Entry 2

From the Audio Journal of Niles Dantes

November 15^th, 1981

*Begin recording*

I’ve gone mad.

Two days ago, I considered myself the perfect model of sanity. A little cynical and jaded around the edges, maybe, but still very much in the safe, comfortable haven that comes with having a sound mind. But now? There’s no other possible explanation for what happened yesterday. I’ve gone mad.

I…I suppose I should recount this from the beginning. Describe what hap…what I thought happened, while it’s fresh in my mind. I’ve not told anyone about this, nor do I intend on doing so. It’d only result in being shipped first-class to an asylum or callously dismissed as a babbling fool, neither of which sounds particularly helpful right about now. Still, having a record of this might well come in handy.

Anyway, I had just sat down and started to write. Nothing concrete, just some brainstorming here and there. I got the idea for something about innocence, children. Pleasantly uncynical train of thought amidst all that’s been going on in society the past few decades. I wanted to write about simplicity, how so much that’s screwed up in this world stems from complexities we’re oblivious to until after our formative years. I picked up the pen and jotted down The clothes and food of children are plain and simple. But as soon as I finished the sentence, I…I wasn’t there. My desk, my apartment, everything around me, all…gone.

I was somewhere else…a large room, practically devoid of color. It looked like a school cafeteria of sorts. Row after row of unpainted metal tables and benches filled the place. In the distance was a pair of doors, beyond which came a smell that vaguely reminded me of food. And around me…all around me were what I can only describe with great reluctance as children.

If kids they were, they were the most unsettling bunch I’ve ever seen. Utterly quiet, every last one of them, as they sat eating or moved in and out of the room. They were all about the same age, perhaps nine or ten, an even mix of boys and girls. Gender was just about the only distinguishing feature they had. Their faces weren’t identical, but they all shared the same sickly pale complexion, as though they’d been drained of lifeblood and color. Their eyes all had the same distant, unfocused look, as though, despite the actions they performed, no one was really home. All the boys wore their hair in the exact same short, cropped style, while each of the girls sported the same ponytail. Everyone wore the same clothes regardless of gender, muted brown button-up shirts and grey pants. All of those that were eating sported a tray with an identical bowl of some colorless sludge that looked like gruel.

I tried to take a step forward, only to find that I couldn’t move, that I couldn’t even feel my body. Trying to turn my head produced the same result. It was like I was frozen in place. A few seconds later I realized that I wasn’t even breathing…yet there was no burning ache signaling a need for oxygen. It was as though I had left my body, my mind plucked from its home and tossed in front of a window, leaving me with nothing more than my senses.

To say that I was terrified is unquestionably the greatest understatement that has ever been conceived in human history.

I tried to scream, to cry for help, yet no words emerged. As I began to panic, I thought as loudly as I could, a psychic, wordless cry that filled all of my mind. 

It…it appeared to have an effect. All in unison, every last one of those terrible, nearly identical children stared in my direction with those haunting, vacant gazes. I didn’t think it possible, but I became even more fearful. As I prepared to scream again…

I returned.

I found myself back in my apartment, sprawled out on the floor as though passed out from a night of heavy drinking. Taking a deep, urgent breath, I slowly sat up and managed to get on my feet.

A hot shower and night of fitful sleep helped stave off my inevitable reflections on what had transpired until today, but inevitable they were. So here I am, babbling to my journal like the madman that I must certainly be. Of course, my ravings haven’t come close to answering the most important question.

What am I to do now?

*End of recording*

Please vote for one of the following in the comments section below:

1. Ignore the experience and behave as though it never happened.

2. Try to determine the cause of the experience and recreate it under more controlled circumstances.