Tulip Glasslip here. Small update before I get to the interview.

I have good news: I don't think I've been followed. I should be happy about that, though 'Not being found and murdered' being the highlight of these past couple of weeks can tell you how rough things have been.

I've received several e-mails from readers and strangers, as well as comments on the website I'm uploading the entries to. Most are normal, though I've spotted a few oddballs wanting to get in on the action by leaving cryptic messages and riddles that, honestly, I don't have the time to check or care about. If they wanted to convey important information I doubt they'd put it in the open for everyone to see.

I might change my e-mail address soon, though. I'll think on that.

Anyway, I was able to locate a few ex citizens of Wysteria. The first two were reluctant about the idea of an interview, though they agreed after I explained that it was for a documentary. I would've felt bad about lying like that, were it not for the fact that they both canceled the interview less than a day after and told me not to call them again. They must've searched online and read what happened to Monika. I can't blame them for wanting to stay away from that.

Luckily, the third person agreed to an interview and didn't cancel it afterwards. Whether this is because he didn't look online for my previous interview like the others or because he did and didn't care… well, whatever the reason I didn't have the benefit of looking at this gifted Ponyta on the mouth.

I leave the interview below. I'll probably be moving into another hotel as soon as it's uploaded.

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[Horace is an old, chubby man with a Pyroar's mane of white hair and an easy smile. He lets me into his apartment with the polite enthusiasm of someone used to entertaining guests. While he fumbles around trying to find something for the both of us to drink, I look around a bit.

A few crosses hang from the wall, and on top of a nearby piece of furniture I spot several old pictures. Most depict Horace with his family, though a few are of him in his late twenties, wearing black garbs with the traditional purple scarf of the church.

He finally finds some lemonade and serves a glass for each of us. We sit on opposite sides of his old, dusty table while I brandish my notebook and pen.]

Am… am I supposed to start the interview? Or do you ask me questions first? I'm sorry, it's just… I don't think I've ever been interviewed before. Well, at least not since we won the junior soccer tournament when I was fifteen.

"All you need to do is talk about the event you mentioned to me over the phone. I'll ask questions whenever I feel it necessary."

Oh… alright then. I apologize in advance if I get lost or can't remember things correctly; you know how age is.

Anyway, the story. I believe I moved to Wysteria when I was twenty five. After I became independent I was searching the region for jobs, and it just happened that the town was in desperate need of a minister of music for their local church.

Being both religious –thanks to my parents' influence– and having studied music theory in college, I saw this as an opportunity given to me by the heavens. I talked with the executive pastor over the phone and, after he looked over my credentials, he hired me on the spot.

"This did not seem strange to you?"

Not at all, not at all. It was different back then; anyone with at least a high school diploma could find a decent job to support their family. And if you happened to have a college degree? That's a whole 'nother story; employers would practically fight over the right to have you. I was a lucky man, I was. My parents had given me the education and morals to make it in the world, and so I did.

I arrived a few days later with the few possessions I had. Since I didn't have any Pokemon I was able to find a pretty cheap apartment close to the center of town. I settled in, and the place began to feel like home immediately. Neighbors came to visit and I had my first taste of homemade apple pie in years. Made with apples from Johto and picked by Ledyba, if you can believe it.

Very nice people, all of them. Whenever any of us had any trouble we could rely on each other's help, not like now where neighbors avoid each other and want to keep to themselves. Not that I'm complaining about the current youth, I'd hate to become that kind of old man. It's just that… ah, sorry. I'm getting out of topic.

Yes, the church. It wasn't anything breathtaking, certainly not one of those Sinnoh chapels that make your wish you had enough money to travel abroad. It was a simple tall building with two marble pillars at the sides of the entrance, a couple rows of wooden pews and the altar. There was also an elevated, rugged square at the right where the kids and teens were supposed to sing, and where I was supposed to direct them.

I only signed a few papers that day, and met with the man whom I've spoken to on the phone. Pastor McMillian, the best man you could ever meet who still wore the robes.

His voice was gentle and he smiled easily, for you see he wasn't like the typical pastor most people imagine when the word comes to mind. He knew how to make his voice heard, as any orator should, but he was not strict or unkind. In fact, he invited me to a cup of brandy that very day, and we had a lovely chat about the town and our respective faiths. He was part of a small sub-branch of the church, one that wasn't quite significant to completely split off from it but still quite rare, and one that I didn't adhere to. Still, it didn't bother me at all, in fact he taught me many things about the faith an orthodox man wouldn't have been able to.

