I Wrote Myself A Letter, I Got A Response | Creep Cast

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She saved so much, she got a seat close enough to actually see and hear them.

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Ademas delicious trosos de granola nues y fruit that all vanadisprutad.

Honey punches devotes for all.

Toda alban para sabermás.

Welcome back to Creepcast.

How are you guys doing today?

We are reading a story called I Wrote a Letter to Myself and I Got a Response.

Got a response.

Which, if I, if I wrote, if I wrote myself a letter, I would respond.

I would say, you know what?

Hey, nice to, I would, I would carry a nice, pleasant conversation with myself.

Is that because that's the only one who will write you back?

That is the only person that will write me back.

And I'll tell you another person that'll write me back: are you guys about this new merch we're wearing?

Merch.

We got new

merch.

We're just merching.

Look at this.

Beautiful new merch.

It's the uh

we're both wearing the eat me like a bug shirt.

It's beautiful.

Like a bug.

We also got a long sleeve shirt as well where

Isaiah's the Jeff Goldblum.

I'm in the tumor on

a beautiful crew neck.

We have a beautiful crew neck sweatshirt with a ghastly little ghost and then a nice pair of shorts because it's the springtime.

Put out your legs, play ball, get out there, stay comfy.

so just wanted to let y'all know creepcast.store go there grab some beautiful merch if you want to support the channel and if you just want some new kicks some new to look fresh feel free uh also for all of our audio listeners thank you for uh listening on spotify and apple podcast if you haven't done that yet please go to apple podcast or spotify and check out creepcast where you can uh give us a five-star rating there and uh listen on the audio it helps us out a lot isaiah who writes this beautiful beautiful story this story is is written by Veristahl.

Veristahl, however, you're Veristah.

That sounds fun.

Now, we have covered his work before.

His real name is Brandon Faircloth.

He has

several different stories on Amazon, one of them being Roadside Sarcophagus, which I believe we shouted out last time.

But he has several more.

They'll be linked in the description.

Be sure to show Brandon some love.

Brandon has some stories that we've covered before, one of which being My Job is Watching a Woman Trapped in a Room.

And I understand that Hunter and I had a bit of a crash out in that story, okay?

Thomas,

that's what I'm here to tell you.

Things aren't like you think they are.

They never have been.

I need you to tone down the Valley Girl accent by like two notches.

Just a little bit.

Because I could tell, I could tell, I know you.

I can tell that you are trying to drive this into the realm of parody, and we're not there yet.

Okay.

All right.

All right, I'm sorry.

But

that was kind of unfair, considering my jobs watching The Woman Trapped in a Room was like a fifth part of some interconnected story that we were coming in midway through, so we didn't understand a lot of it.

So today, we're going with a one-off, like a single story, not attached to any others.

It's five parts to itself, because the author certainly shows talent as a writer, and we want to give him a fair shake.

I think that's only fair.

I'm already giving him a fair shake.

I want to give him a fair shake.

I know what Hunter wants to do.

Hunter may want to want him to suffer.

No, I think it's, I think, you know what?

We, we obviously,

the idea of the story for my

watching a woman trapped in a room, whatever, that cool concept, but it just went to an angle to where obviously there was more to the story we didn't know about.

So I think it's only fair that we give somebody, like you're saying, a fair shake.

And this is a nice, this is a five-part,

a five-part series that is,

it isn't connected to anything else.

At least that's what we looked up online.

So,

I think this is this is a better representation.

Yes, I agree.

And also,

I just want to say to the audience, we really appreciate you guys being so supportive.

Again, Brandon's links will be in the description.

Be sure to show him some love.

But it's been really cool that every time we cover an author online, we normally see posts about the author, sometimes even in the Creepcast subreddit, talking about how supportive the audience has been, how their books are doing better now, how they're getting more traffic on their websites.

It's really cool that being featured on Creepcast has become a thing that a lot of authors are looking forward to instead of dreading.

And that's all thanks to your guys' support.

So it means a lot coming from us and it means a lot to them.

So thank you guys for that.

You guys are an amazing, amazing audience.

We appreciate you and thank you for directing that love to the people that are writing these stories.

In doing so, it does nothing but help keep the horror writing community afloat and happy.

So just know that

just keep giving people love, man.

that's all you can do so without further ado let's get into it man i wrote a letter to myself and i got a response kick us away kick us off dude i've been on my knees trying to scrub up all this blood and the scraps of paper for the last half hour i'm making some progress but it's slow and i keep having to stop when my hands start shaking too much i'm out of my apartment for the moment sitting on the floor in the hallway and i can feel my nerves settling some I'm going to write this out so I'll have it all recorded and also so I can wait a bit before having to go back in.

It started when I was bored yesterday.

The internet was out of my apartment and after casting about for a couple of hours trying to read or do some cleaning, I set up ideas to entertain myself.

That's when I saw the box of stationery on my desk.

My aunt Emma had given me the stationery as a birthday gift the week before and there was nothing inherently wrong with such a gift.

It was a box of high quality paper and envelopes personalized with my initials at the top of the sheets of paper and on the back folds of the envelopes.

As a 20 year old, as a, oh, sorry, as a 70 year old man, I don't know why we said 20, whatever.

As a 70 year old man, I would probably have thought that's

at okay, I don't know why I can't read all of a sudden.

What is the

literacy?

The gift of literacy has been taken from me.

As a 70-year-old man, I would probably have thought they were the cat's pajamas.

But as a 25-year-old man, not so much.

But still, I was very bored.

So I sat down at my desk and started messing around with it first i tried writing as neatly and fancily as i knew how my handwriting is horrible and my best efforts looked like a slow fourth grader as opposed to a slow slower second grader but it was something to do then i doodle a bit but my drawing skills are equally lacking i was feeling myself getting drowsy but then the thought occurred to me of what to do with the stationery I'd write a letter to myself.

It was a stupid idea, but I thought it was kind of funny too.

So I took out a clean sheet of paper and set to work.

Hey, Scott, how are you today?

My day is okay, if kind of boring.

Christine's out of town visiting her parents and the internet's dead.

I have zero ideas of what to do with myself.

This is lame.

Goodbye, sincerely, Scott.

I just want to say right now, I've done, I've done shit like that before.

Oh, yeah.

Like, I'll...

Like, if the power's out or whatever, it's like, well, I guess it's time to set up a calendar for the year, even though I don't use paper calendars.

Yeah, it's like, uh, or even just like writing something to myself in that way.

I do that a lot in my sketchbooks, just like writing some weird thing.

I wouldn't even say it's note-taking.

Sometimes it feels like a direct, like

trying to almost conversate with yourself in some weird way.

I don't know.

I'm just saying I've done.

I'm curious if other people who are listening to this, if they've done something similar in some weird way.

Yeah,

I've done strange stuff like that.

I've left pranks for myself before.

Like, I've been on an old laptop.

What does that even mean?

I've been old on old laptops and stuff like that, and it'll be, I've like found passwords that are like,

or not passwords, it'll be a document that's held like bank account passwords.

And I'm like, why did I have to save?

And I'll click on it and it'll just be like a Word doc that just says like idiot or something like that.

Oh, I see.

I see.

Like in like.

At some point years back, I was like, I'm going to leave a file that just says idiot, but I'm going to title it something important.

Just so years later, I prank myself.

or prank somebody else stumbling upon the computer or something yes but it's always myself it's always me who sure is pranked by my own my own thing so and then you kick your feet and you giggle

yeah and i'm like i'm like sitting on my bed doing this and like my feet are in the air i'm going

wow i'm so funny i'm so creative then you go to the bank and then they're like hello mr idiot you're like huh what

did you're actually your entire account is built on that name

i like call kayla and i'm like sweetie, what's going on?

She's like, I don't know, idiot.

What's happening?

I don't know, you fucking idiot.

What do you think's happening?

Oh,

no!

It's like an end of a Twilight episode or something, Twilight Zone episode or something.

Like Rod Sterling walks in.

Rod Slight.

Idiot in his own world.

Yeah,

a complete and total fucking moron.

Approaches and realizes that he has the dumbest fucking name imaginable.

He's so stupid, he forgot he made his name idiot on it.

Yeah, he's so fucking stupid that idiot fits the name.

Of course, this can only happen in the Twilight Zone.

That would be a great episode, actually.

Only

a man this foolish was tricked by everyone, but one day he decided to trick the only person he could, himself.

It happened here in the Twilight Zone.

It happened here.

In the Twilight Zone.

In the Twilight Zone.

I want to make a video about the Twilight Zone.

It was such a cool series.

Oh, man.

Especially for the time.

It's on.

I think if you have Amazon Prime, the old series is on on there.

And it's like, it holds up so well.

It's such a fun watch, man.

It's really, really fun.

I want to, I was talking to some of

my editors and stuff like that about if we could set up like a little set to look like one of the sets when the Twilight Zone.

And if we could do like black and white and like grainy effects so I could like do a review of the Twilight Zone as Rod Sterling.

You should.

You totally could do that.

Yeah.

And I could just do the voice, the whole video like this.

The entire time.

Imagine a world where you're being called a fucking monkey brain idiot

imagine a world where you're a your tuber and imagine a world where you're a youtuber and everyone hates you he's like well you'll probably meet kenyan a windagoon

two two fucking simple brained idiots mouth breathing assholes who uh he's like what am i even reading what is this

Imagine being so stupid that everyone cries and they hate you.

And I'm like, wow, Rod Sterling.

thanks rode picture

it's almost like it's my life every day

uh where were

the novelty the novelty yeah the novelty of the idea had clearly worn off quickly but i did fold it up and stick it in an envelope at least even going so far as to address the letter to myself standing up from the table with a sigh i lay down and fairly soon i was fast asleep when i woke up it was early evening and the room was only dimly lit by the fading twilight outside.

I reached over and turned on my bedside lamp, blinking blearily at its brightness.

I hated taking naps.

I always felt groggy afterwards and had trouble sleeping later in the night.

Rubbing my eyes, I rolled discontentedly onto my side and began getting up.

When my eyes slid upon my desk, I sat back down.

The envelope of the letter I had written was different now.

It was in a different spot for one, but I could tell from the bed that it was also a different color and looked like it had a small stain in one corner.

Standing up and going to my desk, I looked at the envelope closer before picking it up.

My name and address was still on the front, but hadn't I written it smaller and more sitting than that?

Regardless, the envelope itself was definitely different.

So clearly, I hadn't written this at all.

My next thought was that someone had come into my apartment to either prank me or try and scare me.

The obvious answer was Christine.

It didn't really seem like something she would do, but she was the only other person with a key.

After I did a quick sweep at the apartment for intruders, I texted her.

She swore she was still half a state away and even sent me a picture as proof.

She also seemed worried and asked if I had called the cops, but I wasn't to that point yet.

I needed to look inside the envelope first.

I pried it open carefully and peeked inside, seeing a light blue piece of paper that matched the envelope and was wholly different than the cream-colored paper I'd used earlier in the afternoon.

When I unfolded it, I was surprised to see it really did look like my handwriting, but it wasn't the same letter.

Instead, it seemed to be responding to mine.

Good to hear from you.

I've been watching you when I can for years, and it seems like universes have finally given us a way to talk.

I'm guessing that you have apartment 3B on Nespit Street in Baltimore, right?

And your Uncle Tom gave you the box of stationery for your birthday?

It's so weird.

I guess things have to line up just right.

If this actually works and you're reading this, I know it'll probably come as a shock.

I don't think your side knows about us like we do you, but that's cool.

We could swap stories.

I'll keep it short for now.

I hope to hear from you again soon.

Glory and peace.

Scott.

I read the letter three times.

I really couldn't tell I didn't write it other than the content itself, which was decidedly weird.

Whoever was doing this was either a very good prankster or I had a dedicated stalker that had taken the time to learn my handwriting.

Either way, I was calling their bluff.

Hey man, good to get a response.

So are you like me in some other world?

That's crazy.

Tell me some facts about your world and we can compare.

And if you have some kind of souvenir you can send next time, that'd be awesome.

Looking forward to the next letter.

Put the new letter in an envelope, addressed it, and set it on my desk.

I then took out my tablet, plugged it in, and set the camera to record at an angle where I could see my desk and the door to the bedroom.

Thought about just sitting and waiting, but the idea was too tedious and would make it less likely anyone would come back.

I was assuming this wasn't some kind of one-shot joke or harassment, but time would tell.

Either way, I decided to go grab something to eat and see a movie.

Four hours later, I returned home to another blue letter.

I understand you being skeptical.

Think it's all a joke, right?

Well, here's some info like you asked, and I sent along something that might help convince you.

Our world is a lot like yours, though it's different in some ways.

About 40 years ago, we had a lot of animals started dying off.

Not all of them, of course, but most of the birds, all the dogs, and a few other species here and there.

Still don't know why.

But around that same time, we lost our mirrors.

What I mean is, our mirrors stopped showing our reflections.

A lot of them just went dark, and some of them, where they have twins in your world, will show us your reflections instead.

We knew it was reflections, but because all the writing is backwards, and I could tell from the letters you don't actually write backwards anyhow.

Lol.

But after that, a lot of people started changing.

Getting weird or violent.

It's stabilized some now, but it was really bad when I was younger.

A lot of people died.

Anywho, like I said, things are better now.

Though we do have odd stuff pop up and people go missing some.

Is your world like that?

From what I've seen and what I know of studies people on our side have done observing active mirrors.

It seemed like things are a lot better over there.

If so, I'm kind of jealous.

But in closed, you'll find one of our nickels.

It's got President Robert Kennedy on it.

He was president from 1969 through 1977.

That's kind of funny timing.

What's going on in the world?

I don't know for sure.

I think he's,

I don't know for sure, but I think I read he's one of one of the differences between your place and mine.

Write back soon.

I just want to say this really quick, too.

If that first message came, I would crumble that paper.

I would not give a fuck.

What do you mean?

If I saw somebody write back through, hey, man, I'd be like, okay.

And throw it.

I would assume it was a prank.

