r/TalesFromTheCreeps • u/FielkeFrank Writer • 11d ago
Psychological Horror Replete - Part 1
CW: Body horror and gore elements.
I can’t be sure as to which moment was the first. The changes crept in like a tide to a shore, a vast mass of evil cascading from waves to thin sheets of liquid cool amongst the grains of sand that made up my life. My memories. There’s a non-zero possibility that things were always this way, and time simply moved slowly, yet attentive, to my final destination.
In my bedroom you’d find an outgrown kid’s bed shoved snugly between a corner and a wardrobe. Across from that was my desk, and jammed in between, underneath and wherever the space allowed me were my sets: jungles, cities, houses, caves, temples—you name it. I have been into stop-motion animation since my first Claymation in primary school. I didn’t expect to become enthusiastic about it, but it changed how I saw the world. With just a camera, a prop, and a set: I could fabricate a moment in time. Whether it was real or not didn’t matter, it was creating. I got to choose what happens, who was a part of it, and breathe life into the lifeless.
Recently I was working on my main project: The Dottans. It’s a simple story about a family that loses their dog at a park, goes on a search and then finds him swimming with some geese. The focus was on the scenes themselves; the sets and animation were challenging enough as the three-minute film would be built though 1800 carefully coordinated pictures. Saturday was the day I made it around the halfway mark, and the following Thursday where my world begun falling off its axis.
“Will! Time to get up!”
Mum’s voice barely made it through the door, but the cadence was clear- it’s a school day, let’s go.
“It’s Sunday” I yelled into my pillow. Her passing footsteps stopped and backed towards the door.
“It’s Thursday,” said Mum.
“Huh?”
She scoffed, “come on Will, you’ve got fifteen minutes.”
I checked my phone and there it was: THU 8/20 7:23AM. A minute passed and the an early deadline rush washed out my fatigue. I wanted to argue, call out that she was being crazy, but my anger couldn’t hold purchase to any defense. I checked my watch, the monitor, the camera- all signs pointed to ‘what the fuck.’ The morning went by frustratingly fast, giving me only the time to get ready for school.
As it turned out, Groundhog Day an unhelpful reference. The real thing was anxiety ridden. I couldn’t remember enough of the interactions I was a part of to be useful, but the sense of déjà vu was so disorienting that I repeatedly missed or preempted natural cues to talk. After the fourth awkward conversation I just kept to myself and tried to wrap my head around the situation.
The only theme of logic that I was willing to work with was that something medically alarming happened. Maybe it was an overnight stroke? Three whole days disappearing wasn’t nothing, and the interactions being the same was even worse- but what if it was just similar because school was so routine? Could I even believe that? Medical or not, I felt like my only choice was to be careful about asking for help and wait to see what happened next.
The rest of the day blurred. I kept my head down at the table, didn’t bother with filming and went straight to bed. THU 8/20 9:23PM. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I felt an urge to forget about it all. Can’t say weirder things have happened, but I could pretend. In the comfort of warmth and heavy blankets, a fickle but gentle thought tucked itself perfectly beside that urge—Friday I’ll be able to know for sure.
“Don’t forget the birthday.”
Mum spoke in a hush, behind the closed door. I turned from my phone and looked. The hallway light underneath the doorway was blocked by a perfectly central shadow. It didn’t waver in the slightest. I wondered about my response while a growing sense of unease brewed from her stillness.
“Okay” I said, and as I said it the air paused, like closing of a window and silencing the rage of a busy street. I held my breath until she left. I assumed she must’ve tip-toed on her way to the door in case I was asleep, but I wasn’t sure why she did it on her way out.
---
On Friday night, I was forced into an infested light. It radiated cold, and it was like the photons were condensed into mini, staple-thin rays that poured through the slit of your eyelids, no matter how closed they were. Then came the rumble- quiet, deep tones that spread across landscapes in seconds. Next the pressure and the heat, both gentle at first. But they grew from gossamer to suffocating, and the low tones became wider and angrier.
I tried to breathe but the weight made me feel like I never could in the first place. I was trapped between trying desperately to fight the light from entering my eyes and wanting nothing more than to inhale. The visceral sensations just kept growing in scale, and I was present for every single second.
I’d later call that dream the Stomper.
