The Father

December 9, 2012 at 12:00 PM
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Patient 1970
Log 4
Dr. Evans
11:23 am Wednesday

Patient shows further signs of deterioration. MRI scans show that brain matter shows no signs of damage, however, the actual electrical currents are continually changing and decreasing. I have been caring for this 30 year old man for about a month now, yet it seems like years. He came in with very little wrong. He just constantly talked about his father. His wife was scared about him becoming violent or losing his mind at the death of his father two years prior but while in our care he has shown no signs of violence.

What he has shown is immaturity. To a level expected of a teenager. He constantly hits on nurses or assisstants half his age as if he were trying to pick up an older woman. This is a considerable change from when he was enrolled here. He was, at that time, simply worried that his father wouldn’t forgive him. Considerable sentiment given it is well documented that he and his father had a tenuous relationship. The worry really came from the fact that whenever you tried to talk with him about his father, or ask him about what he was saying about him, he would look at you dazed.

At this time I feel it may be a related dementia to his father, as his father died in a tragic accident after losing his mind, suffering from both Alzhimers and Paranoia. The stressed relationship between father and son lead to the son burning all of his fathers photos shortly before his death, and a proclaimed irrational fear of digital photography leaves me guessing at the mans identity.

The Patient has not recognized his wife in over a week, asking her who she is and telling her to “buzz off” as she was impeding his “hunt for tang.” He has also not recognized that she has stopped visiting. It seems the deterioration is progressing in new ways. For now we can only continue to test him and hope his uncle can straighten him out.

** * **

Patient 2354
Log 1
Dr. Evans
10:27pm Saturday

I hate late night patients. I also hate when a person enrolls themself due to self paranoia. But policy states that we must accept any patient till we run out of room.

Personal notes asside, a young woman came into the ward about 4 hours ago. She claimed she had been enjoying the eavning air near a local park. She had just finished baby-sitting for a friend and was enjoying the sound of late night childs play. She had been desiring a kid for a while now, but has been single for the past two years. As she sat, she noticed a person in light jacket and jeans. Considering the fall weather we’ve been having this is reasonable. She changes her position to sit next to this person and attempts to start a conversation. The person she now identified as a man simply nodded his head at her attempts at conversation but made no attempts to reply. When some young children came up to them, the patient insists there was no calling of them over for some reason, the man looked around then pulled something out of his pocket.

— — —

Apologies for the break. The patient was demanding she be allowed to see her father and causing a ruckus. Anyways, what the man pulled out appeared to be a small bag of candy. The patient was able to identify black licorice from the scent. When the chilren’s parents appeared to take their children home the man offered some candy to the parents. At this point the patient assumed the man was a mute as he still never said a word. The parents were rightfully wary of a strange mute man offering candy for children. As if to deny their suspicions he offered the patient a piece of candy. Loving black licorice she accepted without question, chewing and swallowing the small piece of gummy candy in seconds. This seemed to appease the two parents and they allowed their children to each have a single piece of candy before leaving.

The patients fear comes from what happened next. Not a minute after the parents and children were out of sight, leaving the park empty outside of the patient and the man, the man turned to her and  pressed his forehead to hers. She was so off put she jumped away, much to the dismay of the man. Then she said she lost control of herself, and bowed in applogy even though all of her kept stating to run away from him. The man simply stood and returned the bow then walked off smiling.

The patient chose to enroll herself in our facilities out of fear she is losing her good sense under the premises of accepting the piece of candy and apologizing for an unwanted and forward action. I don’t see this patient staying more than a couple of days max to get required testing out of the way. It’s late, I’m going to bed.

** * **

Patient 2354
Log 2
Dr. Evans
12:00 pm Thursday

No new patients has left me with time to annalyze those already under my care. I’ve decided to do these reports at a more reasonable time since I almost fell asleep at my desk writing the last one for patient 980. Now I have a cup of coffee and a decent meal in my stomach.

This patient…worries me. To say the least. MRI scans show that her mental faculties are beginning to shut down at an alarming rate. It has been almost a week and yet she has already deteriorated to the same level as patient 1970 who at the time of this writing is next on my to-do list. Both of them now act as if they were five year olds. However patient 2354 seems to be deteriorating at a faster pace than her predecessor. Whatever the cause of this anomally is, both patients are now obsessing over their fathers, throwing tantrums and crying when they don’t get their way.

The only refuge nurses have from these problems is two people. One for each patient. For this patient it is a young man with constantly short, disheveled, brown hair. He always wears a thin white wind-breaker and some jeans. In fact he closely resembles the description of the man the Patient described as giving her the candy. I pass this off as coincidence since she seemed horrified that that man would even touch her.