You wouldn't be afraid.

You wouldn't be afraid.

Listen, if I got the response, like now at this stage, it would fuck me up.

This is like some Twilight Zone shit.

I'm saying the very first one where I was like, okay,

I would seriously probably disregard it.

But this would be fucking me up.

I would not respond anymore.

Keep the world separate is what I say.

Yeah, the Robert Kennedy thing's funny.

You never got murdered by Sirhan Sirhan.

Sure, dude.

I looked back in the envelope and found a nickel tucked into the corner.

On one side, it had a man's profile with the name Robert F.

Kennedy listed under it.

On the other side is what looked like a large turkey glowing over glowering over a shield bristling with spears and covered with stars and stripes.

Oh, that's funny.

Yeah, so originally the United States bird was

a turkey.

It's going to be a turkey, but then they changed it to the bald eagle.

Yeah, that's funny.

What the...

I don't know.

What's the word?

Frick.

What the frick.

There you go.

Thank you.

It had actually stopped recording over two hours, but it was enough.

At the 42-minute mark, I watched as my cream envelope gave a shudder and disappeared.

30 minutes later, the blue envelope had faded into existence a few inches over on the desk.

I wasn't sure what to do at this point.

I thought about asking Christine for advice, but it would be hard to explain over the phone, and I didn't want her to worry.

I could call the police, but what good would it do?

Even if I showed them the video, they would think it was fake and I was a jackass wasting their time.

I didn't know if I believed everything the letters are saying, but I couldn't deny the evidence was compelling.

And if the guy really was another me, it could wind up being something really great.

Might even become famous for discovering some parallel dimension.

First things first, I needed to write another letter.

Wow, so this is big news, right?

So you're saying you can see us through mirrors.

That's kind of embarrassing.

Can you hear us too or just see us?

Do your people have any theories on how this all happened?

Have other people on your world had this happen where you can talk to people from my world?

Very curious to know more.

This time I watched this My Letter disappeared, only to be replaced with another response a short time later.

Yeah, you've got a lot of questions, I understand.

No, we can't hear you, just see.

And I don't know about anyone actually communicating like this before.

No one knows why the world is changing so much.

When the other thing started appearing last year, people said it was the end of the world.

That we were being judged.

But people are just going crazy, you know.

I don't believe in all that stuff.

Things are changing, and we have to change with it.

Hey, did you say you have a Christine?

Is she a hot blonde girl there, too?

She your girlfriend, I didn't like the tone of the new letter.

It's a funny way.

What the fuck are you talking about?

I mean, that was the way to phrase it.

They've discovered interdimensional communication, and the guy's like, you've got a lot of questions.

It's like, yes, I have a lot of questions.

I get it.

Hey, so is your girlfriend hot?

You fucking that chick that we like?

You got a babe?

I got one too.

You want to have

a switcherooski, if you know what I mean?

Immediately, it makes me think that, yeah, he's going to try to swap out.

Yes.

Oh, yeah, that's where it's going because he's talked about how terrible his world's been.

About how people have gone insane and it's monstrous.

I don't even think it's an alternate him.

I think it's like a demon or something like that lying about being him.

But if it is an alternate version of him, it's going to try to switch places.

Yeah.

I didn't like the tone of the new letter, and I had even more questions questions now, but I wanted to keep him talking, so I tried to respond in a way that would make him happy.

Yeah, she's my girlfriend.

She's great.

We're planning on getting married next year.

Do you have a Christine too?

Tell me more about your world when you can.

My letter shuttered away fairly quickly and I waited for an answer, but none came.

It was getting late, so eventually I went to bed.

Though I would wake up periodically and check the desk.

Around six in the morning, I saw the blue envelope and I jumped out of bed to read the two lines written there.

I did have a Christine, but she was a fucking whore.

I had to punish her.

I hope yours isn't a whore too, Lol.

Okay.

Uh-oh.

All right.

So we're finding it.

All right.

Hold on.

Oh, boy.

Okay.

All right.

We have

our

little red pillar here, huh?

I think we've got a man going his own way.

I believe this does feel like a parallel protagonist here is a bit of a MGTOW red pillar.

A little bit.

Also, there's a lot to unpack.

There's a lot to unpack there.

I did have a Christine, but she was a fucking whore.

I had to punish her.

I hope yours isn't a whore too, lol.

So this is what I'm.

He definitely killed her.

Yeah, well, exactly.

So he definitely killed her, but I read that also, like him saying, like, I hope yours isn't a whore too.

Like, it still, I'm getting that feeling of he's, this motherfucker's plan on swapping.

Yeah, yeah, 100%.

That's where this is going.

He's going to try to swap with him.

He talked about everyone from his world world got super violent and it's getting better now.

It did not.

He is still super violent.

Yeah, well, yeah, definitely.

It is.

Yeah, well, this can only go in good directions, I'm sure.

So I will say, you've,

with the red pill angle, you have piqued my interest.

Oh, that makes you like the story?

No, no, no, not like it, but I'm like, okay.

I didn't know we were going to be dropping some fucking whores here, dude.

Yeah, yeah, just like

hard, hard W.

Have we had a MGTOW story yet?

Incel horror story.

We've made jokes about it.

I don't think it's literally an incel horror story.

I think it's just like everyone's hyper-violent in the world.

Well, yeah, I know.

I'm just saying.

It was just, yeah.

I mean, have we?

Maybe.

I don't know.

I feel like we have.

I feel 100% like we have.

Like, there's no way that I can't.

I don't barely fucking remember any of the things.

I can't remember.

I know, because you hate any time that you spend with me and you can't stand my company or presence.

I understand.

And you're just my friend for the show.

You've made that clear several times off camera that you want to kill me aside from this.

Yep.

Thank you.

Hold on.

Let me look.

Hit on my page.

Maybe we.

I mean, I mean, there's David King.

Yeah, I mean,

I guess David King is probably pretty red-pill-coated, whatever.

It's whatever.

Yeah.

Just keep going.

I want to, I'm, I'm getting, I'm, I'm, I'm hooked in.

You're waking up a little bit, getting a little bit.

I'm waking up.

Yep, let's go.

Enough to make myself simple.

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We are now back to the episode.

I was done.

I didn't know what this was, but I knew it had to be real and it was feeling more and more like it was dangerous.

Throwing the letter down, I started looking around the room.

I saw the small mirror I had hanging on the back of my closet and I yanked it down quickly, hearing it crack as it hit the floor.

I tried to think of any others, and the only ones that came to mind were in the bathroom and the one Christine had hung over a mantle in the living room.

Christine.

I looked at my phone and saw it was almost 7.

She was going to be back in town this morning, probably coming straight here.

I tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail like it was powered off.

I didn't, uh-oh, I didn't have her parents' number, so I had to resort to leaving her a voicemail and text message telling her not to come to my apartment, that I would meet her at hers when she got back.

I debated what to do until she arrived, but ultimately decided I couldn't stand being in the apartment myself, so I left a note on the door saying, Christine, don't go in the apartment, call me instead.

I'll explain to meet you.

And left the building.

For the next few hours, I basically drove a circuit between our two apartments, occasionally parking outside one place or the other.

I was sitting outside her place when I got a call from her phone.

It was her mother.

She said Christine had knocked her phone in the toilet getting ready for bed last night, and they had put it in a bowl of rice to dry out.

Christine left to come back home a few hours ago.

She must have forgotten it.

I felt my mouth go dry.

Her mother was asking what she should do to get Christine the phone, but I told her I'd have to call her back and hung up.

Based on when she left, she should have been back at least an hour at that point.

I knew she wasn't at her apartment, so I sped back over to mine.

Saw her car parked down the street from the place, and my head started pounding.

Running up the stairs, I reached my door and saw the note I had left was gone.

In its place was a blue sheet of nice stationery bearing a drawing of a red ink cart and the words, Come on in, in my handwriting.

Oh no.

I started yelling her name as I fumbled the door open, but as I entered, I could tell she wasn't there.

The apartment felt empty and lifeless.

I ran to the bedroom, stumbling to a stop at the doorway.

My mind had difficulty making sense of what it was seeing at first.

On the wall next to my desk, there were strips of paper plastered to the wall and making the outline of a small door about three feet tall.

The strip seemed to be some combination of blue and cream paper, speckled here and there with spots of crimson and soggy near the baseboard, where there were partially bloody handprints on both sides, as though someone had been trying to hold on.

Oh, god,

being getting pulled through the hole in the wall or where the door would be.

Yeah, leading away from the paper door, the floor was covered with more blood.

And as I looked closer, I could see several thick runnels in the wood that I thought at first were scrapes or cuts of some kind by something heavy being drug.

But then I saw one of Christine's bloody fingernails tore off at the nailbed and ragged, jutting out of one of the grooves she had raked into the floor in her fight to get away.

God damn.

Good lord.

Rough.

Take what this is just, this hit the gas.

Good God.

I collapsed to the floor and began crying.

After a few minutes, I pulled myself together enough to look around the room for any other clues or some means of helping her.

That's when I saw the blue envelope on the desk.

You were right.

She's a hot one.

Better than mine, even.

But I can tell she has those same slutting ways.

Oh my gosh.

What did I tell you?

I said incel horriville.

Oh.

You were right.

She's a hot one.

Better than mine even.

But I can tell she has those same slutting ways.

It's in the eyes.

But don't you worry.

She'll find less tolerance for that over here.

And I'll be sure to keep her corrected.

Don't bother trying to come across either, bud.

I figured out how to do it, but I'm gonna have to keep it close to my v close to my vest.

I have to apologize for not being completely honest before.

Things are worse here than I let on.

Maybe this Christine can keep me happy and satisfied with my life, but who's to say?

Like I told you, some people are really losing it over here.

Might be I have to come visiting again sometime.

More permanently.

Till then, glory and peace.

Or as you would say, sincerely, Scott.

Oh no.

Every implication is horrible.

The implications are heavy.

It's pretty rough, dude.

That's uncomfy.

As I'm finishing writing this, I dread going back into that room.

I know I have no way of getting her back, and I know I can have her blood being found in my apartment.

Even without hard evidence, there will be questions when she's reported missing.

But all of that is in the background at the moment.

I can't shake the feeling of being watched.

I look around and see no one, but then I notice the dingy brass door of the elevator across the hall from where I'm sitting.

The reflection there is dark and distorted, but I can still see myself in it, or at least a version of myself.

It looks like me, but I can tell that it isn't, because that version of me is laughing.

That is the end of part one.

Little part five series.

I will say, ramped up.

That is

a little bit of rough pumpkins, I'll be honest.

We're, you know, getting a little in there.

I will say, say, I think it's interesting, the idea of

parallel worlds.

You know what it kind of reminds me of is that VHS short where the guy opens that portal between worlds.

I was thinking the same thing.

Yeah.

And he goes over there and it's like

demon worshiping.

Yeah.

And like they're like genitalia or like monsters or whatever.

Yeah.

You know, I still like this idea of contacting your parallel live self and he's able to interact in your world.

It's just, it's going to set up a lot of kooky moments, but this idea too, immediately that his girlfriend got dragged off like that.

I mean,

we don't know for a fact, but we have to assume she's probably, probably dead, right?

Or no?

Uh, no, he still got her.

That's why he said, like, we'll see if this one can keep me satisfied.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

So, we're, yeah, we're going into uh, yeah, little oopsie-daisy territory.

Yeah, that's such a funny way to describe what's happening to her.

Yeah, it's a oopsie.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, my read on it was an oopsie daisy

i thought she was dead oh oh i see what you're saying oh no no no that's i mean she may wish she was dead but that's not what's happening well that's what i'm saying i picked a big bouquet of oopsie daisies is what i did and i'm sorry i see i see i see what you're saying i got let's uh let's just keep it rolling though into part two here part two oh boy

scott i know you're a good guy at heart I know that because, well, you're me.

And despite my flaws, I like to think I'm a good guy, too.

I understand that your world's different than mine, and that has to have affected you a lot.

Who's to say what you would be doing, who you would be as a person, if you had grown up like I did?

My point is, I don't blame you for anything.

I just need you to listen to me.

I spent a lot of time with my dad growing up.

I don't know if that was true for you or what your version of dad was even like, but mine was great.

He was always there for me, and not just out of some sense of parental duty, but because he really loved me and wanted me to succeed in life.

One thing we did a lot was go hunting.

Sometimes for wild pig or rabbit, but mostly deer.

I remember the first time I killed a deer.

It wasn't a clean shot.

We had to track it over a mile before finding it dead in some underbrush at the edge of an empty field.

Father took out his knife to show me how to field dress it, but before he handed it to me, he stopped, put his hand on my shoulder.

We never kill things or hurt things unless it's necessary for your survival or some greater good.

The deer is clean.

Healthy meat that will feed us and your mom for several weeks.

Us being willing or able to kill this deer doesn't make its life unimportant.

It just means that we have value ourselves above others while still trying to live a good and virtuous life.

You understand?

I said that I did, and I was being honest at the time, but of course that was the understanding of a child.

The world has taught me to more fully appreciate the importance of his words now.

How do we also not know that this isn't bad, Scott?

Or evil Scott?

Because it's in the italics from what the story said so far.

Yeah, but he could just change it over, though.

You know what what I mean?

I mean, he could, but I'm assuming they're not breaking that rule yet.

Okay.

This sounds to me like R.

Scott is desperate.

And because I mean, he's trying to make it to the other world.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

He's trying to get Christine back, and he doesn't know how else to do it other than plead.

He's begging here.

Yeah, he's on his knees begging for sure.

Yeah.

My father would also tell me stories about his own childhood.

My favorites were always about the dog he had growing up, named Rex.

Hunting dogs.

Does that remind you of anything, Cunner?

That tell you of anything?

I close my eyes

only for a moment, and the moment's gone.

My dog is dust in the wind.

My little pupper is still dust in the wind.

Every time I open up the subreddit, it's still just posed of like wheelchairs with machine guns mounted to it.

Yeah, dude.

Yeah.

