#but like in my defense I wasn't paying attention to the posts on my dash | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamcatcher-ranger · 2 years

Text

Queued

This is a fictional story, I apologize because I didn't realize how the first paragraphs sounded without context. I am perfectly fine. Please reblog this version and enjoy!

Let me preface this by clarifying a thing. If you're reading this, I'm already dead. I'll queue this for tomorrow morning, and if nothing happens I'll take this down. If you're seeing this on your dash, it means I'm gone. If I can return... Idk, maybe I'll write a more detailed post with the answers to all of this, maybe y'all could just carry on like nothing happened. Maybe this post will not exist anymore and there is no need to tell you what I would do.

That being said, if I will have to say goodbye, the least I could do is doing it with style.

My name is Norman. All of you will already know me by my url, or maybe the pfp. "Look, it's trans Charizard again. What will he have to say this time". Mostly shitpost, alright? I didn't log in expecting to become a great artist. Sometimes, however, I liked to cut out a little scrap from my life and show it to you.

I started when my new life started. When I finally managed to get away from the horrible claws of my family and I settled in this little apartment. It was a small place, tucked away between the trees, where birds were more loud than traffic.

All things considered, it has been nice to get it without having to pluck out my eye to pay rent. It was crammed, yes, but at the time I didn't even have a bed. It was enough.

So, as my loyal followers may already know, life here was... peculiar.

It wasn't anything outright weird, more like little unsettling details, details on which the eye glided until they got caught, and once the eye caught them it couldn't let them go.

Typing them on here, in hindsight, makes me feel dumb, like if I was some horror movie dipshit that wouldn't move out of a clearly haunted house, trapped in his certainty that "GhOsTs ArEn'T rEaL" despite the furniture floating past him.

In my defense, my furniture didn't float. At least, I never saw it doing so.

There have been misplaced objects, though. A glass that got knocked over, a book I was sure I had put a bookmark in, my Waddles (yes, the Gravity Falls pig. Sue me) plushie popping up from the strangest places, like when I found it in the pantry, behind the pasta.

It was the least tbh.

Misplaced objects... they could be attributed to my ADHD. I came to terms with the fact that my things never seemed to stay where I put them when I was, like, six. After a while it sort of became a bit, in our family. So it wasn't exactly news. Even if Waddles in the pantry was a bit too much even for me. But hey, everyone lost track of their stuff sometimes, if they weren’t paying attention.

And, as I said before, it was the least. I mean, you saw my posts. At first I joked a bit about these teleportations, along the lines of "haha, look, my plushie loves pasta sooo much!". But, like, everyone who owns a cat knows that teleport is not impossible. "Yeah yeah, things that change places when they shouldn't, we've all seen it". Issues started coming after a few weeks.

At first, it was the golden leaves. I already said that my house was in the middle of the woods, right?

Well, it was around last April when they started making their appearance. I challenge everybody, everybody, to see a threat in a shiny, little golden leaf placed on the window sill.

They were really cool, by the way. Not even a little bit scary. Annoying, for sure. But not scary.

They made me curse every ancient god that watched over this Earth, though. I wouldn't get surprised if Cthulhu came knocking at my door asking why I was calling for them. For it was enough to leave the door a tiny tiny bit ajar for a freaking MOUNTAIN of leaves to make their entrance.

They defied physics. How the hell a metric fuck you of leaves could have come inside through an opening of an inch (measured) in less than half a minute is beyond me. But at least, broom and patience, and I swatted them away.

Now, I admit that maybe it was my fault, because if a normal person gets ATTACKED by leaves their first reaction is to find the tree those leaves come from.

It never crossed my mind, I swear. Not even when they started exploding.

Okay, maybe exploding is a bit of an overstatement. It's not like they went KABOOM and set things on fire.

It was just that as soon as I grazed them, even by blowing on them, puf! They turned into a little cloud of golden dust. And that mother-effing dust stuck! It didn't go away! Soon all my belongings were golden-leaf-dust-coated. I had a glittering house.

And if your first reaction is "Norman, normal leaves don't act that way" well, whoever you are, you may be an amateur botanist, but I know jack shit about trees. I wasn't gonna bother my landlord for a couple of leaves. It was my very first place of my own, I wasn't gonna act like a whiny baby. I think it would have solved a lot of problems, though.

Because then, around the middle of this January, it was the stains' turn. The streaks, the markings.

They started appearing in little spots, like little droplets of something. I didn't thought much of them, it was an old house in the middle of the woods, of course there would have been dirt here and there.

I found the first concerning one on the couch. It was a big, rough brown stain vaguely resembling a heart. Not a "❤" sort of heart, an anatomically correct heart with atriums and all. It had even the veins on it. It was a bit disturbing, I admit it. Maybe, a flying chair would have been a less noticeable warning.

However, it probably was just a Rorschach-like effect. Y'know, the test with the stains. It was just a puddle, but I thought it looked a bit like a heart and therefore was an anatomically-correct-heart-shaped puddle.

It was not the only rough brown stain I found. They didn't really bothered me, because, unlike that goddamned dust, they went away on their own. I had to clean off only the most visible ones. They just. Appeared. On the windows, the ceiling, at the bottom of the walls and on the floor, in the kitchen, on the mirrors, on my blankets, my clothes, even on the back of my binder. I felt a bit sorry when those disappeared, because they resembled two little bat wings.