With this visitor the Patient is far calmer than when they are not. She also seems to be clinging to the man quite a lot. His ID states that he is her brother and he’s been writing his notes as he has a throat infection from his singing career, a story I looked into. It checks out. What worries me about this arrangement is that she does not identify this man as her brother but as her father. This doesn’t seem to bother him at all but I find it odd that she only does this to this man. I’ve also noticed that 1970 also seems to calm down some around this man, though not nearly as much as he does to his “Patron Father,” who is an older man claiming to be his uncle, using sign language after losing his vocal cord functionality after a bout with thyroid cancer. Again, I checked the story and with the ID given, it checks out.

Patients are about to be let outside for a break so I think I’ll end this here.

** * **

Personal note
Dr. Evans
9:00 pm Saturday

This is a note more to myself than anyone. I’ve begun noticing some odd things with my patients. With no new ones to speak of, I’ve had plenty of time to look over 2354 and 1970′s cases. I’ve noticed a few conjoining factors.

First and foremost there are the obvious factors of their obsession with their fathers, their “Patron Fathers,” as well as the deterioration process of their minds.

But what I hadn’t put together till just over an hour ago at dinner, was that they both had similar experiences before showing these symptoms. 2354 had her man at the park, and 1970 and his wife bumped into an older man feeding pidgeons and snacking on candy by the central fountain, just next to the police station. The wife didn’t take any when the man offered due to her dislike of licorice, but her husband had.

I will admit here and now, I’m starting to get an eerie feeling about these patients, because the best is yet to come. Both patients described the person who had given them licorice before in good detail. Their “Patron Fathers” also closely resemble the respective descriptions.

I’m beginning to wonder if the people visiting my patients are in fact the cause of this issue. If so, how? To cause such a precise mental deterioration is beyond modern science, and doubtfuly future science could attempt such a feat.

Also it was brought to my attention a small detail of our visitor process is that we clear the pockets of anyone visiting a patient. This is to prevent bringing harm to the patient or helping them harm themselves. The guard in charge of security for the last few days had gone over my recent patient logs and felt it relevant to tell me that both of their “Patron Fathers” had small bags of licorice. Each bag uniqe in shape and quantity held but both were black licorice. He has been informed to confront the guests about these items and report directly to me his findings.

In my fifty years of living, I have never been more worried for the well being of humanity than I am at this moment, for in these moments I question my own sanity, and the sanity of a world where being kind…could well be deadly.

** * **

Patient 1970
Log 6
Dr. Evans
12:00 pm Monday

Patient 2354 is dead. She died over the weekend. Her brain simply stopped functioning. The nurses told me she was hard at play with a large plastic car then she suddenly collapsed. Autopsy reports showed no signs of internal hemmoraging or internal damage. Her brain just simply…stopped.

To make matters worse Patient 1970 is now in a coma. It seems that his 10 year age difference over his predecessor granted a slower hell than she was. My best assessment of this would be that the candy takes longer to take you down the longer you’ve been alive. I’d like to run tests on the candy to prove my theory but the guard who was under my employ has wound up missing. Police have searched everywhere but can’t find him. An investigation of his house found that his home was torn apart as if a large dog had mauled everything. There was traces of the guards blood, so they fear the worst. Seeing as my only patient is now incapacitated, it seems my logs will be much shorter.
** * **

Patient 0
Log 1
Dr. Evans
4:00 pm Friday

Patient 0, named so as this one I caught early. Since I have had no patients under my care for the last two days I had been looking for another case like this. One with the candy, the father obsession, and hopefully another “Patron” with some form of throat issue.

I recieved a letter in my drop box yesterday. It was covered in blood, and taped closed. There was no envelope, just two pieces of paper folded together and sealed to hold it closed. My guard came through in the end. Kind of. The letter read as follows:

“Dear Dr. Evans,

Under no circumstance should you trust The Father. Not only is he not human, he is not kind. I asked about the candy the next time he visited, shortly before one of the children passed into his everlasting care. His visage denied the existance of The Gate, those dumb little candies. So before I gave him his things I took one of them to attempt to give to you. I think he knew when I did it but couldn’t do anything, lest he give himself away.

No. Not again. I can hear the crying of his children. Sounds of laughter turn to screams once you pass The Gate. There’s no way back once you cross. It’s to late for me, but you can save others now. The candy IS THE CAUSE. Never eat it. You will see him for the demon he truely is and you will hear his true voice. I’m going to deliver this to you before he can claim me. I’ve already slipped a few times after he forced me to eat so many of them, his punishment for stealing a Gate. I’m going quickly but if he claims me I won’t be able to rest peacefully.

Goodbye Doctor. I wish you luck.”