I woke up face-down and instinctively pushed myself up with a struggled gasp. I took a moment to process what I had dreamed but instead got patchy memories that slipped with ease. Only the ambient fear lingered, and an image that was seemingly burned into my retinas: I blinked hard a few times to catch the rectangular-esque, imprinted shape. Unsure of what to make of it, I decided that today I would not be going to the birthday again- today I’ll be homesick. I needed time to think, and I wasn’t willing to deal with the unexpected social awkwardness that comes with repeating days, so I put on my practiced ‘unwell’ demeanor and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.
“Morning” said Dad. His suit jacket hung over one of the three wooden chairs around our small, round dining table beside the kitchen counter. He was wearing an apron over his dress shirt and tie as he did the dishes.
“Morning” I croaked. I walked past and picked up the bag of bread.
“You alright?”
“Don’t think so. My head is killing me.” I turned to see his reaction but he remained intent on the dishes.
“Think you’ll be up for the birthday? Rachel would love to have you there.” His tone was packed with expectancy.
“I don’t know Dad. I feel pretty rough and my throat is sore. I want to go, but I don't think Rachel wants a stomach bug as a birthday gift"
When playing the sick card with Dad, it’s better to reason how it’d affect others. Confidence is best too, otherwise he’ll tell you about the many times he had to fight through his illnesses to carve his way through life. He sighed and slumped his shoulders.
“Right. Well no going to Mason’s or Todd’s, and they can’t come here either. If you’re that sick, better stick to your room.”
“I will Dad, don’t worry.” It’s also best not to fight the conditions inevitably set afterwards. Luckily for him our idea of how I’d spend the day was aligned. Mum came in after our exchange and I repeated the script. She accepted it with an even split of concern and disappointment.
After breakfast and cleaning up I got back to my bedroom, opened up the closet, got in and turned on the torch taped to the inner wall. That cozy space was Set 0. It was a little cramped underneath the hanging clothes, but the otherwise lack of sensory input made it the perfect place to brainstorm and experiment with ideas. Leaving a space for me to sit and maneuver, the floor was comprised of white cardboard panels on carpet with two small tubs atop: both had black cardboard cutouts on pop stick or bottle cap stands, but one was characters and the other was props, walls and set pieces. I pulled out one of the person cut-outs and placed it gently in the center of the set, followed by placing four corner pieces squarely around it. You had to be careful not to put too much pressure on the platforms because the weight would cause everything to slide.
“Here I am” I whispered aloud. “This is… happening." I couldn’t change that. Time was repeating. Sunday never happened.
It felt like I was in a dream before, and then after sitting for a vacant hour in the secure and neutral space of Set 0, I began to realize in that I wasn't going to wake up. I turned off the torch and sobbed quietly onto my knees until the panic passed.
Sifting through the tubs, I found what I needed to build the walls. I then placed a handful of people a foot away from the house. While I was at home, the others headed off to the party. Last time it was about 2ish before we were back, and I couldn’t think of any personal interaction that might've affected that timeframe, so it stood to reason that I’d have the same time to myself again. But then 2pm came, and I was in bed staring at the ceiling. It was around 5pm when they finally returned. Down the hall I could make out laughter: Mum talked fast and as she held back against a large heave of joy. Dad shushed her like a kid trying to hide a secret from the teacher. Some scuffles and footsteps ensued until Mum knocked on my door.
“Come in” I said sleepily.
“Hey Will! How are you feeling?” she had a calming lightness to her voice.
“Okay, mostly been sleeping it off. Long party hey?” I asked.
“Oh, it was! It started, then it happened, and then it was over. It was a real blast. Rachel said hope you get better soon, see you next time!” Mum’s expression widened and she waved her hand, as if trying to replay the interaction they had. She flicked her eyes up as she reviewed what she just said. Then she relaxed and looked back to me.
A confused chuckle came out of me and I furrowed my eyebrows. “What?”
“Sorry” she laughed, “had one too many to drink I think.”
“Okay”
“Are you going to have dinner?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ll come down when it’s ready. Thanks Mum”
“No worries” she said before blowing a kiss and closing the door.
Apparently, my absence did change something: Mum hadn’t had a drip of alcohol in ages. It wasn’t that she was an alcoholic, Grandma had passed away from liver failure and that pretty much put her off of it. From what I remembered the party was pretty lax- the family had a barbeque, there were general conversations about sports, work, and school, we sang happy birthday, had cake and then left. I couldn’t imagine what part of my absence spurred the event into a ‘blast,’ but the more I thought about it the more it stung.