You big-lipped son of a a bitch, you're ruining my life.

You're welcome.

You couldn't get out if you wanted to.

You know that you saw you're sounding very much like an evil Scott right now.

Yeah, well, look, you're my Christine.

Hopefully, you can satisfy me in this life.

Jesus!

Come on, man!

I can't even wear the leather dress.

You're the one who's not even wearing the leather dress.

I can't.

I close my

house

only for a moment then the moment's gone

my asshole is dust

how's that pleather feel christine

it feels good daddy

yeah i know i know we're cutting we're cutting all that uncle uncle uncle uncle uncle we're cutting we're cutting we're cutting all that my father would also tell me stories about his own childhood my favorites were always about the dog he had growing up named rex Dad had gotten him when he was eight, and he loved that dog more than anything.

They really were best friends, I think.

They would play together, explore the forests around the farm where my dad grew up, and were generally inseparable as much as life allowed.

When dad got old enough to drive, Rex would ride everywhere with him.

He was big for a dog, apparently, so he could easily sit in the seats and stick his head out the window to catch smells as they drove to town or out to go camping.

My version of our father never went to college, but he was a smart smart man and a hard worker.

He opened up a little hardware store at 19, and within a couple of years, he had bought a house and was saving up ring money for that girl that is our mother.

One night, as he was closing up shop, he heard Rex start growling.

He turned to see where the dog was and found him at the back door, tackles raised and teeth bared.

At first, my father thought it was a raccoon or another dog, maybe.

Grabbed Rex by the collar and opened the door to look out.

It was dark and he couldn't see much, but suddenly he was knocked down and being attacked.

He would never say by what, although I've always suspected that was more to keep from scaring me too much than because he didn't know.

Rex broke free of his grasp and charged the thing, whatever it was.

He snapped, snarled, bit, clawed, and after a moment, my father was free of it.

He was preoccupied by Rex, who was fighting it for everything he was worth.

He was an older dog now, but no one was going to mess with our dad.

Rex drove the thing off into the woods, but he was hurt badly.

Too Too badly to make it, in fact.

My father held him crying as he died.

The first time dad told me that story, I was 15.

I was horrified.

I've been hearing stories about Rex for years.

I loved Rex, but like, I knew him, even though he died well before I was born.

Truth be told, Rex wouldn't have lived that much longer anyway.

But still, it was so sad.

Said there crying my eyes out, and I remember my father started crying too.

It was one of those few times I ever saw him cry.

Reached over and hugged me before explaining why he was telling me the story in the first place.

Scott, this world is a hard place, and it's going to get harder.

Rex and me,

we loved each other with everything we had, and he sacrificed himself to save me.

That's the lesson.

If you're going to live a life worth living, you can't be afraid to make sacrifices.

Whether it's something that's important to you or someone else, sometimes the cost has to be paid, and you have to be willing to pay it.

Being too afraid or too weak to do what needs to be done is a greater sin than trying and failing or making the wrong choice.

Always remember that.

And I have, Scott.

I've tried to make the best decisions of my life.

And all things considered, things have turned out well for me.

For instance, I remember the first time I saw our Christine.

I felt such a strong surge of excitement and anticipation that I didn't even know what to say to her.

And later, when we made

into

okay, when we made love for the first time, i remember she cried

okay what what what what what the what the hell are we doing here

she cried bro you're honestly same same

that's me too that's me that's me too man i feel you that's it that's just what's like 58 minutes of me crying you know talking about um you know how i'm sorry how i'm scared and stuff like that that's typically how it goes yeah she cried if i'm honest i cried a little too

What?

Oh, oh, you're right.

Bear trap.

Oh, my gosh.

Okay.

Fucking bear trap.

How do I go?

How do I fucking bear it?

Okay, you know what?

You know what?

You know what?

This one time, that was a bear, and you caught it in your trap.

That was.

I just don't even.

That was a let.

Did you look ahead?

No, I didn't.

Did you like scroll to the end?

No, I swear.

That was a Hell Mary pass.

That was fucking insane.

Fade away

three-pointer buzzer beater, dude.

That's what that was.

That was actually ridiculous.

That was actually, that, that, okay, good job.

Wow.

Okay.

So I was like, why?

She cried?

Why would you even mention that?

I cried a little too.

And then the next sentence, and I think I was too hard on her initially, Scott.

I thought she was a whore like the old Christine.

God, this is living this.

This story is brutal, by the way.

This is.

This is rough.

This is rough.

But yeah, you're right.

The entire time it's been bad, Scott.

It's been evil, Scott, writing this.

Man,

I'm honestly so upset that you were right that it's hard for me to continue.

That you were that right about something that, about something I set you down and was like, no, no, Hunter, that's not what's happening.

Well, I was just sitting there and I was like, at what point, even like right now, when he's writing notes and stuff, we've established that the guy can change it.

Evil Scott could change it, right?

So I was like, well, what's the difference between that and him typing?

i i just figured at some point it would happen but i at part two i was kind of in the same boat as you though where i was like maybe it's too early but that's a that's a great twist because it's great because it reads like it's him pleading but really it's like yeah that's what it sounded like it's an earnest way of yeah

It's an earnest way to be like, I only take life that I need to.

Yeah.

Like him, yeah, yeah.

I think I was too hard on her initially, Scott.

I thought she was a whore like the old Christine, but I think living in a softer, kinder world kept her from developing some of those rough edges that I was trying to wear down on the old Christine.

She's still got a slut look about.

Oh my gosh.

Good fucking

lord.

Good fucking lord.

I need to call my wife and tell her I love her.

Still got a look about her face at times, so she bears watching.

But I do think she can be rehabilitated if you are firm with her.

Okay.

All right.

You know what?

You've had a couple.

You've had some dubs here between the red pill fucking.

I told you.

I'm like,

it's a red pillar fucking.

I'm telling you.

That's become more true as the stories go on.

Wow.

Oh, dude.

Okay.

I want to apologize.

Go ahead.

Well, I want the fucking evil Scott.

I want our regular Scott to man the fuck up at Doctor Strange a doorway and get this motherfucker.

That's what I want.

Come on.

That'd be so funny if he's about to kill, if like Bad Scott's about to kill Christine and he's like, any last words?

And then a Doctor Strange portal appears like our Scott was.

I would apologize to you too, Scott.

When I came back and took you by surprise, and you're...

What?

Okay.

Okay, sure.

Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Took you is in kidnapped.

That's what it because if you go to the end of the day, he means kidnapped.

Yeah, okay.

He means kidnapped.

Yeah, yeah.

That's what it means.

I was about to be like, God,

I was going to be like, people are going to fucking are going to be pissed that we're writing.

They're going to lose their minds.

Like, goddamn, dude.

Tommy Taffy, Tommy Taffy, you can pretend there's a wrestling match happening, but I'll tell you what.

Evil Scott's not being so generous by going to the next room.

That motherfucker is coming in.

Tommy Taffy had the decency of shutting the door.

Good God.

Watch out, watch out, watch out.

Watch out, out, watch out, watch out.

Oh, we haven't talked about it on the podcast yet, but yeah, that's being made into a film.

Yeah, yeah.

Well, I was going to say we should, whenever it comes out, we should watch it and talk about it for sure.

Yeah, 100%.

Yeah.

I want to apologize to you too, Scott.

When I came back and kidnapped you by surprise in your bed, well, I'll be honest.

I was disappointed.

I expected more of a fight.

But you were half asleep, just like our Christine.

You've had the luxury of a softer life than I've had.

I don't think less of you because you couldn't stop me from forcing you through the door.

I also want to say I'm sorry because I know from your perspective, I may seem like a bad guy.

I took your girl and then you from this cushy life and pushed you into a world that, well, from your point of view, might seem a bit like hell.

I want you to know I didn't do that out of some ill will towards you or even Christine.

But I had to get out of there.

And sacrifices had to be made.

And those sacrifices are valued by me, Scott.

It's important that you know that.

Don't worry about trying to get back either.

I know from the peaks I've managed to get in the last couple of weeks that you were trying, and you had figured out that combining our two papers was a part of it, but you won't get the rest.

And I made sure to not leave any of your letters or envelopes on my side anyway.

This letter and envelope will be the only paper from your old world you will have.

Trust me, it isn't enough.

I don't say this to trick or discourage you, but because I don't want you wasting time and energy chasing some impossible goal when you should be focused, getting your feet under you and making a new life.

I really hope you two crazy kids make a go of it over there.

LOL, who's to say?

You might be better at that life than I ever was.

As for me, I just got back from walking in the park across from your...

I mean, my apartment.

It seemed like I could hear birds singing everywhere and I saw a woman walking a dog.

Can you believe it?

A real live dog.

Fuck this guy.

That's that's cool.

I know this world isn't perfect.

I can already see a lot of impurity and corruption.

Maybe I can help correct some of that in time.

But for now, I'm just going to enjoy my new life.

I won't be riding you again, I'm afraid, but I'll think of you often.

I'm going this afternoon to buy a puppy.

I name it after you, but well, that'd be weird.

LOL.

Have a good life.

Sincerely, Scott.

End of part two.

So wait,

that was cool.

I like this.

Let me ask you this.

Did he kidnap both his own, like,

because

new Christine and new Scott, or basically good Scott, good Christine, or however you want to look at it, just to make it easier to say,

so that he could cover up his murder in the other world?

Or do you think murder is like not a huge issue in that universe?

Murder's not a huge issue because he said, while describing his dad, he said something attacked him, and my dad never told me what.

And then there at the end, he says, can you believe it?

A real live dog, implying in the other universe, dogs are gone.

Like some cataclysmic events happened uh so i don't think murder would be that big of a deal i think it was because uh both other scott and christine were probably the only two people who would see through his illusion right like if you if someone wanted to replace you who looked exactly like you hunter they would have to probably replace you and your wife right because your wife could tell

Yeah, I mean, realistically, in your scenario, they'd also have to replace

Harry and Nick, too.

You'd have to replace your family and stuff.

I'm wondering

if you faked it enough.

I feel like you could, someone could probably trick your parents as an adult once you've moved out of the house.

That's probably true.

Yeah, I just didn't know.

I didn't know if it was something where it's like, oh, here, to cover my tracks and this murder I did.

Here's these things.

Well, he just made, yeah, I don't know.

It's odd.

It's weird to me that he would

have been dialed in this episode, so maybe that's what's going to happen.

Well, I don't know.

All I'm saying is that I thought the whole idea would be he's like,

Yeah, my Christine sucked.

Yours is better.

And he was going to basically be like, okay, I'm going to steal your life and i'm going to like date this new christine and like this world they love that's where i thought it was going so that that's why i'm kind of confused of like well why the fuck would he so i mean maybe the more will be offered in obviously but i also didn't know if he's like hey i feel bad for taking you from your world but here

you could have your girlfriend with you or at least this like that way if if it was a crime then it's like well at least people won't be looking for you people won't think that you murdered her because she still is here etc but that would make a problem for him in his actual world because now now evil scott Scott has to deal basically with her parents, who we've already established, are like, hey, she dropped her phone.

You know, did she make it over to your house?

Okay, all that kind of stuff.

So, I don't know.

Part three.

Let's just, let's keep going.

Part three.

I'm enjoying this so far.

This is pretty unique.

It's a fun take on parallel universes for sure.

I like the idea, too, of notes, like notes being doorways, basically.

Yeah, yeah, they're like riding back and forth to each other.

And it's like,

do you still like the mirror idea?

I feel like I could do it without the mirror um i mean it was fine in the first part but i think we've gone beyond it now i think uh i think the mirror thing was being used as a setup to get us that payback or to get us the payoff of seeing himself laughing in the mirror but yeah even then if that's all it does we could do without it yeah yeah well i even just i understand the idea too of like your reflection is like reflecting into another world all that kind of stuff yeah i think that's it's fine or whatever but i do like the idea of creating like almost a

how would you say that It's not like it's probably like an incantation or something, but like writing on a paper to yourself

can

be summoning, like a ritual, yeah, like a summoning or a rich, a ritual.

There you go, like a ritual, you know, that you would never even think to do.

It's like anybody can do it, but who who's gonna write a letter to themselves?

Nobody would do that, yeah.

Yeah, like it's a gateway that's always there for everyone, but just no one's done that, right?

Do you think in this pair in this universe when people do that, people who have diaries, do you think that they

connect in that way?

No, because it's not addressed.

Because he made a big deal about the address and everything, right?

Yeah.

Yeah, I bet that may be the deciding factor.

Because otherwise, then yes, anyone with a diary would have, this would have happened too.

The twist of that part was really nice, though.

That was great.

That was very well done.

That honestly elevated the story several levels for me.

Like the turnabout.

If you hadn't predicted it, I would be much more excited about it.

Because you predicted it.

I have to be honest.

Yeah, I mean, I don't know.

It's just for people who don't know, when we're reading this, in the first part, it's just italicized when we're talking about our protagonist, Normal Scott.

And then it's bold letters when it's referring to Evil Scott.

But in this one, it was basically all italicized.

So it immediately reads like a letter, like just a super long plea for, hey, please open this fucking door and give me back my girlfriend or whatever.

But that's how I just, you know, even reading, like, that's just the great thing about this, like,

um, writing format is being, even being able to trick the audience in that way, you know, because

that's, you know, I mean, now if you look at the formatting as italicized as our world and bold as their world, then it's like, of course, you would be italicized, you know, like that kind of vibe.

Yeah.

I woke to ashes fluttering down onto my face like sullen snowflakes, covering my skin in a hundred gray kisses of burned-down yesterday.

I coughed as I sat up, pulling in another spasmodic breath as I wiped at my eyes.

The ashes had caked there because I had apparently been crying in my unconsciousness.

My hands came away black and running as my eyes began to water again.

And blinking through the smut and the tears, I could see the flakes falling down on me through a hole in the roof, or rather the ceiling, because Scott's apartment wasn't on the top floor.

Yet looking around, it was Scott's apartment, or a very close approximation of it.