The next morning the guard was on the news. Dead. He had been on top of a local hotel, he had broken onto the roof and apparantly attempted to jump. The report said no known cause could be determined. But I know. I know The Father got him first. Poor bastard. I will make sure I can put what he taught me to use.

Patient 0 is a charitable girl. She’s well known at local soup kitchens and charity races. So it’s no surprise that if someone offered her a piece of candy she would be willing to take it, even if only to help the other person feel good. She’s only 15 so I can’t tell how long she will last before she dies, but I fear it isn’t long. I hope she lasts long enough to get a visit. I haven’t even bothered to question her because quite frankly she’s a dead girl.

Oh dear, it seems The Father has put me a little on edge. My humanity is failing, and I don’t care. My goal is to get rid of The Father. No more, no less. My goal is to help those who can be helped. When he comes, I’ll be ready.

** * **

Police Report
Suicide
Officer Mack

Seems the victim has been suffering these last few weeks. He’s been suffering from paranoia and was beginning to show signs of dementia. All the same, the poor old man took the leap. It wasn’t to far of a fall given perspective, only three stories. He could have gone higher than jumping from his office window. But it did the trick. We investigated his office to see if we could find a cause. We   found it all right. Right in the center of his desk actually, nice and neat in a tidy little envelope. Inside were two things. A letter, and a drawing. The letter read as follows:

“Father has allowed me two things.

The first is the right to write this letter. The second is a choice, live with him in happiness with my brothers and sisters. Or die alone. The purpose of this letter is the same as any suicide note. To explain the why. In my folders are files on three patients (1970, 2354, and 0) all of whom their stories will explain my death.

I was not ready. The Father did appear, but in the form of the guard whom had died to give me the info I needed. I had not been expecting anything so straight forward. Few people had watched the news that morning, with little or no time to do so, no one questioned his existance here. Except me. When he showed up to visit his “niece” I pulled him into my office. He was not pleased at this and screamed at me. The horror was that any sound that came from his mouth was simply a cacophany of childrens laughter. I quickly apologized and my politeness seemed to calm him down. I offered  him a seat and I sat in my chair. I stared him in the eyes for what seemed like days, but were simply five ticks of my old grand father clock. I questioned in my mind how many people he had lead astray. After our moment of silence I told him I knew what he was and what he had done. He simply nodded and pulled a small bag out of his pocket. He offered me a piece of his licorice with a toothy smile on his face, the face of my friend. He was the beast that destoyed his current bodies home, so in the enclosed space of my office, I didn’t stand a chance to run. I made demands first. The rights I stated at the beginning. He simply nodded and held the piece of licorice closer to me. I nodded and grabbed it. I hesitated at first before popping the candy in my mouth. It tasted no different than regular candy.

But it’s effect was revolutionary. I saw Father for what he truely is. A beautiful creature, a creature far superior to humans. He is the one who has come to take what makes us destroy away from us.

But he won’t get me. My humanity is mine and mine alone. So after this is sealed I going to jump out the window Father has opened behind me, preparing for my choice. The image I’ve tucked in with this is what was given to me by the guard. It is truely beautiful to see Father for what he is. I have crossed the gate and must say farewell, I hope you never have to.”

Credit To: Corian Wornen

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Kissie Sykes

December 9, 2012 at 12:00 AM
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September 14th

My doctor suggested I start keeping a journal in order to organize my thoughts. Said it would help reduce stress, and god knows I need that. I don’t even know what to write, I’ve never done the journal thing before but I guess I’ll start simple.

My name is Milo Stokes, I’m a corporal in the U.S. Marines stationed at Cherry Point North Carolina. Almost a year ago my wife left me after 4 years, said she couldn’t take this lifestyle anymore.

Can’t say I blame her though, if I had a way out I’d take it too, This place is a fucking hole.

But I don’t.

September 23rd

It’s been a little while since my first entry (What can I say, this shit’s new to me) though I’ll admit writing whatever I happen to be thinking is sort of liberating.

As of right now, nothing new to report. Same old bullshit at work, drinking every night, screaming at the walls… you know… normal stuff.

September 26th

Okay, so I’m really hoping my own fucking journal isn’t gonna judge me here, but I’ve always been kind of afraid of the dark.

Not the dark itself, but the prospect of what may be in it.

The unknown.

And don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t mean at all that I avoid it. On the contrary I’m sort of a thrill seeker and get a rise out of scaring the shit out of myself. Mary (My ex, by the way) and I used to hang out in graveyards at night (Kinda weird, I know) taking pictures, just in the hope that we WOULD find something. And her? Man, she would see shit all the time.

Especially here, in this house.

One night shortly after we had moved in I was in the living room watching TV while she had headed to bed. After a while I heard some loud movement and she shouted my name. I rushed over and into the bedroom to find her sitting up in bed, blankets up to her chin, staring wide eyed at one particular spot in the room.