"Did you two become friends?"

In a way. We mostly treated each other with respect and only occasionally shared a cup of liquor after a hard day's work. I believe we were both too busy with our respective jobs for anything else.

Speaking of jobs, I began mine the next week. Summer was about to end, and the kids and teens that had made up the bulk of the choir had dwindled. Some boys were too old now, some had found an activity they enjoyed more or they simply got the opportunity to quit something their parents had forced on them. Whatever the case, we were left with only eight members from the year before. We needed to find volunteers, and that's where the pastor came in.

He must've had a few connections around town, because the next day he told me I'd be doing an assessment of the twenty eight people he managed to recruit.

"I was under the assumption that the town was relatively small in population."

Oh it was. Barely above two thousand citizens, if my memory hasn't begun failing me yet. Still, being in the crossroads between Fucshia and Vermillion meant that some folk from those towns came to Wysteria to work or study there. We got a few foreigners too, though those tended to be pretty rare.

In any case, I was tasked assess these volunteers. Nothing too serious, far away from a job or sport interview, but I still needed to check whether they had what it takes to be part of the choir. Of course I wasn't going to turn any of them down, but I had to separate the youngsters into two groups. The first would be the main choir, which would be the ones performing each Sunday for the rest of the town. The second were the ones in training, those who were either too young or not used to singing, but wanted to learn nonetheless. They would be tutored by me, along with the rest of their classmates, until they became good enough to be part of the official choir.

A few weren't satisfied with this, and left before I could even offer them a spot on the secondary team. I don't blame them, for I know how hard it is to receive criticism, especially when one is young.

Luckily this was a rare occurrence, and at the end of the day we had a nice group of thirty youngsters ready to begin their classes.

[He momentarily looks down at his hands. His fingers are interlaced tightly with each other, and I can see them slightly shaking under the wrinkles and calluses. He smiles sadly.]

They were good kids, they were. Sally always tried hard to be the best, an attitude that doesn't surprise me since she was a trainer on the side. I advised her that hubris was dangerous but I couldn't say I was dissatisfied with her talent. Poor Ronald did his best too, but age is a traitorous thing and his voice was breaking all over the place. Avery was a bit of a bully, but we managed to straighten him up after a few weeks. Claire was the oldest and sweetest out of all of them, though she was quite shy…

Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to reminisce like that. You probably don't care about little details like that.

"This is your story, Horace. You're entitled to tell it however you want."

T-thank you. I'll try to keep interruptions like that to a minimum.

The kids were improving day by day, and the church had never been so full, or at least that's what the pastor told me after every sermon. We got a few more volunteers for the choir in the following months, though I was sad to inform them that they would have to wait until solstice for the inscriptions to open up again. I don't remember why; something to do with an old ordinance set up by the town.

[He catches himself before continuing, and his thick eyebrows join together over the bridge of his nose.]

Strange, now that I think about it. Pastor McMillian was known for changing laws and rules to better suit the people of the town and to facilitate the spreading of the faith. I guess he never got around to changing this particular one, for some reason.

Anyway, I digress.

Things were going well for all of us. After three months we finally incorporated all those in training to the main choir, and their talents began to bloom rapidly. I was –and pardon my lack of humility here– a rather excellent teacher, but even I couldn't have hoped for such a change.

They became closer, too. I would see most of them walking home in groups, talking excitedly about whatever kids loved to ramble on about back then, and while there was a bit of strife here and there they were easily resolved. Some of them became more than friends; not that it surprised me, they were teens after all, and they were forced to spend four hours a week together.

"I thought members of the church weren't allowed to…?"

That only applies to those working under the church, and the choir program was labeled under the school group denomination, it was not a job.

Besides, we were looser than most when it came to things like that. Due to our increasing workload we didn't have much time to fall in love, but I assure you that if any of us found a significant other we wouldn't have judged each other in the slightest.

The pastor liked to believe we were the fun and cool kind of church, as he loved to promote in the pamphlets he made himself. Can't say I didn't laugh when I read it, and it was clear the poor man wasn't quite knowledgeable about the current youth, but you couldn't deny that he worked hard nonetheless.

