ENTRY: June 26nd
This fever is relentless. Writing seems to be the only thing that keeps my thoughts centered and focused. I keep hearing things in my head. First softly, then louder, and then nothing. Regardless, things are happening that are nothing short of mysterious. Reports started coming in about disappearances around the world. No signs of struggle, forced entry...nothing. I’m very skeptical, but I always have been. Everything that has ever happened and will ever happen can and will be explained logically. This, I’m sure, will be no different. I’m positive that in a few days, researchers will have an explanation. Regardless, it’s nerve-racking. I can’t keep it off my mind. I haven’t left my apartment for two days due to this fever, and my only connection to the real world is this old radio the previous owner left in this place. The reporter reads his teleprompter fluidly, but you can hear the subtle shaking in his voice through the crackling radio; he’s scared. “My prayers go out to those family members affected by these tragic and unsettling events. I’m sure it will be all right.” A religious man, no doubt, and yet his subtle improve sounds not like the hopeful tidings of a hopeful Christian, but like the meager lies a soldier tells his comrade as he bleeds out on the field.
I’ve changed the station. Debates rage on about possible causes. Scientists offer their theories, mostly far-fetched and ridiculous. Even crazier, preachers embrace these occurrences. They say it’s the rapture; that we must ask for forgiveness if we are to be freed from the natural world; that those who have disappeared are the lucky ones, the ones chosen by God to move on. Normally I would have shaken it off as the ramblings of yet another ignorant Christ freak, but then he says something unsettling. “Embrace the call. Come.” It hit me like a punch to the gut. I can’t explain it, but I knew exactly what he was talking about and at the same time had no idea. It shook my nerve to the core. Wait, the voices! Could he be hearing the same things I am? No, impossible. It can be explained. Everything can. It must be the fever; it’s making me hear things. I won’t be brainwashed into believing the ramblings of yet another preacher. I’ll soon have the answers. Just wait.
ENTRY: June 28th
It’s been two days, and my radio can no longer pick up any signals from the stations. I figure it must be a bad signal. My fever is dying down, and yet the voices are still there, mumbling, menacing… The preacher’s words circle in my head without end. They make so much sense and yet they don’t. I’m losing my mind, clearly. I’m undergoing some sort of psychological madness. I need to see someone, and yet I can’t contact anyone. Nobody is returning calls, answering the phone. The streets outside my window are empty and dark. I’m losing it; I need to get a grip on things, but there is nothing here to ground me. Nothing but this journal. I haven’t seen the sun in days. It’s just constant gloom, and in June? Something’s wrong. I need medication, but I don’t dare leave me house. Every time I approach the door, I feel a presence pushing me away. No, not pushing, pulling. Pulling…towards my restroom. I can’t explain it, but I need to go.
It can be explained, I know it! A fragment of my imagination, a result of my drifting sanity, and yet it was so real. It was subtle at first, but it became clear. My reflection! It smiled. Slowly at first, but eventually it grew to the point where I could visibly see a difference between it and I. I was not smiling, I couldn’t have been! And yet I must have. That was until I saw it reach out to me. It was nothing like I’ve ever seen. For the faintest moment before I darted out of the room and slammed the door, the hand seemed to go through the mirror! It was changing. It looked like me and then it didn’t. Shadows formed along it’s face and an unexplainable terror filled it’s aura. What is wrong with me? The voices! They are stronger than ever! I can sort of make it out for the first, time, like my vision in the mirror has opened my mind. It’s soft, but it’s getting louder, more clear…”Embrace…the call…come…” It was my voice! My reflection calling me, and yet behind it I sense something more menacing that I have ever heard. I have to…NO! I’m not going. Clearly, there is a connection here. If I go, I might disappear as well. I need to fight. I need to get this out of my head!
ENTRY: June 29th
I’ve destroyed every mirror in my apartment. Everything and anything that causes a reflection…everything except for the one in the restroom…I dare not go in there. There is some connection…a connection between reflections and being taken. I’m not going crazy, I can’t be. This is happening, and there is no doubt about it. It continues to call me from the restroom. I’ve barricaded the door shut. It’s trying to find other ways to get in. I can hear it calling me now, all around, trying to get me to go outside to another reflection, I assume. The sky is still gloomy, and I haven’t seen a soul walk by my window. Could I be the last one alive? What is happening? It this some sort of attack? Some new form of extinction brought on by an unforeseen foe? I can’t take any chances, and yet I can’t stay here forever. Eventually I’ll run out of food and starve. Still, I cannot give up now, I have to figure this out. Maybe I can find a way to fight back. Wait!- the radio, it’s working! The static is near overwhelming but I can make out the voice of a man, the first voice other than my own that I can remember! I can only make out a few words: “Can anyone…me…Don’t follow the…they’re trying to…to their world…they’re…taking over…it’s a…reflections are not you….” I’m going to try to get a better signal.
From what I can tell, this man has apparently been researching the subject and is trying to broadcast his findings. Something about another world, just like ours but, and I’m not sure what he meant, but “without souls.” In the reflections…he says that they’ve always been there, imitating, waiting for the right time, and that time is now. He says they want our world. How do I know it’s not just another crazy man preaching his theories? Wait, the radio is coming back on again…let me try to tune it…
No! It’s…it’s me! It’s trying to get to me! I can’t let it get me! I have to destroy the radio!
ENTRY: June 31th
I can’t take this anymore. The voices keep calling, and I don’t know how much longer I can resist. It’s…it’s taking control. My voice…I can’t always separate my own thoughts from it. It haunts my every waking moment. It’s still gloomy outside. The calm is torture, and yet my will to live is the only thing keeping me from going into that restroom. Even then, I begin to question it. I question my own will to live. I’m running out of food and I have to do something…
It’s in there, waiting, calling. No longer is it just in my head. I can physically hear myself inside the restroom. It’s there, scratching the door, calling. It got out somehow. The voice is now very different than mine, but it still keeps the same basic qualities. It’s deeper, darker…sinister. Before the call was soothing, calming…it pulled me closer like the song of a siren…but now it’s angry. It’s frustrated and impatient. I can hear it in it’s voice. “COME!” “COME TO ME! EMBRACE THE CALL!” It needs me, wants me, and I can’t help but want it too. My gut now urges me to go to it, and only my mind remains to resist. The door seems farther away somehow, like it’s being pulled back into something…like some sort of suction. It’s beating the door now. It’s angry growl hits me in my very soul.
I can no longer resist. I’ve removed the barricade and I’m going to open the door. There is nothing left for me here, and there is nothing I want more. The voice senses my cooperation and it’s no longer angry. It’s calm again, soothing. “Embrace the call. Come. I love you.” I asked it what it was, and it responded: “I am that I am. Come.” I’m going to open the door...