If you followed me at the time, I'm sure you remember those pictures. How could you not? Some of them went viral, my notifications never recovered. I think that the rose on my bedsheets got reblogged by a heritage posts blog, like the "is this dress blue and black or white and gold?" meme.

By this point you are probably thinking "But Norman, at this point you must have noticed that something was wrong. Dirt doesn't appear and disappear, and it doesn't come in elaborate shapes." And you're right. I noticed that it was not right. I may be a skeptic, but until a certain point. But I'm not a moron. Except I was. Because it was just dirt. Dirt that came in beautiful patterns and went away on its own and it didn't bother me. So I pretended that everything was fine, it was normal, nothing was going on.

I am really, really a moron.

Because what happened next made me realize it was not dirt.

It was blood.

I... don't think I've ever posted the handprints on here. The heart, the rose, those little spots that looked like a constellation were all meant to get a laugh out of who saw them. Somebody even accused me of creating them myself, which, dear rando, thank you. It wasn't me. I can’t draw shit.

Handprints smeared on my kitchen were NOT, I repeat, NOT my doing. Why the fuck should I do such a thing? They were creepy as fuck, and I immediately got a hold of soap and sponge. The point is, they reappeared every time. I cleaned the glass panel, and the next morning I found two, if not more, different handprints.

Once there was one that had nothing better to do than flipping me off.

Very funny.

At a certain point I just gave up. The patterns always went away by themselves, I could suck it up and endure a "fuck you" by a stain on my window for a while.

Wrong. The second evening after my last attempt, at the start of September, they chose to up their game. Under my eyes, the substance they were made of slowly became dark crimson and wet and started dripping. I yelled and fell backwards, crashing over the table.

Quivering, I slowly crawled away from the window. I felt something wet on my fingertips, I must have hit my elbow in the fall. Instead of any kind of pain, it was disgust that clawed at my stomach. As I watched the trickle of blood on my forearm the memory of all the shapes came to mind and realization hit.

I've slept between those blankets, dammit!

I reached the sink and said goodbye to my breakfast. When my head stopped spinning, I grabbed soap and a rag and, in record time, cleaned off that nightmare from my glass.

Too bad that the nightmare just started.

This was the only place I had. I couldn't pack and just go. I should've done it, but I couldn't.

However, it was now time to bother my landlord. The sweet old lady that I talked to over the phone assured me she would come as soon as she could.

As soon as she could was a week later. That week was a nightmare. I tried to stay away from the house as long as I could. But I always had to sleep somewhere. And those nights... I don't want to talk about those nights. I was curled under my blankets, trembling and sobbing. Apparently, the 'dirt' stains now always came in liquid form. And I always woke up covered in golden glitter and red trickles, despite having a sheet all over me. Use your imagination.

When I finally greeted the sweet granny, I was in tatters. And glittering. As I said, the dried blood went away, the dust stuck.

For her, a single glance around was enough. She pursed her lips, and nodded solemnly. And told me that to solve this I had to leave something sweet as an offering, in the woods. Something like a cake, bread, cream, sugar, milk and honey.

Milk. And honey.

Are you FUCKING kidding me.

Apparently not, she was not kidding me. She looked extremely serious. And so I though, why not give it a shot? And after she left me I took a bowl, I filled it with milk and honey, and walked until I could find a good spot between the trees, where I left it.

The next morning I woke up unscathered. And when I went checking, the bowl was just shiny clean. Not even a drop.

So, a bowl of milk and honey in exchange for a night of peaceful sleep. And a clean house.

Poor fool that I was, I thought it could work.

This was three weeks ago. And, of those three weeks, just the first few days the milk worked. Because then, They wanted more.

Milk and honey, but with a spoonful of sugar. Slices of white, soft bread with butter and sugar. Mugs of coffee creamer and honey. Little cakes, like tarties and plumcakes. Sweets. Peppermints and toffee. And so forth.

Always more, always more.

And if the quota wasn't met, the blood returned. And the dust. And the misplaced stuff. And, between the trunks and branches, I could see lights dancing and hear soft laughter and singing, asking for more. More, more. More.

They just don't want to leave me alone. I can’t keep on living like this. I made my decision. I typed on here all of this story. So, now you all know. I have a kitchen knife shining next to me. Must sound more gutsy that it really is, but tonight I'm gonna march in the woods and make Them leave me alone.

It sounds so brave. But I'm not. I'm crying and shaking. My fingers can't stay still. There are tears on my laptop. I'm gonna die.

But anger is stronger. I-I will try to make Them stop. To make Them let me live my life. If it won't work, at the top of this story I left all you need to know. If things work out... I dunno. An update, maybe? A whole different story, maybe.

But now the story queued is this.

So, thank you, to all of my mutuals, for the time spent on this blue hell. I love all of you.

Goodbye

Norman

#if you saw the unfinished thing i posted by accident and left it there cuz i didn't notice haha no you didn't #i've spent a lot of time writing this; so i truly hope it will be good #and i hope there won't be any typos; i triple checked #there will be; i just know #but this story... i am kinda proud of how it turned out; ya know?#and; just as an experiment; i want to try to get out of my shell and tag it properly. just to see what happens.#my writing #please tell me what you think; because i had this in the making for a very long time #if you read until here; thank you; so much #bye :)#my little scrapbook collection #fey

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