Read my start and then lemme know-- should i continue this story or scrap it, and why? What should I change?
Thank you so much in advance!!!
Hyperfixation
If you know me, you'd think I can dance. The way I move normally--spinning on my heels, dodging and moving around things hips first, putting my foot straight up in the air when I bend over--would make you think that I would be a really good dancer. But the truth is, I'm not. I'm really not. I try to be, though; I try to practice in the shower to the radio, and I try to follow along to the beat, but in the end, I either end up looking like a white dad at a barbeque or a stripper whose rent is due tomorrow. In any outcome, people look away with secondhand embarrassment.
That doesn’t stop my parents from encouraging me to dance more, though.
And I have to admit, the day they gave me the brochure for the dance classes, I didn’t protest much.
I’ve been going to dance classes for about a year now, and I’m not much better.
But this story isn’t about my dance skills, or lack thereof. It’s how I eventually found graveyardflowers.com.
It was the end of class one day, and we were putting our folding chairs back in the long row they had been in. We had been using them to practice how to stretch when fouetting. It wasn’t my favorite thing to do, I liked the days when we experimented with modern dance much more than ballet. But anyway, I couldn’t think clearly. Not because I was losing energy, or had forgotten to eat that day, but because of what had happened to Phoebe a couple hours earlier. She had slipped when balancing on her chair and hit her head on the floor when she fell. It was a minor injury, one that made us laugh, even. She looked so dazed. But that was before she started crying. Phoebe was the kind of person who, when she cried, you knew it was serious. It didn’t look like it hurt that bad, but she started sobbing and motioned to be led out of the room. Our teacher helped her leave, and that’s when we saw a small trail of blood trailing down her neck and soaking into her leotard. So, later, I still found myself wondering what had caused it.
I left quickly so I wouldn’t keep my parents waiting, only to see they were late. No big deal, I would just wrap myself in my coat and hope nobody would cat call me in my dance clothes.
I was surprised to turn to see Phoebe sitting on the pedestal next to me. Why isn’t she at the hospital or something? I wondered, and my eyes trailed from her twiddling thumbs to the bloody bandage wrapped around her head.
She looked back at me and smiled, and a conversation started. Something about how overrated ballet was. That wasn’t unusual, we had made casual small talk before. The strange part was where the conversation led.
“You like creepy internet stuff, right?”
I was flattered! She had been listening to me, though I wasn’t sure when. I talked about my interests a lot, to anyone who would listen.
When I was about twelve, my parents noticed my grades slipping and had me take some tests to see if I had any disabilities. Nothing special, just some inkblot tests and math quizzes.
Turns out, I did. They told me the names of the diagnosed things, (Which I’m not going to name, because I don’t want people taking this less seriously because I’m “retarded”, or whatever). I researched them a lot and learned about the symptoms, because I thought that would be the logical thing to do. I found out some new terms, like stimming, and overstimulation. But one that really stuck out for me was hyperfixations, or “special interests”.
I had always known myself to have phases when I was obsessed with something. When I was little, it was the birthmarks of my relatives, and then, the music used on the weather channel. As I got older, they shaped to be a little more acceptable, things like animes or bands, or dancing. But now, my special interest is “creepy internet stuff”, as Phoebe put it. I liked to watch videos of people surfing the deep web or countdowns of disturbing online footage, and sometimes visit sites myself.
It might’ve kept me up a little later than usual, but I didn’t mind. It was truly interesting to me.
So when Phoebe brought it up, I started really listening.
“Yeah, I do! Why?”
“I was fuckin’ around on omegle last week and someone sent me a link. I checked it out, and boy, was it creepy. But also, cool somehow. I thought you might be interested in it. I can’t remember the url, but I’ll send it to you later, if you want.”
I was interested. I mean, at best, I had probably seen the site before. But what was the harm? And the fact that it came from omegle, one of the most unpredictable sites on the clear web, sealed the deal for me. I wondered for a brief moment how she would link it to me, then remembered she had added me on skype awhile ago to tell me a recital had been rescheduled.
“Sure, I’ll check it out. Sounds cool.”
-
The conversation had almost completely slipped my mind by the time I got home, becoming only a small curiosity in the back of my mind. But when I logged onto my computer after finishing my homework (It had been a slow afternoon, so i would be up late), I saw that I had a new message from Phoebe.
It was nothing but a link.
Wow, okay. Never heard of that one. I was already getting excited. I clicked on the link, but it only brought me to a white screen. I worried for a moment that she had sent me a screamer, but the page just loaded to tell me the site couldn’t be reached.
I was ready to be lazy and give up already, when my skype chirped with another message.
Oh yeah, i forgot. You have to download this program real quick so it loads. I promise it’s not a virus, it’s just like a mini version of tor.
There was a link to a website right under that message. When I clicked it it didn’t seem too shady, so I went ahead and downloaded it. I shrugged. My computer had handled much since this interest started, it wouldn’t be anything task manager couldn’t handle.
Once I had extracted some files, it looked like I was all set to waste yet another few hours of my life.
I had never really gone on the deep web that much, I kept coming up with excuses. But I guess that night, I was more sleep-deprived than usual, or extra curious.
After visiting a few innocent sites just to check that the browser was working, I finally went on the link.
It took a few seconds to load, but when it did, it brought me to a maroon page with a single text box in the middle with a blinking cursor, waiting for me to type something. My motivation sagged again before I head another bloo-woop and switched to my other desktop.
Pheobe Smith:
The password is wilted. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave u hanging like that :) i promise it’s worth it.
