In Search of the Unknown Chaptered Version

Part 6

Trevor: Wait, who?

Emma: About a year after the... incident, someone came to me while I was at college, he was middle-aged, but it was hard to tell with the raspy voice he had. He asked me about what happened, and I decided to send an email telling him everything that happened.

Dalen: Why did you tell him, and no one else?

Emma: I was affected by what happened, I mean I still am I just really wanted to tell someone, and I never could. And I just had this feeling that he would believe me. We talked for a few days, mostly in person. He usually asked to meet at a lake close by.

Dalen: Do you remember what he asked you?

Emma: He asked me a lot, most of it was about my pastor, John Obed. Even asking about how I knew him, where I thought he lived, how much Obed talked about himself, and whether Obed talked with anyone outside of town. I couldn't answer most of his questions. Our pastor barely talked about his life before, and I was taught not to ask personal stuff like that.

Dalen: Do you have any idea who the man asked you is?

Emma: ...No

Dalen stays silent and thinks.

Dalen: Is there anything else that happened that is out of the ordinary.

Emma ponders a bit.

Emma: Well, yes actually

Dalen: Could you tell us all about it?

Emma: Yes... As you can see things have changed a bit. After leaving to get my teacher's degree, I didn't have anywhere else to go. For my who life I lived in this tiny town, and just a few years after I wanted to leave so badly, I came back as a teacher. Part of me wanted to come back to make a change here, to see if I could improve the situations of people growing up here. Another part was that this was the only place that didn't feel alien to me. So... so much has happened to me, and it's difficult to separate myself from what happened.

Emma looks down to the ground.

Emma: It's an understatement to say I felt guilty for what happened. I was the only witness to all of it, and I had no power to change it. There has never been a time I've felt as vulnerable as when that... thing had its fingers wrapped around my body. Worst of all, no one believed me. They looked at all that happened and took me as delirious. They told me I was drugged, even though there were no tests to see if I was. They said I made it up all in my head, as I guess a coping mechanism. Some even tried to blame me for being part of the whole situation. That's what kept me there. I felt I caused his death.

Everything was silent. Emma began to slouch.

Dalen: Would you like to have a minute to yourself.

Emma: No

Emma does her best to keep her composure.

Emma: I'm ok

Dalen: Just take your time, we have all day to record.

Emma takes a slow and deep breath.

Emma: Ok, so once I came back, each year on the day it happened, I would go to his grave to pay my respects. He never had a funeral. No body was found, and he had no family that mourned his death. Once the case closed, all goodwill the people had toward him had run dry. People became sour to it all. It took a long time for them to put up a tombstone in the Pastor's name, or so what my father told me. Yet once I came back, I was the only one to visit his grave. I sometimes brought flowers. It helped with the memories. It helped me think through it all. I felt like I could look back when I came to see him. I could cope, and the memories stayed, but they hurt less.

Emma takes another huge breath.

Emma: I still wonder if what I saw was real. I mean it felt real... I'm getting ahead of myself. One day when I went to visit him again, I heard a distinct sound. It sounded like a flute but almost hollow, it almost sounded like a whistle. It also in a sense felt like breathing. The sound reminded me I had a heartbeat, it even felt like a tempo to the slow sound. It was very misty that day, and I saw no cars other than mine. I went into the graveyard, the fog only allowing me to see a few feet in front of me. The damp air hitting my cheek and making me wince. It was foggy, that's what I'm trying to say. When I came close to his grave, I saw three people at the front of it. I was unable to see who they were, and they paid me no mind. I think they were so in the moment; they didn't notice my existence.

One of the men played the thing making that noise. It had a similar shape to a clarinet. It was warped with spikes protruding out of it, almost like a seashell or coral. The material it was made of seemed organic. The two other men stood completely still. One seemed to be whispering to himself, though I could not hear it over the sound. I stepped back, something told me that what was happening was none of my concern. Whatever minuscule sound they made, all three heard. I jumped, none of them said anything to me. When I tried to ask them something, something weird happened. They turned to mist. I don't know how else to describe it. It was like they just stopped existing. Like they were the fog the whole time, yet I just never noticed. The fog slowly cleared away, receding into the forest. I think that is all I can say about it. I have no idea what happened.

Dalen looked away and sighed. The room became silent for a minute.

Emma: Would you like to see where it happened, I'll take you there?

David: ...We'd be happy to

Interview ends

The group stood at John Obed's grave. David took a few panoramic shots and a close of the tombstone, and Trevor recorded the outside sounds. Dalen stood still, staring at the grave. It felt strange to be there. To see the end effect of one of these statements. People have died to whatever these things are, and it made him wonder how capable these things truly were at it. Emma saw that Dalen was bothered by this.

"I know, feels a bit haunting right... I fully understand why" Emma said in a friendly tone "Still makes my skin crawl, wondering if it's still out there".

Dalen wondered what would happen when they look further.

How far do you have to crawl in the dark until you get bit?