I was far more run down and dirty, and some of the decorations were different, but the layout and the general appearance was similar.

My head was still drifting through a fog so thick I could scarcely tell I was even in a fog, but I was starting to remember myself and Scott, parts of what had happened.

I looked up again and remembered that there should be at least three floors above this one, and at the edges of the hole in the ceiling I could see parts of those ruined rooms hiding in the shadows up there.

It seemed that the top part of the building had been destroyed somehow at some point in the past, and through the hole that was left behind, I could see the ashes, and beyond that, the stars.

I came back to myself as I remembered Scott attacking me.

Well, not Scott, but someone that looked like him.

A lot.

Like some older, crazy twin brother.

He had dragged me into Scott's bedroom, and I had seen the floor and wall were covered in blood.

He dipped his finger in the blood and traced the outline of a rectangle inside the perimeter of a strange collage of colored paper pasted to the wall.

I had felt amazement push through my terror as I saw a crack appear in the wall where his finger had traced and at his touch, it swung open as a door.

I had known then what was coming next, however insane or impossible all of this was.

I fought harder to get away, but he was bigger and stronger.

And when he slammed my head against the floor the second time, I couldn't fight the darkness that rose up around me any longer.

I felt the back of my head at the memory and gasped at the pain as my hand found a clotting wound in my sweaty tangle of hair.

I started looking around again and I could see I was in the living room of this place that is like Scott's apartment, but not.

My brain had been screaming a thousand things that are wrong since I first woke up, but I could only process a few at a time.

Just as I realized that not Scott was coming back from the bedroom, my hand found its way up to my throat and the dog collar there.

Oh, oh, oh, gosh.

Hello, Christine.

His grin was so like Scott's that its familiarity made it all the more ghastly on this man.

I just want to say, I love how he's introduced.

Like, you keep thinking that it's going to be a one thing.

So now we're all from the perspective of Christine.

Yes, yeah, yeah.

That's what this has been.

Yeah, yeah.

I think that's sick.

You don't know who's talking at any given point.

Yeah.

And not in a bad way.

And like a missed.

No, it's great.

Yeah.

Which is great for a parallel where it's like, I don't know who's real or who's the who's who, you know?

Yeah.

Anyway, sorry.

Hello, Christine.

No, no, it uses the medium to play well into itself.

I agree.

Yeah.

His face was thin and his eyes were two bright pieces of glass and sunken pits, glittering with intelligence and ill will.

I could now see that it somehow was Scott, despite the longer hair and the harder, harsher lines on his face.

Just wasn't my Scott.

I didn't know how it was possible.

Once the thought was fixed in my mind, I knew it was true.

Hello.

Where did you take me?

I tried to sound confident, but it was a weak attempt given I was sitting hurt and confused in a dog collar in some bizarre place with some bizarre version of Scott.

His smile widened.

That's a fair question.

This is my world.

I brought you from yours after hearing good things about you from Scott.

Well, the other Scott.

He raised his hands in a placating gesture.

Look, I know what you're thinking.

I kidnapped you, knocked you out, and brought you to this place.

Hell, I put a collar on you.

I guess this all looks really bad, huh?

This guy is such a jerk.

I know.

He's like just an

awful man.

He crouched down on his haunches next to me.

I brought you here because I miss my old Christine.

See, we were together here, too.

Things didn't work out too well.

I'm not saying it wasn't selfish to take you away, but it was with love in my heart.

And as for this,

he pointed to the dog collar.

I just want to make sure you didn't run out if I wasn't awake or paying attention when you came to.

My world is pretty different from yours, and it's not safe out there a lot the time.

I wouldn't want you getting hurt on my account.

I stared at him, trying to keep any scorn out of my expression.

He was clearly insane, and I didn't want to risk setting him off, especially when I really didn't know what was going on or what this place was like.

That was the key.

I needed as much information as possible, and I needed to see how much latitude I could get before trying to escape.

So you'll take the collar off now?

He chuckled and shook his head.

I can already tell I'm going to like you better.

Sig wistfully, he went on.

No, not yet, honey.

It'll take some time for you to acclimate.

And until you do, I'm afraid you'll be your own worst enemy.

For now, just rest and I'll bring you some food.

Your chain goes far enough for you to reach the bathroom over there, but just remember, do not flush it during nighttime hours, okay?

That's very important.

This building is fairly secure, but the neighborhood has gone to shit lately.

Lots of home evasions at night and they target buildings where they hear noise or see lights.

The blinds keep the the light in pretty well, but the pipes in this old bitch keep a fuss when you flush.

So just save that for the morning, and we should be shiny golden.

The next few days, I do like how, like, even though it's not the focus of the story, there is some attention given to the alternate world.

Like, there's no dogs, there's creeps.

Well, it makes it more compelling, I think.

It does, yeah.

Well, I don't, I don't know if I feel like that's like there's obviously something odd that happened to where all dogs died or something, but it almost just feels like I think it just

animals are wiped out.

yeah it's just it's like just a fucking weird dystopian future or something or parallel yeah it reminds me of uh the road uh

novel it feels like that world that's why i was it almost feels like it's uh

i don't i still don't know if i'm thinking creatures as much as just like you know i mean like fucking homeless gangs or like

new barbaric tribes are forming in cityscapes The next few days were a cycle of sleeping, eating, and trying to figure out the best way to escape and where exactly I would be escaping to.

Last part was primarily facilitated by Not Scott.

He spent hours each day talking to me, seemingly starved for conversation and human contact.

He had some kind of job and depending on something he called occurrence reports, he would be gone working for periods of time most days.

But whenever he was there, he was usually talking to me.

He would tell me stories about himself sometimes, but a lot of his time was spent asking me questions.

What was my childhood like?

What had my life been like before he took me?

What kind of things did I like to do, like to eat, etc?

It was also strange.

He had this aura of discord and violence around him, so palpable, the air fairly vibrated with minutes when he was in the room.

But he was never rough or even rude to me, aside from the obvious of holding me against my will.

It was made stranger because parts of him did remind me of my Scott.

The way his face would light up when he was telling a story, or the way he would look at me sometimes when he didn't know I was looking.

It somehow somehow made it all worse instead of better.

Seeing those glimpses of something I loved being choked to death by whatever sickness had taken root in him.

I tried to find out more about the world I was in from him, and he told me some, but not much.

He said that years ago, before he was born, things had started changing.

A lot of animals had started dying off for no discernible reason, and all at once...

This had led to the partial collapse of a number of ecosystems around the world, which led to disease and famine and death.

According to Not Scott, things stabilized some eventually, but they were never really right again.

Strange things would happen.

People would disappear or go on murder sprees.

Pods of dolphins started killing off large portions of the shark and the whale population in the Pacific.

Then in 1998, over 200,000 people across the globe committed suicide within 10 minutes of each other for no apparent reason.

People called it the awakening now.

Because that was when the world governments and media began admitting that there was an ongoing major problem that they didn't know how to stop it not scott told me with a laugh that it wasn't like the world was ending but sometimes it sure felt like it

after the awakening a lot of fanatics started popping up religious zealots doomsday preppers militant groups itching for a fight he said those groups caused disorder and could be dangerous to be around but mostly they were just scared people looking for an answer For the most part, civilization was still chugging along.

Governments existed.

People went to work.

As time went on, strange became the new normal.

Then people started going insane.

Not the normal scared, I'm going to wear a bulletproof vest to the grocery store, insane, but more the, I'm going to eat the bus driver's face, insane.

He said that actually happened to him when he was riding the Metro one day.

People turning crazy didn't happen a lot at first, but in the last five years, it was building.

There were more random acts of extreme violence.

A teacher chopping up her third grade class.

A little boy stabbing out his father's eyes while he slept.

But there were more subtle versions of it, too.

People would develop strange obsessions or fetishes.

They'd become paranoid or have wild mood swings for no apparent reason.

Not Scott said that most days at work, there would be at least one or two people crying or laughing uncontrollably at random times throughout the day.

I think

he's got a snap to it sometime, right?

Well, he killed Christine, so I'd imagine he already has.

Well, I meant to meant to

our new Christine.

I mean, there's got to be something that is going to, I don't know.

I'm just wondering, yeah, what kind of statistic thing?

Well, because I'm wondering if he's going to lie and be like, you know, oh, she tried freaking out on me and she did this or that.

Or, yeah, she's just like, oh, she was having sex with the other guy and I killed her.

That's what I'm thinking.

Or he thought she was doing that.

He thought that she was sleeping with another guy.

Yeah.

He had tears in his eyes when he told me that last, and I felt my heart breaking a little at what he said next.

I know it's happening to me.

It's happened to me already.

I've done terrible things.

Not just what I've done to you and to your Scott, and I've done much worse than that.

I used to not be like this.

I reached forward and took his hand.

I can't imagine what you've been through.

I'm not saying you can fix everything, but you can make it better.

Let me go back.

You come, you come too.

If this world is what is making you do these bad things, maybe you'll be better away from it.

Not Scott pulled his hand away, his face hardening.

I should have expected this kind of cozening from you.

You're not as different as I'd hoped.

Standing up, he wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands, and as he stared off, his expression hurt and almost embarrassed.

You aren't leaving, and there's no real hope for me either beyond embracing this world as is.

Letting it reshape me so I can survive it.

He looked back down at me.

You best get to accepting your reality too.

It's a hard world and it's gonna get harder.

After that, he talked to me a lot less, though some nights he would sit with me for a while, saying very little but seeming to not want to be alone.

Other Other nights he would seem different, a dark look on his face more akin to when I first saw him upon waking.

Those nights I just tried to stay inconspicuous and small.

He didn't tell me much more about the world outside other than that there were worse problems now than just people going crazy.

And I could hear signs of the chaos outside.

Gunshots, screaming, the orange glow of distant fires were a regular part of life.

I asked about what had happened to the building and he said a television helicopter had crashed into it a couple of years back, taking out most of the top three floors.

It only put the small hole in Not Scott's ceiling and caused minimal structural damage to the rest of the building, so he had stayed.

He grinned and said he negotiated the rent down and decided to look at it like a skylight, and the days moved on.

I need to stress again that after he got me here, he never hurt me.

He was generally kind, in fact.

He didn't threaten me, didn't try to force himself on me, or even come onto me sexually.

And the things we talked about, they seemed harmless.

Combine that with the fact that in a lot of ways, not Scott was Scott, and it made it easier to be taken in.

Looking back on it now, I see that peppered into our conversations were questions that would prompt me to talk about my Scott, to talk about my world.

I told him stories of my parents or my ninth birthday or my college major.

I was giving him information and insight into a place he was desperate to learn more about.

He was smart about it, subtle, but over time, I was handing him everything he wanted.

I let myself forget I wasn't dealing with my Scott, but just afflicted with some strange mental illness.

I was dealing with a stranger.

I remembered that fact when he brought her in, screaming and crying, snot pouring from her nose as he dragged her by the arm across the living room and into the bedroom.

He tried to shut the door back when they entered, but in her flailing, she kicked it and swung back open as he brought the knife down across her stomach.

As blood welled out of the wound, she raised her head and her eyes met mine.

She couldn't have been more than eight years old.

God damn.

Rough.

Oh my gosh.

Nod Scott followed her gaze and saw the door was open.

He looked at me, his face pale and stricken.

I'm sorry you saw this, Christine.

I'm just doing what's necessary to survive.

Tom I left the key to your collar in my closet.

With that, he slammed the door shut.

Muffled the girl's last gurgling scream, but not nearly enough.

I screamed at the door, beckoned him to stop, but I knew it was no use.

It was more just to make myself feel better and to vent my frustration.

For the hundredth time, I strained my collar and tugged at my chain, but he had secured both well.

I finally gave up, my throat hoarse and my body exhausted.

Even amidst my struggling and thrashing about, I had noticed that the bedroom had fallen silent.

As I lay there panting, I strained to hear any sound.

There was nothing for several minutes, then a series of small scuffling noises, followed by the sound of something being drug.

Silence again.

I debated yelling, but I knew it was too late for the girl, so I stayed quiet.

The door suddenly burst open.

I let out a scream.

Scott was standing there, his face and clothes smeared with blood.

He was squinting and seemed unsteady on his feet, but when he saw me, his eyes widened.

Christine?

Well, end of part three.

So that is, so that was leading up to the moment where Not Scott pulled Scott through the portal.

Yeah, now they've switched places, yeah.

And he had to kill that eight-year-old girl because he needs blood to make the portal.

It sounds like,

yeah, he had to like cut her,

he did an excessive amount of blood, I'm guessing, to like actually paint the doorway to paint a door open, yeah, yeah, whoo, this story.

I'm enjoying it, I'm enjoying it.

It is rough, admittedly, but I'm enjoying it.

It's much, much more graphic than I wrote myself a letter.

You know, I did not expect this to be.

I wrote it a shelf a letter, and I got your response.

The eight-year-old had the blood pouring from her podcast, and now I've tracked you.

Yeah, you're going to wear this dog collar, and I'm going to fucking bite my own fingers off i'm so glad it did not go a sexual route because that's a hundred percent what i was expecting when he put on a collar and he's talking about weird fetishes and that it didn't do that so you know what i'm happy

yeah if if the eight-year-olds got to die they got to die but as long as it doesn't become some weird sex thing whatever

uh part four of five we're moving right along Part four, let's go.

Okay, so my assumption is going to be this is back to our Scott when he got pulled to me.

Yeah, I think it's time to be back with regular Scott, or at least I hope it is.

I woke to hands around my throat, choking off my air as I swam out of the black currents of sleep, and opened my eyes to see a face eerily similar to mine staring down at me.

The other Scott was straddling me, bearing down hard as I started trying to flail and get free.

His arms prevented me from getting a good hit in on his head, so I tried punching him in the sides.

He grunted at each impact, but was unmoved.

I tried to make eye contact.

mouth something to him, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

Seemed to be avoiding them, in fact.

Just stared at his hands around my throat, lips skinned back from his teeth and some kind of snarl or grimace below eyes that looked almost sorrowful.

