27/09/84
To the new occupant.
This is my final day here. I write this to whoever is to take up this post after me.
These are my instructions, my gifts and methods of survival that I bequeath unto you. You will need them.
Firstly, ensure that you keep every room in the house lit, at all times. Natural light will suffice, but special lanterns hang on the walls for this express purpose. You may find that it is better to sleep during the day, and focus on the lamps at night. They burn brightly, and for a long time.
If ever one is extinguished, you will feel it.
You must light them with both the powder and oil that reside in the basement, stores of which replenish themselves. Do not question how.
Runic symbols you see etched in the floors, ceiling or on doors must not be in any way covered over, and periodically retraced.
Those symbols are also spread around the front and back gardens. The same rules apply.
There is gas, water and electricity, so you can entertain yourself with television, shower, and cook food using the gas stove. Reliance on electric lights is not advised.
Do what you will during the day- but at night, the gates remain closed.
This is not an instruction.
It is a fact.
Practical things covered, allow me to elucidate matters concerning the abstract.
You will hear noises. You will try to rationalise. A gust of wind. Creaking pipes. Television static. The human mind is one built to justify the impossible.
DO. NOT. LISTEN TO IT.
Hearing guttural growling, gargling, harmonious babbling or noise like someone screaming means that you should return to your room, lock the door, relight the lamps and hide somewhere safe. Emerge only once the noise has either completely subsided, or made the transition into something else.
You will hear voices. They will spew vile, abhorrent utterances that you should- by no means- leave any room to fester in your mind. Unwelcome, intrusive thoughts. They will drain you. They will tell you to maim yourself, to kill yourself.
Only do so if you are desperate, and if another occupant is due to arrive shortly after.
You will also hear silence. A cacophony of noise. And then nothing.
If in any case there is overwhelming silence… impossible silence, repeat this incantation
–
Practise it. Form the words with your lips. Let it roll off of your tongue. Say it. Repeat it constantly, taking the words to mind and heart. There is a chance it will save your life.
If it is uncomfortable, or you are struggling, try again.
Having agreed to move here, for whatever unfortunate reason, you will know that this house is your job; your life.
View yourself as the guardian of an ancient temple. The last bastion defending a fortified building, filled with small children. The keeper of a great secret.
Anything to make yourself feel like less of a sacrifice. A piece of bunting, slowly consumed in the heat of a flame. To give yourself some semblance of importance.
But I cannot overstate this.
Remind yourself, always, that you are a tenant.
No matter if you are paying a mortgage, or purchased this house outright.
You are not the owner.
It is.
06/10/85
To the new occupant.
This is my final day. Here. This is my final day here. I write this to whoever is to take up this post after me. Whoever is enough to take up this post, after me.
These are instructions, gifts and methods of survival bequeathed unto you. You will need them.
First, ensure that you keep every room in the house lit at all times. Special lanterns hang on the walls for this purpose. They burn brightly. In the daytime natural light will suffice, but at night you must – , and keep the lanterns fed. There is both powder and oil in the basement for fuel, stores of which replenish themselves.
The runic symbols etched into the floors, ceiling, on doors and in the gardens must not be in any way covered over.
There is gas, water and electricity, so you can distract yourself with television, shower, and cook food using the gas stove.
At night, the gates must remain closed.
Though I am weary, more abstract information is to follow.
You will hear noises. Your mind will rationalise things. Wind. Pipes. Television static.
Do not listen.
Guttural sounds mean that you should return to your room. Lock the door. Relight the lamps. Hide.
You will hear voices. Spewing horrible, draining, intrusive thoughts. Telling you to hurt yourself; kill yourself.
Try and resist.
Silence.
If it is uncanny, repeat this incantation
–
Make it known to you.
Having agreed to move here, for whatever unfortunate reason, you will already know that this house is your job; your life.
This cannot be overstated.
Remind yourself, always, that you are a tenant.