A good man, the pastor was. It's a shame…

[The fingers of his right hand unconsciously start hitting the table in a rhythmic manner, while he looks to the side for a moment. I can see his eyes catching a glimpse of the picture of him as a young man.

He looks around for a moment, and finally sets his eyes on me. Or more specifically, on my notebook. He smiles nervously.]

H-huh… I gotta say, never seen someone write so fast on a piece o' paper before. Did you study to become a scribe before you switched to journalism? I know a few people who…

"I would rather not talk about my past or education, as to keep anonymity. I hope you understand."

Right! Right… I'm sorry if I… uh…

"It's fine if you need some time, Horace. I know this must be a difficult story to tell."

Hah… I would love to tell you not to treat me like an old, withering snake, but I can't deny your accusation. I guess age really is softening up my heart a bit. Still, I promised you this interview and I won't back away in the middle of it.

"Thank you. Please proceed."

Yes, of course.

Anyway… we were about six months in when it all started.

The pastor came in at seven in the morning as usual, but he looked agitated by something. He told me he'd received a letter from our superiors and he'd be leaving in a couple hours to Lavender town. It wasn't permanent, he assured me, but he was needed for an important matter and it might take a couple of days to resolve. He appointed brother Adam to replace him, and asked me to take care of the ministerial duties concerning the choir; organization, paperwork, etcetera. I told him he could count on me while we shook hands, and after that he hurried upstairs to pack for the travel.

I suppose I was taken aback by the suddenness of the whole thing, because it didn't even occur me to ask who our superiors were. A deacon? The diocese? With a church as humble as ours it could've even been the government or League Association, I have no idea.

And I didn't get enough time to think about it either, because the following days were a nightmare. I had my eyes practically glued to papers and reports, my fingers were stained blue from having to hold pens all day and every half an hour I would have to make one or two calls. It didn't help either that it was flu season and a few kids couldn't come the next Sunday. And of course Avery had gotten detention and would be absent too, the little rascal.

It's just one of those things, you know. Sometimes the people around you do such a great job that you don't realize how hard it must be, and that applied to the pastor better than anyone. Adam was having trouble keeping up as well, though at least he didn't have to deal with about thirty youngsters and their family.

"How long did it take for the pastor to come back?"

A week and a half, or so. He arrived Thursday morning, I remember, with his briefcase in one hand and a Pokeball on the other.

That gave me pause, I admit. I had never heard the pastor mention anything about having Pokemon, and it was strange for someone of the faith to have one anyway. Me personally, the only Pokemon I ever had was this cute little Growlithe when I still lived with my parents.

He didn't explain it right away, he just told us to help him take his bags upstairs with a big smile on his face. Adam and I looked at each other, and we could both tell we were thinking the same thing. The pastor was acting strange.

"Did he not smile often?"

He did, he loved to smile. But his were… well, just a curl of the lips, the kind of smile that lasts a second but has more gentleness in it than any showing of teeth could. But the one he had then… it was too big, too wide and it barely extended to his eyes.

I told myself he must've been tired from traveling, so I just nodded and did as I was told. Once I finished I went back to the meeting room, and to my surprise the pastor was already there. He was sitting on one end of the table, looking intensely at that Pokeball he had with him, spinning it on his fingers as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. I noticed he had some bags under his eyes, and he seemed pale too.

I coughed to announce myself. He turned to me and urged me to sit down. When I asked him what that Pokeball was he smiled like that again, in that way that made me shiver, and told me.

«Horace! Just the man I wanted to talk to!» He patted me on the shoulder and leaned back into his chair. «This… is something I brought for you. Something they gave me.»

Before I could ask who they were, he opened the thing. The light blinded me for a few seconds, and when it went away I looked up to see what came out of it. It was… well, I'll be honest with you I wouldn't have known it was a Pokemon if I'd seen it in the wild, it looked like someone's house decoration.

Most of it was a small, round head like a porcelain teapot, though smaller. From under it moved a thin banner of cloth that was red at the tip, like a flag or something. It… had a mouth, I think, and if I had to guess I'd say that its two yellow eyes were painted on, since they never blinked.

It just floated in place for a few seconds while I stared at it, and every time the banner moved I heard something like the chime of a bell. It was distant, just at the edge of my hearing.

"Was the Pokemon, by any chance, a Chimecho?"