This somehow scared me even worse.

I started fighting back harder, trying to buck him off while slamming an elbow into his arm, hoping to break his grip.

But he was too strong, and I could already feel myself slipping back into the icier waters of unconsciousness.

As I faded out, I had time to worry if my shoes were still on and to hear him say he was sorry.

When I woke next, I was face down on the floor, the left side of my head wet with some kind of viscous liquid.

I wiped at the left eye and then opened them both experimentally.

I was in a version of my bedroom, but I could tell it wasn't mine.

I looked around slowly, my throat aching with every breath as I sat up.

The room was empty and the door was shut, and I had to fight the urge to rush out and search for Christine.

I needed to be smart, take my time, and take everything in.

With revulsion, I noticed my hand was wet with blood from where I had wiped my head.

My entire side was soaked in it, in fact, as was the floor.

Filled a lurch of fear in my stomach, he had killed Christine before he came back across to get me, but I tried to hold it at bay as I studied the rest of the room.

Nothing that noteworthy other than that he had five mirrors hanging in different spots in the room, all of which were dark.

I looked at the corner of the ceiling above the bed and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw no mirror there.

Into the wall, I saw that he had stripped away the paper he used to make the doorway on this side.

I guessed he had replicated it on the other side so it would stay open while he destroyed this side, but aside from the paper, I still had no real idea how it was done.

Given the fresh blood, it seemed likely that was part of it.

Again, I had a thrill of fear for Christine.

This time I couldn't resist it.

Standing up stiffly, I went to the door and yanked it open.

The woman screamed, and as I looked across the dimly lit living room, I saw it was Christine.

She looked terrified, and she was chained to the wall by some kind of collar but she was alive christine she blinked her mouth slowly closing as she took me in after a moment she started to stand her face shifting between fear and hopeful hopefulness scott is that really you i wanted to run to her but i could tell she was freaked out so i approached slowly it's me baby did he hurt you are you okay Her face crumpled as she ran to me, almost knocking me over with the force of her embrace.

Thank God, oh God, oh god, oh god.

I stayed quiet and hugged her back.

After a minute, she pulled back, her expression serious and more composed.

Is he gone?

I nodded.

I think so.

He jumped me when I was asleep and drugged me here.

I was unconscious, but I didn't see any sign of him when I woke up.

He didn't come back out of the room, did he?

She shook her head.

Then he must be over in our world.

The fucker wanted to take my life, and now he has.

I caught myself and smiled sadly at her.

It'll be okay.

We'll figure things out.

I reached out to stroke her hair, but she pulled back.

I'm sorry, Scott.

I'm so happy to see you, but

he looks so much like you, and I've been stuck here for two weeks with him.

It's gonna take me a bit to readjust, that's all.

She took a couple of steps back, her hands holding her elbows as he smiled apologetically at me.

But I'm okay.

I'll be okay.

What about you?

Trying to hide the pain and guilt I felt at her words.

I turned away to take in the living room.

I'm fine.

He choked me out, but I'm okay other than a sore throat.

I glanced back at her.

I'm so sorry for this.

I know this is all insane and out of our control, but it's still a version of me that's doing it.

I wanted to ask about the details of how he may have mistreated her, but I didn't want to make it any harder on her than it already had been.

We could talk about it later when she was ready.

So instead, I added lamely.

I know he's crazy, and I hope you know I'm not anything like him.

Christine reached out and touched my arm.

Hey, I know that.

You're not him, and I know you're not like

I haven't seen it, but from what I can tell and what he's told me about it, this place is really fucked up.

Dangerous fucked up.

He said people are going crazy here, and I think that's part of his problem, too.

She pulled her arm back, her voice trembling slightly.

Do you know how to get us back?

I shook my head as I turned away again, ashamed to look at her any longer.

I've been trying to figure it out ever since you were taken, but I don't know yet.

I communicated with him through that stationary my aunt gave me.

He did the same thing with something an uncle on his side gave him.

That paper, the two combined together, is how he makes the doorways.

But no matter what I do, nothing seems to work.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Christine's face fall with despair.

I pointed into the bedroom and went on.

There's blood in there.

A lot of it.

And there was blood in my bedroom when you were taken too.

I was afraid it was yours, but it wasn't, was it?

She hesitated and then shook her head.

Okay,

that's what I was thinking.

The blood has to be a part of it, then.

Did you see how he did it?

Again, the strange pause, and then she gave a quick nod.

Someone draw the shape of a door and blood inside the paper outline, like you talked about.

Is the paper still there?

She looked past me into the bedroom.

Did you take it when he left?

Finally, I had some good news.

He did, but I have more.

When I realized I might not figure out how to get across on my own, I started hoping he would come back for me.

I took to sleeping with my shoes on every night, and I kept the strips of paper I had saved tucked into the bottoms of them.

If we can figure out how to create the doorway, I have the paper to do it.

Well, that was smart of him.

That's

like, that was incredibly well thought out.

I would have thought that's a good one.

He's like,

the dude's probably going to come at some random time and get me.

He's got the upper game.

I'm going to get Switch because he threatened that.

I need to prepare for it.

Yeah.

Her expression brightened for the first time and she grabbed my hand, pulling me into the bedroom.

Try it.

Maybe it'll work.

I took the strips of paper from my shoes and for the next few minutes we pasted them carefully in an alternating pattern of cream and blue.

As far as I could tell, it was close to exactly how he had them arranged when he took Christine.

Then dipping a pencil eraser in the thickening blood on the floor, I traced the outline as she directed.

I did nothing.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, I tried again.

No change.

Suddenly, Christine pushed past me, her fingers dripping with blood.

She frantically traced and retraced the outline over and over, but to no avail.

Screaming, she punched the wall and fell back in a heap on the floor.

I realized that her hand wasn't covered in the blood from the floor, but was bleeding itself.

What happened?

How did your hand get hurt?

I started to reach out to her, but her dark look stopped me.

I bit it just now.

I thought maybe it needed fresher blood or something, other than that fucking eraser wiping it on the wall.

I don't know.

Not Scott is the only one that did this bullshit.

Not Christine.

She sighed deeply and seemed to regain control.

I'm sorry.

I know this isn't your fault, but we need to figure we need to get out out of here.

A bloody hand touched her collar.

Fuck.

This thing's still on.

You said the key is in the closet.

I can't reach it.

I swallowed and nodded, jumping up to check the closet.

Inside, I found a small assortment of clothes and a couple of pairs of shoes, but the rest of the closet was devoted to books.

They were stacked on a shelf at the top and in neat piles along the closet's walls.

Most of them looked to be fantasy or science fiction, many by authors I had never heard of, few by authors who had never written those particular books in my world.

On On top of the closest bookstack was a key.

After Christine was free, we searched the apartment over for any clues on how to reopen the door.

30 minutes later, we were back in the living room.

Christine staring at the floor forlornly while I tried to figure out something comforting to say.

Look, it'll work out.

We'll figure it out.

But it may take some time.

Her expression didn't change, and I went on.

I need to go out and get some get us some supplies.

Figure out if this place is even anything like he said it was.

Maybe it's not half bad and he's just a crazy liar i knew the unspoken subtext of what i was saying was that hopefully it would be nice because we might be stuck here but i couldn't quite bear to say it instead the idea of being marooned in this place just hung between us like some kind of noxious cloud slowly killing the little hope we had left so i was thinking this i realized christine was on her feet you're right Let's go and see what this place is even like.

I thought about protesting, asking that she stay at the apartment in case the outside world was dangerous, but I could tell she was determined to go and it would be good if there were two of us.

Between us, we managed to find a pair of long kitchen knives and a flashlight along with a light jacket with pockets I could store the items in while we traveled.

Then we were off.

Stepping out of the apartment, the ill repair of the hallway matched the hole in the ceiling of the apartment.

The only thing in sight that looked clean or well-maintained was the elevator, the brass of which carried a mirror-like sheen.

I stopped and looked at the reflection there, but saw nothing.

In her questioning look, I explained my encounter in the hallway to Christine.

She said Not Scott, she called him, had told her some about Mirs, but not a lot.

She asked how I'd been able to see him back in the reflection on the elevator, and I realized I didn't know.

By then, we were pushing out of the downstairs outside door.

When we stepped out, the first thing that struck me was how quiet the city was.

How still.

It was still early, but in our world, there would already be people out of cars and bustling along the narrow lanes of the street that ran in front of the apartment building.

There would be sounds of nature mixed in as well, even if it was just the occasional bird song or dog bark.

Here there were a handful of cars driving down the street, and the people driving them seemed to either be staring straight ahead, so their gazes were welded to the road in front of them, or constantly looking in every direction, seemingly terrified of some surprise attack.

It's hard to say which was the better idea.

We turned to the left and made our way down to what would be a corner grocery store in our world.

Along the way, we passed only a couple of people.

They were both walking determinedly on the far sidewalk.

They shot us wary glances, but that was all.

My attempt at waving hello to the second person was ignored.

At the end of the block, we found that Patterson's grocery store was now Patterson's package shop.

But when we entered, we found that aside from a large volume of alcohol, the place still sold various food and drinks.

Sticking close to each other, we selected a small variety of items and headed towards the front.

Money didn't seem to be an issue for the moment, as Not Scott had left a small stack of bills and a debit card with a pin taped to it sitting on the the kitchen counter.

The bills were red and reminded me of monopoly money, but when I handed the cashier a hundred dollar bill, he took it without complaint and gave me a handful of strange change in return, including another RFK nickel.

On the way out, we were almost run over by a large teenage boy barreling into the store past us.

As he cleared the threshold, he started yelling about how he needed fresh tickets for my mom!

Get them up for her, you cozening fucker.

I propelled Christine out onto the sidewalk, but not before I heard the cashier scream back that the boy's mother had been dead for three years.

We exchanged a look and I debated suggesting we head back to the apartment, but Christine was already opening a bottle of water and cutting across the street.

There was starting to be more traffic now, but the flow of people was still anemic.

I made the comment that this was what the world would be like after some plague in a movie where half the people had been wiped out.

Christine had shot me a glance, her face hard.

I don't know if that's what's far from the truth.

She pointed ahead to Bristow Park, which was actually called the same thing here as well.

Let's go in there and see if there are any people out.

Our version of Bristow Park was always bustling with people in the morning.

On the weekends, it would be families and casual games of football or frisbee, but even the weekday saw a steady stream of joggers, dog walkers, and miscellaneous others.

At first, we thought this version of the park was largely empty, but then Christine heard singing.

The outer paths of the park followed cultivated hedges and trees, curving and winding along the park perimeter with inlets into the more central areas every hundred yards or so.

Even when you start down one of those inner paths, it takes more than a few steps before the large open spaces at the center of the park are revealed.

As we were walking along the outer path, Christine suddenly cut onto one of the inner paths, murmuring that she heard music.

I followed, but at first I heard nothing.

It was only when we were stepping onto the dying grass of the central field that I heard the faint singing or chanting that was coming from the throng of people clustered around the enormous bonfire in the distance.

So I'm no expert in this world, right?

But I would say don't walk towards that.

No, no, sir.

I would say

no thanks.

People here are insane.

They kill others sporadically, and there's a bunch of religious fire.

And then you hear chanting at a bonfire in the park.

Yeah.

It's cool.

Come on, let's go.

It's going to be a great time.

It's a campfire.

Christine was walking towards the group quickly, and after a few more paces, I grabbed her arm and stopped her.

She turned to me, her eyes fierce and her voice low and trembling when she spoke.

What are they doing?

Do you see that?

I had been more focused on Christine as we had drawn near, but as I looked again, I saw exactly what they were doing.

The bonfire was not really a bonfire.

It was a 20-foot metal frame in the shape of an X, the lower half squatter and much thicker than the top.

Inside the frame, wood had been carefully inserted throughout and set ablaze.

That was all very strange, but I only noted it in a perfunctory way as I watched the man catching fire.

The man had been stripped naked and chained at each wrist,

the lengthy metal bindings trailing off into the crowd on each side of the burning X.

The man was in the middle between the burning effigy's legs, the top of the white hot metal only inches from his head.

The air around him shimmered with the heat, his skin blackening and peeling off as he was jerked back and forth from one side of the X to the other at the whims of the crowd pulling the chains.

We were still 50 yards away, but when a breeze shifted direction, I could smell the pungently sweet smell of his flesh cooking even as I heard him scream.

I was about to start pulling Christine away when I stopped, my skin growing cold.

The man wasn't screaming, he was laughing.

Man,

goddamn.

What a crazy visual.

It's a guy being burnt on a giant X, but the crowd gets to pull him from one side to the other.

Christine's been here for two weeks.

How do we know she's not going to start getting all fucking?

That's what I had that thought.

I had that thought.

My other thought was that

maybe at some point, maybe this isn't his Christine.

This could be other Christine, and she could not be dead.

But I don't trust Christine fully.

Yeah, I don't know.

That's what I'm...

Because he still has not even seen his own Christine in the real world.

Like, I don't know.

There's a lot going on.

There's a bunch of...

There's a bunch of unknowns going on, yeah.

This world's insane, though.

Like, just...

A few people walking around.

There's like a public burning in the bar.

You know, shit.

I tugged weakly at Christine, and she glanced at me.

Her eyes went wide.

We began to back away slowly, and I was terrified at any moment we would be noticed.

But the crowd was transfixed, and even when the man stopped laughing and slumped forward, kept him aloft and dancing like some kind of a cob tug-of-war.

We edged our way back to the perimeter of the field.

In my last look, before we headed back to the path and out of the park, I saw the cooked meat of the man begin to pull apart as the mob ripped him in two.

I swear I could hear the wet gasping of his skin as it ruptured.

The greasy crackle of his weaker bones as they flexed and snapped.

But it seemed impossible at such a distance.

Real or imagine, I had to stop and vomit on the path.

Christine patting my back and telling me to please hurry.

Ooh.

That's a great.

I like that.

That's such a brutal description.

That's awesome.

That's fucking gross.

Yeah.

