I have made some further investigations into the contents of the box. The journal entry is very amazing and somewhat exciting, but I haven't finished reading it or begun to understand it so I will hold off on sharing it with you for now. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me be organized. I will list the contents of the box and described roughly the order and condition they were in. Then I will tell my extremely odd experience at work on Friday. (I feel however that I ma just stalling from telling you what I came here to tell you, the events of early Saturday morning. Yes I am sure that I am stalling but I don't care. I must work up to that.)
1) The Shoebox. It is dusty and battered and bears no logo or manufacturer information. It is gray with a red lid. It measures roughly 18"x8"x6" I don't think it is really a shoebox but that was my first thought upon seeing it and it has stuck with me
2) Upon removing the lid the first thing in the box are a few loose-leaf papers. Their contents have been painstakingly reproduced for you already. The details even of the error message have been copied exactly for I feel even they may have some arcane significance
3) Under these a stapled set of papers. They are hold by two staples on the left hand side. These are the scanned documents which appear to be someone's journal, well part of it anyway. Hereon I will call them the journal and we will visit them later.
4)Next under this are some as far as I can tell unordered and random envelopes. I have opened none of them. There are three standard white letter size, one of the smaller international letter sized with the red and blue hashing on its perimeter, and two manila large envelopes, one the kind with a brad serving as a clasp- it is stuffed full of something- and one that appears to be a bubble mailer, it is larger than a standard letter opener but not as large that the overstuffed one. the overstuffed one seems to be the right size for mailing 8 1/2 x 11 papers without folding them.
5) A green disc, unexpectedly heavy with scrimshaw detailing all over
6) A yellowed page, bound and rolled like a scroll. I have untied it and looked at its markings. It is covered with sigils and glyphs. I have no real education in pictographic writing but I don't think they are Egyptian hieroglyphs. More on this.
7) A dark brown viscous stain on the very bottom of the shoe box. I don't know what this is, but I felt it bore mention since it has an odor I cannot describe. It is not bad, like the stain on the letter, but heady, redolent with spice and smoke.
I have returned all but 2) and 6) to the box and placed it back in the crawlspace upstairs. 2) rests next to my keyboard for now, from when I was transcribing. 6) I intended to take to work to scan.
I drove to work at 7:30 that morning, intending to get there a little earlier and scan the scroll before I began my daily tasks. I scanned my ID badge at the side entrance and the reassuring beep let me know the doors were unlocked but I could not open them. I found this odd- but suspected nothing strange yet. It has happened before. I jogged around to the front entrance, which I usually avoid so Id don't have to exchange trite pleasantries with the security guards but I found all 4 massive doors locked also. This was very strange. They don't require a scan to open and are only locked on Christmas Day. I banged on the glass hoping the guard would hear from their little side room that looks out into the narthex. I peered into the glass and could see that no one was in the guard room
This made no sense. If this hassle continued I was going to be late. I banged some more on the glass. I looked out behind me and saw there were cars in the parking lot- both in the visitor's and the employee's. Inside through the two great rows of double glass (I work for a window and door manufacturer- they like to show off their glass at the corporate office) and could see no one inside.
Then I noticed faintly a woman. I waved but got no response. She just stared. With a start I realized I wasn't seeing someone inside it was a reflection. I jumped and looked around but no one was by me at all. I turned to look at the glass again, and there she was faint, but plain as day. As I moved my head around to view from different angles I began to feel like I was seeing a sort of reflection of a reflection. It was as if she was in the glass and was reflecting off of the air on either side of the glass.
I know this is a weak description but it's the only thing that made sense at the time. It was very unnerving and I left immediately. From the car I phoned in to work, but got only voicemail from my boss and my boss's boss.
At around noon my boss called to ask if I was okay. I said I left her a message and since I couldn't get in assumed the building was closed. She said we weren't closed and that this would have to count as an incident because there was no message and I didn't call her cell phone. I should have tried her cell phone. I said that was fine I was feeling sick anyway and wanted to stay home. She told me she was very surprised I was no call/ no show since that has never happened before and asked me again if I was okay.
I said other than feeling sick I was fine and I'd try to make it in on Saturday to make up for the missed day. She agreed that I could work off the incident and still get my 40 hours by pulling a weekend day. Someone from the weekend rotation had just told her she wouldn't be coming in because of a family emergency so it worked out.
Upon returning home I attempted to photograph the scroll since I wasn't able to scan it. The yellowish tint seemed to be the exact shade to prevent photographic reproduction- like those scripts that get sent in on special paper, unsolicited, by authors so paranoid their ideas will be stolen- rather than simple thrown away.
I got frustrated after the 3rd attempt, and decided that I would just copy a few onto white paper and photograph those. My wife came and asked me what was going on and I snapped a quick picture of her to catch her making a surprised face. The picture came out grainy and blurry- way below the normal quality of the camera. I explained that work was canceled (a lie, I know, but a better choice it seemed) and I deleted the unusable image files.