I entered the word, the page loaded, and instantly I couldn’t help but already be a little disappointed. A forum? The deep web was full of weird ones. I had seen tons of them in videos already.
Despite that, I dived in.
The first thing that caught my eye was the site’s design. It was very simple, with dark Arial text and a floral background. In all honesty, it appeared pretty pleasant. I wondered what could be so creepy about it.
The front page was just three links in bold, forum home, resources, and contact. I noticed that there was no about page. Huh. I decided to start at the obvious and go to the forum.
There was about three pages of topics, but I started at the pinned one titled “welcome”.
What I read there didn’t make me any less confused, just more intrigued.
It was a place to introduce yourself, it seemed, but the way people wrote was...odd.
The first thing i read was a pinned description.
Welcome to the place where the sun is always setting. Pink/purple/orange skies and that perfect temperature, with nothing more than a gentle breeze in the air. You’re no longer ignored here, like the soft petals of a flower in a graveyard. We know you are beautiful or hideous. You are safe here, or you will be soon.
Scrolling down, I saw that that was the only information I would get, the thread only spanning on in more cryptic paragraphs that seemed to be vague introductions from users.
Blessed with sharp fangs and claws, perfect for cleaving through flesh, bone and metal. Skeletal wings and many eyes, with two sets of arms, perfect for hugging or breaking. I protect and destroy equally.
New to this forum. Fresh meat is out, please help. That’s all.
i wasnt like this before. i was beautiful, i had wings, i created music and brought forth the sun every morning and put it away every night. but they hated me, and now i am gnarled and cold with fangs instead of molars and claws instead of nails. the wings never grew back, just stubs. I’ll make them regret it.
I'm less of a monster and more of a plage. My favorite place to live is the human mind.
If I were physical, I'd eviscerate everyone I come in contact with.
As I read more and more, My mind tried to slowly put together what I was reading. Lacking an introduction, I could only guess what the forum was for, but I was pretty confident in my conclusion. I still don’t know how to put it into words. Are they poets? All I knew for sure was I wanted to learn more. I ignored the tiny thoughts in the back of my mind, like how it was almost eleven pm now and how exactly did Phoebe find this site? , and clicked on the next page.
To my surprise, the screen dimmed slightly and a message popped up.
Does it hurt? Are you a timid beast or an unstoppable force? Do you drip with venom, or tears? Lost, afraid? Sign up to find out more.
I shrugged, and clicked the link.
That brought me to a page that, from the URL, I assumed was only accessible through the link itself. At first glance, it appeared to be a pretty average web sign up sheet. I entered the fake name I was keen on (Lousy Johnson, a name I liked for it’s androgyny) and one of the few email addresses I used for occasions like this. But after that, the questions became more strange. It asked the origin of my mother and father, and me not really knowing what that meant just put in my parent’s home countries. The next question asked for my address. That was where I became apprehensive. This is where the online horror stories I heard always went sour. I searched a random house on google earth and entered its coordinates. I got a small grey popup as a response.
“This is not where you live. Please try again.” a small cartoon of a smiling flower sat in the corner of the message, seemingly mocking me. Trying to ignore the new cold sweat starting to travel down my back, I focused on the flower’s friendly face and took some deep breaths. But before I could exhale, the pixels of the face morphed to black and white, and changed to a terrifying, mangled expression. Then the window closed itself.
I tried entering the address of another place, telling myself I had seen worse and not to get creeped out. The website rejected it again, giving me the same message. I closed the window quickly at risk of seeing the weird pixelated mask again.
After what seemed like only a second of debate, I decided to be foolish and enter my real address. Something was pulling me towards the site, and I believed in fate.
The page automatically refreshed and this time a new and longer list of questions was displayed. I shivered, reading some of the words as my eyes flicked over them. I switched tabs and put on some music. Maybe it would help me shake the strange, hollow feeling of dread I was getting. It was one familiar to me, but not an emotion I enjoyed.
I started to painstakingly fill out the questionnaire. Unfortunately I can’t remember all the things it asked me, only bits and pieces. What I desired, if I believed in a god or hell. One of the last asked, “Have you ever wanted to kill?”, and I hesitantly answered.
When I was done and had submitted the form, I was greeted with a simple message. “Thank you, your answers have been received. Please be patient for our response.” It was accompanied by a simple white pixel image of a set of fangs. To my surprise, they were animated, opening and closing. Out slithered another smiling flower, waving its leaves in what I assumed was celebration.
Suddenly a panicked feeling rose in my throat. I closed all my programs and shut down my computer, making my room dark and devoid of it’s previous blue light. I realized how tired I was, and, crawling under my blankets, fell into a dreamless sleep.
--
Next morning the sunrise was almost blood red. I didn’t take that as a good sign. On my bus ride to school i wondered in and out in a half-awake state whether anything would come of last night. It wasn’t until my fourth period class that I started to really wonder. What would their response be? What even was the website? Was it a strange art project or poetry forum, or... something much worse?
The day dragged on. Honestly, just a normal school day with a thin layer of anxiety.
I got home late. Nothing unusual from the outside, or past the doorframe of the apartment. I always get home before my parents, so I turned all the lights on and fed the cat. The radio was left on for her so she wouldn’t get lonely, so I turned that off too. The staticky chatter echoing through the house was cut off and I was left with silence, save for Melly’s claws on the tile.
Hours passed. I had no lesson today, and no homework, so I took a long nap and watched some mindless anime in front of dinner. After some browsing, I checked my email. Nothing exciting, until in the corner of my eye, I saw I had a new email in one of my side inboxes.
Shit.
Submitted July 26, 2018 at 05:12AM by magdalyns https://ift.tt/2LSGfY9
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