No matter if you are paying a mortgage, or purchased this house outright.
You are not the owner.
It is.
02/05/89
To the new occupant.
One final day here. For whoever is to take up this post.
These are instructions, gifts and methods of survival. You will need them.
Every room is to be lit at all times. Special lanterns on the walls. Electric light suffices at night. Powder and oil in the basement.
Runic symbols etched into the floors, ceiling, on doors and in the gardens.
Gas, water, electricity. Distract yourself.
Closed. Gates closed.
I’m so tired.
Noises. Your mind rationalises.
IGNORE IT.
Voices. Intrusive thoughts. Telling you to hurt yourself or even kill yourself.
The walls are so thin.
My skin is melting.
Silence.
Incantation
–
This is your life.
You are a tenant.
Not the owner.
It is.
14/01/94
To the new occupant.
Final day. For you.
Instructions, gifts and methods of survival.
Every room in the house, lit at all times. Lanterns on walls, symbols.
Gates at night.
So, so tired.
Noises. Ignore them.
The burning flesh stinks of rot.
Voices. Intrusive thoughts.
Oh, how many more?
Kill yourself.
Silence.
It is.
01/01/00
To the new occupant.
The pipes creak, once again.
Harmonious
Like someone is
And then
For want of time, this version of the report only includes the transcripts first and last entries, and three entries which I believe acutely document the… regression of the “occupant”.
I wouldn’t call myself a particularly empathetic person. In this line of work, I don’t think you can be.
That being said- I couldn’t sit through this entire thing.
Thank god for the interns.
The “occupant” was named Maxwell Straad, at least according to the last known deed of the property that we dredged up. Said deed matches the likely period of his occupation and agrees with the dates of his recordings, so we’ve accepted the name as fact.
We know very little about him, and the only things we do know are, at best, educated guesses: about 63 years of age, never married, no children.
That’s it.
Neighbours who were questioned on a follow up expedition (yes, the matter is that serious) had the same things to say: he was a heretic, he rarely spoke to people and was barely ever seen exiting the premises.
What we do know is that Mr. Straad left many, many, many audio tapes, all with the same tired and overworked cassette recorder. These began exactly one year and one month after he purchased the property, and ended only with his death.
They all attempt to include the same message, which seems to be specific instructions on “caring” for his house, intended for a new occupier, supposedly replacing him in the near future.
No one ever came.
Under different circumstances, this could very easily be shelved as a paranoid, mentally ill older man with serious nyctophobia experiencing symptoms of dementia.
The ritualistic elements, however (the lanterns, the special oil and powder, the runes) give it an otherworldly quality that couldn’t be ignored. After rediscovering the tapes, an officer contacted our department through the retrodial system (thanks to tempus-marketing) and the police were kind enough to turn them over to us, so here we are.
Currently, our top priority is the incantation.
Mr. Straad definitely included one in his recordings, but every single time he did, the audio corrupted. We know he was speaking, and didn’t just choose to shut up for five minutes, because the silence is continually interspersed with glitching, as if his audio was being hindered in the midst of speaking.
I want to say that this is purely coincidental. Something tells me I’m wrong.
Because this is a junior level report, I’m not sanctioned to fully discuss the other glaring issue of: ‘It’. What I can say is that whatever it is becomes empowered by darkness, but is averse to light and possibly heat. It is able to produce injurious messages, likely lacks physical form, and seems to derive… pleasure from insanity. For reasons I cannot explain, we do know that is is neither a Lurker, or a Shell.
It is, by far, the least understood and most troubling entity yet.
As is clear, we can’t really say anything for certain, mostly due to our impressive lack of physical evidence.
We were told that by the time emergency services arrived, everything was gone.
Each of the lanterns were broken, and the runes had faded. Within the charred wreckage was an unidentifiable body. Assume what you will.
Somehow, the boxes of tapes survived.
We can only hope that nothing else did.
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