Y-yes! That's the name, I think. Apparently they were from Hoenn, though most migrated to Johto and were pretty good at camouflaging, since they looked just like the wind chimes they used there.

I asked the pastor what this was about, and he told me the Chimecho had been a gift from our superiors in Lavender. With another one of his wide smiles he declared this was just what the choir needed, as if that was enough explanation. Apparently I was supposed to have that… thing around while we practiced and performed, and it would in some way help.

I admit, I was skeptical. I didn't like at all the way it just floated there, without looking anywhere or making a noise. I was also suspicious of the way the pastor was behaving, but I couldn't just bring it up right there, could I? For all I knew the man was tired and genuinely happy to have something to offer to the choir. So as I had done plenty of times before I thanked him and followed his advice. He had never disappointed me so far, so what reason did I have to say no?

«This little fellow will turn the choir into the perfect, well oiled music machine,» I remember he said, eyes slightly out of focus. «He'll show you the meaning of Resonance.»

[For the first time I spot something like anger flash across Horace's eyes. He rolls back his shoulders and his fingers curl into each other strongly.]

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Resonance… I should've known back then. Should've grabbed that ugly Pokemon by the head and smashed it with a hammer. That night I lied on my bed hesitantly, I could feel the down pull of dread tugging at something inside me. The last thing I heard before falling asleep was, again, the chime of that bell, so distant I wasn't even sure if it was real.

The next day I woke up like usual, had my cereal and milk like usual and walked to the church where I saw my students waiting in front of the gates, like usual. I had almost forgotten about that blasted Pokemon until we went in.

None of my students noticed it, since it hung above the square where we practiced, next to the other small bells adorning the ceiling. Again it didn't blink once, and the only time the banner under it moved was when wind entered through the doors and windows. I looked at it for a moment, feeling a pit on my stomach, but decided to ignore it for now. I told everyone to walk to their spot and we began to practice.

[He raises one of his hands to the side of his head, thumb pressed against his middle finger.]

The change was impossible not to notice. Their voices and cadence remained the same, but the timing of their singing –something we've been meaning to put more practice on since it was their biggest weakness– couldn't have been more perfect at that moment.

[He starts snapping his fingers, once per second. His timing is nothing short of impeccable.]

This isn't something you're born with, and it has nothing to do with talent. You need to practice it every single day, and it's one of the hardest things to learn for any musician. And here these kids were, putting even their teacher to shame with their sudden perfection. I was baffled, to put it lightly.

I asked if they'd been practicing, to which most replied with a smile that they had been. They didn't seem to notice the change as well as I had, just like they hadn't noticed the Pokemon hanging above them. At this point I was hesitant to bring up both those topics, so once again I didn't. I simply complimented them and continued with the rehearsal.

"You believe the Chimecho was responsible for their improvement?"

It's the only explanation that made sense. I didn't know what the thing was capable of back then, I just thought… well, maybe the bell it had for a head and the sound it made had something to do with it.

The next Sunday we performed the usual songs during and after the sermon. The kids were as perfect then as they had been during practice, though I suspected few people would notice, tempo is not something normal people tend to pick up on, after all. Still, I seem to remember we received more praise than usual, and some of the parents were beaming as they picked their children up, they even congratulated me for my excellent teaching. It was the first time in my life a compliment had embarrassed me.

"Did the children continue to improve after that day?"

Yes and no. As I said before their tempo had become perfect, and you can't really improve perfection. But there were… other changes. Subtler ones, so much that at some point I had completely forgotten the Pokemon now hanging on the ceiling of our church, always immobile.

The kids became friendlier with one another. I know I said they liked each other before, but even then it's impossible to have such a large group of young people in one room and not have them argue or snicker a few times, right? Well… not anymore. Marceline, bless her heart, always complained that the boys couldn't reach a pitch as high as hers, but now she didn't say anything about it. Avery didn't clown around anymore, and even Sally stopped being so competitive.

It was like… they understood each other. Like they were in sync in more than just music and tempo, outside of their practice and into their own lives.

"Did this concern you?"

Not as much as it should have. But that wasn't the only change, it was the more obvious one.

That sound I spoke of earlier… like the wind slightly rustling a wind chime, almost too far away to pick up. I didn't always hear it, only when my mind was clear or I closed my eyes to concentrate. It was faint enough that, for a long time, I thought it an auditory hallucination. Whenever I pressed one ear against the softness of my pillow, every time my heart beat… it was somewhat maddening.

