Ch 42

The manastorm rushed out from Casimer, like an oil across the surface of the planets atmosphere. It moved across and through the space above the highest layer like butter spreading across a hot pan. It sat for a little while, then very slowly began to fade away. Cloud Iridescence, the fire rainbow phenomena bloomed in sunny skies across the world; lightning storms were more energetic, the light a little psychedelic, the bolts curving in strange patterns so far unseen by any living.

Over a town in Russia, an anon sat in his room, shitposting and perpetuating the haunted forest meme. He had originally posted it several years ago, and refined the story until it became a commonly referenced creepypasta, an internet horror story. He had been able to achieve his internet fame primarily by the use of a digital camera and some well lit shots of the foggy woods surrounding the town, in addition to some well placed fake skeletons. It had been way too much effort for something would would never even approach giving him material gain, but that's just how people on the internet could be.

In truth, his town did not have a legend about ghosts and ghouls in the forests that surrounded them. They rarely talked about the leftovers from the times of communism when bodies were buried by the millions, terrible mass graves without so much as a prayer for any of them. No, it had been an elaborate ruse created for the sole purpose of entertainment. Nobody in his town had ever been attacked by forest monsters in broad daylight, despite what a large number of imageboard users seemed to be saying. They were really putting out the idea that Russia regularly suffered attacks from the undead, and it was all being covered up by the despicable Vladimir Putin.

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This made it as much of a surprise to the Russian Anon as it was to anyone else when the forest that surrounded the town rapidly filled with a thick fog that concealed all sights and sounds. Russian Anon, feeling a tingling sensation in his gut, stepped out of his house and involuntarily the opening lines of his creepy pasta came to mind.

“We always know when it's about to start. First, comes the fog,” he said aloud in English, frowning and staring dead at the concealed forest. Then, from the mists, something white that rattled came running. It was a skeleton, covered in soil. Soon, more skeletons were running out of the mist, some dressed in old soviet style uniforms, rattling menacingly. Hundreds, then thousands rushed from all directions, running through the streets and causing a ruckus, harassing people and then moving on, throwing their skulls and terrifying onlookers. Then, after about a single minute of this, the skeletons fell to the ground and stopped moving, like puppets with their strings cut. All had been too shocked during the event to do anything more than gasp, cry and stare stupidly. Now, amid the silence and still skeletons, a woman began screaming and pointing at them. It was an incredibly short interval before she was not the only one.