The wet gasping of his skin as it ruptured, the greasy crack of weaker bones.

Ugh.

Like the way you'd imagine like a burnt turkey, like when you pull it up.

Yeah, it's like, you know, like the human, yeah, like a popping open like the water kind of juicing out of it and stuff

yeah yeah uh we exited the park wasted no time returning to the apartment i could feel christine's terror knew my own matched it but i felt no closer to an answer than i had before we didn't talk about what we had seen but christine did take my hand and sit silently with me for a while i could tell we were both starting to slip into shock or some despondent form of madness We had to do something.

Getting up, I started searching the apartment again for anything we might have missed.

That's when I found a cream-colored envelope on the bedroom desk.

I opened it and read it, and read it again, my heart pounding.

I gave it to Christine.

She studied it for a long time before looking up at me.

She was about to speak, but I couldn't hold it any longer and blurted out, Did he rape you?

Well,

gosh, Scott.

But goddamn.

I'm telling you, Lord.

Maybe now's not the time to talk about these things.

So I imagine the cream-colored envelope is the one that we read in part two right

yeah i think so yeah because it hyperlinks to part two yeah yeah yeah okay yeah

so they read that entire one and then he says i opened it read it uh my heart pounding gave it to christine and he's like did he do it

scott's face was worried hurt and scared so i imagine this is now christine yep Scott's face was worried, hurt and scared at all the same time as he asked, and I could feel myself loving him and hating him for asking the question i knew he i do like the this uh position switch and it does it does play pretty well i knew he was concerned for my well-being that he loved me and i knew that he felt guilty because of who had taken me but there was still something so selfish in him asking so childish in him needing to be comforted if i had been raped this is a crazy conversation or even better him hoping i could reassure him that whatever brutalities i'd endured at no not scott's hands weren't as bad as all that so he could start pretending this wasn't his fault because it was his fault.

I saw that now.

Not necessarily because it was an alternative version of him, but because he had talked to Not Scott, responded to him, told him about me.

I was trying not to be angry with him, but I was so hurt and scared.

And we had to get out of this place.

Okay, I think she's starting to slip too.

I think it's a good thing.

I think also you can...

I don't know if it's corrupted.

I think you can be.

I think that's...

I don't think that that's totally.

You think she's like a fitting level of mad?

I it is a fitting level of mad after he asked that question.

Well, it's like, imagine, I mean, because it is, it's a parallel version of you, right?

But imagine like a stranger, you're gassing up your wife to some guy that you've never heard before, and then she gets kids.

It's like she gets kidnapped or whatever.

To me, I'm like, I think that there's also something to about, yeah, I think that it's a selfish play.

I don't think that he's like a horrible person or anything, but I do, I can understand the frustration, I guess, from where she's coming from.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I had already been toying with the idea of lying to Scott after reading Not Scott's letter.

I had no idea why Not Scott had lied about raping me.

Did he say that in the letter?

Was there a line about that?

I don't remember him saying anything like that.

I just remember the crying line.

Remember the crying that suggested it?

Oh, was there a line about that?

Yeah.

Christine, I just want to say I'm sorry.

Yeah, I mean, I assume there is if she's saying, if they're talking about that now, yeah.

I'd already been torn the idea of lying to Scott after reading not Scott's letter.

I had no idea why not Scott had lied about it, whether it was due to his insanity, natural cruelty, or just to make Scott hate him more.

Didn't matter.

If it could drive Scott's guilt and his anger long enough to force him to do what had to be done, it was a blessing.

Oh my gosh.

And if Scott's sad face and worried toe made it easier to tell the lie, so be it.

I could ask for forgiveness when we weren't in hell anymore.

So he didn't do it.

He lied about it.

it.

No, he did.

He didn't.

Yeah, he lied about it, but she's about to lie too.

Yeah.

Okay.

So maybe she is fucking crazy.

Yeah.

Because that's that's insane, right?

That's uh because she's saying, like, it motivates him to get us out of here.

Like, Jesus, staying.

Yeah.

Yeah.

So

we were right.

We were right about that.

Okay.

So she says here, she says, yes, he did.

He started the second day and it got worse as the days went on.

More extreme.

Wow.

Whoa.

i was gonna try and fake tears but i found there was no need after everything after what we had just witnessed tears were going to come easily for some time okay that's okay that this is that's so that's that's insane that is insane to be like i know what will motivate him uh i mean he also shouldn't have asked it but that doesn't justify like whatever I saw Scott's face darken as his fists bawled at his sides.

That's the response I was hoping for.

I waited a moment for him to stew, and then I went on.

Some of that was guesswork on my part, but I had seen enough to make an educated guess.

Scott's eyes widened some, but he still looked hard and determined.

Then that's what we'll do.

I'll find someone and take blood from them.

I winced and he stopped.

What is it?

What's wrong?

I licked my lips.

Ask Ask for forgiveness when you aren't in hell.

Or Scott, I mean, not Scott told me that it had to be from a child and the blood only worked as they were dying.

I didn't want to tell you because it's so horrible.

But I don't think there's any other way to get us.

But I don't think there's any way to get us home.

Okay, yeah, she's totally, she's slipping.

Listen, I think my girl Christine's kind of, I think she's slipping mentally a bit.

Oh,

well, I don't know because she's saying, ask for forgiveness when you aren't in hell.

Because he's like, she's thinking, like, we have have to mimic exactly what Not Scott did.

Yeah, I understand the rationalization, but it's an interesting way to start showing the

deconstruction.

Like the mind evolving, basically.

Whew.

This, too, was a lie, of course, as Not Scott had never told me any such thing, but it made sense.

Leftover blood of the girl hadn't worked, and neither had my own fresh blood.

So we needed to replicate what Not Scott had done as closely as possible, as soon as possible.

I didn't...

We didn't have time for Scott to moralize, trying to think up humane alternatives.

Let the edge his emotions were given him now grow dull with time and equivocation.

No, we

have to get out of here.

I have to make this right and get you out of here.

If I have to do something horrible to do that, that'll be on me.

His eyes were glimmering, but his voice didn't falter.

We'll go find someone right now so we can get done with it.

I reached out and squeezed his hand.

I'll help.

Man.

Man, end of part four, end of part five.

So see, okay, so

we're starting to get the idea of, at least from how I write it, I think me and you are on the same page as Christine is kind of, I think that the, the world is starting to affect her in whatever way.

But even

in some kind of way, there's desperation happening with

Scott.

Where I'm, I, I'm, it's, it's bordering on, it's bordering to me on desperation, but it also is hints of like, is he slowly kind of

getting there too.

Yeah, I can't tell if it's like the world's doing that to them or their desperations doing it and

the world does it to them or what like, yeah,

I'm not sure the specifics, but they're not doing too hot, I would argue

Man, that's rough.

Like, and he said it had to be a little girl.

Whew.

All right, well, I'm ready for part five.

The final part, let's get it.

Final part.

I woke to something licking my face.

Reshadowed my sleep fog and feeling short soft fur i realized that tricksie somehow made it onto the bed so this is now bad scott i'm guessing yeah not scott yeah yeah opening my eyes i saw his happy smushed face as he gave me another lick clearly proud at having gotten up on the bed somehow the girl at the pet store had said he was called a pug and from the moment i saw him i knew he was the weirdest and cutest thing i'd ever seen I'd always been fascinated by dogs growing up, only in part because of dad's stories about Rex, but I had never seen a dog like this in any of the old pictures.

An hour later, I had him home, getting his bed and food ready while he explored the apartment with a manic, bouncy determination.

Ruffling his fur, I pondered trying to go back to sleep, but I knew it was a lost cause.

In the five days since I wrote my last letter to the other Scott, I've been having more and more trouble sleeping.

A lot of guilt for what I had done to him and Christine.

The longer I was out of that place, the more I felt it.

Yeah, I was going to say, because I feel like the more he's in this world, the more less insane and less less violent he's going to feel.

The more human he gets.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Living in that other world, my old world, I had come to feel like I was trapped inside myself.

When I first started noticing the change in myself a couple of years back, I was worried, but also strangely intrigued.

It was like I was standing at the edge of some newly formed cave, and each day I went into it a little deeper and a little more frequently.

Over time, the light from outside didn't penetrate the darkness nearly as well, and I would get lost in the black.

I would blindly traverse jagged rocks as unseen things crept around me, and when I finally found my way back out, I would swear it was the time that I would go near the thing, but then I would go back in.

That's the funny thing about madness.

It makes you feel like you have a choice, like the options you pick are reasonable or justified, and when you look back in horror at what you've done, you feel completely responsible for everything.

And I am.

I'm not trying to make excuses or pawn off all that I've done on whatever corruption is slowly eating that other world.

I earned this guilt, this taint, honestly and through my own works, and I'll carry it with me always.

That's part of why I love Trixie so much.

Aside from him being sweet and cute and generally awesome, he also doesn't know what a despicable piece of shit I really am.

For the thousandth time in the last few days, I look at the wall next to the desk.

I both fear and hope to see a doorway open there most of the time.

I'm terrified of going back, and if they ever made it through, I'm sure that other Scott and Christine would either try to kill me or send me back through.

At first, my response to that that was that I would just kill them if they came back.

Now, I'm not so sure.

Maybe we can all survive in this world.

I can take Trixie and move away somewhere, and in time, they can forget that I even exist.

I know I'm still crazy, but at least now I can recognize it.

I do feel like I'm out of the cave and in the sunlight more every day, and I love this world so much.

I figured out how to work Scott's cell phone after an hour or so on the second day I was here.

Most people don't have cell phones where I come come from because they're so unreliable.

One of the side effects when things started changing for the worse a few years back was that most wireless transmissions stopped working with any regularity.

It's like sunspots or a solar flare, but all of the time.

But I did have a cell phone years ago.

Just not one of these fancy touchscreen things.

I poked around in it until I figured out where the other Scott worked, and then I called in sick.

I needed time to get acclimated, but I also needed money, so the following day I gave a sad Trixie a hug and headed in.

The job was at a company that made greeting cards, oddly enough.

Greeting cards weren't much of a thing anymore where I was from, but apparently Other Scott wrote them for a living.

The first couple of days were rough.

I could tell by the odd looks I got from some of my co-workers that I wasn't producing the same kind of material they were expecting from Scott, so I went through all of his old work to get a feel for it.

Most of it was saccharine and idiotic, but there were some good ideas in there too.

Some of them I felt like I could see Other Scott in, and it made me know him more, see him more as a person rather than just an obstacle.

Or maybe that was just my crazy starting to wear off and my guilt starting to kick in.

Either way, it didn't stop me from loving going to work.

Living in that old world, even when I was deep in the cave, it felt like everyone you met was a high-voltage power line just humming with dark impulses and brimming with potential for violence.

Not everyone was, of course, and I certainly fell into that camp myself, but none of that made the constant tension of daily life any easier to bear.

Here, people aren't always happy or nice, but they are normal.

The way I remember being when I was younger.

Yesterday I just sat at my desk trying to think up a way to say happy birthday.

It wasn't overly off-putting or strange.

I marveled at the sounds around me.

People gossiping, eating doughnuts, talking about what they are doing for their vacation in two weeks or about their daughter's wedding last month.

Even the work-related stuff was done in such a mundane and simple manner that it felt surreal.

Much as I enjoyed though, by the end of that day, I have to get home and be alone.

Being around people too long, even normal people that probably won't suddenly start screaming or trying to kill you, it's hard for me.

I'm not used to that anymore, and I may never be again.

I don't know.

But I already have more in this world than I ever thought I'd have again.

New movies.

I've been spending a lot of time when I'm at home watching movies.

They made movies out of Tolkien's The Red Book of Westmarch trilogy over here.

They called The Lord of the Rings, which is a dumb name, but the movies are great.

It's a great name, Dick.

Hey, watch it.

Don't you talk about Tolkien that way?

Oh, that's fucking Tolkien, man.

My favorite has to be Gollum.

I read, they did him with computer graphics, which is amazing and more advanced than anything I've seen in my world.

I even named Trixie after him, albeit indirectly.

He looks a little bit like a bug-eyed gollum anyway.

He's asleep on my lap as I write this out.

And stupid as this sounds, I think he's part of the reason I'm having so much trouble with what I did.

I loved Little Guy, and it's the first time I've loved something since my Christine.

Just thinking about her, what we did to each other as it got bad.

I will always hate myself for that.

The question is, how much sin do I want to add on top?

How much more do I want to hate myself?

I decided to write this all out as a way of working through all of these thoughts and feelings.

Although as though I was writing it to other Scott, but with no intention of actually sending it.

But I'm coming to realize I should send it to him.

Not just this either, but instructions on how to get back or a message on setting up a time when I can open the door on this side if he's not up to doing it on his.

I better wait to send the extra paper until I know what he wants to do.

I hope I'm not too late for either of them.

And yet, I still hear a voice calling from that deep, dark cave.

That voice says, I have to look out for myself, but they will kill me or force me back if I help them.

I know that I can't trust that voice, but I also can't shake the feeling that it is part of what has kept me alive as my own world turned into some kind of hell.

I need to think about this.

I don't want to lose this life, but I'm not sure it won't be poisoned if I leave them condemned to that terrible place.

Trixie just woke up and wants to go outside.

I think I'm going to take him for a long walk and see about sending a letter.

Now we switch back to our Scott.

Abducting a child isn't as easy as as you might think.

The fucking parallel there is so crazy.

I think I'm going to take my little pugs Trixie on a walk.

I'll talk to you guys later.

My little pug Golem out for a walk.

Man, maybe I'll send this letter.

Getting a kid isn't as easy as thinking, babe.

This is a really fun story.

I'm going to be games for sure.

This is fun.

This is good.

Especially in this place.

There are fewer people for one thing, and everyone is much more guarded, especially with their children.

The first few days me and Christine went out, we only saw a couple of children at all.

We had a plan of only going out for two hours at a time in different directions.

We wanted to make sure that if we saw something like what happened in the park, we could get back to the apartment relatively quickly.