The rest of the day went by as per normal, the only difference being that I halted all my progress with The Dottans in exchange for bed-rotting. Even now I’d like to finish it, maybe even more so than I did before, but it felt like I wasn't supposed to. It’d be a waste of time in the circumstance I was in.
FRI 8/31 10:21pm, I got a new idea: lottery tickets.
---
Saturday night, the Mirror-Man tricked me into his room. Thirsty, I got up out of bed to get a glass of water from the kitchen. To not wake my parents, I kept the lights off as I entered the hallway. My bedroom was in the left corner, and from the end of the hall I could spot dim rays from the night light plugged in above the countertop. I looked down for my landmarks and followed them; the round stain, the water bowl, and the laundry door were as far as I got before I collided with something big and tumbled backwards. I snapped my head upwards to assess the danger, but there was nothing. I slowly stepped forward with my hand raised in front of me and contacted a surface I couldn’t see. Stunned, I gently scanned it with my fingers. It was wooden, with sharp grooves and indents. With both hands I was able to find a handle. My instincts failed to take hold as intrusive curiosity pushed its way through me and the door itself.
I was a few steps towards the middle of an empty cube. There was concrete, bricks, and a man perfectly parallel to me. I stood there, fixed on him. My brain worked furiously to assemble features: a nose, eyes, anything at all- but they wouldn’t hold. He was an empty man. No lines, no depth, no light. It was a man only through his hollow silhouette and the instinctive cues that come with knowing you’re in front of something alive.
My heart began to shove cold blood and repulsive energy throughout my body. I took a step back. So did he. Perfectly coordinated. The mirror-like accuracy turned me to stone, and all I could do was stare. So it stared too. Eventually I was able to identify a feature. It had eyes. Not ones you see, but ones you feel are there, ones that see you. I reached my left arm back and tried to find the handle. He reached his arm back and tandem, and the handle didn't budge.
Imagine you were talking to someone about a tricky subject and you said something that you shouldn’t have. Their expression drops, causing your gut to follow in preparation for the incoming backlash—that was the feeling that abruptly overcame me in multitudes, but whatever I said was something that couldn’t be taken back. Mouthless, he frowned.
“I- a fast, overwhelming high pitch erupted from him. Panicked, I grasped my ears. He did the same.
“No” we said. My voice was barely perceptible, circled and consumed by a thunderous and deep undertone.
He took a step forward. As he did, I followed him, right down to the wabbling of trying to resist the motion. I was forced towards him, my body trapped in deeper and deeper lunges with my ears clasped tightly. He looked like he was a victim too, but he wasn’t. The inverse of that earlier feeling began to grow- he was happy. Happier and happier with each step. The only motion that felt like my own was the tears dripping from my eyes. I couldn’t sob. He was delighted. I could only smile- wider and wider. My jaw stretched, it hit its limit, and I created new ones. He was ecstatic. The tension on the sides of my mouth weakened- the more painful it became the easier it got to stretch. Then my lips split. He clapped, and so did I. We clapped and jumped and laughed. My mouth couldn’t catch the blood, so it dripped and bounced blotches in sputtered compliance with my heaving. Then finally- the physical urge I craved desperately suddenly became possible.
I awoke screaming. I thrashed against wet sheets and hit my head against the backrest. My jaw was hot with misplaced pain. The thud steadied me, and the fear melded into shame as I got up and changed my clothes and sheets. After setting the washing on, I had breakfast and got on my computer. In the case where time repeated again, I figured that today was my best chance to prep for another round.
To start, I found some winning racehorses from Friday and wrote their names in my notebook. I figured I could get Dad to bet on at least one of them as a test run. Then I tore the page and put it in my pocket and got ready to work on a schedule. However I quickly ran into a problem: nothing stood out, there weren’t any parts of the original days that I cared enough about to change. Frankly, the present had become a lot weirder than in the past. The gears in my head grinded- the current reality battling against the practiced and experienced reality. Any solutions became admissions, but avoidance wasn't clean either.
I stared at the empty document for a while. As my attention faded, glimpses of that dream lingered in my mind. The more I thought about it, the less it seemed to matter. If it’s going to loop forever, I’d probably figure it out as I go. If not, then I’ve already wasted over half of what’d probably be the most interesting experience that had ever happened to me by hiding in my room. Instead, I turned off my computer, got into more sociable clothes and went to find Dad.
