Police Report File #335
Subject Name: Daniel Evans
Cause Of Death: Suicide (Suspected)
This is Agent Mance filing a report about the recently deceased victim Daniel Evans. I have contacted his loved ones and discovered that he was showing signs of paranoid schizophrenia, which may have been the reasoning for his apparent suicide. The cause of death is still being investigated. When I arrived on scene, I immediately noticed that Daniel seemed to be a hoarder (albeit a very minor form of it). His apartment room was littered with paintings. By the stencil and paint at the side of the room, it is obvious that he was the one who painted them. Moving on, I noticed the paintings were all of the same thing, but changed slightly, barely noticeable changes with each one. I had taken the time to organize each one from the time they were expected to have been painted. The imagery is at the very least… Unsettling, along with the symbols neatly painted around the room. I also noticed that Daniel had kept a diary in both text and audio form. We will start from the earliest, and move on from there, followed by my sketches of the crime scene. Some of my responses might seem slightly unprofessional, but I am here to give honest feedback as well. My replies to each log will be emboldened.
Day One: 12/18/2013
Hello world. This is my first entry. I have no idea if this will get old or not, but for now I will be keeping a diary. And yes, I have no problem calling it a diary. Anyways… I sold my first painting today. It got around $30, great! It’s a start, but I’m sure they’ll be masterpieces soon enough. All kidding aside, I will be returning to my actual job. I’m an architect you see, which I suppose might have inspired my urge to draw. I guess it just gets tiring drawing houses day in and day out. Anyways, I know this might be a short log but I need some sleep. My hand is saying to write, and to masturbate, but my brain is saying sleep… And masturbate. Kidding aside (mostly), this is Daniel Evans signing off.
P.S. Remember to put a “No Soliciting” sign on the door. I’ve told those Mormons that I’m an atheist, yet they keep trying to convert me. They’re spreading the word alright, all over the children that are stapled to their crotch. Oh wait, wrong religion. Woops, double negative.
This is all pretty normal so far. Nothing of much inter- Oh god the pages are sticking...
Day Two: 12/19/2013
Hello again. My day at work went great. The general contractor was impressed and I got a decent bonus to my check. I’ll cash it later, for now I’m going to draw some more (or ‘paint’ for those snooty artists who don’t think it’s the same thing). I had the most bizarre dream last night and I have been trying to remember it. I get bits and pieces of it but I can’t get the whole picture. I’ll keep trying and maybe more of it will come back to me.
Common trait amongst anyone really. Nothing noteworthy here either.
Day Three: 12/20/2013
It’s the weekend, joy! I was thinking about starting a video log (or blog if I decide to post it online), but then I’d have to start wearing pants… And underwear. I’ll hold off on it for now, but I have the camera in the corner gathering dust until I decide I need it for something other than sending pictures of my dick to all my friends. Boy do I feel like I’ve matured since college. I had the same dream again. I can remember a little more too. I was in the alley outside my apartment. Kind of a strange place for it as I could see it from my window, all the way down to the brick wall of the building opposite of mine. I don’t have a fear of the dark or anything but… It can get kind of creepy at night. I know it’s silly, and I should have moved on from these trivial thoughts of monsters in the dark and such, but that’s not really it. There’s just something strange about this place. I’m probably sounding crazy, so I’ll just forget about it. Oh! I forgot to mention that I started painting the dream I had. I figure I had it twice, maybe it’s a sign? If I have it again tonight I’ll remember more and the painting will get a little more complete. I love things like this. Call me a madman, but its’ mysteries like this that make me get up in the morning. Anyways, I’ve taken up enough time (and space on the page), so see ya later.
Now I know he expected someone to see this eventually. Recurring dreams, that’s a mark down for the beginning of whatever descent into madness he had.
Day Four: 12/21/2013
I decided to start a new painting. I remembered the dream entirely. Nothing special, but this time it seemed a little different. I don’t know what exactly, I just painted the same thing as I did yesterday. Someone made me an offer for the first one but… I think I’m going to keep it around a little longer. I heard someone say that recurring dreams are a way of your brain trying to tell you something. I’m going to continue to paint my dreams, whether they are any different or not. I got a call from my mom earlier, decided I’m going to pay her a visit after work tomorrow.
Not much to say on this one. This entire thing so far appears to be a hit or miss on content worth noting.
Day Five: 12/22/2013
I had a weird day at work today. For some odd reason I had developed a twitch in my right arm. I thought maybe I had slept on it arm wrong or something, but it was a little more difficult to sketch blueprints today. I also had forgotten that I should be sketching my dreams too. Surprisingly though, when I started painting, the twitch disappeared. Perfect time for it to go away. I wouldn’t have liked an easier day at work today, nope! Well anyways, I’m going to finish this painting now. It’s already looking like deja vu, seeing similarities from the others.
I’m not a shrink but even I can say a recurring dream followed by the desire to recreate the dream through some means and THEN a twitch when not doing that recreations… Something’s not right. Though from the paintings, that’s something I could already tell.
Day Six: 1/6/2014
Sorry for the gap between entries. I spent some time with my parents, you know, Christmas n’ all. The twitching I had experience prior to my last entry returned. I thought nothing of it, until it started to become more noticeable. My mother suggested I see a doctor, so I took her advice and went to the nearest clinic, complaining of a worsening twitch. The doctor said it could be from a few things, but one thing I took into consideration was caffeine. I don’t usually have much, just a coffee a day. Just enough to keep me awake during the day. I guess maybe I’m a lightweight, if I can use that term. I took coffee out of my diet entirely, noticing changes pretty quick as soon as I got it out of my system. Ironically it was, again, when I started painting again.
