JUNO
MINDEN, LA
OCTOBER 1986
I can’t stand this chain.
The shackle alone must weigh ten pounds, putting immense pressure against my left ankle. And it makes such an unpleasant sound, echoing across the rotten floorboards of this place. I can only go as far as the kitchen, dining room, and bathroom. My son’s crib is in the living room, near the threadbare sofa and his toys scattered across the ground. Despite the peeling walls and torn up carpets, the house reeks of cleaning solution. But it barely masks the scent of decay that leaks past the basement door.
I have been inside this dark house for one month, two weeks, and four days. I’m not even allowed to go the windows. The creature has boarded them up with some wood and rusted nails that are bent at the edges. I see them take Rush out all the time, however, they never go far with him. Just to the front yard, where my one-month old son is able to sit out on a blanket and smell the fresh air. I can’t see them, let alone the figure’s shape.
I have not been sent back to the game in four weeks. I keep waiting for them to do it, but they just won’t. I wonder what Player 099234 is doing at the moment.
Honestly, I think I’m losing my mind. Maybe it’s the ever present smell of cigarettes, urine, and garbage. I don’t know. Some days, the figure leaves me alone in the house, but not without having me tied up. I’ve tried everything, from pencils to utensils to break up the chain around my ankle, but it’s no use. Searching for the keys to unlock the shackle has proved fruitless, but I continue anyways. I look in the holes in the walls, under the stained carpets and rugs, behind the dust covered television, everywhere. When the figure is here, I don’t put up a fight anymore. I’m too exhausted to, and I hate how it notices that I’m slowly starting to give in, that I’m allowing it to come closer, and closer, each and every day. It’s so dark in here. I need to see the sun. I miss the feel of fresh air on my face.
I’m feeding Rush one rainy morning, positioning the warm bottle in his mouth. My mood is immediately spoiled when I spot the figure sitting at the foot of the stairs. Water leaks from the ceiling above, causing a puddle to spread outwards. Then I can see two white dots, where the creature’s eyes are supposed to be. They are the only things available in the pitch black. My grip tightens around my son, and I instinctively shield him away from its sickening glare. The room spins. I stand up to go to the family room.
Juno?
My name flashes in front of me, like a text bubble. A startled shriek escapes from my mouth, and I stumble back, accidentally knocking over a small chair. It lands on the floor with a thud. It’s so dark here. I can’t see a thing. Not a thing. I am shaking. The room has disappeared. Where did the windows go?
Hey, June bug. My pretty girl.
I begin to feel around in the dark. My chain is rattling against the floor. The silence is not really silence. There is a static sound flooding the background, washing through my ears. I hold Rush closer to me, his hair soft against my chin. I no longer hear the rain outside. The text keeps appearing in front of my face, and I can’t bat it away, even though I try.
Don’t be afraid.
I slowly shake my head, keeping my eyes on the black abyss in front of me. I need to figure out the instructions to the game. It’s somewhere in this house, probably in one of the creature’s journals. I know they’re about send me back any moment, and I brace myself. But then I stop and ponder for a while.
Everyone wants something, Juno.
Come here, love. There is a hint of hunger, desperation. A footstep. Come.
I shift uncomfortably on my chain. My son begins to fuss as I bounce him up and down in my arms. I lightly pat his back to burp him. He sighs with relief as he begins to fall asleep against my shoulder. Immediately, I glance up. The figure is immensely closer than before, although all I can see in front of me is black. Below us, Tom Brunswick is in a box. He is rotting, head to toe, in a cardboard box.
And it is all my fault. I must do this.
I know you’ve been unhappy here.
Oh, how thoughtful of them to consider such a possibility. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I feel a cold hand slowly linger around the base of my elbow. Heavy, slow breathing. They have come even closer, and they smell of cigarette smoke. A face, suddenly buried against my shoulder. Thick, woolen hair—too long for a man’s and too rough for a woman’s. As their arms wrap slowly wrap my waist, I stare ahead in the pitch black. Their heart beat is slow against my chest. Skin and flesh.
I won’t hurt you. The words float above our heads, in fuzzy text. I’m not a monster. You need to understand that. I want you to know it.
A dull pain has settled on the right side of my head. I adjust Rush in my arms. The figure’s cold fingers gently tilt my chin to face them.
