The ONE Archives

ONE ([0.022]): Sewn Beyond Blight

tw: trypophobia? idk what else

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ARCHIVIST

Statement of Wisphera Maison, regarding a strange piece of taxidermy while working at a local museum, Original statement, June 17th 2003, Given by Liam Plecak, October 2nd, 2016.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

Taxidermy. As a kid, I always found taxidermy freaky and disturbing for me. I didn't like how the animals and bugs were stapled into a frozen state, and the eyes were unblinking; staring straight forth, with no life behind them. It pained me how these animals and bugs had life but now were dead, and put up for display, or for plain old decoration.

Have you heard of necromancy? Necromancy is the act of bringing a creature or being back to the living realm, using a form of magic or power. Now I thought that maybe there was a way to resurrect these creatures back from the dead, but my family and friends thought it was total bollocks, so as I grew up, I thought that was total bollocks too. Besides, you've only got one life, and death comes for us anyways, right?

Well... that's when I was wrong, because one night, one of them actually did.

You see, I've been working in a local museum in Kansas, which is a pretty small town, if you ask me. Not a lot of people live there, and their jobs don't really pay much, but it's enough to put a room under their heads. Now, for starters, none of us don't usually see anything unusual; so that's basically a one in one trillion chance, but, trust me when I say this, I'll never forget what I saw that night. Now it started around midnight, when a boss had insured me to take a night-shift to make sure no paintings, or even artefacts were stolen, or that the place was vandalised, or broken beyond repair. I've seen horror movies in museums that have gnarly, and harrowing creatures that would always steal people's faces, or something like that, I don't know. Nothing like that happens on night-shifts, usually.

A while back, though, a pair of delivery men placed down a strange piece of art. At first glance it may seem like a white, featureless mannequin standing on a pedestal, but when you look closely at it, you can see the different, patterned patches sewn together. Now here's where it gets weirder; the texture of the patches—when you stroke it—feels *awfully* like human skin, and no, I don't mean metaphorically, I mean literally. The goosebumps on the hide, prickled; even shivering as you touch it, and the felt softly pulsed, and lurched; and you could about see the veins popping out sometimes. I gagged at the sight. This piece of taxidermy was not to be seen by the public, and I knew that this preternatural *thing* had to be hidden.

Ever since that strange piece of taxidermy was placed in the museum, I noticed people had started reporting unusual singing, although faint, coming from the taxidermy itself—and even worse, more and more missing people cases started piling up—their bodies never recovered. Eventually, the outsiders spread rumours of skin-snatchers, and doppelgängers; becoming too much for the museum, leading to the establishment's shutdown.

Then the dreams started. In the dreams, I was back in there; in the museum, but this time around, there seemed to be someone playing melodic, and strangely resonant music—echoing through the chambers of the establishment. The instrument in the music seemed to be a calliope, an organ of some sort, and the voice singing—well, it didn't sound like an *person* singing—it was more of... vocals, nonsensical noises that seemed to overlap each other, a haunting chorus in an orchestra that never seemed to cease. Every night, when I would try to find the source of the music playing, I'd find myself opening a door to an auditorium, noticing every person in every row, intoning in time to the rhythm. I could feel my stomach tight in knots, my breathing coming in gasps, as I realised; all those people appeared to be wearing the same white, featureless mask, and their skin too pale, and too smooth to be *human*. As I turned to what was on stage, it looked as it was the same taxidermy I've seen on my nightshift, and it was *moving*, ever so gracefully; its movements jerky and uncanny.

I always woke up from those dreams; they always raised more questions than answers, and my curiosity to get inside the building was already growing—nagging me to get the answers I needed. So a week later, I gathered my stuff; packing all my exploration stuff into my backpack, took a plastic water bottle in case I was thirsty, then finally turned the door knob, and shut the door behind me. The journey wasn't too far, just a few miles from my neighbourhood.

The exhibit before me, stood tall like a mysterious, and desolate castle tower in the woods somewhere; it was an oat square-sized building, four thick brunette pillars extending; nearby the entrance. Three rose windows rested on the front of the structure; two on the sides, depicting vaitals of Hindu mythology, and one in the middle depicting a comedy and tragedy mask. The red entrance doors were of mediaeval castles, and the stairs were arranged in a circle; leading up to the entrance.

I cautiously, and slowly made my way to the entrance. I glanced around to see if anyone else was watching. Nobody. The coast was clear, so I took out my bobby pin, and began lockpicking the latch. The sneck snapped open with a sudden click; the doors steadily opened with a soft creak. With a sharp breath, I lifted the door open enough; to squeeze through—then snuck inside—without missing a beat. The interior of the display was pitch black; the only light from outside. I took off my backpack, and pulled out my flashlight; clicking it on, noticing the floating dust particles that danced in the air. I zipped up; put on my backpack and started walking.

As I continued walking; I began to hear the same song from my dreams further in, and my skin began to prickle with dread, as I realised I was not alone. The taxidermy and mannequins were watching me; their eyes were too wide and piercing, I couldn't avoid them forever.

I froze in my tracks, as I stopped at the place where the strange piece of taxidermy once was. Once I looked up at the plastic model, it... it was looking back. It had glossy red, shoulder length hair, a rosy red beret, wore a sky blue jean jacket, vintage white button up; orange, red, yellow and blue stripes patterned on it, and a black tie underneath, black trousers with an azure belt. Half of its face was obscured by a sandy comedy mask, and lastly its arms had different patterns; left being light blue tiger, and the right had orange leopard.

Its name was... "Tray", and its hands reached to shake mine. As I touched its hands, it felt too smooth and too cold, and it smiled; seemingly too wide to fit on its face, or its teeth were too sharp. I can feel myself shiver, as it spoke, its voice sounding androgynous, deep like a male's and resonance like a female's. "Thank you for coming to our show, may we meet again."

Since then, the whole encounter stuck to me, and I never saw it again. I stopped working at the museum, now working an office job from 6am-9pm, but I still get nightmares about that museum and those damn taxidermy and mannequins, just watching me. Some day, they might catch me. Some day, they will *kill* me.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

After this Statement was given. Wisphera went missing, and was dead a few weeks later. The autopsy records that Wisphera was found with most of her skin absent, revealing red and writhing flesh. The suspect is nowhere to be found, and the case was closed on July 20th, 2003. This document also connects to Kylie Harding's Statement, as the same white, and featureless masked people appeared, and the museum seems to be in the same place as the theatre. Tray's whereabouts are unknown.

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a/n: oh my god???? non-binary tray supremacy !! (also plunging my tumblr here [out of shame] if you want to scream about my au: https://www.tumblr.com/webbedsitecryptid) 

sorry if this is boring (the next one is boring) there will be drama soon