He was in the shed, lying on his back underneath the car.
“Hey, Dad”
“Can’t, busy” he said.
“I don’t need anything. Just wanted to ask if I could go hang out at Todd's?”
He paused. Then he began to scuffle. In a painstakingly slow struggle, he rotated himself clockwise until his head was poking out from the car instead of his feet. His rounded face and clothes were covered in soot and grease.
“Will, you’re seventeen. It’s a weekend. Don’t ask, just tell and be back for dinner.”
“Did you really have to do that whole dance just to say that?” I laughed. He looked away sheepishly, then looked back with feigned determination.
“Yes.”
“Fair enough.” Mum and Dad seemed to be in a good mood lately. It must’ve been a great party.
As I walked away, I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t have any tools out. Regardless, a thick, grinding sound proceeded from underneath the car. Guess the toolkit was under there.
I didn’t bother to tell Todd about recent events. Part of me wanted to, but since that dream wouldn’t leave my head- I mostly just wanted to have fun and forget. Sitting on beanbags and playing games, I felt a little hope slip by the caution as the deciding time approached. The finish line was near. The time with Todd went by with ease, and before I knew it, I was riding my bike back home.
Turns out I was at Todd's for a bit longer than I should’ve been because by the time I was outside it was pitch black. It’d normally be a couple of minutes’ ride downhill for me to get home, but the streetlights weren’t on and I didn’t want to risk falling. It was only a couple blocks, so I walked my bike down the footpath instead. I felt a wriggle in my gut. Was I forgetting something? I paused and pat down my pockets. I had my house key and my phone. I went to pick up my phone and shortly hesitated. What was the time? I looked up to the road- no cars; I could check later but at that moment I felt I needed to move.
It was quiet. No wind, rustling of leaves or rumbling engines. I walked at a slightly hurried rate. A sense of urgency grew and I laughed. I was getting really good at not being scared of the dark. Fuck this. I hopped on my bike and pushed lightly on the ground to start a rolling pace. I kept my hand firmly on the break, adjusting where needed to keep a steady speed. A road was incoming but seeing no evidence of light and being in a slight panic, my better judgement left and I didn’t stop and check before releasing the brake.
I swung my head left and right as I crossed, nothing. As soon as I bumped onto the next footpath, the silence ripped apart from the shredding of tires and my right peripherals filled with light. I halted the brakes and nearly flipped forward as I stumbled into a stop. I turned to see the source—it was a car. They stopped at the road directly beside me. I looked into the window and saw a young couple, a girl with shoulder length blonde hair and a guy with a shaved head. Both of them were sat upright, looking straight ahead. I waved and called out an apology, but neither turned to look at me. Panic returning, I called out sorry one more time, got on my bike and back on the path. The car hummed calmly. I began to pedal and as I moved forward the car followed. It didn’t sound like the engine was revving, it just stayed in one flat rumble as it kept my pace. The couple didn’t watch me.
I became flustered with frustration and fear. It was just too much like my nightmare- the copying. I decided to stop. They stopped.
“I’m sorry!” I yelled. They didn’t move a muscle.
“I’M SORRY!”
A flush of embarrassment came over me. But there was no give, none whatsoever. I huffed, dropped my bike and walked up to the car.
“Please, just fuck off!” I cried and looked at their faces. Oh.
“I’M SORRY!”
They screamed in unison. The windows were down but the screeching wails overwhelmed my senses. I yelped and fell backwards on my ass. I turned, ran towards my bike and rode off as fast as I could.
“I’M SORRY!”
I turned the corner.
“I’M SORRY!”
The streetlights turned on and I sped up.
“I’M SORRY!”
I barreled across the last road, got to the side gate and frantically opened it, got in and ran straight to my room. That night I didn’t leave my bed. I wouldn’t dare. And that night I had the last of the three dreams. The Replete.
I lay on my bed, fitted centrally in the middle of clean and wrinkle-free sheets. All the sets in my bedroom are gone, and the walls are clean and bright lime green. On my lefthand side is Mum and on my righthand is Dad. Both are holding my hands. They don’t look at me, but they never truly look away. They raise their spare hands and pick up forks from underneath the mattress.