After a few weeks I started to seriously consider that something was wrong, and I mentioned it to the pastor. I wasn't happy bringing such baseless rubbish to the man who'd taught me so, but he didn't seem bothered in the slightest. I told him of the sound of chimes and the children's sudden improvement, and that I suspected that may be linked to the appearance of the Pokemon he'd gifted me.

He laughed, as he tended to do, and patted me in the shoulder. He then offered me a cup of brandy and told me that there was nothing to worry about, that the Chimecho simply wished to help us grow and evolve, musically speaking, and that I was over thinking this whole thing. His eyes were pale and cloudy, and he seemed somewhat out of it. I didn't bring this up, fearful that I might be imagining that as well.

I thanked him for listening and tried to leave, and that's when he said something that gave me pause:

«The Resonance of your students is advancing wonderfully. I trust that they will serve as examples, as the first step of many, many more.»

That spooked me, not gonna lie. Having the man I looked up to so much show that horrible smile while he said those words… I mean, I couldn't have know, could I? How do you figure from a few weeks of acting oddly and a strange Pokemon that… that he was being influenced by…

[He moves his hand around, as if trying to swat an annoying fly. His forehead and cheeks turn almost scarlet.]

Excuses, excuses. I was scared, and that's the end of the story. Just wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong, I s'pose.

"What happened wasn't your fault, Horace. You're not the first to have been fooled by… them."

That's a real nice thing of you to say, miss Tulip. Sorry I'm bogging the interview like this.

"No problem. Take all the time you need."

Well... not much time now, and not much time back then. I would like to say I got enough to ease back into things before things got odder but… I didn't. It happened three days later, in the next practice.

We were just about to wrap up when one of the kids accidentally toppled one of those long, marble and gold candlesticks that were littered all over the place. It swiveled back and forth a couple times and then it fell forward, hitting Ronald on the back of the head. It wasn't too heavy or anything, but I'm sure it must've stung a bit.

And that's exactly what happened, thirty fold.

Ronald flinched and pressed one hand against the back of the head, and then… the rest of the kids followed. They didn't all move their hands, some shivered and others let out growls of discomfort. I… felt it too, though it was very faint, as if a small gust of wind had hit me in the nape.

Most shrugged it off and others turned around to their friends and accused them of hitting them in the back of the head, to their total confusion. Still, they'd been packing their things and looking in different directions when it had happened, and as such didn't notice the mass reaction. However I, standing behind my podium and staring at all of them, did.

I froze, and I felt something heavy and spiky in my chest. Slowly I looked up at the Pokemon above us, and I could swear I caught the slightest glimpse of a purple glow around its body, along with that chime sound I'd heard so many times. Not as distant now, and for the first time I was absolutely certain that I had heard it.

I didn't sleep well that night. Every gust of wind outside seemed to carry that sound, and the thought of what had happened kept me turning under my blankets. Had it been a coincidence? Was I imagining all of this, was the stress of work getting to me? Or was there something sinister with that strange Pokemon? It never moved, never talked, never blinked, it only… chimed.

"Did you address your concerns with the pastor or the kids?"

I was wary of speaking to McMillian, in fear that he might consider there was something wrong with me. But I did resolve to ask my students a few questions, as subtly as possible as to not raise suspicion. Or… well, I would have, if the next class had been like the others.

Claire didn't come to practice. That alone made me momentarily forget about what I intended to do. She was my most dedicated student, and we weren't quite in flu season so it wasn't likely she'd fallen ill. We waited for her for ten minutes and then I rushed back to my office and called her parents, just to be sure.

Panic was the only thing clear in their voices when they told me she'd left the house for practice more than half an hour ago. I felt my blood run cold, and in the distance, once again, I heard that sound. It seemed linked to my heartbeat, which I could hear perfectly with my ear pressed against the phone receiver.

I walked back, and even before I spoke I saw that most of the kids mirrored perfectly my panicked expression. They were all pale, eyes opened wide in terror as if they'd seen a ghost. I told them to wait inside the church until the police came back and escorted them back to their homes, while I went with some of the officers to look for Claire.