I had been having the same dream again, and again. And each day it seems to get more vivid. I don’t know how it could GET anymore vivid since it’s been the same every time, but I continue to keep the painting game up. My days at work are going to be a bit more tiring (literally) without the extra wake up juice, but it’s better than being awake with a handicap. Well I think I should get some food. My fridge is now stocked with enough reserves from Christmas dinner to keep me thriving for a year. You know those parents who make too much and are expecting everyone to eat it? Yeah well we ate, but the size of that feast was that of a king’s dream. Hold on, there’s someone at the door… Strange, no one’s there. Gotta love this neighborhood. Anyways, I’m off. My stomach is going to start eating itself if I don’t eat some turkey sandwiches.
He’s beginning to sound like a pregnant woman. As for this time around I know what that feeling is… all the food is always shoved on me and hell in college that was better than ramen noo- This isn’t a diar- journa- Ah fuck it. I don’t really care anymore… Enough about my life, I could go into detail about how wrong he is with his last statement, but what’s drawing… God damn it… My irk is the fact that the neighborhood seems quite… quaint. So the knocking at the door seems a little out of place… I’ll need to look up on that a bit more though. As for the paintings, every single one checks out with the days, even the gap in time so at least that’s consistent.
Diarrhea: Revenge Of Christmas Dinn- I mean, Day Seven: 1/7/2014
After my morning dose of Pepto Bismol, I got up and got ready for work. Right before I left, I glanced back at the paintings I had been practically collecting by this point, and could swear I noticed something strange about them. It’s probably nothing, and I’m going to be late for my job. I already spent twenty minutes of that turkey getting its revenge for eating it. It was so good going in, but my god… It’s like I was giving birth. Not that I know what that’s like I mean… I’ve had kidney stones but nothing compares to the egg I laid back ther- Oh shit it’s almost eight o’clock. Okay sorry, gotta go!
I’ve heard of softballs, baseballs, golf balls, hell even a football one time. But who compares dropping a log to giving birth? Or even laying eggs?!? And Pepto Bismol doesn’t work from my experience, I’d have suggested Imodium. And one other thing he says he has Diarrhea at the beginning but… he’s dropping solid shit. Must have been a weird day.
Day Seven Part II:
I knew I saw something! I just got back from work, and there was something strange about my latest painting. In the distance, there was a solid black figure, humanoid in appearance. With this new discovery in mind, I went back and checked the other paintings. The figure was there in the others too, but seemed farther away with each step into the past I went. The first painting was the smallest, so naturally I didn’t notice it… But only because I wasn’t looking for it. I um… Maybe it was just subliminal. The brain works in mysterious ways ya know! In fact, this is making me even more curious.
This is a continuation of my last entry. Oh dear god why did he have to point that out?!? That is now the LAST fucking time I walk by the evidence room while those paintings are in there. They were already creepy enough… just repeating over and over again. If he had the patience to do that… I would have loved to see some of his other art.
Day Eight: 1/8/2014
While my curiosity is burning me up, I have decided to take a break from painting. I scheduled a date with this girl I just met, she seems nice. I think it’ll be good for me to get out a little more. Oh man… Is she going to want to come over? Maybe not, it’s only the first date… Just to be on the safe side, I’m going to delete my browser history on my computer and phone. Along with password lock the photo section of my… everything. Anyways, wish me luck.
Note: Do not name the password ‘password’.
What kind of IDIOT uses ‘password’ as a password? Hey at least his username wasn’t username. But I would have given him props for that because that requires skills to pull off on big websites. I feel like we should attempt to get in contact with his girlfriend. Need to approach the boss with that idea, I just know it’ll get through.
Day Nine: 1/9/2014
Date went horrible. She asked to use my phone, I handed it to her. The realization that I had been distracted last night and turned my phone off in the photo section without setting the password. She is greeted by a plethora of porn. She laughed and called her mother, doing what she was going to do, and returned the phone to my hand, which hadn’t moved an inch since the realization, palm skyward and out in front of me. She asked for my number and said she’d call later… Is this real life? She told me she looks at porn too and it’s absolutely no big deal. For a moment I thought she thought I was a pervert, phew! I guess in the end it wasn’t that horrible after all. Her name is Jennifer by the way.
Note: The twitch is back, and I’ve scheduled an appointment for my usual doctor.
Sounds like he thought he was a closet case neckbeard champion. This is a little saddening really… I’m beginning to wonder if she even knows yet. Boss also said that calling her would only happen after cause of death has been determined concretely.
Day Ten: 1/11/2014 Monday
I got back from the doctor with some surprising information. It seems that I have Tics, or in other words Tourettes. That would explain the occasional muscle twitches. He told me that medication is an option but usually unless it’s really bad that I shouldn’t worry. I told him that I was having this pain in my leg and some vicodin would help. He didn’t buy it…
Note: I haven’t been leaving the day of the week on here, so I’ll start now.
The regular twitching didn’t give him that clue already? And the old vicodin trick never works. Even when… Getting off topic. And really… Anyone with a calendar could find the day of the week.
Day Eleven: 1/12/2014 Tuesday
I received a call from my new girlfriend today and was invited out to lunch with her parents. God help me.
If you could hear me right now… I’m just sighing. This… Onto the next one!
Day Twelve: 1/13/2014 Wednesday
Guess what day it is. Guess, what day it is! Work has been a little more difficult lately because of the occasional twitch, but nothing I can’t handle. Life wants to make things harder? Challenge accepted.
At the moment I’d assume the twitches have something to do with the paintings. I would have to guess that he figured that out at one point too. But as for now everything checks out. New report just came in I’m going to have to set this down and go to the boss’ office.
Day Thirteen: 1/14/14 Thursday
Hump day has ended, let the downhill tumble begin. I woke up, getting ready for work when there was a knock at the door. I stood up and walked to the door, opening it to notice no one was there. Someone really likes ding-dong-ditch. I need to set up a security camera, that way when someone is coming, I’ll know it. Maybe set up an airhorn tripwire… Heheh.
Girlfriend was reported missing as of today. We have no idea on her whereabouts. God damn it. This is beginning to look like something other then a murder… I don’t know, I can’t even begin to speculate on what’s going on anymore. I just know that for now we have to focus on the case, perhaps she’ll turn up.
