It has been several weeks since I submitted myself to a series of tests, with the hope of finding out what is wrong with me. For weeks I have been burdened by chronic migraines, which medicines seem unable to alleviate completely. I am tired no matter how much sleep I get, though the act of sleeping is difficult. I have been plagued by long periods of insomnia, and when I finally sleep, it is always accompanied by nightmares that I try hard not to remember. Above all is a terrible sense that I am being watched, and I have begun seeing a therapist in the hopes that they would at least be able to help deal with some of the issues without medicine.
The tests have finally come in, and the results are less than reassuring. As expected, my adrenaline levels, along with the levels of the various hormones involved in inducing REM sleep are all elevated. My MRI came back with “unusual” results, and I have a follow up appointment where the doctors involved should tell me what exactly that means. The blood tests and toxicology all came back normal save for the levels of certain chemicals, and the x rays revealed nothing. For now there does not seem to a clear physical reason for my state of being, which leaves me with the psychological. I am...not ready to take that step, and for now I have been given a new set of sleep aids, as well as anti anxiety medicines. They have refused to give me a stronger pain killer...they worry I will become dependent.
The only thing that seems to be help are my visits to Wellington Street, which usually results in the temporary reduction of my symptoms. With this in mind I have suggested the idea of moving to Wellington Street, and the doctors think that perhaps the change in my environment may help. Thankfully, a small place recently came onto the market, and in between my own income and the help of my family I managed to pull together enough money to secure a down payment. Before buying though I decided to do some investigating, since the price seemed low for such a nice home. It did not take a lot of investigating to find out why.
The home is modern in its design, utilizing long rectangular shapes of various shapes and sizes, with a deep brown, wood paneling. The building is quite different from the normal aesthetic of the neighborhood, and tends to stand out during the day, though it seems to blend in at night. In the history of the home there was only one owner, and it was only a year after they had moved in that the house went back up for sale.
The initial owners were a husband and wife, who had requisitioned the building of the home. The husband worked in real estate, while his wife was an archeologist and recently retired teacher. Little was known of the couple as they did little to interact with the local community, at least when it came to the husband. They had commissioned the building of the home months before they moved in, anticipating the birth of their first child. Their neighbors didn't seemed to have much love for the husband, but stated that the wife seemed friendly enough, and would often visit with one of them, asking them for parenting advice.
There is a hallway that runs under the Wellington Street Municipal Courthouse. Because of the advent of computers and the internet, most employees never encounter the hallway at all, as most of the recent records have either been stored or translated into computer documents. However, some of the earliest history of Wellington Street is stored under the building, and many of these records have not seen the light of day in decades.
Because of its infrequent use, there have been spans of months and sometimes years in which all knowledge of the place has disappeared. At some point though, the hallway is discovered again, but within a short amount of time the rumors begin to surface once more. Some of the earliest accounts of strange happenings in the courthouse date back to the early 1800's, around the time when the courthouse was originally established.
The reports from that time are sketchy at best, and many of those records have either been lost or badly damaged. A lot of this stems from water damage that has occurred over the years through a leak in the foundation. Numerous times people have been sent in to investigate the cause of the leak, but no source has ever been found.
Despite these conflicting reports, it is often recounted that there is always standing water of at least one inch in several locations of the hallway leading to the records room. This eventually caused the movement of the records onto large wooden pallets set half a foot above the ground, as well as a installation of a sump pump. Since these measures have been taken no further damage to the records have occurred, though standing water is still a common occurrence.
The condition of the records is partially an assumption as the last full investigation of the files occurred fifty years ago. After its completion, many of those involved in the project submitted their two weeks notice.
At approximately 9:30 am, on December 2nd 1995, a body was found hanging from a high branch of a tree in the local wood. The only witness to the events surrounding the body was a young girl around the age of nine, who had entered the wood that morning to play. The following is a mostly unaltered transcript of the conversation between the young girl and local police about a hour after the body was discovered.
“Please state your name.”
(Her name has been withheld for the sake of anonymity)
“Now, I want you to tell us what you saw when you entered the woods this morning.”
“I saw a man.”
While moving into my new house, I discovered a room hidden behind a wall in the basement. I went to the home on several occasions before deciding to buy it, but as I was moving the boxes containing my things from my car to the basement, I noticed a discoloration in one of the walls. After tapping the space with my finger, I discovered that it was not made of concrete, but plaster. It sounded hollow, so I grabbed a hammer and punched a hole, only to discover that there was a room behind the wall.
Ignoring the fact that I still had a good amount of stuff to bring in, I went to work breaking through the thin plaster, and after about a couple of minutes of work I manged to make a hole big enough hole to step through. I grabbed a flashlight and headed in, only to discover a pull cord leading to a light bulb. To my surprise, the light worked, and after my eyes adjusted to the new illumination, I was able to get a proper view of the room within. It looked very old, and is certainly older than the building it was built on. Whether or not this room was part of some other preexisting home, or whether it was some other building I have not been able to determine. Any records that contained such information were stored in the courthouse, and were destroyed during a flood a long time ago.
