Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 28: Conspiracy Theory

“Conspiracy Theory”

“Did you hear about this new trend going around with kids online? It’s called “I Know a Game.” Have you heard this? Apparently, these kids are messaging each other to play a game, and then the next thing you know they just up and disappear. Just go missing. Parents, I’m telling you, watch what your kids are doing on the Internet.”

Nina shook her head and turned the radio station off. These conspiracy theory-peddlers masquerading as pundits did nothing but drive her blood pressure up, yet she constantly found herself tuning in when she had to go on long drives. She wasn’t one for the socio-political commentary, but she had a soft spot for alien encounter stories. As much of a skeptic as she was in life, part of her wished that, just once in her life, she could experience something otherworldly. Something that couldn’t easily be explained away. Something to break up the routine.

She glanced at her GPS, she still had another four hours left in her travels. When she first took this job at the new startup, Nina was hoping that it would give her the kick in the pants she needed to change her lifestyle. Unlike her last dead-end job, which kept her going into a call center every day from 9:00 - 5:00, then spending all of her free time miserable and dreading going back to work, this one actually offered her the opportunity to travel. Excited by this prospect (and the help of a bump in salary), Nina jumped at the chance. And so she took a position in the research department of a new soft drink company, Koola Kola.

What Nina didn’t realize, however, was that “travel” wasn’t nearly as luxurious as it sounded. It wasn’t first-class flights to exotic locales on all-expenses-paid business trips. It wasn’t long, scenic drives on the company dime with stopovers in five-star hotels. It was just a lot of driving in her sedan, burning her own pockets for gas money that she would have to wait until the end of the month to get reimbursed for, to some of the most boring and sometimes downright seedy destinations. It was a lot of hours by herself in her car, sometimes springing for a quick stay at whatever motel was nearby, or sometimes driving all the way there and back in one night just to get it over with.

And, moreover, Nina didn’t exactly know why she was taking these trips. Her job was at a research company and seemed innocuous enough; all of her travel was dropping off materials to labs and potential business partners. It usually was just a few file folders or a banker’s box worth of items—something that a company with as much startup capital as hers should be able to just ship with insurance. But she didn’t ask too many questions or protest too much—getting that time on the road was still a diversion. On her best days, she’d spend the night at a bed and breakfast and find a cozy coffee shop or breakfast nook to fuel up in the morning. It was in those moments she could engage in some good people watching, writing down bits of conversations she’d hear, gathering material for the book of essays she swore she’d write someday.

So aside from audiobooks and podcasts, conspiracy theory radio shows became a source of entertainment for her time alone. It allowed her to escape, if even for only an hour or two here and there, into the unknown. It allowed her to play with the idea that there could be other people out there, watching us from afar. She could get lost in worlds where people had nefarious motives and industries were using people as guinea pigs, all extreme scenarios she didn’t buy for a second—but it added the appropriate dosage of fiction into an otherwise boring reality.

As Nina scanned through her phone, trying to find a good true crime or paranormal podcast to start, she looked up just in time to notice a massive antlered animal jump in front of her car and sprint into the woods, causing her to abruptly swerve to the side of the road. Once she caught her breath and allowed her heart rate to slow back down to normal, she got out of the car to observe the damage, if any, that was done. Staring down the front of her car, it looked as though there were a few scuff marks and some dents to her fender, nothing too tragic. She took some pictures, hoping she could write it off or get some cosmetic repairs done courtesy of Koola Kola.

Whatever it was that hit her car, though, couldn’t have escaped completely unscathed. It moved so fast, though, it was like it wasn’t hit at all. She looked deeper into the woods and noticed that it was still standing there, staring back at her. She only caught a quick glimpse and noticed it didn’t seem to be hurt or bleeding before quickly jumping back into her car—she didn’t know what it was or why it was staring, and she wasn’t willing to find out. The weirdest part that it didn’t look like any moose or deer she had ever seen before. She could have sworn it had the face of a rabbit.

