a lightning flash came from the general direction of where it was, then there was thunder. He turned to look in the direction of the thunder and saw what looked like the dark silhouette of a rectangle, suspended in the air, some distance away. Thinking it was a towel or a box caught in a power line, he walked closer. It didn’t swing with the wind, and there wasn’t a power line. He told me that after moving closer he had gotten the worst sense of dread he had ever felt in his life, a combined fear of closing danger and somebody watching him. There was a red/white flash from its direction, like a cell-tower beacon, and it was gone.Laure can’t seem to shake the thought of it, he’s been getting really emotional. I knocked on his door again, I really wanted to console him. He said he couldn’t hear the knocking, couldn’t see me on the other side of the door, then he broke down. I let him wane off, he was having a hard time processing.With his emotions, with our isolation, it sunk in. There’s been something wrong all along. Laure wasn’t in town, but he believed he was. It was to the point where he was talking about the city layout as if he was there. He believed he was walking around downtown the other day, and it even sounded like he was outside in the same conditions I was. He hasn’t been lying to me; I know that. He’s being honest.I’m going to stay in touch with him, make sure he’s doing OK. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s going through a mental break.I’m going into Laure’s tomorrow. For all I know, he might be huddled up in some corner of his pantry having an episode.God Bless Laure. 8/29 Laure isn’t home.I radioed him, asking where he was. Five minutes later, he said he was in his bedroom. He was not in his bedroom from what I could see. I had broken a window to get into his house and was standing in a doorway, looking into his room. I walked around the house asking Laure questions until I turned the Walkie-Talkie off on him—I ended up turning it back on later. I was frustrated, and it was stupid, but he isn’t getting any better. I know for a fact my talking to him isn’t going to help that.It hasn’t really been the same since we left college. 8/30 Laure rang me first today. He told me what I needed to hear.It’s way late in the afternoon, almost early evening. He sounds tired, and his speech is muffled, croaky, and shaky. I’m telling him to talk slowly. He’s coughing some, like he’s come down with something.I’m writing this as we speak because he’s told me what happened already. I’m trying to convince him to tell me why he sounds so awful, but he won’t elaborate. He is willing to tell me the main story again so I can type it in full, in his own words.Before I start; I believe Laure. I don’t believe he’s having a breakdown. I believe we’re in danger and have been this entire time. I think we’ve been isolated for a reason, and I think Laure and I haven’t seen each other for a similar reason.I believe Laure because, while walking today, I saw it too. I saw it hovering near the fallen oak tree on the hill.I’m taking this down in case anything happens to us.Here it is. Sammy, are you typing? Yes. Can I start? Any time. When you turned off the talkie on me yesterday.[Pause]. Are you ok? Just my cold. I thought you said it wasn’t a cold. It is. I’m sorry. Ok, go ahead. After you hung the talkie up on me yesterday, I went into the living room. Since the day of the blackout, I noticed my CD player for the first time, you know which one? The red one that runs on backup batteries? Yeah. Yup. I got some batteries from the pantry. I don’t think I’ve listened to music in over a week. Music, Sammy. I ended up getting lots of the disposable double or triple As, I don’t remember. I put them in the radio just as the wind outside was picking up. I had a Cranberries CD in, it was on the final track from when I last listened to it. It was the Stars album. I think I rewinded a couple songs so I could enjoy it better when the last track came on. Stars is my favorite song of theirs. A little bit goes by and I remember the house starting to creak. The storm was really bad when it finally came on. Only thirty seconds in, I heard what sounded like an old-fashioned kitchen timer cranking. Then I smell something like burnt rubber. I saw square shadows behind my living room windows. They were being lit up by this red light that kept getting brighter until the flashing started.[Pause].My ears were ringing, my body was spazzing. I’m sure I was being electrocuted, and my mind was being drugged somehow. I couldn’t think straight. The flashing, between dark and light reds, strobed until I had to close my eyes. The light was coming from all directions, every window in the house. It was blinding. I know for a fact that the music was distorting and the CD was melting because the room felt oven-hot. My ears rang worse until I couldn’t hear and my head got heavier until I blacked out. Right before I did, Sammy, I opened my eyes and saw that the curtains had opened. They were watching me. Who? The thing that was floating in the hills that day, three of them.[Pause].Sammy, I’m dying. They poisoned me. I’m swelling up, my ears are bleeding, my hair is 9/1 I’m waiting for them now. I’ve seen their eyes in my sleep. They burn through my lids, turning from white to red.I saw it yesterday, so I think it’s only fair that I see them the day after, just like Laure.Laure hasn’t responded today. I’ve tried 911 at least sixteen times. There’s no signal, and there hasn’t been since we got stuck in this warp. I know he’s dying. He’s rotting alive and I can’t do anything about it.I’ll fight when they come.I’d like to think I have a will. 9/2 The swelling is only goingt to get worse so I’m going to go ahead and get my thoughts down now. They came by yesterday. It was just as Laure said except I saw their eyes. Their eyes were brighter than the lights, so much brighter. I couldn’t make out every detail, but the things were dark and rectangular. Annd the lights were bright. Before I blacked out it felt like the worst and most powerful nicotine high I had ever had in my life. The heat was unbearable, and the ringing put me out. I dropped like a fly then I woke up to where I am now. I’m sitting in my bed and exhausted. My skin is swelling. My tongue, eyes and other soft parts are fully swollen and throbbing. I’ve been patting my ears dry with some tissues that are piling up by my bed. I’ going to get some rest. 9/5 The swelling has gone down some. I’m still hacking blood, and I’m still tired. I haven’t bothered to look at myself in the mirror, because when I look at my arms, all I see is a red and white fleshy rubber stretching over meatless bone. My hair is clumping and sometimes my eyes crust over when I keep them closed for too long. The itching hasn’t gone away.I haven’t talked to Laure, I’m not sure if he had it as good as I did. I talk through the Walkie-Talkie at him every chance I get, even if I know he won’t respond. I want him to know that God’s with us, he loves us, and he won’t let anything happen to us.Whatever they are, I want people to know. I see one every day hovering right by the old oak tree, moving back and forth slower than the naked eye can tell. It’s almost always there. I keep my blinds shut and I don’t go outside. I don’t know what they are, but they want me. They isolated us just for that purpose. The sky has been getting darker and darker. I see flashes of red light in the clouds when I get the nerve to look. My laptop screen has been blacking out pixel by pixel in random places. It’s at forty-something charge. It has been for days now.I now know that I’m dying. I can type better than I did when my fingers were sausages, and if I can get up enough strength in the next couple days, I’m going to leave the city. I’m going to go through the highway tunnel, and I’m going to get help. Help for me, and help for Laure, wherever he is. 9/7 This is my final entry before I leave. I’m so grateful to have written this. I know for many years, writing is what I’d do when I was frustrated with life or with myself. This is different. It feels necessary.They were in the hills. I could see the tops of them, their eyes peeking over the horizon.They were watching me as I walked downtown, to the entrance of the tunnel. The one that travels alone is floating by the fountain. It’s facing me as I type this, as I’m sitting on a community bench that hasn’t felt a human in weeks.I think it said ‘hi’ to me. I think it just said ‘hi’ to me.I’m going to post this somewhere, whenever I get the chance to. It might be tomorrow, it might be years from now. No matter what, I want the truth to be out there.My face is swelling again, and I know it’s going to do what it did last time. It’ll start with my head and move down to my torso and extremities until I can barely move at all.I have Bob in my backpack, between some food and a first aid kit. He’ll keep me company.I need to start walking. Credit: Eric S. McCarthy YouTube Instagram 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.