The first thing I noticed besides the age of the room was a medical bed set against the left wall. At first I figured it was just a standard one you would find in a hospital, or in a home of someone with difficulties of movement. However, it was the straps that gave it away. They were attached to the bed, with no apparent way to remove them. It was a bed from a sanitarium, used to secure more dangerous patients. Owning such a bed is highly questionable, and not something that one could come upon easily.
I was sure that although it had not seen much use recently, it had been used within the last year or so. There was relatively new linens placed on the front of the bed, and the pillow was manufactured by a modern company. Against the adjacent wall is a large bookcase, which contained a large variety of texts. Many of the titles were in languages I did not understand, but much of it had to do with the occult. There were also a large number of medical and surgical manuals and journals. On the ground is a large drain, with heavy stains settled along the edge.
In a corner of the room was a large trashcan, full of burnt refuse, mostly in the form of paper, though I was unable to make out anything from them, as they were too heavily damaged. There was also a long table set against the wall of the room, full of bottles, paper, and ink. There were stains in the wood, and in places there were what looked like burns.
About five months ago I reported on the death of a couple in one of the oldest homes on Wellington Street. Two years after those deaths, yet another can now be attributed to the home. Upstairs, the scent of sewage pervades one of the rooms, even though the black spot on the ceiling has since dried up; more or less disappearing since the removal of the body. The boys father has refused to comment on the death of his son, though the boy's mother has willingly provided details. The following information is therefore included out of respect for the mother, who has insisted that what she witnessed is essential to understanding what happened.
The family moved into the home approximately three months ago, and for the first month reported no incidents. It was around the beginning of their second month there that the strange black stain appeared in the corner of the boy's room. The family was quick to hire people to look into the cause, but the results were inconclusive. The source of the stain remains unknown even now, since the investigations revealed no pipes running through that patch of ceiling, and the roof above was also looked into and found to be perfectly sound.
About three days after the spots appearance, the boys parents were awoken when their child came screaming into their room. He was hysterical, and it took nearly three minutes before his crying quelled enough for him to explain what had scared him. Talking rapidly, the boy claimed that he saw something looking at him from the stain itself. When they went to go with the boy to the room to take a look, the boy broke down completely, refusing to enter the room at all. Reluctantly, the boys parents investigated the room by themselves, only to find the room as they expected it to be. That night the boy slept with his parents, and the next day seemed to have forgotten all about it.
In the days that followed their son began to complain about feeling increasingly tired and sad, and seemed to require more time for naps than normal. He claimed he slept okay, and yet in the morning he would awake sluggish, only recovering after an afternoon nap on the couch. His mother claims that besides the fatigue he seemed perfectly okay, and the parents figured that he may just be having trouble sleeping in the new home.
About a week after the first incident, the boys family again woke to the sound of their sons screams. Quickly getting up to investigate, they arrived at the door of the room, only to find it stuck. By the time they managed to open the door his screams had stopped altogether. Looking around the room, they found the boy in the corner, breathing heavily. His bed was damp, and upon checking him they found he was covered in sweat, and he had seemed to have also wet himself.
"He met me under the gazebo, late at night, when my parents would remain completely unaware of my escape. He had the most brilliant blue eyes, and always seemed to have a smile just for me. I know this, because it is how I always saw him. We had known each other ever since I was little, had spent every day together, and were always there for one another. This made our attraction perfectly natural. But my parents didn't approve, despite the fact that they knew that he would never be able to bring himself to hurt me, had always been there when I needed him, and would continue to be there for the rest of my life.
One day, I told them that I had fallen for him, even though in my gut I knew they wouldn't understand. They told me I couldn't see him anymore, though they both knew that such a request was impossible to implement. They could not stop me from seeing him, and I think deep down they always knew that. Despite all their complaining and their warnings, I continued to spend time with him; just him and I, under the sandy colored gazebo.
One day, I was talking with him when another group of kids came upon us. They started calling me ugly and stupid. They said that I was crazy...and told me that no matter what I did no one would ever love me. I began to cry, but then he began to yell at them. He said that someone already loved me, and then he said it again, but this time directly at me. The other kids didn't seem to notice, but they walked away all the same. It was things like that which made him special to me. He always defended me, even when he didn't have to.
One day, my parents had me stay home from school. I had become very sick, and was hardly able to talk. They brought me to the doctor, and he gave me some medicine that was supposed to help. Then he asked me to leave the room so that he could talk to my parents privately. We went home, and for a entire week I was put up in bed. My friend came every day, and though my parents never approved they didn't seem to mind his presence.
One day though, he didn't come at all. I asked my parents if they could find out what happened, but they just looked at me sadly. For the entire day I waited for him to come, my anxiety growing more and more as time passed. But the hours continued to collect, and yet still I had to wait. I began to think something terrible had happened to him because I knew he would not leave my side, not willingly.
An incident occurred at the local twenty four hour restaurant, near the old theater. Though it is assumed that the man's actions were performed under significant psychological duress, it is unknown what the punishment for his actions should be. This is mostly due to the uncommon nature of his crime, and the fact the majority of his actions were focused on himself and not others. The owner of the restaurant claims he will reopen his business soon, and is simply waiting for the cleaners to finish taking care of the mess.
