I just couldn’t. I don't know why, it was like I wasn't in control of anything i was doing.
I lit a fire in the fireplace and grabbed the box, but when i walked back over to the fire, I just stood there. Holding it.
I couldn't move, couldn't speak, just stood there watching the flames and holding onto my precious box. It felt like a few minutes I stood there, but when I came back to it had been 3hrs.
What is happening to me.
Went to the doctors today, everything was normal. There appears to be no explanation about what is going on with me.
I really didn’t feel like being alone tonight so I called Greg up to come over and hang out, and have some beers. Maybe talking this stuff out to an actual person will help.
Although, Greg being superstitious already may not be the best person to tell these creepy things to, but at this point it seems like the best option. Worth a try I suppose.
Greg pulling into the drive now, I will update again tomorrow. Lets hope this helps.
I’m never drinking again. Why do we do this to ourselves? Sure it’s fun at the time, but holy hell do I feel like shit today.
Greg must have left late last night because I haven't seen him today. Maybe he was “fake” drinking with me so he wasn’t as trashed as I was haha.
Anyway, I don’t remember last night so who knows what I told him and what I didn’t. I’m going back to sleep this hangover off.
Still haven’t seen or heard from Greg, which is odd because he’s usually very talkative and is the one blowing up my phone.
I really wanted to talk to him today because I lost my job over that whole shoving incident. Kinda knew that was coming though. Anyways, they told me to pack my shit and leave the building.
All i grabbed from my desk was my box. Yes, i’ve now been carrying it with me everywhere I go, don’t judge.
That place was a crock of shit anyways, I’ve been kicked out of nicer places than that. I guess it’s just me and my box now, since Greg won’t answer his fucking phone.
Called Greg again once I got home. Still no answer, but the creepy thing is I heard his phone ringing in my house. I tracked down the ringing and It was coming from the basement.
I found the phone sitting near the furnace which is odd. Greg never goes anywhere without his phone. I hope he is ok, I searched the house and no other sign of him anywhere to be found.
I’m a little worried and have a sickening feeling in my gut about this.
I have been doing absolutely nothing but laying in bed for days. The world seems to be falling apart around me.
Still no word or sign of Greg, and to boot my old cunt of a boss has now gone missing. What the fuck is going on, I don’t want anything to do with the outside world anymore.
I feel comfortable just staying curled up in bed with my box. I don’t even need to eat anymore. Or at least I haven’t been eating, depression anxiety, worry, who knows.
I just have no appetite anymore. The only time I got up was to talk to the cops that showed up at my house questioning me about my old boss. Even then, getting up was a struggle.
I haven’t even wrote in here for the past few days, and that i could have done from my bed. I just don’t fucking care anymore. All i need is my box.
I swear I hear the box whispering to me in my sleep. It keeps telling me to end it all, and just be free. Do it, it whispers, followed by horrific images of different ways to die in my dreams.
I’ve never experienced anything like this before, and I don’t like it. I’m not suicidal but what the fuck are with these things in my head lately.
Get it together man! It’s a FUCKING BOX! For christ sake. And yet, I still cannot let it go, everytime I try, I lose myself for hours if not days.
Am I even me anymore? Am i in control of myself or is this box now in charge?
It’s been a week since I last wrote, and this will be my very last entry. I don't remember much of the past week at all honestly.
I finally came back to myself today and found myself standing at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement.
For some reason I was hesitant about going down, but there was a pungent odor emitting from down there, so naturally I had to investigate.
I really wish I wouldn't have, for what I saw is why this is my final entry. If someone happens to be reading this, this is a warning. Shits about to get graphic.
I made my way down the stairs swearing I could hear my own heart beating like a bass drum in my ears. The first thing I noticed was the blood, and not just speckles here and there.
Im talking about literally wading through a pool of it. As I proceed lower a familiar face comes into view, my old boss.
Now, even though I hated her guts and thought she was the biggest piece of shit ever, what i saw I would never have wished upon anyone.
She was hanging upside down, suspended from a rope that was threaded through the part of your ankle that is between the achilles tendon and actual ankle.
Under the weight from her own body and the way gravity works it looked as though one of the achilles had snapped under the weight.
She was filleted out, flaps of human flesh cut in long strips to the point where they were touching the floor. Her eyes were gone, just empty sockets, and her mouth had been stapled shut.
Her hair dangling down, soaked and stained by the pool of her own blood. I grabbed the handrail and proceeded to vomit.
I slowly looked back up, avoiding the sight of her again, and what I saw over in the crawl space net to the furnace wasn’t much better. Greg.
He was folded up like one of my camping chairs, shoved into that little crawl space.
Bones protruding out of various limbs, and a look of horror on his face that told me he had been screaming, even in death I swear I could hear his screams. A tear began running down my cheek.
What the fuck happened here? And at that moment I heard the box softly whispering to me. “Turn around” it said.
As I turned around and looked back up to the top of the staircase I saw a little girl. Just fucking standing there looking down at me. Smiling.
A look of satisfaction and job well done on her face. I noticed in her right hand that she was holding something. A box. She opened the box and showed me a picture of herself kept within.
She snapped the lid closed and giggled. As she did the door slammed shut. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, and I sure as hell couldn’t say anything.
I walked back up the stairs, opened the door, and she was gone. Just completely gone. The box whispered again, “Now i’ll leave.” it whispered softly.
All of a sudden I really snapped back to my senses, I knew that it was just me, and I was finally able to get rid of that box. Before it could take someone else from themselves.
I need to go now, I called the cops on myself and I can hear the sirens coming down my street. If you ever stumble across a charged box, don’t even look at it. Just turn, and run.