Day Fourteen: 1/15/14 Friday
Work was rough today. The twitches are getting worse, and it’s actually starting to affect my job. Maybe I’ll think about that medication. I figured maybe I’ll paint a little, get my mind off it. It is friday after all. Now is my time to relax and NOT think about meeting Jennifer’s parents tomorrow. It’s been awhile (or at least seems like it) since I last painted, but I think I can recall my dream. Haven’t had one in awhile, so maybe that phase is over. Well, it can’t hurt to try.
Note: After finishing the painting, the twitches seemed to have subsided. I am starting to see a theme here, and am getting creeped out.
P.S. There was no figure in the painting this time.
I’ve identified the painting mentioned in this one and two match its description. Both of them just like the rest are exact replicas of each other. It seems to me that these paintings were causing him a lot of stress, that may explain some of the symptoms he was feeling. It seems like OCD may also be thrown in there. Though if that’s the case then something’s not adding up.
Day Fifteen: 1/16/14 Saturday
The dinner date with her parents was great! We went to Denny’s (Because why not?), sat down, and got our menus. Her mother is a diabetic, so she only ordered a water to drink. Jennifer’s father however, could only be described as Randy Savage’s identical twin brother, white and gray beard n’ all. Not only do I have to worry about impressing them, but I have to be cautious of piledrivers and sleeper holds. Anyways, dinner went great, and I arm wrestled her father. He was impressed alright. I lasted a whole ten seconds before he slammed my hand into my plate of food. Turned my pie into cobbler. My girlfriend noticed an occasional twitch, informing me that they had returned. I told her it was nothing, and about my new condition. She insisted I go see my doctor again. I’ve only known her for a little while, but I can see how much she cares about me. Can you resist a red head’s pleading smile? Those god damn freckles…
I’m alerting the captain to begin looking around for his doctors. Perhaps one of them can shed some light on some of the big questions this case is bringing up.
Day Fifteen Part II
I just got home. I noticed something that sent chills down my spine. The last painting I made, the one I knew that had no figure. The one I spent half an hour looking up and down… Had a solid black, slim figure… And it was much closer.
How did I not… No. No, I have to get serious. I’m pulling the rest of the paintings out of lockout and studying them tonight with some of the men from the lab. We’re going to thoroughly go through every individual one and locate any discrepancies. This time I’m not taking a, ‘I’m not looking at those creepy ass things.’ for an answer.
Day Sixteen: 1/17/14 Sunday
The moment I woke up, I got up from my bed. My stomach was growling and I was starving, but I didn’t care. I needed to brush my teeth and take a shower, but I didn’t care. I needed to phone a doctor’s appointment… But I didn’t care. I grabbed my camera and set it to record, pointing it at me from the table next to my bed. Next, I lined up the easel to fit in the frame of the camera, running back and forth to make sure everything was perfect. The camera was too low, so I went and grabbed a couple of the books off my shelf. Something big, a few things… ‘A Pattern Language’ and ‘De Architectura’. I set them down and put the camera on top of them, looking through it. Good, perfectly in frame.
I clicked the camera on and grabbed my palette and brush, recalling the dream again as I started to paint. I started with the ground, extending forward down what would soon be the alley outside my apartment window. I then made my way up, painting the walls belonging to the buildings that were parallel, creating the alley. The hard, grey concrete ran along the bottom as the surroundings slowly formed, the occasional crack in the ground as roots escaped the old, almost forgotten stretch of small land. Before I finished, the phone rang. I practically screamed from the sudden noise, glancing towards the landline and quickly rushed over to it. It was Jennifer. All my muscles relaxed as a sigh escaped my mouth. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Hey there.” I said casually, trying my hardest not to sound jittery.
“Are you okay? I’ve been calling you all day,” She said quickly. My brows furrowed and a laugh escaped my throat.
“I just woke up ten minutes ago,” I said.
“You JUST woke up? Man you must be exhausted, painting and making blueprints,” Jennifer joked. I chuckled, shaking my head slowly.
“You should be a comedian. I’m sure they’re accepting gingers down at the strip club a few blocks away, just be sure to bring a swimsuit,” I retorted.
“And I’m sure you can make a great living designing blueprints for gingerbread houses at the Children’s Learning Center,” She said in a more serious tone.
“Bitch,” I snapped.
“Jackass,” She scoffed.
“Whore,” I retored.
“Chode!” She shouted. There was a good minute of dead air.
“I love you,” I said calmly.
“Love you too.” She said. The two of us hung up almost simultaneously. I stood there for a few moments in more silence. “God I love her.”
Lab Report: All the paintings have been dated fully based off of composition of paints. As for the figure it was ‘moving’ closer, but the last painting is missing the figure entirely. No other discrepancies detected, we have been able to identify the alley and we’ve fully searched it nothing was found.
Well that little adventure wasn’t as detail filled as I expected. And this entire entry seems so… random and unconnected. One minute he’s starving and the next he’s in an OCD fit that’s broken by his girlfriend calling him. When the coroner's report comes in soon I’ll mark that down.
1/17/14 Part II
Okay there is something seriously wrong. It’s sunset, not sunrise! I slept an entire day? How could… I just… Wh- How the hell? The… the painting. It’s complete. The figure was much, much closer, standing half way down the alley. My eye was caught by a small, red, flashing light. It was my camera! I ran over and looked at it… The runtime was nine hours.
Lab Report: Medicines detected in Daniel’s blood included a high count of clonidine, and a low dose of pimozide. Requesting all medicine prescribed for him by his doctor, full transcripts should arrive in the next few days.
I’ve gone over the full lab reports and left a major excerpt above. As for this entry, it seems to me that he may have had a blackout period, I don’t know what could have caused it as I know for a fact neither of these drugs can cause a serious one like that.