I copied the first rune onto a notebook. After I finished I noticed one of my hairs had fell onto the page. this happens all the time. I tell my wife it's a sign I'm going bald and getting horribly old, but she just laughs at my ridiculousness. I wiped it off and I CUT MYSELF on the rune!
I know what you're thinking- "you mean you got a paper cut?". No, it was not a paper cut. As my finger moved past the fresh ink I felt a hard, razor thin edge and it sliced my index finger. It bled profusely and I had to put a band aid on it. I slammed the notebook closed and did not attempt to copy any other glyphs. So disturbed by the supernatural events of the day I decided to leave the contents of the shoebox alone and distract myself with frivolity. I rolled the scroll back up and put it on the living room bookshelf.
I played video games for the rest of the day and went to bed early so I could get up in time for work on Saturday. I suppose I cannot stall any longer.
My friends I fear I have opened Pandora's Box, only to find the demons inside have consumed Hope and there is no salvation ushered in alongside the suffering. I will attempt to recap the events of that night.
It was early Saturday morning I awoke suddenly to silence and darkness. I paused for a moment trying to get my bearings. I felt as if something had startled me awake but I held in my sleep-addled mind no faint memory of a noise or a jostle to my body. I waited for three heartbeats then sat upright.
It was then that the fear gripped me. It came on suddenly and so intensely that a cry of startle died unheard in my lungs. I began to sweat. The night seemed to gain substance as if I was in a cloud of densely humid gloom.
I called out for my wife but she did not awake. I heard only her heavy labored sleep breathing. My room is lightless- heavy blackout curtains over the one window prevent any stray streetlight or starlight from infiltrating my bed-chamber and I allow no digital clocks or charging cell phones. Normally I find utter darkness relaxing and comforting- a perfect sleep habit- but tonight I was desperate, thirsty even, for light.
I summoned the will to reach for the floor lamb beside my bed. Even in utter darkness I have no trouble finding it's cord. My wife and I read in bed every night, and I turn out the light without looking. Muscle memory tells me to move just so- and there it is! That comforting cord with the plastic switch in. Never has a simple length of wire and plastic felt so comforting. I try to apply pressure to the switch and my body betrays me.
An agonizing cramp leaves my right hand a useless claw, tense and unrelenting. I cannot decide to massage it with my left hand or try to turn on the light instead. The pain and the pressing fear have left me dumb, childlike, sitting useless and terrified in the bed, no danger present but certain of my doom nonetheless.
After a moment of this pathetic waffling the pain overrode my fear and I tried to work the renegade hand muscles back into submission.
I cannot say for how long I sat like that, hunched in pain, scared of the dark. Minutes? It felt like hours. Slowly the pain in my hand subsided, and the strange alien fear kept pace with the pain and eventually I was in full control of my mental and physical facilities.
I no longer had an urge to throw on the light. Reason had set in. It's only dark, not dangerous. The stupid human fixation on needing to see to feel safe seemed a joke now. The room doesn't know if it's bright as day or pitch black. That doesn't change that it's filled with harmless things like clothes and books and dogs and cats and people. Sudden light would serve only to annoy my wife and burn my eyes.
I was still sweating, but my breathing was under control again. I had just made up my mind to sleep again when
Oh
My
God
Under
The
Door
A
Strange
Green
Light
Suddenly
Shone
I could feel the immediate effects of a second dose of adrenaline coursing through the twists and folds of my brain. This was something real, measuring, an infinitely more terrifying than being awake against my will and unable to see. such mundane fears seemed adorable in comparison.
then, as suddenly as it appeared the light vanished. Why is someone in my kitchen? My mind was racing. I fumbled around in the darkness for the expandable baton I keep on my bookshelf. I was angry, furious even to be terrorized in my own home. I would show this burglar the real dangers that lurk in the night: me.
I took a moment to mentally channel my fear in hatred and moved slowly form my bed to the door and slowly into the kitchen.
Nothing.
Living room. More nothing. I turned on the kitchen light, ready to jump at any would-be intruder. I was relieved but worried that no one was there. Then, from the laundry room again appeared a glow. I headed that way. I could tell it wasn't coming from anything in the laundry room, but rather from the stairs leading up to the second floor. I had him trapped now. He must not have heard me yet or noticed when I turned on the kitchen light.
He must have mistakenly assumed the valuables would be upstairs. I'm sure he'd be disappointed to find only an old unused computer and some half finished sewing and modeling projects. In the closest there were also some marginally valuable musical instruments, but he would have been better off staying downstairs and taking my TV. More the better.
I crept up the stairs. The light went out. When I reached the top of the stairs I threw on the light, baton at the ready. The upstairs was as empty as t ever was, just me alone with my confusion. I searched thoroughly but quickly. There were only two rooms and a closet. Well the closet does connect with the crawlspace where the strange shoebox was found.
I couldn't bring myself to search that portion however. Confident that my house was safe from intruders I pushed down my fears of that foreboding crawlspace and went for the stairs. Just as I took my first step down a flash of light appeared. Brief, almost so brief that I could believe it was all in my head. But it wasn't.
And it came from the crawlspace.
You scare me.
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