And this way, we were exploring different potential places every time we went.

We saw a number of things in those days.

Much of it was relatively mild, people talking to themselves or arguing loudly acting erratic or strangely twitching and emotional we saw a couple of fights one guy ran out into the street and started stabbing a woman who was just quietly making her way along the crosswalk most troubling thing was very brief and i don't think christine saw it uh speaking of fights that was you i was with in new orleans and we watched a fist fight on the in bourbon street right

Yeah, we uh

No, we were walking out of that restaurant.

It was after the show.

It was after the show, and there were the two guys rolling around in the street on Bourbon Street.

Okay.

Yeah.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Yep.

Yeah, he's like yelling.

Good times.

Fuck, I swear to God, baby.

Yeah, yeah, they were like tussling back and forth.

Yeah, it was.

Well, remember, they, I remember, I could also shout out those guys because they're just like, they came up to me and they're like, dude, I love your videos.

And then, like, I'm not even joking.

We went into the restaurant, and then I like looked out the window.

And yeah, that same guy was the guy, like, rolling on the ground with another dude.

Didn't we go out out after the fight and like after he was talking to the cop and he looks over and he's like, can I get a picture with you?

I don't.

I don't remember all that.

All I know is, all I know is I was just like, well, god damn, dude.

I'm like, these young bucks,

not anymore.

Also, that's just, I'm like, Bourbon Street is just such a

the French quarters, that's just a place.

I'm like,

it has to be its own layer of hell.

I mean, it's just nothing but alcohol and everything.

I don't think we've ever talked about

me getting you stuck there till midnight.

On another time.

If it was a David King kind of story, I would keep it.

I'd love to direct, but I'm so hyped.

All right, let's finish the story.

Let's finish the story.

Yeah.

We were walking south that day, debating if we should push out further than normal in the hopes we could reach a school that was supposed to be a few blocks away.

It's a big risk to take a child from school, particularly when we had to go back all that way on foot with them in tow.

But every day we were getting more desperate.

And the more time we spent here seeing this place, the more the question of should we do it faded away as the question of how we'd do it became more and more pressing.

As we talked, I happened to glance into an alley we were passing.

Saw a woman and a child of about 10 hunched over a man who lay slumped against a dumpster.

At first, I thought they were leaning down checking on him, but then the little boy turned and looked at me with deep-set green eyes, twinkled with madness.

His mouth was covered in blood, bits of flesh, from where they were eating the man.

As my mouth fell open, he smiled at me and licked his lips.

I try not to lose my stride so as not to alert Christine, and the last glimpse I saw was the woman's hand on the boy's shoulder.

May have been my fear or a trick of the shadows, but I swear I saw her hand going into him slowly.

Whoa.

Oh, I swear I saw her hand going into him slowly as though they were running like as though they were running together like pink candle wax.

So it's like they're like morphing into each other.

That's a lot better than what I thought.

I told Christine we should keep going.

Decided in the back of my mind, we should be taking a different route back to the apartment.

Kept looking over my shoulder, but to my relief, I saw no sign we were being followed.

Is that the first uncanny thing?

Is that, or like, I guess, otherworldly thing that we've seen?

That is the second mention because earlier

when he was, when not

Scott was talking about his dad, he said, my dad was attacked by a thing, some presence.

He wasn't sure.

Oh, sure.

Okay, but this is the first time that we've actually had someone be like, I'm seeing it with my own eyes.

Yes, yeah.

There's like some supernatural thing.

Yeah, because there's been hints of stuff, but this is the first time we've actually heard someone be like, oh, this is like bodies morphing together.

Yeah, it's like a supernatural presence has corrupted this world.

Yeah.

It's just kind of rotten over it.

It's giving it the parallels with this in the VHS short.

It's, it's, the parallels are.

You know, yeah, yeah, it actually is

very close.

I'd be so curious to see if that was at all inspired by this.

When was the story written?

This was seven years ago seven years ago and i want to say dhs was more recent right uh

i don't remember that was that was a spanish director right he was spanish yeah something like that yeah it was um

let me see because the show

i remember hearing an interview with or no uh james a genice talked about it on dead meet that um

he said he just used a lot of the satanic imagery because he thought it was cool so it looked creepy he was like no it's not actually satanism i just think it it's it's like an evil aesthetic.

Yeah, Parallel Monsters

is what the short is.

Yeah, I don't know.

I don't know.

It's just, which, you know, very similar.

There's horror visuals and stuff, but still, it was just one of those things.

I keep coming back to it.

Just like the doorway and all that kind of stuff, it is what it is.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

There's supernatural stuff happening.

Yeah.

Yeah.

That was the day our luck changed.

A mile down the road, we found an elementary school.

It already let out for the day, but the next day we were back bright and early.

After watching most of the morning, we had a plan.

Most of the children came in by school bus or were dropped off by parents, but there were a handful that walked there in the morning.

Assuming that was true in the afternoon as well, we would just wait for a small child who was walking alone, preferably a girl, since that's what Not Scott had used, and that would be that.

It was terrible, and I still hated the idea of doing it, but it had to be done.

I had to try and make all of this right, even though I had to do some wrong to do it.

Do some wrong is a very subtle way to describe butchering a child.

Yeah, exactly.

Well, I think that's also, I think I like that.

That's part of it.

That's part of it.

That they're justifying it, yeah.

Exactly.

I like that here of him just being like, you know, sometimes you have to, it's like a fucking, he's like acting like a Robin Hood mummy, you know, steal from the rich or that kind of vibe.

That's it.

You got to clock in.

A justifiable evil that I have to do.

Yeah, yeah.

And I told myself that these children had no real future other than a short life filled with pain and fear.

I couldn't quite convince myself that killing one of them was a mercy, but it did take the edge off my guilt at least.

School let out and it soon became clear who we were following.

While many of the children who were walking had left in pairs or groups, there was one little girl who had headed off on her own immediately, so she couldn't wait to be away from all the laughing and shoving and joking around the rest of the children were doing as they got picked up or struck out on foot.

She was overweight.

with long black hair that was stringy and unkept.

Clothes were clearly old and dirty in spots.

And as she walked, I could see that the soul was starting to separate on the back of one of her red sneakers.

This is so sad, dude.

Just, oh man.

Oh, she looked sad and unloved, and I had to fight the urge to tell Christine that this was a mistake.

But when I looked at her, all I saw was the grim, almost manic determination I had been since we had started this days before.

She was past any mercy or equivocation at this point, and how could I blame her, given all she had been through?

So we followed the child.

Man, this is brutal, like

man, of just a poor, a sad girl.

So we followed the child until she started down a route different than what would lead in the apartment's direction.

At which point we approached her and told her she needed to come with us.

She asked why, and we gave our pre-planned generic response of.

A member of your family has been hurt.

We were told to get you.

We don't have all the details yet.

That's so...

This is so messed up because that's like the classic child predator thing right yeah yeah

every child predator psa is like if a if someone tells you that mommy or daddy got hurt use the code word like you know like uh

it was vague and lame but we hoped it would be enough to at least get her down the road a mile or two before she started asking more questions she seemed to weigh our words considering and i could tell she didn't really believe us for any of a dozen good reasons Still, to my surprise, she just shrugged with a resigned look on her face.

Okay, I'll go.

It occurred to me that children were likely going crazy in this place, just like the adults.

And given what I thought I had seen in the alley, my appreciation for how potentially dangerous this little girl might be was exponentially greater.

But as we walked, she didn't try to attack us or even complain.

She moved along docilely.

And after a couple miles, I began wondering what her life must be like, that she was okay with being abducted.

I pushed the thought away.

The less I thought of her as a person, as a sad little girl, the better.

The trip back was taking longer than expected not because of any problems with her but because we had gotten lost as twilight came on the semi-familiar landmarks became less familiar and somehow in my rerouting we took a wrong turn we made it to the apartment without incident but well after nightfall and the resolutely stoic little girl had started to murmur about being hungry and needing the bathroom When we got upstairs, I shared a look with Christine as I told the girl we'd fix her some dinner after we showed her something in the other room.

Gosh stairs.

God damn, did you make the girl ham sandwich before fucking making your doorway something?

Oh man.

The paper and knife were already set up in the bedroom, so it should go quickly enough.

Then the girl asked again about going to the bathroom.

I relented, telling her to go on, but to make it quick.

She nodded and went with dutiful haste into the hallway bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Christine was giving me a hard look, to which I just shrugged.

It's five minutes.

I think it's the least we can do.

She's just a little girl.

Her gosh, this is brutal.

Her expression softened a little.

Her voice mimicking my hushed tone.

Yeah, I love, I like how her expression softened a little.

I guess she's just like, all right, fine, but the piggy better be quick.

They better, better, look, that little,

that, that little blood bag in there better hurry up.

That little, that little fat fuck better be quick.

Sorry, I'm going crazy in this world.

I know.

I just want it over with.

We have to get back.

I nodded and thought about reaching out to comfort her, but now wasn't the time.

We had to stay focused and get past this.

Then we could work on helping each other get back to normal.

After another minute, the toilet flushed.

Oh, yeah.

Remember, don't flush after dark.

No, you dumb son of a bitch.

Yep.

I totally forgot about that.

I totally forgot about that.

That came back.

That actually came back.

Wow.

Immediately, the pipes began to squeal and rattle with the level of noise that still amazed me after nearly a week of using them.

Christine had warned me about them, about not using them at.

it's after dark

christine's eyes were wide with panic he said to never flush after dark i felt fear fluttering in my chest and tried to ignore it i'm sure it'll be okay what are the odds some roving bands is patrolling outside right now just waiting for a sign of life to break in

well that's a fucking way to go dude

not to roving band patrolling outside

yeah giant hordes of people sprinting in the building right now i am legend shit whatever happens it's more people for the Metal Cross.

Still, I could feel my heart racing, and I was about to hammer on the bathroom door when the girl came out looking confused at our excitement.

Grabbed her arm and pulled her.

You're definitely getting butchered for this.

Yeah, exactly.

You fat little son of a bitch.

She's like, I did it.

No.

I grabbed her arm, pulled her across into the bedroom.

She was still quiet, but she was starting to physically resist now.

Fortunately, Christine was there and grabbed her from behind, wrapping her arms around the girl's chest.

I've got her!

Give it!

Hurry!

I let go of the girl's arm and looked into Christine's face.

She looked 10 years older and like a different person than the woman I knew and loved.

Her easy smile and bright, intelligent eyes had been replaced with a grim slash in dull stones that bored into me as she waited for me to grab the knife.

I picked it up and had time to think about how heavy it felt, how wrong it felt in my hand.

Next moment, there was a crash that sounded like it was coming from the front door of the apartment as someone tried to bash their way in.

Christine's eyes widened as her grip on the child tightened.

Do it now, fucker!

You fucking do it now before they're on top of us!

Being careful to avoid the child's face, I moved my gaze down to the knife.

Taking a deep breath, I shoved it into the girl's stomach.

Oh, goddamn.

Come on, not Scott.

Or Scott, regular Scott.

Even then, she didn't complain other than to make an whoop sound.

She'd been punched in the gut.

I was starting to cry, but the splintering sound of the front front door finally gave way, spurred me on.

Put my fingers in the blood pouring from the knife wound, turned to trace the rectangle inside the paper door.

Immediately a crack appeared, and at my touch, the door swung open.

Wow, so it fucking worked.

It worked.

I shuffled away and told Christine to go through, seeing two men and one woman coming into the living room and looking at me across the distance.

I jumped and slammed the bedroom door shut, twisting the lock, but knowing the door would only hold for seconds.

Turning back, I saw the last of Christine disappear through the door and I dove behind her, scrabbling through and back into my world.

The first thing I noticed when I passed through was barking.

I looked up to see Christine standing nearby, the knife we had used on the girl in her hand.

Standing a few feet away at the doorway to the room was Not Scott, and bizarrely, it looked like he was holding a small pug puppy that was furiously barking at us.

Get back, motherfucker!

Christine growled at him.

Not Scott was about to say something in response, but then I was getting pulled back through the door.

Rough hands had me, pulling at my clothes and yanking me away from my way home.

I looked up and saw strange faces with small symbols tattooed between the eyebrows of all three of them.

They didn't seem angry or even upset as they began to punch and kick me.

Instead, they were placidly calm, almost bored-looking, as though what they were doing was just part of their daily routine.

Most likely it was.

I tried to ball up, but I was hurting badly already, and protecting my stomach only exposed my back more.

I closed my eyes tight.

I knew I was going to die here, beaten to death by strangers in a strange world, but one of them started screaming.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Not Scott pulling the knife Christine had been holding out of one of the man's eyes.

As the man began to fall, the woman left off kicking me to jump on Not Scott's back with a furious howl.

He pushed backwards, slamming her into the wall and jaming the knife back and into her side.

Her howl turned into a yell of pain.

As he yanked the knife free, he twisted around to drive it home into her neck with a wet, popping sound that made me wince.

I realized that the other man had run out during this and I was going to say so to Not Scott, but he was busy looking at the tattoo on the woman's face.

Fuck.

Okay, you have to get out of here.

Get back to the door.

I'm gonna destroy it as soon as you go and then try to catch that fucker and his buddies.

I was so confused, but I suddenly felt sure I shouldn't be leaving Not Scott here despite everything he had done.

Why don't you come back with us?

You can pay for your crimes there.

He stared at me for a moment and shook his head.

Thank

They're part of one of the big cults that has sprung up in the last few years.

Call themselves the House of the Claw.

If they figure out how to make a door,

there's nothing stopping them and God knows what else from pouring into your world.

They always run in packs of four or five, so I have to try and get the rest of them now.

But thank you for offering.

And please take care of my puppy.

His name is Trixie, and he's a very good boy.

I could see he was crying, but I knew we didn't like it when people commented on us crying, so I left it alone.

I promise, Scott,

if you get them and.

I almost said survive, but I couldn't make myself say the word.

You want to come over?

Use one of those scraps and send me a note.

I'll send you more paper to make a door.

