ONE ([0.009]): Encased In Strings

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ARCHIVIST

(slight reverb; breathing heavily) I think someone was following me. I think I lost them.

They might come back.

(sharp inhale) I need- Let's just-

[PAPER RUSTLING; LIAM BREATHES FLATLY AS A FLICK OF A SWITCH COULD BE HEARD]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Garrett Dennis, regarding a purple notebook encased with a white web pattern; given to him from one of his friends, as a gift. Original statement given December 12th, 2011, Given by Liam Plecak, September 21, 2016.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I always liked to keep a library of notebooks, in case I misplaced them. My friends always gave me notebooks, on special occasions, as gifts because they always knew I liked to write many things. There was nothing malicious about them; just normal notebooks. This certain notebook seemed to be different from all the others, though. It started one time, when my friend came to visit for a slumber party. We strided into the night, laughing at our personal inside jokes and Tumblr memes, gossiping about our teenage years in highschool. You know how all slumber parties go.

Before my friend left to go back to their flat, they gave me a package encased in a lavender background with a slate web pattern. They claimed that they just found it on a nearby bench; strangely untouched under the shade of a tree. They figured someone must've left it behind, and forgot it but it had no name, no date and no address on it. I told them to keep it and maybe give it to someone but they insisted; saying that I should keep it, so after a bit of consideration; I decided to lend the package into my own hands, and thanked my friend as they left my flat. I glanced at the coffee table, sighing a breath of relief as I set the package down on the table. Before long, I took a moment to make myself a cuppa and set it beside the package.

As I opened the gift from my friend, it was another notebook. Typical. This notebook was with a purple background covered in a white web pattern; followed by a lavender nameplate at the centre of it. There written in clear, cursive writing was the word, "Bassy". I started to feel kind of bad, opening someone's package, but at the same time, it was kinda too late at this point, so. There was this strange aura from the notebook when I was near it; almost like I was being pulled towards it. My gut lurched with uneasiness, as I realised something was off about the whole thing. I hesitated a moment before setting the pencil and eraser on the notebook pages. For the first few weeks, it seemed normal, aside from the sense of pulling from the notebook, and I wrote freely.

That was until I noticed spiders and cobwebs in my flat. At first, there weren't a lot of them, just one or two around my flat and I let them outside, without killing them. Then days, weeks later, there was so much more in my flat, causing a specific case of  infestation around the house. Not only that, but whenever I wrote now, in that notebook, I felt puppeted, a sense of control in my hands was lost. My hands kept writing and writing; without stopping.

This loss of control, from the writing, spread to my everyday activities.Whenever it'd be socialising, chatting, hanging out or doing hobbies. I felt like I was not in control; viewing the world from only my eyes and watching as my body parts moved on their own. Was I really myself anymore? I didn't know anymore. My dreams, too, visualised visions of spiders all staring at me; their eight, brown eyes piercing through me and I could feel them taunting me. My dread, confusion and anger all rippled through me as I tried charging at them and striking; all my attempts, to no avail, hitting into the spider web. I was caught in a trap; always prey. unaware of its hidden predator.

One night, I had decided that that book was taunting and torturing me. That book had burst my bubble; twisting my peaceful and calming routine into a never ending hellhole. I wanted to throw that book; burning all of its pages to a crisp. I wandered around the house; finding a lighter inside the storage cabinet from the basement. When I looked for the book though, I noticed it had disappeared out of sight; almost like an unseen ghost. When I looked about the house, the spiders and cobwebs were gone as well.

I don't think I saw the book again ever. I still feel those spiders crawling on every inch of my body though.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

It seems that Garrett was found dead in his flat; his corpse encased in spider silk. His cause of death was unclear but what I can tell you is that according to the autopsy, there was apparently a tight string around his neck; causing him to suffocate and multiple blows to the chest caused by... something. As for the name on the notebook, Bassy, I couldn't find anything except for a dead Facebook account and a location in Delaware, Deltaburrne Avenue. This house seems to be abandoned and run-down as far as I can tell, but there's- there's something---

[LOUD DISTANT CLANG; LIAM GASPS AS HE STUMBLES]

ARCHIVIST

Who- what the-?

[HUGE BUZZ SOMEWHERE; POWER HAS BEEN CUT]

ARCHIVIST

Shit. Hello? I- Wait, You can't be-

[THERE IS DISTANT FOOTSTEPS SLOWLY GETTING LOUDER; LIAM'S FOOTSTEPS STEP BACK SLOWLY]

ARCHIVIST
Wait- NO. No, no, no-

[BACKGROUND STATIC GETS LOUDER; LIAM'S FOOTSTEPS RECEDE AND PICK UP PACE]

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