I took a day off from work today. Jennifer drove me to the doctor. She’s really worried about me. I’m really worried about me… I told him about the sporadic twitches, that the tics were getting worse. I also told him about the blackout. Jennifer yelled at me for not telling her about it. I didn’t even know about it! The doctor prescribed a basic medication called Clonidine. He said it’s usually used to treat kids with high blood pressure (lucky me) and ADHD. It can also be used to help tourettes. He gave me the whole rigmarole of ‘Don’t take it with alcohol’, yada yada.
I think my brain is getting to me (literally). I’ve become too obsessed with my dreams, and should spend a little more time in reality. I’ve already called my work and told them I’d be taking a week off. Due to it being directly after Christmas, it will be with no pay, joy. After literally being dragged out of the clinic by my dick, Jennifer drove me home. She’s spending the night and is right (Unreadable scribbles and lines). Hello, this is Jennifer. I’m taking my boyfriend back, thank you and good ni- (More scribbles and lines)
Still no word from the doctors but we’re working on it. But we can confirm he was prescribed Clonidine. That takes that off the list. I’ve gone over this entry at least a hundred times and I can’t even begin to decipher the scrawling on some of this page, it’s like they both had some sort of… No it’s just pure coincidence. But this is also the first time I’ve seen Jennifer’s handwriting.
The medication must be working because the twitching has all but stopped. I’d hate to tear my dick off if you know what I mean, especially with my girlfriend moving in (and she walks around in nothing but her underwear). If she’s trying to prove a point, I have no idea what it is…But I love it.
Doctor has confirmed he prescribed both drugs. But he managed to get a hold of a particularly high dose of clonidine… almost 80mg was found in his blood during the test. As for this entry I have no specific comments to make as nothing else new has come up.
We have another dinner date scheduled with her parents. Best case scenario, they are just trying to get to know me. Worst case, they are terrorists from mars. But lets not think about squirrels at the moment, I have issues elsewhere. Jennifer locked the paintings in the closet, along with my paint, brushes, the whole nine yards. I can’t even look at a pencil without her ready to whip me. Eh… Let’s stay away from the term ‘whipping’ for the time being. Don’t ask… It was a long night.
This isn’t adding up, right now some things just seem so… wrong about this case. Regardless. It’s my duty to find out what the hell happened. I’m not the only one wanting closure on this case anymore. I’m just beginning to hope this gives us some more insight onto why, as we already know who, where, and how. Now it’s just, why would he do this, and what could have driven him to DO it?
1/24/14: Sunday - Video
I’m an idiot… I’m such an idiot. Oh god what is wrong with me. It’s late… And I just got back from the worst dinner ever. Her father is in the hospital thanks to me… He’s… he’s fine but… Jennifer keeps telling me it wasn’t my fault, but I know it was. Something is wrong with me. No no no… not me. It’s not, it’s those paintings, it has to be. This will be my first video log... There were some things I could only describe in words, so I labeled some papers to go with the video.
“You really like Denny’s don’t you?” I chuckled, my head sitting lazily in my right hand as my elbow pressed against the car door.
“And what’s wrong with Denny’s?” Chuck said. (Jennifer’s father is Chuck by the way.)
“You’re as muscular as an ox, so apparently nothing,” I said.
“What are you getting at?” Chuck questioned, turning back to look at me.
“Eyes on the road,” Mary snapped, slapping Chuck upside the head. (Jennifer’s mother is Mary, don’t know why I never mentioned this.) Mary’s seat tilted back as she pulled the lever on the right side, allowing her to recline.
“I think what he’s getting at is the fact that their food has enough calories to kill a whale,” Jennifer added.
“You know I killed a whale,” Chuck said factually, turning back and pointing at me.
“Chuck!” Mary stated loudly.
“It’s a red light,” Chuck waved dismissively.
“Oh god here we go…” Jennifer sighed.
“You were there!” Chuck exclaimed, slugging Jennifer in the shoulder.
“Yes I know that Dad. Thanks for the bruise by the way,” Jennifer groaned, hitting him back immediately. Chuck looked down at the shoulder she hit, staring at it for a moment before looking up at her again.
“Don’t worry you’re getting there,” Chuck said. My lip quivered for a moment before I started to laugh uncontrollably.
“Shut up,” Jennifer said, grabbing my arm and twisting it.
“Stop it, you might hurt yourself,” I teased, grabbing her and returning the favor as I awkwardly bear hugged her through the seat belts.
“The light’s green,” Mary said, shoving Chuck to face forward. The car started driving again shortly after.
“I know that,” Chuck said, gently pushing Mary back to her half-reclined position.
“And please no sex in the car, we just had the seats cleaned,” Mary sighed.
“Whatshu talkin abousht?” I slurred, my voice muffled as I slowly ran my tongue up Jennifer’s arm.
“You’re going to give me an aneurysm,” Mary chuckled, shaking her head slowly.
Everyone in the car lurched forward as a loud screech echoed through the car. My face smashed into the head of the leather seat in front of me and a sharp pain shot through my nose. When the inertia finally left and I was free to move, I slammed myself back to the seat, my eyes wide with surprise more than fear, and my hands over my nose. I snapped my head to my left to make sure Jennifer was alright, and sure enough, she was.
“Is everyone alright?” Mary asked quickly. She twisted around and gasped as she saw my face. “Oh my god Daniel, are you alright?”
I brought my hands away from my face and saw the blood staining them. I guess I must have hit my nose pretty hard.
“Yeah I’m fine… It hurts, but I don’t think it’s broken,” I reassured quickly, Jennifer already halfway out of the car to try to resuscitate me if necessary.
“Asshole!” Chuck shouted angrily, pounding his fist onto the horn. “Mary, open the glove compartment.”
“Chuck,” Mary said sternly.
“It’s not loaded, just open it,” Chuck said calmly.
“Oh god…” I mumbled to myself, the bloody nose already being attended to by my girlfriend.
“My dad likes guns, but he won’t do anything. He never does anything.” Jennifer shook her head and smiled.
“That’s not true,” Chuck said, turning back to the two of us. “Tell em honey.”
“Yes, that squirrel in the garage could have started World War III,” Mary joked. She, Jennifer and I immediately started to laugh. Chuck simply grumbled and sank back into his seat.
