The Horrors: A Documentation of the Strange Happenings of The Campus

Jun 3

preface I.

Lost and alone, fresh victims men stumble between the pine trees. They may soon leave, if not enraptured by the surrounding strange folk. They must leave, or else they will become one. But everyone leaves eventually. The world is full of colors and sounds, but not all are as kind as they may seem. The fae folk could not be stranger, for the culture held here is unlike any other you have been to. Welcome to The Campus.

preface II: an author’s introduction.

If you are reading this for humor, I implore you to take this seriously and envy you for simply regarding these entries as tall tales of fiction. If you are one of them and you have somehow gotten your hands on my journal, I fear you, curse you, and bless you all in the same breath. And if you are reading this to survive, I apologize. This guide, total as it is, cannot help you.

It is already too late.

preface III: a disclosure notice to the reader.

I have written the majority of these entries according to a self-invented classification listed at the top of each page. Additionally, I shall address you, the reader, with warnings that I feel adequately suit the situation. Should you scoff at the ominous nature of each entry, I only can pray that you will continue to believe in its humor. For humor is quickly shattered when accosted by the dark reality it paints. Should you not understand each entry, I invite you to blissfully continue in your ignorance. Knowing all is oft not for the sound of mind, and sanity peters out quickly when truly understanding the scope of these horrors.

Additionally, reader, I must implore you to recognize the following, should you continue further in this documentation/survival guide. Try as I might, I cannot document everything in its current happenings. But I can try. Should you come across something you do not recognize from these texts, I must preemptively tell you to figure it out by yourself. Just remember one of the two ways to survive:

Become one of them, understanding through cultural and social osmosis
Leave as quick as you can and find another fae circle to haunt.

Most importantly, stay curious.

introduction.

I can only write briefly, but I have stumbled upon a realm in the midst of a quiet suburb. The realm calls itself Sequoyah High School Campus, but for brevity’s sake I may refer to it as The Campus in such a way as to respect the natural language of the inhabitants and to abbreviate for my dedicated readers. Entry was quite difficult, as the singular path leading into the wooded terrain is blocked by a steady stream of opposing traffic – that is, traffic of inhabitants and blissfully ignorant passerby more concerned with arriving to their jobs on time than observing the niche culture of this world. Yet I have taken on this burden myself to document the world around me, for the sake of preserving my sanity, rationalizing the world, and warning the future generations of wanderers and travelers who seek to make their homes here.

They are called The Horrors, for there is no other way to describe them. No fanciful purple prose can describe the sheer and substantial uncanny aura that surrounds The Campus and the horrors it houses. The most frightening part is that the inhabitants consider these happenings completely mundane. Like the banality of evil, I dub this behaviour the banality of horror. The inhabitants easily participate in traditions which have never been formally inscribed in stone, seemingly possessing a communal understanding from constant exposure. The place is alive with the hearts of those it captures. Each year, it captures more and more to join the ranks and feed The Horrors.

I have compiled my information from my personal diary, which catalogued my experiences on this campus. Each description and categorization was structured thoroughly and carefully, derived from intentionally structured and precise compilations of information. Some take the form of warnings, some are written from an inhabitant’s perspective (although I have not directly read the minds of the inhabitants, those that caught wind of these scraps appeared sufficiently pleased, so you may rest assured of their accuracy), some state the applicable entity’s effects, some predict a looming future, and all simply state the truth.

Should you be an inhabitant of this mystical realm, I shudder at the thought that you may consider these words to be endearing references to a relatable or nostalgic experience. Yet should you have gotten your hands on these papers anyway, I likely may not be around to shudder at all.

I advise you once again, reader, to take this documentation as purely serious. Without further ado and all disclaimers sufficiently laid on the table, you may proceed. Take care to heed my warnings and keep my advice in mind as you read first-hand documentation of The Horrors.

one: regarding general terrain.

Subsection 1.1A

The ground could be aflame. It has never been aflame. Not yet. The pine needles bury your sins, waiting for the spark.