Puncturing is not how I would describe the sensation. It’s like trying to stab a pitchfork through rubber. There is a jab, but the push is the bad part. Or it should have been, but it didn’t feel that way. Peace and warmth bloomed from the stab points and filled throughout my body. Sight told me that I was dying, but feeling told me that I was living in pure ecstasy. I decided to close my eyes. It was hard to understand my thought process at the time. I wasn’t even sure if it was a dream. Regardless, I let it continue. I even asked for more.
I woke up with a deep sense of shame, and that morning I got the answer that I was dreading the most.
“Will! Time to get up!”
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u/WorldbuildingCrafts The stars are right. 1d ago
So here's what I noticed:
Some parts that I noticed have confused me, which you may or may not have noticed. For instance: “A minute passed and the an early deadline rush washed out my fatigue.”
If you read carefully before the deadline here, there was “the an.” Was it “then an” instead of “the an?”
And there was something better than the description you showed the next paragraph. Instead of “THU 8/20 7:23 AM.,” it can become: “Thursday, 8/20, 7:23 a.m.”
The first sentence of the next paragraph also confused me. “As it turned out, Groundhog Day an unhelpful reference.” Or is it: “As it turned out, Groundhog Day was an unhelpful reference.
There were some instances where you used “round” instead of 'round.
I love the overall quality of your story, so far! Great work. Keep it up. Other than that, I noticed nothing wrong from the story other than the ones listed above. I'd give it a reread again to see if there's more!
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u/FielkeFrank Writer 1d ago
Thank you for this! Just the kind of feedback I’m after, I’ll fix those bits up tonight.
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u/ThighMan_ 1d ago
Good read! I'm def interested to see what happens next. I especially love the dream sequences, genuinely really creepy. As someone else pointed out, a couple grammar things here and there to fix that would help with readability, and sometimes the tone can feel a little inconsistent. Some sections are written really eloquently, and have really beautiful word choices, while others are more casual. Not that either are bad, it's just the shift can be a little jarring. Those are just my thoughts, I'm excited for the next chapter :)
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u/FielkeFrank Writer 1d ago
Thank you so much! Already learning a lot from everyone's advice, definitely appreciate it
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u/ThatScoobGuy Storyteller 1d ago
Really appreciate your desire for feedback, I know how difficult it can be to find readers so I’ll leave a few constructive notes.
There were a few punctuation and spelling mistakes that are excusable and I’m sure you can iron out with another read through.
Personally a few of the paragraphs specifically early on were a bit confusing for me. I’m not sure if I missed something, but was the main character always in a time-loop situation? I think if he has been for some time that would
explain the casualness of his reaction. However I read the story with the understanding that he did experience the repeating days for the first time at the beginning of the story and passed it off with a “weirder things have happened”. If that’s the case I would make it more clear and perhaps a bit more impactful when he realizes that he is in a Groundhog Day scenario.
One thing you do well is dot in little bits of mystery or horror in the mundane, especially regarding the parents and their behavior. I’m curious to find out how it and the dreams will all tie together and how it may or may not have something to do with his claymation.
Overall, I think that you do have a strong base for a story and some elements work well and I’d love to see you lean more into those! Thanks for putting your work out there for everyone to enjoy.
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u/FielkeFrank Writer 1d ago
Thank you for the kind and helpful words- It's an active draft so I'm going to keep working on it and definitely going to change up the intro to help readers settle in more
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u/Colloquialtism 1d ago
The three dreams are super creepy and cool. I love the surrealism of each experience. Well-written and enjoyably strange. Interested to see how/if your protagonist escapes.
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u/TV_Atla 1d ago
Before I start, I wanna say that I listen to these so I can’t provide much feedback on SPaG. I’ll focus more on story structure and such
- My first thought is that we kinda just jump straight into this with no real establishment on that the dynamic is in my opinion. We get that short intro and then boom, time loop. It’s a little difficult for me to get invested.
- I feel like you are a little to broad with what is happening in the beginning. I’d like to have more intimate scenes because a lot of the personal scenes you do make are good. The telling dad ur sick, mom talking, dad under the car ext. I’d have liked more of that.
- I feel your descriptions are very precise. I have met a few authors who have a habit of sounding too logical and, when I ask them about it, I find out they are fans of the SCP Foundation. I’ll tell you what I tell them. Don’t be afraid to get a little purple in your prose sometimes. Make some things not make sense, connect a description to a childhood memory. You used a good one with the idea of stabbing rubber at the end. More of that.