“Ow!” I cringed, gripping the seat tightly.
“Sorry!” Jennifer apologised, lightly tapping my nose and cleaning the last of the blood. “There, all better.”
“My hero.” I smiled as she placed a gentle kiss on the end of my nose. “Ow…”
“Now you’re just fussing,” Jennifer said, punching me in the arm. Moments later the car began to moving and the two of us buckled up quickly. Mary turned back to me, a glimmer of guilt in her eyes.
“If I hadn’t moved my seat back…” Mary started.
“It’s fine, really. I can handle a nose bleed,” I said with a reassuring smile. Mary just stared at me for a few moments before reluctantly returning to her original position and faced forward.
“Alright I can see Denny’s, finally.” Chuck sighed as he pulled into the parking lot and drove around, eyeing every spot for a place to park. As soon as the gear was in park, Jennifer and I were out of the car and bolting to the doors. We pushed inside and dove into the first available booth. We were joined by Chuck and Mary shortly after, who sat on the opposite side of us. The disgruntled waiter walked over and stared down at us.
“Anything to drink?” The man asked.
“Pepsi,” I said, turning to Jennifer.
“Two,” Jennifer added.
“Coffee, black please,” Chuck said, relaxing back into the booth.
“Dad…” Jennifer started.
“I’ve been drinking coffee for twenty years, It sure as hell isn’t going to kill me today.” Chuck laughed, reaching over and grabbing her hand.
“I’m gonna kill you if you don’t start taking better care of yourself,” Jennifer huffed.
“And for you?” The waiter asked, looking over to Mary.
“Just water is fine, thank you,” Mary said. The waiter nodded and walked off to the kitchen.
“So how’s the Parkinsons?” Chuck asked.
“I…” I started.
“He doesn’t have Parkinsons. He has Tourettes,” Jennifer corrected.
“Yeah I d-” I continued.
“Same thing,” Chuck said.
“Well th-” I tried to say.
“They most certainly are not,” Mary added, turning to Chuck and crossing her arms.
“Hey they both twitch. I think,” Chuck said defensively.
“Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Jennifer said you’ve made it a hobby to… paint your dreams?” Mary asked curiously.
“Yeah, I just... Heh,” I chuckled, scratching my head.
“What’s wrong?” Mary asked.
“I can’t… really remember.” I shrugged.
“Really? You’ve been painting the same alley for over a month,” Jennifer said, cocking her head in the same curiosity as her mother. An image immediately flashed, shrouding my vision for a split second. I put a hand on my head and scratched it a little harder. I didn’t get a look at whatever it was, but it seemed really familiar…
“That’s not even the worst part. There’s this creepy black man just hanging in the background, in ALL of them,” Jennifer added. There it was again, the image. It stayed for a whole second this time. What was it? Why did it seem so damn familiar?
“Maybe it’s his mind telling him to stop stalking people,” Chuck laughed.
“They’re all the same?” Mary asked, seeming a little more interested as she straightened up.
“Pretty much. It’s just that, with each one, the figure in the background gets a little closer,” Jennifer said. A stab of pain shot through my head, making me clench it tightly as the pain pulsed like a miniature sun was radiating in the center of my brain. “And closer…” She continued. The pain getting worse as the same image flashed again. “And finally…” Jennifer said, both her parents genuinely leaning in towards her, a spark of intrigue in their eyes. “BOO!”
Chuck and Mary jumped slightly, sitting up as straight as possible. Jennifer immediately started to laugh hysterically. Mary smiled and started to laugh quietly alongside her. Chuck was not pleased in the slightest. “Oh come on that was funny, wasn’t it Danny?” Jennifer asked, nudging me. I practically jumped out of my seat, glancing between the three with absolute shock on my face. Everyone shifted their attention to me, a little bewilderment in their expressions.
“What’s wrong?” Mary asked, the concern in her voice obvious.
“Nothing, nothing… Just a headache is all.” I partially lied. That wasn’t the only thing bugging me. What is my brain trying to tell me?
“Drinks,” The waiter said, startling the lot of us.
“About time!” Chuck said as the waiter set a cup down and was preparing to pour his coffee. A kid ran by, bumping the waiter and causing him to spill some of the hot, black liquid onto the table.
“Oh damn…” The waiter muttered.
“Ah it’s fine, just leave the pot,” Chuck said, patting the waiter on the shoulder. My eyes shifted to the spill, squinting and focusing on it. The liquid seemed to… change. I tilted my head and stared at the steaming ink-blot as I started to shake. Why was I shaking? I wasn’t cold. My breathing grew heavier, an unexpected ball of dread building in the pit of my stomach. I let out a loud gasp as the image flashed through my head again, this time I saw it. I knew what it was, it was all clear. But the image… It wasn’t fading.
I blinked, closing my eyes tightly for a few moments before opening them. I was in the alley outside my apartment, where my dream that has plagued me, has returned. I remember, I remember every detail. It felt wrong, it wasn’t the same though… It felt dark, like something awful, something… Inhuman, was watching me. I don’t know how to describe it, only the feeling of terror as my heart pounded painfully in my chest and my entire body shook with an unexplainable fear. It wasn’t until a chilling revelation hit me did I calm down, a revelation that froze me to the core. Where was the shadow? I could feel the air grow stale, musty, and damp. Tears ran down my face uncontrollably. I was in the presence of something horrid, something that could see me, something that hated me. I slowly turned around, barely finding the strength to move as I saw my apartment behind me. My heart sank as I saw it. I saw the monster, that beast, portrayed in the window, silent and still like a painting. Its silhouette stood out in the dim light emanating from my apartment.