Entity Type: natural, nonliving

Location: everywhere

Journal Entry I

I have found myself in a small campus made of wood and stone (at least, in appearance). As I appear to be incapable of leaving (some strange force has bound me to this place for roughly 71% of the week), I have taken it upon myself to document the behaviours of the inhabitants and the nature of this land I have stumbled into, like the explorers of old. The first thing that one notices upon entering this terrain are the sweeping piles of tan needles, sharpened on one end, conjoined on another in groups of two or three needles, and seemingly scattered in every nook and cranny. The tallest pile I have noted leans against a fenced-off and gated area (see 1.2 [Note 1]) and stands nearly a foot tall. This ever-present carpeting appears to be one of the many possible fire hazards, yet it grows taller every day. Perhaps the inhabitants are impervious to fire? Reminder: Take note upon further observation.

— —

Subsection 1.1B

The forest lurks in the corner. Everyone accepts this as a fact of life. Sometimes the grass is dead. You blink. The grass is no longer dead.

Entity Type: natural, limbo state

Location: southwest

Journal Entry II

At the southwest corner of The Campus, I have found a strange patch of grassy land. Through the seasons, it presumably accumulates wear. However, I have visited it infrequently, with its status oft-changing – one day, it is lush and green, while the next, it is fenced off and brown. Its revival is always inevitable, with the lushness surging back after the larger patches of dirt take their turn dominating the area. The patch appears unaffected by the seasons, changing at whim without warning or reason. I have attempted to isolate patterns in the grass’s state unsuccessfully. The corner is surrounded on two sides by a small and isolated forest, sporting various types of flora and fauna. I call it The Corner Forest – a crude and simple but descriptive enough name. The forest appears to be spreading, growing its dense thicket and branches of ivy further into the path, where it is beaten back in an endless battle between the inhabitants of this campus and the nature surrounding them. In the centre of this corner, I have noted a tall, dry, dying tree that I have dubbed The Corner Forest’s Inevitable Hazard, for it is only a matter of time before it falls and crushes me. Despite this looming threat, the inhabitants always return to it, taking shelter in the instability in times of emergency (see 8.1 [Note 2]). This behaviour strikes me as odd, and I shall continue monitoring it in future days.

Journal Entry III

I have recently noted, after further exploration of this campus, that the major landmark – The Corner Forest’s Inevitable Hazard – has disappeared without a trace or a memory of it ever having been there. I find it hard to believe that such a presence could have been on The Campus, despite my sketches and entries here claiming that it was. Interrogated inhabitants expressed surprise – some never noticed that it was there, while others never knew that it was gone. Certainly, this is strange.

— —

Subsection 1.1C

The storms of gold fall from the pines on windy days. The sidewalks look like chalk. It is tempting to touch the gold. It is tempting to go outside. Do not go outside.

Entity Type: natural, nonliving

Location: right in front of you start running hold your breath do something it’s already here it’s too late

Journal Entry IV

Three days into my entry into The Campus, I was confronted by an unbroken sheet of gold fluttering through the air, cascading from the pine trees. As it passed through inhabitants standing in inexplicably symmetrical circular formations, it left human-sized indents in its continued sea and calmly continued on. Some appeared distraught, afflicted by some invisible malady, while others seemed completely unaffected. I observed a few running for shelter from the unending dry storm, and I regret not having followed their lead to do the same. Yet I was curious.

The golden wave, upon closer inspection, was composed of thousands of yellow particles. No physical harm immediately came to me when I touched it with a hesitantly outstretched hand, although the particles stuck with a seemingly irremovable adhesive. The second I inhaled it, though, I was immediately wrought with a fit of coughing. My eyes, ears, and throat stung with no chance of relief. These effects lingered for hours after the sea of gold subsided. I have recorded its repetitive cycle; the poison comes in waves, prominent throughout Spring. Note: next time, run. And get this powder off of my clothes.