It's like we all knew deep down, even if realistically there could've been hundreds of explanations as to why she hadn't arrived to practice yet. There was an invisible, burning certainty that spread through the kids and me without us noticing. Maybe that's why I sprang into action so quickly when I'd never been that kind of man, I could feel something horrible brewing.

We searched until sunset, and then we searched some more. Practically our entire side of the town was out looking for her, each person armed with nothing more than a small flashlight.

"Were the townsfolk close to one another like that?"

Yes, though probably not in the way you think. Most were polite and courteous, though they lived their own lives and let others do the same without interfering too much. Still, when one of their neighbors needed help they wouldn't hesitate to act, and this was clear evidence of that.

It was two in the morning when officer Mald told me to go back and get some sleep, that she would take it from there. I tried to argue, but I don't think she heard what I said past all the huffing and puffing and exhaustion coming out of my mouth; we'd been walking and running around the city for hours non-stop, and as I'm sure you've noticed I'm not nor I was an athletic man.

I agreed to go back home begrudgingly, assuring the officer that I'd be back after a few hours of sleep. However, as I walked down the hill path towards my home a thought appeared in my mind. I hadn't seen pastor McMillian all day.

I froze in place. How hadn't I noticed that before? If there was anyone who would rush out to look for Claire and do everything in his power to find her, that was the pastor. So why hadn't he been with us? Why hadn't he appeared all day? Deeply troubled, I headed directly for the church. It was impossible to see anything since all the candles were extinguished, but I knew my way through the place well enough that I could traverse it in the darkness. I reached the door to the pastor's quarters and knocked hesitantly. When he failed to answer I simply let myself in.

I don't know what I expected. Maybe to find him there, or something even more sinister? Well, the room was empty. Tidy too, as if it had never been touched before. And in the middle of the table at the other extreme of the room was a white envelope, looking quite out of place inside that room. The seal melted into the middle of the flap was that of the pastor, I recognized it instantly.

I rushed to pick it up without even considering it might've not been put there for me. And to be honest, I really hoped it hadn't.

The letter inside left me speechless. The pastor wrote about how happy he was that everything we'd been working towards was finally blooming. He spoke wonders of that blasted Pokemon, of how much it had helped us improve and evolve, and then…

«I am so proud that you and your students have finally reached true Resonance with one another,» I remember it said. «It pleases me more than I can describe that I've helped plant the First Seed.»

I had no idea back then what that meant, and I have no idea today either. Whatever happened to the pastor, whatever… they did to him, it's clear that it changed him completely. At the end of the letter he wrote that his task was complete, and he would return to his friends in Lavender tower.

[He frowns and looks down at his hands. I wait expectantly, my own heartbeat resounding in my ears.]

They never found him after that. As if he'd vanished into thin air. Worst of all was that when I came back down and I lit one of the candles I saw that the Pokemon had gone away too. I guess they had both completed their tasks.

"Did the townsfolk caught wind of what happened to the pastor?"

There was no time. They were too worried with Claire's disappearance, and shortly after I went to the police to report his disappearance something even worse happened: All the kids from the choir fell ill.

"Ill in what way?"

There was no real rhyme or reason to it, and it wasn't a normal sickness. I heard it from their parents; one minute they would have a pounding headache and the next they would be vomiting all over the place with their insides feeling like they were made of fire. I felt it too, though as you probably guessed not as strongly. A bit of a migraine in the morning, intestinal problems in the evening… I s'pose it was the age, the kids must've been more vulnerable to it.

"Vulnerable to what?"

The Resonance. I could feel that too, it was different from any kind of physical pain, it was something that was etched into my mind and I heard it every time I closed my eyes. It wasn't a chime anymore, but a choir of meaningless whispers. And whenever I heard them I would feel… things. Hopelessness, rage, envy, things that didn't line up at all with what I should've been feeling.

I couldn't sleep right, I couldn't eat right, I couldn't do anything without that horrible dread choking me from the inside. It became worse as the hours and days went by, until I got sick of it and decided that I needed to get to the bottom of this. I briefly considered fleeing the town, but I knew I'd never forgive myself if I walked out on my students when they needed me.

Problem was, I had no idea where to begin. The pastor had left no traces, and neither had Claire. I could've talked to the students one by one, see if they knew anything… in fact I was considered doing just that when it hit me.