It was inside. It was in my apartment, It was in… it… Oh god. The world around me grew darker and the figure, no matter how much light faded, was always visible for some unknown reason. I knew it was there, staring at me. The sun had disappeared. There was no light in this world, no warmth, no love, only hate… And It was glaring at me with hungry, bestial eyes, like a wolf to its prey. I remember, I remember everything, please make it stop! “LEAVE ME ALONE!” I screamed. And as if on cue, my arm twitched. A violent twitch, worse than I’ve ever had. I was greeted by screams. Bloodcurdling, horrid wails. More tears ran down my cheeks as I covered my ears “Stop! I’m sorry! Please god make it stop!” I cried, closing my eyes tightly and gritting my teeth. And then, in an instant, it stopped. My entire body slowly relaxed, and I opened my eyes. I saw Jennifer and Mary, holding a towel to Chuck’s face, his body limp, giving an occasional twitch.
It was then that I saw the spot on the table, larger, black practically engulfing it and dripping off the side like a thick tar. I stared wide eyed at it, my back pressing painfully into the seat behind me as I leaned back to avoid the substance. It was the shimmer of something out of the corner of my eye that caused my heart to sink. It was the coffee pot, lying on the floor next to the table. It was then that I saw the liquid was coffee. And it wasn’t as thick as I previously viewed it as. I slowly looked back up at Chuck, seeing that there was a small amount of steam coming from his face. They pulled the towel away, and his face was burned, red and already peeling. It was then that I realized what I’d done, and I had been recording all of it.
I… Oh god. Without this stuff from him I’d think he was a crazy psychopath that needs to be locked up forever. Jesus that freak out really just surprised me. I don’t even know… I need to watch over that again… Look for anything that stands out…
1/25/14: Monday - Text
Chuck is in the hospital. He hasn’t woken up. Jennifer is crying. She keeps telling me it’s not my fault… But I already know that.
That much boiling water… I don’t know how anyone could survive that. It’s not possible. I don’t know what to say… he seems to get even more psychotic as time goes on.
1/26/14: Tuesday - Text
I’ve stopped taking the medicine entirely. The moment I started painting, the twitching stopped. I was right! What I saw back at Denny’s had to be what I’ve been seeing in my dreams. What does it want? And why does it want me to paint?
We’ve reached the point of no return. Schizophrenia is definitely the cause of his problems. But this is going way… No it long since has gone past the normal case. I’ve never in all my time seen a case like this. There’s nothing I can do but continue this and see it through to the very end...
1/27/14: Wednesday - Text
My girlfriend is worried about me. I’m not imagining things, this is real! I don’t know what this thing is, but it’s coming for me. I need something to protect myself, I need something to protect Jennifer. I’m going to buy a gun.
If anyone sold him a gun I’m just about ready to give up. If you’re losing your sanity then you shouldn’t be anywhere near a weapon. It’s too dangerous for anyone you care about, let alone yourself. And what is it with people just thinking they can go out and buy a gun? They don’t seem to comprehend gun laws anymore.
1/28/14: Thursday - Text
I’ve been watching that video over and over again, watching the boiling water wash over Chuck's face. I just sit there, recording, watching. I must have looked like an absolute lunatic! I’m not crazy, I know I’m not. It was too real not to be. My girlfriend is worried about me.
Denial, the last hope for anyone. I can say this, he did look absolutely crazy… except for the incomprehensible horror that flashed onto his face in the moment before he lost it. I’ve never seen that look on anyone’s face before… pure primal fear. That’s something I hope I never have to see again...
1/29/14: Friday - Text
I’ve decided I’m going to continue painting. Whatever it is wants me to, and will make my life a living hell until I do. So for now, I’m going to play along. I’m going back to work Monday, fan-friggen-tastic.
You think painting would help? I don’t… God damn it. I’ve already realized and accepted that he’s losing his mind over this but… why? Why would any man, sane or insane think giving something that’s capable of making you lose it any access into our own world is a good idea?
1/30/14: Saturday - Text
It turns out I need a license for a gun. There’s no time for that… no, no no no. Too long, I need something now. I don’t know if a gun will even help, so I’ve brought home a few books… And a bible just in case, you can’t be too careful ya know?
The fact that Daniel was an avid atheist near the beginning of this journal just proves how far his descent into madness has gone. This would also explain the odd symbols around the room. Although I find it strange… I’ve never seen any of these in a bible, let alone a religion I’ve heard of. I’ll probably learn more as I go along, but for now, let’s assume they are simply religious scriptures / symbols, of which I will delve into later.
1/31/14: Sunday - Text
I’ve lined up all the paintings from oldest, to newest. I keep looking back and forth like a see-saw, watching the figure get closer, and closer, and closer… There’s only so much space on a canvas, so what happens when it runs out? I don’t know, and the thought terrifies me. There’s something strange about the pictures. I can’t… I can’t quite see a difference, but they seem like they’ve… Changed. I told my girlfriend about it, she hasn’t noticed anything. I guess it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me. I’m just going t- Jennifer isn’t wearing clothes. Goodnight.
I haven’t noticed anything different about them. But then again it’s not like I’m seeing them right after he painted them. There’s no way I could begin to see what was going through his mind when he said they were different… Let’s just hope he can eventually shed some more light on this, but… I’m getting worried that maybe I don’t really want to know what was going on...
2/1/14: Monday - Text
I just got home, the dreams are all I think about. I didn’t even realize that I had spaced off while drawing one of the plans for a new apartment. When I came to, I realize I had been drawing the same, monotonous images that had been stalking me for weeks. I threw the page away before anyone saw, but it’s getting worse. I’ll talk more tomorrow.
It’s entirely consuming his life now. If we hadn’t crossed it before, then this is it… There was no more turning back. Not for him, and definitely not for me… No matter how much my gut is telling me I shouldn’t go on. I need to, period.
2/2/14: Tuesday - Text
Jesus Christ… Before I headed off to work, there were more portraits than last night. I don’t even remember painting these… I’ve gotta go.
Blackouts… This can’t get any worse can it? Sometimes I’m too afraid to even ask the question anymore…
2/2/14: Part II Text
There’s something going on, I know it. There’s a reason this thing chose me, I have to find out. It came to me in my dreams, it has to be connected! It wants something, but what? It keeps getting closer and closer, does it want out? Out from where? Why does it need me to paint it? I just grabbed a few books from the library, mostly about dreams, and the subconscious. if I find anything, I’ll write it down.