She explained that she was falling asleep when she heard a sound, something like a knee cracking, coming from the direction of the closet. She looked over to see a man in uniform staring at her from the closet doorway. Well, not staring at her she elaborated, more staring through her. She had glanced at the bedroom door when calling my name and when she looked back, the man was gone.

The next day she described him to me. Going on google I searched the specifics of his uniform and found it was a marine corps service uniform from the WWI era.

She saw him a few more times. Once just standing in the hallway, staring through her. Nothing particularly threatening, he was just kind of… there, watching.

September 27th

Fell asleep typing last night, never finished the entry.

Woke up late for work, got bitched at, the usual. So anyway, after she started seeing this guy, we would do like we saw on the paranormal shows and set up a recorder to see if we could catch any strange sounds or voices digitally. We met with some success, we got a few weird sounds as well as some moderately audible voices.

Every time it would be a deep man’s voice, sort of what we expected. Throughout the time we did this we got some that were memorable, such as “He’s not a bad boy” which I could only assume referred to our newly bought beagle puppy, Dayton. “It’s so cold here” Is another one we could make out, deep and raspy. Again, not altogether surprising as we had a habit of keeping the AC lower than most people would find comfortable year-round. But the one that stuck out, and haunts me to this day, happened probably a few months before we split. I was still recording mostly out of habit when one day I heard “We won’t always be here” the next few lines were hard to make out, but it definitely ended with “Protect you”

I still wonder what he meant by: “Protect you”

September 29th

So in relation to my last entry, the voices on the recording stopped altogether when she left. I literally heard nothing, not even the static that used to permeate the spaces in between the messages he would leave us. But recently strange things have been happening around the house. I’ll see what looks like children playing outside the windows, but when I go to check, there’s nothing there.

Probably just the nerves, gonna finish this drink then head to bed.

October 1st

Alright, I was on duty at the barracks last night and some weird shit went down. I let my A-duty take the first sleeping post, and in those few hours I was totally alone in the duty hut, no one went in or out. So tell me why I found a fucking ragdoll just sitting in the middle of the passageway just outside. All of the marines that live here are at least 17 and up, who the hell would own a ragdoll? And who would leave it just lying in the middle of the hall…? staring at me…

October 2nd

I’m having a hard time typing this as my hands are shaking pretty badly. All these recent incidents going on lately have been of a totally different manner than the ones I’m used to.
No strange but accurate observations on the state of the house.
No still, harmless specters standing in the halls and closet.
I’ve been hearing voices, without the recordings now.
Kids voices.
And occasionally I’ll here the voice of an older woman, and then everything will stop.

Dead silence.

This all reminded me of the time we started looking for info on our uniformed ghost. Looking up the legends and ghost stories that Cherry Point has gathered over the years since it’s construction.
We didn’t find anything on our WWI marine.

This is what we did find:

“Havelock, Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point.
It is said the ghost of Kissie Sykes haunts the flight line and the housing looking for her children. She does not like men, and the men who yell at kids are in big trouble. There is a story of a young Lcpl on post was found the next morning, huddled in a ball in the corner of the guard shack crying; “she wants her kids… she wants her kids”. In the housing you can hear children playing, and from personal experience Kissy herself appears in childrens’ bedrooms after they are put to bed. Toys in the childrens’ rooms are moved when they aren’t even there. There are many different stories as to Kissy’s origin, but the most common theme is that she and her children were abused and murdered by her husband who had returned from the war suffering from shellshock (Now known as post-traumatic stress disorder). She and her children were buried together on base, but upon construction of the current flightline, half of the graveyard was relocated to another section of the installation. Separated from the graves of her children, she now searches for them, taking vengeance on men who have mistreated their families.”

Being the graveyard rats we were, we set out not long after to learn what we could about Kissie Sykes.
We found her grave on one side of the flightline, and just as the website described, on the other side there were several smaller graves. Some bearing only a first name, most without any dates.

And suddenly, the only thing I hear in the ears of my mind are that last recording I got from our uniformed guardian.

“We won’t always be here… protect you.”

The lights just cut out. Except for the light of my computer screen the entire house is pitch black.

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM M

Police Report, October 4th

After missing an entire workday, Corporal Milo Stokes was reported missing by his platoon. PMO was immediately dispatched to his residence to investigate, and soon found him dead sitting at his computer desk. The cause of death has not yet been clearly determined, however the rate of suicide within the Marine Corps is currently the highest in the nation. Upon investigation, it has been speculated that Corporal Stokes took his own life in a manner yet to be determined, in response to increasing workplace pressures, an alcoholic tendency, and his pending divorce.

End of Report.

Credit To: John

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