Please. Talk to me.
”Can I go outside?” I ask. “I need some air.”
Silence. I hold my breath. They seem thoughtful for a moment, before gesturing at my sleeping son. He placed his thumb in his mouth. My eyes faintly water as I observe his peaceful, calm face. We are getting out of here, I promise him. Sooner or later.
Of course. Put him in his crib. I’ll open the front door for you.
I grit my teeth, but reluctantly obey. I place a small kiss on my child’s face. Obviously, the creature knows that I wouldn’t leave here without Rush. The sound of the creaking hinges makes my heart palpitate. The fresh, glorious scent of rain is apparent, but I can hear the jingling of keys, the clanking of metal heavy against the floor. I bend down and massage my sore ankle, sighing with relief.
When I step outside on the porch, puddles have formed around the burnt remains of my car. The water quickly seeps through my thin yellow dress as I walk barefoot across the scorched yard. I deeply exhale and close my eyes, sinking my fingers deep into the mud. The sky is gray, but just enough light so that I can see the figure’s frame leaning against the doorway. The keys and metal shackle dangle from one of its long arms. As the cold water seeps through my hair, I observe the creature. They seem quite unsure what to do with themselves, lingering in the shadow of their crumbling, pitch black house.
I glance behind me at the empty muddy road. It lacks tire tracks—and there are only other neighboring houses that are in worse shape than this one. And it seems so easy, to just take off, doesn’t it? The temptation to just get up and run seems stronger than ever. But I know better at this point. They have a car; I no longer have one. I know that they are physically stronger than me. I know they are far more familiar with these woods than I could ever be. Most likely, they are testing me. I feel their eyes on me at all times.
I make sure to take deep gulps of the fresh, strong air. I simply must wait at the right time; the right moment. There is a place for everything. My mother has always told me; that once people receive what they truly want,
that is when they are most vulnerable to deception.
I have to find out what this creature wants.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
* * * * * * * *
”What’s your name?” I ask the following evening. My voice is unrecognizable and shaky from the lack of using it for so long. It’s mostly dark, except with the exception of a few candles sitting on the nearby table. The figure remains hunched over by the stove in the shadows, digging into their plate piled high with food. They look slightly surprised by the question, setting down their fork with a clatter.
We are having pancakes and sausage for dinner. The chain is back on my ankle, and I loosely swing my leg back and forth. I’m a bit hesitant to touch my own plate—I’ve been living off of potato chips and dried fruit, since I’ve been too afraid to try their cooking. Three large buttermilk pancakes and a large sausage with Cajun seasoning. They’ve been trying to get me to eat—and despite it smelling wonderful, I’m worried they may have slipped something inside of it.
“Who are you?” I ask.
They lean against the wall, still chewing. Eyes fixated on me. Nothing.
I reluctantly take a bite of my pancake. It’s soft and warm and fluffy, and despite me trying not to, I actually end up cleaning my entire plate. As I wipe my mouth, the figure dumps their dirty dish into the sink. It shatters into pieces, causing me to jump a great deal. They abruptly turn around, breathing heavy. The words flash across my face like fire. It’s like a shout, although I can’t hear a word.
I blink. They destroy another plate, more shards flying across the air. As I scramble to my feet, they rush towards me, abruptly grabbing me by both of my shoulders.
I trip as I try to rush away, but they catch me. All the food in my stomach is tossing and turning. I can’t help but scream, their cold fingers digging into my hands. The room around us is slowly fading away, into black, pitch black. I don’t know what’s real anymore. I can’t move.
* * * * * * *
Good morning, my love.
Morning. It’s such a wonderful day.
You overslept, so I have breakfast waiting on the table for you. Scrambled eggs and grits. It must’ve been a rough shift for you last night.
It was. I appreciate it. We were very busy at work.
Tell me about it. Hey, you want to go outside for a walk? We can take our son to the park. There’s a pretty big playground there.
Maybe! I’m down for it.
Do you want to help me decorate his room?
Hmmm. I’ve been thinking of painting the walls yellow. Kind of like he’ll always have sunshine spilling into his room. Even on rainy days. That sounds a bit silly, I know.
Not at all! Tell you what. I’ll run to the hardware store and pick up some samples. You tell me what you like, and we can go on from there. We’ve got to move his crib upstairs anyways. That’s going to be a job in itself. And with you at home with the baby all the time, you’ve got your hands full already.