Did he think at all that maybe he was being… No, even I can see that’s not the case. Maybe this isn’t all just a mental breakdown… So many what if’s… So many unanswered questions. I don’t know where this is leading! It’s not making any sense… Oh God… Unless it’s… No that’s insane, that’s not even possible! These are just the rantings of an unstable man, nothing more.
2/3/14: Wednesday - Text
I found something. I don’t know which is true, but this specific one caught my eye. I discovered that thousands of years ago, Mesopotamians had a habit of recording their dreams. This one got my attention, but it was the other possibilities on the pages that really put a knot in my stomach.
“Mesopotamians made a habit of recording their dreams on clay tablets, and every culture in the world has their own interpretation of the realm that lies between wakefulness and sleep. In some legends, dreams are sent from the gods; in others, terrifying monsters lurk at the fringes of consciousness, waiting for their chance to creep into the shadows of our minds.”
I knew something was off, something HAS been watching me. I know now… Because I let it in.
Jesus Christ… He just confirmed my worst fear… This is beyond the scope of anything we’ve encountered…
2/4/14: Thursday - Text
I took a sick day from work, mostly because my boss suggested it. He said I looked like shit… It’s probably good to stay home, I won’t put anyone in danger that way. I’m starting to understand something. I tried my hardest to remember my dreams, but I kept forgetting. I know why so many people can never recall what they had seen the night prior, why it seems so familiar, yet you can’t remember. The thoughts, the images, are on the tip of your finger, but you can’t quite see them, it’s to protect you. Your brain is keeping them out. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know it’s too late for me. Don’t make the same mistake I made. If you have a bad dream, hope to God you forget it. And if you have a dream that you just want to remember, don’t. Let it slip away, let it go, forgotten in the endless void.
There are things we just don’t understand, and hopefully we never will. The things that lurk just outside our understanding, our comprehension… The things on the border of our imagination, our dreams, are watching you. They are waiting for their chance to break through, to get inside. You have the power to keep them out, don’t be stupid like me, I was curious, naive. Some people say that when we draw something, it comes to life. Everything we create, becomes something new, something wonderful. With each children’s scribbles, to an artist’s masterpiece, we create worlds for these cartoonish ideas to inhabit. If you’ve ever seen Chalkzone, you probably believed this as a kid. But what most people don’t know, is that there are things that we didn’t make… Things that have always been there, waiting… Waiting for us. We are nothing to them, we are just doors. Please, whatever you do, don’t let them in. No matter how long they knock, no matter how hard… Don’t. Open. The door.
Anyone else reading this would believe he’s gone insane… Though. I don’t any more… I can’t help but feel that now. God… I know how unprofessional this must sound, but… what the hell did he let into his head? And, did it get out? How did he even come to this conclusion?
2/5/14: Friday - Video
The video starts. Daniel is seen sitting in the center of the room, paintings lining the walls around him. “I saw it… Oh god I saw it…” He mumbled quietly, his body visibly shaking. “Don’t let it in… Oh my god don’t look at it… Don’t let it see you.” Daniel whimpered and sobbed. Moments later, a knocking could be heard faintly in the background. Daniel curled up further onto the floor, hiding his face and covering his ears. “Make it stop… please!” He shouted into the questionably still air.
Oh God damn it. Damn it all. He’s fucked up by doing this, you NEVER surround yourself in something that’s causing THAT much stress in your life. Why would he EVER think that was a good idea, WHY?
Daniel stopped, all motion left his body. He sat there silently, his fists balling angrily as the knocking started again. He stood up, glaring at what I could assume was the door to his apartment. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” Daniel shouted. The video flickered, static engulfing it for only a split second. Daniel was gone, and the camera was aimed at the center of the empty living room. The paintings were still there, at least, some of them. The rest were either out of shot, or missing.
This is… unsettling to say the least, I don’t even know where to begin with this… Something just doesn’t… I’ve said it enough times already but it fits right in here, something doesn’t feel right about this, no. No. Nothing seems right about this anymore. I’m losing my composure. I need to focus. Focus...
The video continued, staring silently at the center of the room. The paintings grew more unsettling in the silence as each figure seemed to stare directly at the camera, watching, waiting. Your heart practically skips a beat at the sound of static cutting through the still air like the crunching of a heavy boot in thick snow. What seemed like an eternity of waiting was replaced by Daniel’s presence once again, but this time he was sitting in a chair in the center of the room. He was clutching something in his left hand, something barely out of view, covered by the darkness that now filled the room, seeing the sun had set some time ago. The video had cut once again. Daniel wasn’t moving, but it was obvious he was awake by his open eyes, which gleamed in what little light there was in the room. The paintings that were once still seemed almost lifelike, regardless of their inanimate but uneasy nature. A clicking was heard from whatever Daniel was clutching in his hand, his stature remaining silent, and unmoving.
Everything about this just screams… And I can’t understand what it’s screaming… Nor do I think I want to.
The video starts again and Daniel is seen hunched forward, a pistol in his hand (presumed to be what he was holding beforehand). You don’t recall him in this position, but assume it was paused at the start of another cut. Daniel’s eyes were focused somewhere offscreen. A light rattling echoed through the room. His hands were shaking, revealing the sound to be the gun.
“I couldn’t get a license. I’m just borrowing it from Chuck,” Daniel’s long forgotten voice announced. “He won’t need it. He can’t really protect his daughter in the hospital, so I’ll take over.”
The video cut, Daniel hadn’t moved, but there seemed to be more paintings around him than before. The video stayed on Daniel for a minute, nothing moving, nothing making sound, only the barely audible sound of the drifting air on the camera’s mic. Suddenly the tape turned to static, a prompt at the bottom of the screen stating it was the end of the video.