Three days ago, the man in question walked into the restaurant and was seated soon thereafter. He ordered a small salad and a coffee, then waited patiently for his food to arrive. The waitress noticed that he continued to flex his hands, and would tremble as people approached. After a short time, his food was brought out to him and little attention was paid after that point. It wasn't until one of the female patrons began screaming that his actions were noticed. The owner ran over to the booth, only to be nearly knocked over by the escaping woman.
It seemed that the man had removed several patches of flesh from his body. The tissue on the top of his left hand had already been pulled away, and the his top right shoulder was shaking badly near a section where a large chunk had been taken. It was later determined that several tendons had been damaged or severed, and the trembling in the shoulder has increased since then. All the pieces of flesh that were missing could not be accounted for, and as the man chewed it became increasingly apparent that he had ingested them.
The owner immediately had one of the waitresses call 911, while he grabbed a first aid kit and began to stuff the wounds with gauze. Surprisingly, the man did not fight the owner as he did this, nor did he continue to harm himself. Within minutes an ambulance had arrived, and it was not long before he was taken to the hospital and treated for his wounds. His stomach was pumped, and it was discovered that the man had swallowed many of the pieces whole. He had lost a good amount of blood, but since he lacked any identification, it could not be determined what his blood-type was. Thankfully, one of the servicing doctors recognized the man as a local shop owner. After that point, further actions could be taken on his behalf
It is known that days before the incident at the restaurant, the man had been violently assaulted at his store. Nothing was stolen, but the man had taken several blows to the head. Although he was released the same day with mild contusions, MRI's of his skull after his actions at the restaurant showed moderate swelling in his brain. This required several small treatments, including medicine and an oxygen tube, both of which were used to help reduce the swelling and the buildup of carbon dioxide.
At the intersection of Wellington Street and Mackay Avenue is a small park full of trees. The intersection is shaped like an extended triangle, and only stops when the park meets with a two story apartment complex. I was sitting under the only man made structure in the park. It is an old statue, carved from stone, set deep into the ground. What makes it stand out most is the subject. It is of Ahriman, the Persian equivalent of the Devil. Though most of the local families live in the homes several blocks down, it is not uncommon for large numbers of them to gather in the park during the weekends to meet and relax. This is important, because it meant that when I would meet the unknown author, there would be plenty of people around.
I was only sitting for a short amount of time when a blonde woman came up to me. She introduced herself, and identified that she was the writer who had been sending me the pieces. She seemed awfully nervous, her voice breaking several times over the course of the conversation. I was surprised by her appearance more than anything. She was dressed plainly, her hair straight and her face without makeup of any sort. If I didn't know that she was the only person who would know to meet me here, I would never have considered she were the writer of those curious works.
“I want to know...”she said in a nervous tone, “...Why do you keep reporting about this place?”
Her question was rather abrupt, and it took me a few moments to respond. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean...don't you think that this place is a little...off?”
Years ago, a local resident was camping in the woods. At approximately 2:30 AM, he was awoken by his own shivering, and realized that he was no longer covered by blankets, leaving him uncovered on his cot. He began to search the floor, feeling around in the dark. He only stopped when his hand found the them, wrapped around something breathing lightly in its sleep. He quickly grabbed a flashlight and looked down. Sleeping on the floor, underneath his blankets, was a small child.
The man tried to coax the boy awake. Unable to get a response, he called local police. A couple of minutes later the man led officers to his campsite, where the child was still sleeping. The officers awoke the child with smelling salts, and identified themselves. When they tried to move him though he shrieked in pain. One of the officers removed the blankets, revealing that the boy was completely naked. He was tucked tightly into a ball, with his legs bent and his arms crossed against his chest. In several places, specifically the legs and lower arms, was pronounced swelling. This was especially true in the joints, and there was heavy, purplish bruising. Though the officers tried to get the boy to uncurl, they could not. His limbs were seized in place.
The child was profoundly emaciated, and was unable to respond coherently to the officers questions, leading them to believe he was severely malnourished. An ambulance was called, and it was not long before the child was brought to the hospital. Once there, it was determined that his limbs condition was primarily due to a ailment known as Postthrombotic Syndrome. The condition is caused by blood clotting in the limbs, and is very common in people who are kept in the same position over extended periods of time. This causes the pooling of blood, which caused severe tissue damage. This, combined with the apparent damage to the joints, caused his limbs to lock completely, making him unable to move them.
Though his testimony was erratic and without focus, the officers gathered a general idea of what happened. The boy's home was nearly fifty miles from the site where he was found. He had been spending time with his family near his home, but left to go play in the woods. While he was playing, a figure appeared from over a hill. They quickly covered the distance and “stung” the boy. The boy blacked out, and woke up to find his arms and legs stuck in an awkward position.
It is unknown how long he spent like that. The boy said that it hurt for a while, then stopped hurting at all. This was likely caused by the increasing lack of feeling in his limbs. Eventually he was removed and placed on the ground. It was only after being put down that the boy saw that he had been in a barrel. The child said they heard a hose, and then after a short time he was put back inside, the inside now wet. It is assumed they had cleaned it out the refuse.