It was a fleeting, extremely faint urge, one that I knew didn't come from me. At first I was alarmed, but after gathering my wits I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate in that feeling. What did I want? I wanted… I wanted to go out, even if it was the dead of night, and I wanted to leave an excuse for my parents, which was strange since they didn't live with me. And after that… well, it wasn't quite clear. It was like there was an invisible breadcrumb trail guiding me towards my destination. I didn't know where exactly it would lead me, I just knew I should follow it.

And so I did. I left a note should something happen to me and I went out into the coldest night I could remember since I had moved to Wysteria. For a while I walked, and once I went over the hill and into the northeast corner of the town, I saw them.

One by one my students walked the same path as me, trying as subtly as possible to sneak through the cracks of the night. I approached Sally, which was the closest one, and asked her what was happening, if she was feeling okay. But she didn't answer me; her eyes were faded and out of focus, as if she were sleepwalking. No matter what I did to try and wake her up she just kept going northeast, and so I had to follow her.

The place they were heading to was one of those rusty metal hangars close to the abandoned docks, the ones where they stored boat parts and equipment. I stayed a little behind and saw as they all converged in front of the entrance and proceeded to go in.

I hesitated, and that alone might've cost everything. I kept my distance from the place and debated whether to go back and warn the authorities or keep going, and all this arguing with myself took almost five blasted minutes. If I'd been more decisive, then perhaps… but I guess there's no point in thinking of what ifs.

I decided to follow, though I didn't go all the way in. There were no guards outside, possibly because they didn't want to alert anyone of what was happening, and so I sneaked towards one of the smaller side doors and slowly opened it, peeking in.

From that angle it wasn't easy to understand what was happening. All I saw were my students standing in rows in that empty hangar, illuminated by two strong lights in the ceiling. They didn't move, and they were staring at something on the other side.

Someone had erected a kind of wooden podium or platform, and there seemed to be four people standing on it. Three adults, two of them wearing black camo and holding guns, and the third was a woman in a purple suit and dark glasses.

"Did you get a good look at them? Was there an insignia in the woman's suit?"

[My voice must've betrayed me, because Horace is taken aback by the intensity behind it.]

I… don't know. It was hard to see in there, and I was distracted by something else I saw. I'm sorry.

"That's… fine. Please, continue."

[He smiles and looks down, and I can tell right away that he doesn't want to. Still, he must summon courage from somewhere because after a few seconds of doubt he speaks again.]

I… saw her last, since she wasn't as tall as the people around her. I'm sure I must've let out some kind of shriek or wail, and it was a miracle no one inside was able to hear me.

Claire was in that platform, and the state she was in almost brought me to tears. Her clothes were worn and dirty as if she hadn't changed since she disappeared. Her thin legs were wobbling and her knobby knees were bruised and bloodied. There was a cut on her lower lip, and her cheeks were stained with dry tears.

She looked empty, miserable. Whatever had happened to her, whatever these people were doing, it had clearly cracked her will. She didn't seem to notice anything around her, as if staying conscious alone took effort she was barely capable of.

I felt my stomach burn with fury, but I was too shocked to react, which is probably what saved my life. Had I gone in at that moment I would've been shot by the two guards. Then again… perhaps that would've given the kids the opportunity they needed to escape.

In any case, I was taken out of my stupor by the woman's voice. She looked down at a strange watch in her wrist and cleared her throat before speaking:

«We don't have much time. We need to get through the tests before their parents notice they're missing,» she said. «First test: check if their Resonance has reached its peak potential.»

And just like that, like it was the normal thing to do, the woman walked towards Claire and slapped her in the face.

It was the most aloof and business-like slap I'd ever seen. Claire took it and moved her head to the side, threatening to fall over. And then, only a second after, every single one of the kids flinched and took their hands to the cheek where she'd been struck. I felt it too, though it was nothing more than a light discomfort.

The kids seemed to be in the same daze as her, because they didn't react much other than that. I reckon they must've given the poor girl some kind of drug and the Resonance passed that onto the others but… I'd rather not think about that.

The woman nodded and typed something into her little watch, looking as if this was just another day in the job for her. She then approached one of her buddies and stretched her hand towards him like she was expecting something. I could see the man hesitate for a moment before he took out a small knife from his pocket and gave it to her.

«Next we'll test a deeper injury,» she said to herself. «Let's see how the receivers' nervous system reacts to it.»