-End Of Tape -
Why would anyone have given him a gun? He’s clearly not stable, and that’s a clear indication that he’s not safe to own or carry a weapon. And borrow’s a particularly funny term. This leads me to believe that the gun wasn’t secure in the first place, and not only that he admitted to stealing it. I’ve just put in the second tape and am about to play it. I can only imagine what awaits me around this corner.
-Tape 2, Labeled: Forgive Me -
The video starts, immediately noticing the scenery has changed. The camera is now pointed at the front door, breathing could be heard in the background. “I have to kill it. If I don’t, then it could hurt someone. I let it in, It’s my problem. I have to be the one to do this. I don’t know what I’d do if it hurt Jennifer.” Daniel’s voice rang through the camera. The rattling of the gun in Daniel’s previously shaky hands had been replaced by a quiet tapping. “I won’t. I won’t let it hurt-” He started, cutting himself off, the tapping suddenly stopping. It took a moment to notice the cause of his silence. There were footsteps, distant, but getting louder, clearer, closer.
“It’s coming… It’s finally coming,” Daniel’s voice uttered in a quiet, but audible tone. His voice was coated in fear as the familiar rattling started again.
“It knows. It knows I saw it. Oh god…” Daniel practically wheezed, the rattling of the gun growing louder as the tapping returned, now sounding like a shoe on a hardwood floor and realizing it was coming from the same spot as Daniel, behind the camera.
Thump, thump, thump, thump…
The sound of the footsteps grew faster, unable to differentiate between them and your own heartbeat as it felt like it was about to burst out of your chest.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP…
“Leave. Me. ALONE!” Daniel screamed, followed by a loud bang that echoed through the room and halls outside. Silence was all that followed, no steps, no tapping, no rattling, nothing. The only change was a small hole in the center of the door. There was a quiet creaking, followed by Daniel coming into frame and walking towards the door slowly. He unlocked the door, turning the handle slowly and peeking out the cracked wooden entrance. All motion stopped and Daniel seemed almost horrified. The gun dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor. “Je… Jennifer?” Daniel mumbled quietly.
-End of Tape -
He… shot… I’ve got to make a call to my superior, we may have a homicide as well. I will continue my report after the call has been made.
-Tape 3, Labeled: No Hope -
The video starts, Daniel is curled up in the center of the room, paintings surrounding him once again. Sobbing is heard, violent, and pained sobbing. “What have I done…” Daniel cried quietly. The gun lay next to him, and his hands were covered in blood. “I tried to help… but she was already dead… It… Oh god why…” Daniel started to weep uncontrollably. Minutes of the loud wails passed before it broke down to nothing, silence filling the air again. “I didn’t want to leave her there… So I buried her.” Daniel said quietly. There was another minute of silence before Daniel’s voice rang out again. “There’s no hope for me. It’s in my head, and there’s only one way to kill it.”
Daniel’s hand moved slowly across the floor and grabbed the gun. “I’m so sorry… please God forgive me…” He whimpered quietly. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m s-”
- Tape Stopped -
I pushed the camera away, covering my face with my hands as I leaned back into my chair. “I guess that ends this case.” I said to myself. I reached over and picked up my cell phone, dialing the number to the station. I told the Chief what was recorded, and that I’d hand the tapes over for further details.
- Three Days Later -
I’ve just received reports that the blood found on the body was that of Daniel AND Jennifer. They still haven’t discovered a body, and have no idea where to even start digging. “Hey Mance, what are ya still doin’ here. Go home and get some sleep,” Officer Phillips questioned from the doorway. “Case is closed, cleanup should be here soon.”
“Yeah just… Gimme a minute.” I said, glancing around the still bloodied room.
“Alright well… Just don’t spend too much time here. This place gives me the creeps and I just wanna put it behind us alright?” Phillips said, giving me one last look before heading out of the room. All the paintings were piled in the corner of the room the moment the case was closed, all that’s left is to pick up the mess. I sighed, shaking my head at the scene before turning and heading towards the door. Just as I was about to leave, something caught my eye. I noticed the closet door was cracked, and something was inside. I approached the door and pulled it open, seeing something thin with a tarp over it. The tarp didn’t cover it entirely and I saw the frame of a painting at the bottom, leaned against the wall. Why is this here? Shouldn’t it be stacked with the rest? This investigation has been open for days, they should have swept the entire building. I reached down to the tarp and started to pull it off when my phone rang. I dropped the tarp back to covering the painting and un-pocketed my phone. I cringed as the voice of Chief Mallory shouted into my ear.
“WHERE THE HELL IS IT?!” Mallory snapped. The phone was held a little over a foot away from my ear and it was still hurting my head.
“Calm down! Where’s what?” I asked.
“The body, It’s gone,” Mallory stated firmly, the anger still in his voice.
“Wh… I… How?” I stammered, my eyes widening as I snapped my head around the room, my eyes scanning every inch as I bolted around the empty apartment.
“Daniel Evans, his body isn’t in the morgue and it sure as hell doesn’t take this long to deliver a cadaver, so WHERE IS HE?!” Mallory shouted. I ran to the window overlooking the alley that I had grown eerily familiar with during this case, looking around the area outside.
“I’m looking but I can’t…” I stopped myself, a chill running down my spine. I turned slowly to the closet, approaching the covered painting.
“Mance? Agent Mance answer me!” Mallory growled through the phone, growing more quiet as I moved the phone to my side. I reached down and took the tarp, slowly pulling it off. I dropped the phone, hearing it clank to the floor as I stared at the painting. The picture… Was of Daniel. His hands were up, pressing against the painting as if looking at a man from the other side of a window. His features were more detailed, horrified, more detailed and well drawn than any of his other work, as if it wasn’t drawn by him.
“Mance! Don’t you fucking ignore me, I can hear you breathing!” Mallory’s voice shouted. My hand clenched and I brought my hand up to my ear, only for a chilling realization to hit me. I had dropped my phone. And if it wasn’t in my hand... so who was breathing?
Thump… thump… thump...