Nina tried to calm her nerves as she started her car again. She didn’t want to lose too much more time, this was a trip she was hoping she could do in one night. That’s when she realized something—unlike her usual trips, this one had her transporting more precious cargo than the usual file folders.

“Shoot! The box,” Nina got out of her car again and popped open her trunk. Unfortunately, she was right. The box she was transporting, a medium-sized, square, briefcase-style box with a number of intricate locks, had been knocked over on its side. It didn’t appear to be damaged but had definitely been shaken up in the turmoil. Nina closed her eyes and hoped this wasn’t one of the only batches of a new soft drink that her company was concocting. She hovered her thumb over her manager’s number on her phone, bracing herself to reveal the bad news to him. But something inside her told her to say nothing, and instead break the cardinal rule she had been given on each and every one of these trips:

Whatever you do, don’t open the cargo. It’s completely confidential and can only be opened by its intended recipients.

Surely, in this situation, they’d understand. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and placed them on, then pulled a bobby pin out of an emergency makeup bag she kept in her car, and got to cracking open the locks. Immediately she gasped as the smell hit her. Whatever this drink was, she could tell it was already going to fail on a mass-market level with a scent like this. She cracked open the last lock and held her breath.

Inside the box sat what appeared to be a human brain.

Nina slammed the box shut and dry-heaved. She carefully locked it and examined it to make sure there were no visible signs of tampering. She got back in the driver’s seat and steadied her hands on the wheel. Carefully, she pulled back onto the road, noticing the piercing red, laser-like eyes of the animal still staring at her from the distance. She couldn’t understand why a soft drink company would have her transporting a human brain to an unspecific location at night. She didn’t know just what else she had transported in her travels, either.

She just knew that she had to say nothing about what she saw. This never happened, and she wouldn’t ask any questions. She would drop the box off at its intended location, and turn around and head home. There would be no stopovers tonight.

Then, first thing tomorrow morning, she was going to find a new job. A desk job somewhere. Something delightfully boring.

Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 27: Vibration

“Vibration”

bzz. bzz.

“Where the hell is that damn phone?” Alison cursed as she clumsily tossed around the pillows on her coach. After sum fuss, she located the cell phone between the couch cushions.

“No missed calls. Weird,” she thought to herself as she studied her phone screen. It was almost as if it was sending out a signal to her to find it, as if the couch would swallow it whole like it did loose change and various pieces of jewelry. Alison places the phone on the coffee table and went about her chores.

A few hours later she heard the vibrations of her phone ringing again from the kitchen. She quickly turned the heat down on her stove and ran over to see who was bothering her while she cooked dinner. Once again, there was no call, incoming or missed. She shrugged it off, phantom vibrations were fairly common. A symptom of our overly-connected lives.

Back at the stove she heard it again. This time more distinct than before. She hesitated before going back to check, she wanted to finish making her soup. That’s when it hit her—the phone was in her pocket. Surely she’s feel it if it were ringing.

And, moreover, the volume was on.

She slipped the phone from her pocket to check, just in case. Nothing. But the vibrating noise was clear as day, there was no way it could be in her mind. She considered that maybe her upstairs neighbor’s phone must be going off. She probably dropped it on the floor and left it there on her way out. Satisfied with this theory, she ladled some soup into a bowl and sat down for dinner.

bzz. bzz.

Alison took another sip of soup.

bzzzz. bzzzzzzz.

She hoped her neighbor would get home soon and call back whoever it is that’s trying to reach her.

bzzzzz. bzzzzzzzz.

The vibrations continued intermittently throughout the evening. Finally, she heard her upstairs neighbor’s footsteps right before she went to bed.

“Good. At least that won’t keep going off while I’m trying to sleep.” Alison thought to herself as she lay in bed.

But no such luck. If anything, the vibrations sounded louder. Closer. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore it.

bzzz. bzzzzzzz.

bzzzzzz. bzzzzzz.

bzzzzzzzzz. bzzzzzzzz.