That's when I felt that awful chill down my spine, and I knew what was coming next. The woman raised the knife and pointed it at Claire like she was debating internally which part to poke first. The anger inside me must've overpowered my fear, because next thing I know I'm kicking the door and entering the place like I have any damned idea what I'm doing.

The guards reacted first; they saw me and raised their weapons, though they didn't shoot. The woman blinked a few times and turned towards me, I remember her face like it was yesterday. Those awful blue eyes of hers, those thin lips and eyebrows that formed an expression of surprise and rage…

As I said, I didn't have a plan or anything of the like, and when I realized that I just froze. I knew I was seconds away from getting shot, the moment that woman's surprise faded and she ordered her guards to attack it would be over.

Or it would've been, if it weren't for Claire.

[I try not to bring up the sudden wetness in Horace's eyes.]

I used to think it was all my fault. Now I don't know… maybe if I would've acted differently… but I honestly have no idea. I was never decisive or brave, I was never like my students. And after all Claire had surely suffered…

She must've gotten out of her daze just enough to realize what was happening. The guard next to her was distracted and didn't notice when she grabbed the gun hanging from a holster in his hip. I saw her raise the weapon, and those people turned towards her and… they didn't have time, and I thought she was going to shoot them…

I… I still don't know why she did it. Maybe she really was in that much pain? Did she understand the consequences of her actions? I doubt it, and still I wonder…

Claire turned the barrel of the gun towards her forehead, and pulled the trigger. There was a single second after the bang when I didn't feel anything at all, I just saw her body fall backwards like I was inside some sort of nightmare. What I was seeing couldn't be real, and that comforted me in some way. At least until the pain came.

It felt like my forehead had burst open, and I fell to my knees while I screamed and wailed. Nothing existed but that agony, that burning, searing wound in my head that wasn't really there, that I didn't know whether it would ever go away. I wanted to die, I wanted one of the men to shoot me and take me out of my misery, and then everything would be well again. In the furthest corner of my mind I thought… if this is what I was feeling, what of the other children?

What of my students?

I didn't need to wait long to figure it out. The pain subsided after a few seconds, though I could still feel the aftermath in my nerves, like the image stuck behind your eyes when you close them after staring at a source of light for a while.

I struggled to get to my feet, and I saw that they weren't bothering to shoot me, or say anything for that matter. The woman and her two guards were running towards the exit, and once I was well enough to see again I realized why.

My students had fallen to the ground like ragdolls. They were immobile and with their eyes wide open, staring into nothingness. They still breathed, fortunately, but the same couldn't be said for the body laying on that wooden platform, covered in blood.

[I can hear his heavy breathing once he stops talking. His face has gone extremely pale, only disturbed by the occasional tears.

I wait almost an entire minute before speaking.]

"What happened after?"

I ran. I went back to my house, packed my most essential possessions and got everything into my car, and then I drove away from that town, never to come back.

"Just like that?"

Just… just like that. I was too overwhelmed, too scared and I could still feel the pain throbbing inside my head, though it'd been dulled. A part of me knew there was a chance I'd be blamed for what had happened but I wasn't in the right mental place to be logical, and my reason for running away was driven entirely by those horrible and selfish human instincts. I became the coward my species has indoctrinated me into being, and I tried to save my own skin.

I drove until I ran out of gas, and I kept going from there. I never went back, and I only got the nerve to investigate a few years later. What… what had happened to the kids…

[Horace is unable to keep speaking, though I know what he means.

Out of the group of youngsters found the day after in that hangar, only five managed to achieve a partial recovery many years later. Most weren't able to, and a few of the youngest ones were known to suffer brain damage too severe to even attempt fixing.]

"I'm sorry for what happened, Horace. If it's any consolation, I don't fault you for running. You would've most likely been killed, had you not."

Th-that might even be preferable… I try to forget, every single day. I haven't worked in a church since, because I know I'm not worthy. There is nothing… nothing I can do now. I should've acted back then. I used to think what I felt in that hangar was the worst thing a human being could experience, but I was wrong. There's nothing more painful than regret.

[It takes Horace a few minutes to regain his composure. He apologizes for acting like this and says that's all he can tell me.

I thank him multiple times for blessing me with this interview and I do my best to convince him that doing so will make a difference.

I try to hide the fact that I don't know whether that's true or not.]