You see? That’s what I admire about you. You’re so dependable. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m so lucky to be a part of this family.
You’ll stay forever, won’t you?
Huh?
You’ll stay here forever. You won’t leave. You’ll stay forever and ever and ever and
64k RAM SYSTEM 38911 Basic Bytes
READY?
MISSING FILE NAME ERROR
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READY?
?SYNTAX ERROR
?SYNTAX ERROR
?SYNTAX ERROR
* * * * * * *
I pick at my plate full of pancakes and sausage. It’s a lot of food for one person. I set down my fork. The figure is finishing their plate by the sink. They scrape up what else is remaining and gesture at me to keep eating.
So I force myself to take a bite, chewing slowly. I really want to check on my son. He might need a diaper change. But before I can do so, the words float in front of me again.
Would you like to come up with me to the attic? I have a lot of neat stuff I want to show you.
A shiver runs down my spine. I shake my head, but their hand is already pulling me up the steps, my chain rattling on each stair tread. By the time we reach the landing, I am shaking. I don’t like the attic. It’s pitch black. I keep tugging away from their hands, but they are too strong. I see the ladder; the smell of death meeting my nose. Their grip tightens.
I just want to show you.
No!” I shout.
My voice echoes across the tiny hallway, so much so that the figure loosens their grip for a moment. With what remaining strength, I shove them away and stumble down the stairs. I hear their footsteps follow me. My hand goes for one of the candles, and I abruptly hold it in front of me. They remain in the shadows just before the light hits their face. Strands of hair settles over my face.
”Stay back,” I gasp. “I said no.”
They slowly sit at the foot of the stairs. For a moment, they rest their arms on their lap. I clench the wax stump of the candle with both hands, which are shaking so bad I can barely hold it. But they remain seated, although their eyes are on me. I can’t tell what color they are. They are just quietly observing me.
There’s nothing to be afraid of. I have drawings. Journals. Some board games. I’ve never shown them to anyone before. I thought you’d like to see.
The weak flame blows out, leaving us in the dark. My vision is blurry. I hear them stand.
I mean no harm. Please.
”No,” I weakly repeat, backing away. “I’m not going up there. You can’t make me.”
Please.
In the dark, my hand feels around on the kitchen table. The handle of a knife. They don’t see this, I hope. I feel their fingers reach for my arm once more, and, with one swift motion, I drive the blade deep into their flesh. There is a stifled gasp, before a hand firmly wraps around my wrist. Something warm and hot is dripping down my sleeve.
It is very red
If the disk stops on one disk mode, swap disks and press space! If the screen flashes then you must use side two of the destination disk.
* * * * * *
“You drew all of this?” I ask.
We are sitting on the porch steps, eating popsicles. Mine is strawberry. Rush is sleeping peacefully in my arms, with a fresh diaper change and a full bottle of milk. I pull down the paper wrapper as I flip through the pages, one by one. The strange characters make me giggle, for the first time in ages.
Yeah. Mostly for work. I’ve thought about going to art school one time. But I never got to it.
“I really like these,” I say, even though my head is killing me. There are words floating above me. I don’t remember coming out here. The figure reaches into the cardboard box and pulls out another notebook. They place a hand on my shoulder. I quickly glance up at their darkened shape. It’s very, very tall.
I can draw more for you. You’re the very first person to see them. I’d love to show you more.
The pain in my head worsens. I yawn, begin to bounce Rush in my arms. “I think I’d better lie down,” I murmur. “I’m about to pass out.”
Let me walk you, love.
I’m confused as they help me to my feet. With a guiding hand, they lead me through the hallway, and the living room, where my mattress is. They take my son out of my arms, place him in the crib. I try to follow, but their palm gently wraps around mine. I settle down wearily on the mattress in the dark living room, feel their fingers gently stroke my hair. The act is so comforting that my eyelids droop, even though I can’t remember a thing.
I can’t remember
a thing
* * * * * * *
When I open my eyes, I see that Player 099234’s bloodied, impaled form is hanging on a wooden pole in front of me. All of his teeth are visible through his open mouth, which collect flies. His muscles twitch.
His eyes face the pixelated sky above.