“Stop calling me. I’m busy,” a man’s voice whispered.

Finally someone answered the damn phone. And Alison finally figured out where it was coming from.

He was inside her bedroom closet.

Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 26: Folie à Deux

“Folie à Deux”

IKAG

Bailey stared blankly at the letters on her screen. She racked her brain to try and figure out what they could possibly be an acronym for, but she was coming up with nothing.

???

She responded back. The three dots indicating that Taylor was typing her response seemed to go on forever.

I know a game

She had heard rumors of that phrase floating around before, warnings given by overly cautious parent groups extolling the horrors of the “Dark Web.” But until now, Bailey had never encountered anyone actually prompting her with IKAG online. She did a quick search on Reddit to educate herself, just a primer so she’d know what she was getting into, but the only thread on the topic had been shut down. Not wanting to look like a loser, Bailey tried to play it cool and typed what she vaguely remembered the appropriate response to be.

Let’s play.

She shook her head as she hit send. That didn’t seem right but, to her pleasant surprise, Taylor proceeded without acknowledging her guffaw.

Ever hear of foley a-doo?

Bailey had no clue what Taylor was talking about, before she good hit enter on the Google search bar, Taylor continued.

That’s the game we’re going to play. R U ready?

Like she had an option. Bailey reluctantly typed K.

Here’s how it works: you’re going to do everything I say.

Bailey again hesitantly typed K.

But here’s the catch: I’m not going to actually tell you to do anything. I’m going to only suggest some things…

Bailey again stared blankly at her screen before responding.

Like, hypnotize me?

…

No, not exactly…

She awaited further instructions from Taylor, but none ever came. Instead they carried on with their conversation like nothing had happened at all.

---

“Bailey! Come on, you’re going to be late for school.” Bailey’s mom called to her from downstairs. Once again, Bailey had spent too many hours online and didn’t get to bed until far too late. Despite their long conversation, she never actually got to play Taylor’s game, which was probably for the best. As she dutifully got herself out of bed and ready for another boring day at school, she couldn’t help but recall a few of the things Taylor said during their conversation.

School’s such a waste of time. The only reason our parents send us there is to keep us out of their hair.

Bailey couldn’t help but agree with that. Lately it seemed like she was stuck on repeat, going into school every day, not learning anything new, and then going home to spend hours on homework from which she gained nothing.

What do our parents even do all day?

Bailey knew what her dad did, he was a lawyer, but as for her mom? No clue—she was a “homemaker,” yet the house looked the same every day. She seemingly didn’t do anything outside of cooking and cleaning yet she was always all to eager to ship Bailey off for the day. Maybe she really just didn’t want her around. Bailey was feeling more and more like that was the case with everyone in her life.

Sometimes I think our parents think we’re just a thorn in their sides.

Her dad had been pulling a lot of hours at work and whenever he’d get home he was usually too exhausted to do anything more than pour himself a glass of scotch and pass out in his recliner in front of the TV. It had been ages since they had all done anything together as a family, and the time spent at home was mostly apart, each member to themselves. Bailey felt like anything she asked of her parents came as an annoyance to them, so she’d mostly just spend time in her room, on her computer.

I wonder if they’d even notice if we weren’t there.

Bailey made her way downstairs and noticed her mom drinking coffee in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone.

“I don’t feel like having breakfast today,” Bailey called out to her.

Without looking up from her phone, Bailey’s mom responded:

“Fine, but don’t complain if dinner’s not ready yet when you come home and you’re starving.”

Bailey continued outside, her dad had already left for work without saying goodbye. He used to at least kiss her on the head while she was still asleep. She knew he stopped because, even though he thought she was asleep, she’d always wake up from the sound of his clumsy footsteps and keep her eyes closed while he kissed her forehead. He hadn’t done that in months.

I wonder if they’d notice if we didn’t come home from school on time.

Bailey walked over to the bus stop, as usual she was the only one there.

I wonder if they’d notice if we disappeared entirely.

She checked her watch, the bus should be here any minute.

