So I Wrote And Recorded A Brief Horror Story. Lemme Know What You Think?

I’m actively shocked that I don’t have a bingo.

How many full rows do you have?

Catalog Entry #4771 Audio Recording

Subject: Sean W. McLoughlin, 26 Time: 12:00am GST

[keyboard clicking] [short static buzz] SM: What the fuck? [chair creaking] SM: Dammit, I just got this monitor! Really? [static, faint high-pitched laughter] [sighing] [keyboard clicking]

[keyboard clicking] SM: Oh, now you don't wanna turn off? C'mon... Unidentified: Sean...

[chair squeaking, footsteps, door opening] SM: Signe? Did you need something...? [faint voice] SM: Oh...thought I heard you say something, sorry. [door closing, footsteps, chair squeaking] [static] Unidentified: One, two, [indecipherable]...coming for you... [static, faint laughter] SM: Signe! Reminded me to call someone about this monitor, yeah? It's freakin' out on me. [faint voice] SM: I know, brand new! [chair creaking, footsteps, door opening] [door closing, fading footsteps]

[laughter gradually getting louder] [laughter cuts out] Unidentified: This is gonna be fun. [scream of laughter, static]

END OF RECORDING

A reminder that this is available now!

I’ve written another book! The Clockwork Figurine is a collection of short stories (some of which are based on fanfics that I first published here!), and it’s available worldwide on Amazon for $.99 as an ebook. It’s also available in paperback!

Nope!

A/N: I smell a fandom fire! What a good time for some nicely roasted angst!

Dark knew what this feeling was. He was all too familiar with it, wasn’t he? All the same, the familiar panic began to rise in his throat, and he stood suddenly at his desk, before grunting and hunching over it, one hand slamming down into the surface, cracking it in an attempt to steady himself, but it felt like the world was spinning.

It was very fast this time.

“Dark?”

Oh, no. No, Wil, you don’t need to see…

But Wilford was leaning heavily on the door frame, bubblegum-smile missing and face pale, eyes wide and deathly scared. Dark knew that look.

“It would seem it isn’t just me,” he said softly, trying to come around the desk to join him, but this caused the room to turn sickeningly on its side. He slid to the ground with a groan. Wilford made an effort to come to him at the same time, and collapsed to his knees halfway there.

“What’s happening? What’s…?”

“We’re dying, Wilford.”

The tears that had already been forming leaked out and onto his cheeks as he whispered, not even strong enough to summon his usual smile, “It’s…but it’s all a joke, isn’t it? It’s always been a joke, hasn’t it?”

“A cruel joke,” Dark agreed, slumping further onto the ground. He vaguely made out Wilford collapsing fully, heard him wheezing. “It’s not fair…it’s never been fair.”

They were quiet for a moment.

Suddenly, Wilford chuckled, and the sound of it brought real tears to Dark’s long-dried eyes. He didn’t know he could still do that. How interesting.

“Not quite the blaze of glory I had planned, is it, Dames?”

“So you do remember.”

He’d have nodded if he still could have. He couldn’t even see anymore, really. Vague, grey and blue and red shapes. He didn’t know if Wil could still hear him.

“Thank you, William.”

“It’s been my honor. Damien. Celine.”

There were no other words. Everything went black.

“Dark? I have some new concepts to go over with you, and we need to discuss this week’s schedule.” Bim knocked on his door, and was surprised when it gave way under his hands. Frowning, he stepped into the office.

It was oddly empty. The fire was still burning in the white marble fireplace on the far end of the room, and there were papers sitting on the desk, as if someone had been halfway through them and been interrupted. The chair was pushed back carelessly, and the thick rug was wrinkled in one corner.

Bim walked slowly over to the desk and picked up one of the papers. For a moment, it looked as if he were reading and old article, the tabloid headline stating “MURDERS AT MARKIPLIER MANOR REMAIN UNSOLVED”.

And then, the page was blank.

Bim wondered why the egos never used this office. It was nice, very stately. Fit for a politician.

Perhaps Google would like it. Always best to offer the boss the best spot in the building, and his current room wasn’t nearly enough. Why had they stuck him in that little side room again? Why had he let them? Maybe he liked the privacy.

He wandered off to find him, feeling vaguely as if he’d forgotten something important. But he was sure it was nothing.

Oh hello haha. You have a lovely blog. Hahahaha

What up demon? I’m curious about you all, but at the same time...concerned...

Aha. So I’ve been spelling Celine correctly.

Also William. Ouch, my heart.

Also I love that the Chef doesn’t have a name. XD

My guess would be that "little buddy" might refer to Mark as per survalence by the egos. That "designation: little buddy" is simply a code name referring to the constant survalence of the ego's "little buddy", mark. But that's just a theory, a gAME THEORY

THANKS FOR WATCHING.

lol seriously, though, I can get behind that. I like the irony in the implication that provides that Mark is the sidekick character in this. And I like the idea of all the egos keeping an eye on him as he’s wandering around this place, or, alternatively, trapped there.

Do You Trust Me? Epilogue.

“And I will see all you dudes...IN THE NEXT VIDEO!”

You laughed as the outro music started playing, dropping your arms and rubbing your throat. How does Jack do that every day? God, his vocal cords must hate him. Flicking through the comments, it made you grin to see so many people chatting about the game, a few people yelling the catchphrases. There were even a few good puns this time, that was nice. You were staying for the outro clip again, lately having gotten into the habit of staying just a little longer, out of some slightly silly hope. You commented on every video now, sliding subtle references to your adventures into every one, hoping that Jack would see it. Even if you knew you couldn’t reply, it was nice to think that Jack was in his room, seeing your words in the code and thinking of you fondly. “That was another good one, Jack. Though I must say, that shark’s getting the better of you. Your raft’s gonna need to step it up, man,” you rambled absently as you flicked to another tab to finish a fanfic you were writing. After all, that adventure was too good not to be told, wasn’t it? And you thought it might entertain Jack to see it written up. You wondered if he’d show Mark.

“Really now? Three stories of raft isn’t good enough for you?! It’s fantastic!”

You flicked back to the video so fast you almost closed it out by mistake. “Jack?” He grinned in surprise, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. “Hey!” You couldn’t help but smile back.

Is anyone else getting Coraline vibes from this? Do something “small” in exchange for eternal happiness? Something’s not right about all this...

So if you’re a fan of my stuff here, I’ve been moving a lot of my older fic to AO3, and I’ve even re-written and added to some of them! If you feel like checking that out, go for it. I’m under the name Kittenbedtimestories there, the same as my old Wattpad name.