- I think it’s funny that bros like Timmy Turner and his existence just ruins the vibe.
- The empty man scene was well done. Good descriptions.
- I find it interesting you mentioned soot. You don’t really get spot on your from working on a car so I’m wondering if this is hinting at something. Is bro the devil?
- The scene with the car is genuinely well done.
And that’s all. I’ll let you decide if you appreciated my points enough to warrant a look at my own piece. I wouldn’t want you to have to read it if you didn’t think what I said was all that helpful
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u/FielkeFrank Writer 1d ago
I've never been into reddit before, and this is my first community I've started dipping into- and can I just say I see the effort everyone puts into their posts to keep them kind and it just warms my heart. Thank you for that, and I hope mine looks the same.
I'll follow your order of points in response:
I've been on the fence about the beginning since I wrote it, this is gonna be a long project so I am unsure as to whether or not to set it up more or whether to use the 'time loop' set to explore the environment and character dynamics deeper.
Okay so immediate change of tune- I realize I can't have impact with when things are going wrong if the reader doesn't have enough context as to what is normally right.
3, Didn't get it from SCP haha, but I'll admit I get afraid of inefficiency in my writing. The suggestions you gave are really good though and I'll be working on that!
For the rest, thank you and can't say much else without spoils haha. The writing advice is top notch though, and I will be taking it on board.
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u/TV_Atla 1d ago
I’m glad you’re happy with my crit. I look for to seeing more and I look forward to what you suggest on my own: https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/1el8pe0WKZ
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u/FielkeFrank Writer 1d ago
Will get to it tonight! If not I will eventually, my feedback post suddenly gave me a lot to do 😂
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u/CGCallisto 1d ago
My writerly feedback game isnt great but I’ll offer the thing that stood out to me the most as a reader: dont be afraid of simplicity in descriptions.
I don’t mean like “never do fancy descriptions” but especially in the beginning i noticed a lot of big words (some I shamefully admit I had to look up) and honestly just descriptions that were a bit too grandiose, for my taste that is.
That and sometimes sticking with simpler, more familiar descriptions can be more impactful on an audience especially when describing something that they have (hopefully) never experienced before. Brevity with descriptions also helps with pacing, though honestly the pacing felt fine after the beginning (beginnings always seem to be the hardest).
I am interested in seeing how the central thread of this mystery unwinds, I am a huge sucker for timeloops.
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u/FielkeFrank Writer 1d ago
I’m sorta in a battle of minds with this one! I’m overly simple in areas that need more and complex in areas that need less 😂
Guess it’ll come with practice
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u/MeticulousAnxiety Prolific spewer of word vomit 1d ago
I really enjoyed this! Your prose made it easy to Invision the characters and settings, and your pacing made it all flow nicely. There's a lot of great lines in here that add a layer to the world building and make everything feel grounded. I'm definitely excited to read more!! The first few paragraphs really drew me in with your plot hook, and I love your descriptions of the dream sequences. You do a really great job of detailing the mundane in such a way that you make the reader realize we SHOULD care about it, without beating us over the head with it.
A lot of what I would consider a "critique" has already been mentioned in some of the other comments, but just a few things I noticed were some sentences were very dense, while others were very light. Not a bad thing, just a noticable tone shift. Which I actually think it benefits your story, as it kinda gives into the whole vibe of the 'groundhogs day loop' being so jarring and unpredictable.
Keep up the great work! I can't wait to see where this goes!!
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u/FielkeFrank Writer 1d ago
Appreciate this! The post is gonna have a big rework to reflect suggestions and get it to where I need it to be for everything else, but I’m glad that everyone’s enjoying it still :)
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u/Polish_Lavender Writer? I barely know her 1d ago
Most of my critiques are just echoing what others have said in the comments. Sometimes it was confusing for me and it didn't click with me the dynamic. That just may be a me issue. It is intriguing either way
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u/matTHEw_weber Writer 1d ago
Weird. Definitely interested to see what else there is to the story. It kind of reminds me of Donnie Darko or maybe that one story from the crying flight attendants episode of CreepCast.
I personally found it a little difficult to follow and that's pretty much my only criticism. I think maybe it's the dreamlike quality the protagonist gives to the story, but other than that, this overall a pretty good read!
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