I left out the unspoken step of him having to kill another child, but I saw in his eyes he was thinking it.

He shook his head.

Don't worry about that.

We have to be willing to make sacrifices for what matters.

I understand that better now.

Just go.

Have a good life, both of you.

And I'm sorry.

I nodded and rolled back onto my stomach, crawling as quickly as my pain would allow.

As soon as my feet had cleared the other side, the door was gone.

I looked up to see Christine holding the shaking puppy, who looked at me for a moment before starting back to barking frantically and squirming.

It's been six hours since then.

I found and read what the other Scott had written, and have included it above.

To her credit, Christine was honest after reading his letter.

She told me she had lied about him abusing her and told me what she says is the truthful account of her time there with him and with me.

I plan to include portions of that in this or earlier postings as well.

She left a couple of hours ago to go home and clean up, get some rest.

We hugged when we parted at my door, but I can tell everything's different now.

Something has broken between us.

I was too fragile or too rigid to bear the weight of all we have seen and said and done.

The saddest part is that I'm okay with that.

The last month has given me a great deal of insight into what I can survive.

Right now, I'm trying to make friends with a small puppy named Trixie.

He's a cute little guy, but he rolls his eyes at me with mistrust whenever I try to go near him.

I'm not the right scot for him.

Starting to think I'm not the right scot for a lot of things.

I've been checking the desk for a sign all night, but there's been nothing.

So finally, after taking a second long shower and giving Trixie some more water, I tumble into bed in a deep slumber.

Start awake and I can tell it's either early morning or early evening, but I have no idea which.

Trixie is what woke me up barking at something.

I roll over and see he's jumping and barking at the desk.

On it is a single scrap of blue paper.

Leaping out of bed, I wipe sleep from my eyes and read it.

Got them.

Fortunately for me, the house is afraid to recruit young.

I'll be over shortly.

Tell Trixie he's my precious.

Laughing and feeling stupid, I read the note to Trixie, who's bouncing excitedly against my leg as though he knew what was coming.

Just then I saw it.

The door was opening one last time.

That's the end of I Wrote Myself a Letter!

That is the end.

So I guess you do have to kill.

I was okay, so what I was expecting to happen is there's going to be a revelation at the end that like any blood will work.

Like you could use an animal or something.

And it's like, oh, you jumped to the kid thing.

You're like, but I guess her lying to him turned out to be the correct thing to do because if it wasn't a child, because in that final note, he says, good thing the cult recruits young, implying he used the blood of a cult member.

So, like, I guess she was right to lie and say that he needed to kill a kid that she needed to kill him.

I mean, I don't know if it was right.

I think that I listen, I think that through what was happening, I think both Christine and regular Scott

were being affected by the world, I think,

wholeheartedly.

And I'm

a

to death.

Yes, I would say so.

Well, I just mean in terms of like being like, is it justifiable what she was saying to get him riled up?

No, I don't think so.

Yeah, I don't think so.

It's unfortunate.

I think that you had to, like,

to emotionally have to be in that spot to kill a chubby child, whatever.

It's so insane.

It's crazy.

I mean, like, I cannot believe it went through.

I don't know how you're going to live with yourself after that.

Like, it's, it's crazy.

And the idea, too, I don't know.

How do you feel about that ending of like the door door opening again uh i'm not crazy about the ending i don't like that unless you kind of read it as a difference maybe someone else found out how to come through because we don't know that that's not scott coming through you know it could be anything hypothetically so yeah but no one else

or something no one else would know about the writing aspect to me to me it's like it's an it's an awesome character growth how much i ended up liking not scott and everything yeah so almost sitting there to where

regular Scott, obviously him and Christine, they're probably broken up and not going, I mean, you just went through hell and back and you don't know how you're going to live with yourself with some of the stuff you've done, right?

But it's almost a thing of like where it's like

wanting solace in himself almost, like he's just like, maybe like, you know, him with this dog and the dog still doesn't even really,

you know, it understands that's not his real Scott.

And then like, it would have been interesting if it would have ended with him like looking at his desk being like, and I'm, you know, every day I kind of wish that a a blue letter would pop up.

Or, like, because I think by him coming back, it kind of cuts that character growth he had

in the story, in my opinion.

When at the end, we're just like, you know what?

Yep, you have to make personal sacrifices.

I get what my dad meant now.

To me, that's important.

And this is my world.

I'm not going to like take, I'm not going to jeopardize other people in this world for the sake of myself.

Right?

But then at the end, when he's just like, you know what?

They recruit you.

And then, like, everyone doing like, you know, look around in this end and a bit.

That kind of song.

It feels kind of, it feels where you're, it's like, yeah, freeze frame.

And it's just like, both the Scotts ended up opening a bakery together called Scotts Bakery.

It just felt kind of a bit like, eh, I don't know.

But all in all, I will say, I had such a great time with this story.

Yeah, he's

no, I agree.

I'm not crazy about that ending, but I did enjoy it.

It was fun.

It was very brutal at parts, but I think a lot.

The mention about the sexual abuse and like killing the child was so brutal.

But it was a very dreadful world that depicted.

And I think it was interesting.

In a parallel world that is like basically hell,

if you're going to go that route, like go there.

Explore it in a fun way and make it a fucking roller coaster ride.

And trust me, it was.

Like having to be with these characters where you hate not Scott at the beginning, then you start rooting for him.

And then the people that you were rooting for, you're kind of like, what are you doing?

That character dynamic and the bouncing back and forth and the way that the story read, where it kept changing perspectives of who was talking to us, the reader, was just really fun.

And it was done in an effective way where it was seamless.

Like it didn't feel clunky or anything because there's other stories that do that.

Like there's stories that will be like, No, I don't know, like my

wife is peeking at me from around corners or something.

Not that particularly, but then it would be like, my husband's doing this.

And it's like a different sequel, but it's all from that perspective.

So to see a story where it's like, we don't have any of those other breaks.

It's like, it's the same cohesive story, but we're jumping around

per character.

And time, you know, it's like almost like fucking memento or pulp fiction.

It's like that plays with time in a really interesting way,

hopping back and forth and getting all these different characters' perspectives.

So I just had a great time, man.

So going off of my job swatching Women Trapped in a Room, if you remember, that was like a super interconnected story.

Yeah.

And when we got to the ending with the House of the Claw, I was like,

the House of the Claw seems like a super specific thing to just mention at the

end of a story.

So I go to his Reddit page, and then sure enough, House of a Claw is a theme thing from another, from a bunch of other stories.

And then it turns out this dude has a map that I just sent to you, Hunter.

Yeah,

that is a giant flowchart.

Jesus, how all his stories are.

Yeah, this is how all these stories connect to each other okay so i don't want to i don't i don't want to make assumptions here okay but varistahl might be a schizophrenic guy

this is insane

we'll drop a link to the diagram i mean but this is insane and you know here's the thing too in like world this is impressive this is world building

world building in this way is incredible to have thoughts that interconnect in this way.

You could also completely get rid of the exposition dump of like, yeah, well, apparently it's a cult that does this.

You can get rid of that.

But

it being in there was not as distracting as like going through Narnia at the end of a story.

It was a 1% as bad as I think it affected the ending of the other story.

But then

the other story

was never even meant to exist outside of being a collaborative story.

Exactly.

Whereas this one just kind of, this one's more so like an Easter egg thrown in at the end.

So readers who are really into Veristahl's work, oh, I remember that.

Yeah, if you know Veristahl and you like his work, it seems like all of his stories connect together in a way where they can be standalone to where if someone had never heard of it before, they would probably not think much of it.

But it's just a little other Easter egg to where I'm sure it makes reading his work as a whole a lot more rewarding.

And how those things play off each other.

Yeah, this is super impressive looking at this flowchart right now.

There's a couple that look like pure standalone,

but most of them connect into each other one way or the other, which is pretty wild.

When are we we going to get the Veristol iceberg, dude?

That's what we fucking need from the Veristoli.

That's what we need to do.

That's what we need from you, dude.

I fucking deeply.

Then we're going to come back.

I'll come back to an episode to be like, I didn't like my jobs watching a woman trapped in the room because what I didn't realize is it's the opening of a third act of the greater universe.

Yeah, I just slip into a seizure and I just like dropping

literally the way people talk about Marvel movies right now.

Yeah, yeah.

Like they just,

no, no, no.

The 14th spin-off show is good because it gets a connection

between the fourth and eighth movies, it connects, and that's what happened to the one character from the first Captain America movie.

It's like,

I literally cannot care less.

Man, I had such a great time, and I'll be honest, like, I wrote myself a letter, I got a response.

Is it the strongest hook we've had in terms of titles?

Probably not, but I will say, it did well.

Just I really, really enjoyed the invent, like the creative, like the creativity of hopping between characters like the revelation in part two it was just so fun like i really enjoyed that man and then even getting like in part three when you're like oh now this is christine it just it kept revealing itself in this fun time and i i don't think it overstayed its welcome too with making it like some self-masperatory schlock fest of like we're in this fucking world and people are yeah they stabbed this woman to death and it was just enough to just be like well

yeah it's a horrible fucking place we get to experience it

and get and get messed up and dip our toes in and be like, Jesus, yeah, I do want to get out of here.

To where when they come to the conclusion of being like, well, I guess we're going to

kill this little girl.

Kill a child.

It's something that in their moment as their fucking minds are being twisted.

Yeah, they're probably going to justify, but that's one thing, too, in this real world that it's like, you're going to, you're going to have to live with that forever, which also makes sense to me, where I was like, oh, they're going to break up, obviously.

And like, probably be like, yeah.

The justification for it's interesting as well, because he kept being like, I mean, like, everyone here is insane.

So this little girl's probably insane.

So we're probably doing her a mercy, like, the way, because I don't want to be here.

Like, the justification was interesting.

I wish the ending kind of leaned into that a little bit more of being like, like, he, I wanted the end of like, he becomes not Scott, which is kind of what it did, but I want him to be like evil in the other world and like not Scott's kind of the protagonist now or whatever.

Like, whoever's in that world becomes corrupted, you know?

I mean, I'm not super furious at the ending or anything like that.

And the rest of the story was good that I really don't mind it.

So, yeah, well, I think um, I don't even think not Scott was necessarily evil.

I mean, here's the thing: yes, he was a murderer, he's definitely a murderer.

I'm not saying he's a good guy, I'm just saying that he is conscious enough of he is not insane.

I think he knows that he's going

to be evil.

What's I mean is like I think that he realizes that he's his mind is being corrupted and he cannot help

the things that he's doing.

And in an act of desperation, he did this horrible thing, you know, and all that stuff as well, which

I just don't know.

It's an interesting, it was just interesting back and forth.

And there's really no, there's no character who didn't do something fucking horrible in the story.

Christine and regular Scott, they, I mean, everybody

did some fucking horrifying thing to try to get back to the normal world.

And the normal world is basically heaven if you've been in that other world.

Yeah, yeah, it's simple.

We killed the child.

Yeah, it's simple.

We kill the child.

you might know how i got these scars that's that's scott you might know how i got these scars

i stabbed a 10-year-old girl i stabbed a morbidly obese child

she was she was pre-type one anyway it's she was pre-type one and she shit all in this bathroom and it smelled like hell

she flushed the toilet after midnight yeah she flushed the toilet after midnight because where this is also kind of like gremlins what an absolutely brutal

i love how that i love i love that connectivity.

I wonder if he was like riding it and he's just like, how do I get to the colton here?

And he's like, yeah, what if I just say that you can't use the shitter after this time?

Or also basically sounds like the fucking blue man groups playing in your apartment building or something.

It's also really funny that it's like, um,

it's like the little girl's like, okay, I'll come with you guys.

And she goes to the bathroom and they're like, what, what?

Why'd you do that?

Idiot.

And then they stab her to death.

Well, they got the uh, they, I like that part too, actually, whenever uh, Christine like gives him a look, like, are you fucking stupid?

And he's like, Dude, she has to take it's a can she not take a final shit?

Come on,

it's just a kid, which I think is funny because he can justify, he can justify not feeding her, he can justify letting her shit, and then because of that, he's like, Come on, she's a girl, but then he's also like, I'm gonna stab you to death, I'm gonna fucking stab you.

Come on, Christine, for fuck's sake, she has to take a shit.

Come on,

yeah, it's like, hey, be nice to the girl,

yeah, exactly.

Stab, stab, stab, stab.

And she's like,

okay, okay, so here we go.

So that was the story.

It was fucking awesome.

Be sure to check out Veristahl's stuff.

You made fake noises, you animal.

Yeah, no, I hate myself.

I hate myself.

So check out Veristahl's stuff.

And also, I mean, like,

I don't know.

If there's any viewers or listeners here who have done a deep dive into the rest of his stuff, I'm super curious to see comments of like how else the stories interconnect in that way.

Because it is fascinating.

And I do think that I have an appreciation, more of an appreciation for that universe after reading the story.

I just really, really like the story.

I think even I liked it more than obviously I'm watching a woman trapped in a room.

But I think that's just because also I liked Scott as a character more.

I think that just a really, really fun character piece with three characters going through hell and back.

So

a lot of fun.

Also, once again, creepcast.store.

check us out there, get your merch there.

If you're watching this on YouTube, consider checking us out on Spotify and Apple Podcasts, all that shit, giving us the ratings.

We have to plug it.

It just helps us out.

So please.

Thank you guys so much for watching the episode.

And Isaiah, we'll see them in the next one.

We'll see you all in the next one.

Be sure to get the merch.

Get the merch while you can.

Eat me like a bug or any of that other stuff.

And be sure to remember, kids, Hunter made fun of a small overweight child that was stabbed to death and made for fictitious.

Fictitious child.

Fictitious.

No, that's, I don't think that part's important.

Fictitious child.

Not real.

I think history will remember you as it will off the information was.

He's gone, so I can say that he does that off channel too.

Anytime it's me and him alone, he loves to talk about children, especially the big ones.

Y'all can't hear him, but he's like, he starts screaming at me with that one.

That's great.

Bye.