You should come and hang out with me. I’d bet we have so much fun together in person. Do you live near the train? My house is right near the Patterson stop.

Bailey kept walking, past the bus stop. Across the street. Down the road. The train station wasn’t too far. Her lunch money should cover the cost of a ticket.

Don’t tell them, they’ll never even know.

And it’s true, they didn’t. They never did find out where it was Bailey was headed that day. Nor did they ever see her again.

Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 25: Chants

“Chants”

The DJ was gone but the music played on—how was this possible? It didn’t seem to be coming from the speakers at all. That’s when it hit me: the music was coming from the people. It wasn’t a recognizable song or even any sort of steady beat. It was eerie, dissonant.

They were chanting.

I couldn’t make out the words but it was clear they were chanting—how could this be? They had no faces and therefore had no mouths. But the chants were growing louder, emanating from them as if they were coming up from their very souls. Did these creatures even have souls?

That was when something caught my eye: I wasn’t alone.

Obviously, I was surrounded by these other-worldly beings, but there appeared to be another person just across the floor, another human, also surrounded. Unlike me, they were swallowing her whole—moving in closer and closer and grabbing her. Her body went limp and as she fell to the floor I made my move.

I lept past the surrounders, almost as if I were leaping through them, and made a beeline to the nearly lifeless body on the floor. The chanting continued but they did nothing to stop me. I held her body in my hands and tried my hardest to wake her up. I gently lifted her head back so it wouldn’t slouch forward and, in doing so, it seemed as though they all took a giant step back, the two groups forming into one large circle.

I could finally make out the chanting, they just kept repeating the words “not enough, not enough, not enough,” over and over again.

And then, for the first time, I got a good look at her face.

It’s a chilling experience to stare into another’s eyes and see your own.

It wasn’t a reflection, it wasn’t a mirage, it wasn’t an out-of-body experience. She and I were one.

I held her close and whispered in her ear,

“Bodies in a circle. Dark hoods. An empty DJ booth. Broken speakers. A dusty floor.”

She started to move.

“Chills through the sweat. This cold, dusty floor under our feet. This hair tie loosening in our hair. Our socks getting damp.”

She sat upright.

“Their chanting getting lower. The rumbles of our tummies. The squeak of their shoes.”

She looked at me. For the first time, she really looked away.

“The smell of asphalt. The smell of sweat.”

She cracked a wary smile.

“The chalky taste of a dry mouth.”

She stood up.

And just like that, we were one, and they were all gone.

I looked around at my surroundings—the dance-club was gone almost as if it were never really there. I was in my bathroom, and I was alone.

I was far from okay, but, once again, I survived.

Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 24: Strobe Lights

“Strobe Lights”

With every passing minute the walls of the club felt more and more like they were closing in on me. With each bass drop the crowd would enhance. The sweaty masses were growing but their faces weren’t clear. Bodies in motion but going nowhere in complete darkness. And then the lights came on. Neon lights kept flashing before my eyes. Each blast of green and purple coming quicker and quicker blinding without illuminating anything. But with each flash something became evident: the crowd seemed to lessen as if the masses expanded in the dark and contracted in the light. The lights kept coming but at a slower pace, slower and longer each time. And with each flash came new clarity these bodies these people they weren’t dancing they weren’t moving at all. They were still. Motionless. I still couldn’t make out the details of their faces but their body types and shapes were all so similar. Then I realized something. They were all facing me. Why were they facing me and not the stage. Oh God why are they all facing me moving closer and closer and closer. I still can’t make out their faces why can’t I see the faces in the blinding neon lights. Why is the music getting louder what is the music I can’t make out these songs why is it so loud who are these people why can’t I see them——now the lights are on. Everything is clear. Bodies are all on the floor around me but those still standing have surrounded me in a circle. There’s no one in the DJ booth yet music still keeps playing. Now with them coming in closer and closer and closer I can finally understand what it was I couldn’t before. I can’t tell the details of their faces because they don’t have any.