— —

Subsection 1.1D

The brassy screams ring in your ears. Omens flutter above the rooftops, waiting for your sandwich. Are you sure you could fight a visitor, if it chose to attack?

Entity Type: natural, living

Location: right above you

Dwelling, if applicable: pine trees or corner forest (see 1.1A and 1.1B)

Journal Entry V

I have observed numerous creatures lurking on the rooftops, cloaked in ebony feathers and preying on or watching the unsuspecting inhabitants. I can only dare to wonder what they want. Their screams haunt my dreams and interrupt the seminars I am mandated to attend. Regarding the mandated attendance: I have somehow been integrated into The Campus and accepted by its inhabitants as “one of them”. I refuse to be one of them. I wish to leave perfectly sane and on my own terms. Preferably with a book of wondrous recollections of the strange things I have seen, though. And my journal is not yet complete. I must remain a bit longer to collect more information. I hear claws pattering above. The beasts scream again.

— —

Subsection 1.3

There was a sticker over the clock. The sticker is gone, but the clock remains. The clock remains, but the wall is gone. Where did the wall go? Into the walls.

Entity Type: Manmade

Location: ground floor

Journal Entry VII

There is a strange room I discovered on the ground floor of The Campus. Its walls appear to expand and contract at will, expanding to over double its fully contracted width at maximum stretch. Previous inhabitants report a bright red, rectangular sticker with white text that read “SIPREME” over the clock, which hangs unevenly between the two doorways that appear when the room is fully expanded. It is unknown what this phrase means. This sticker no longer can be found, and all reports of “SIPREME” come exclusively from the Elders.

When fully expanded, the room appears to have two doorways leading in from the same hallway, as well as another exit leading directly to the wilderness. It is unknown how this can occur, as the Corner Forest is well away from the room and any other nearby forests are miles away. Perhaps this is an example of dimensional or spatial warping? Investigate further.

When fully contracted, the room splits into two separate smaller rooms, separated by a thin divide of wall that materializes from seemingly nowhere (no sign of the divider is present upon full expansion). Each room is mostly identical, with no differences of note – save one. One room has the wilderness door. This same room apparently used to house the SIPREME sticker, which hovered just out of reach and enjoyed a long tenure. Nobody knows what happened to the SIPREME. Reportedly, it was there one day and gone the next. The day it disappeared, the walls did too.

two: regarding inhabitants

Subsection 2.1

There are parasites in human skins, lurking. No one here is fully human, in the traditional sense, but no one likes the parasites either. They do workshops to make us more human. It does not work. If you do not think there are parasites, check your mirror.

Entity Type: living? mimics an inhabitant

Location: somewhere in this room, probably

Dwelling, if applicable: unknown

Journal Entry VIII

When I recently interrogated an inhabitant about their “tea” (I do not know what this word means in this context, as they clearly were not referring to the warm beverage. The inhabitants appear to have developed their own language, dialect, and terminology, so communication is difficult), they only told me that “the parasites move in a pack. They leech you dry, then move on. You have gotten rid of them. The parasites remain.” The inhabitant was unreachable and impossible to find after this conversation. When I tried to reach out for further information, I only received a mysterious note. “There’s at least one in your grade. I am sure of it.” The parasites, from my basic gathered knowledge, are creatures that take the form of human beings and masquerade as people while slowly draining those they attach to. These leeches feed on emotional and psychological states by incessantly vibrating the air with specialized folds in their throat that pump air and wear down any mental toughness the victim has developed through constant exposure. They then use this technique to … mind-control, I suppose, is the most appropriate phrase – or perhaps manipulate … inhabitants by providing them with attention, shelter, and anything else the parasite desires. Each parasite has its own unique capabilities, so while an inhabitant can become skilled at recognizing the presence of a parasite, there is no true vaccine. Some use specialized wavelengths and vibration patterns to break their hosts’ spirits and stop them from ejecting the parasite, even if the host is aware of the parasite’s presence. Others specialize their capabilities to slight their hosts and disregard any efforts the host makes to assert its individuality and identity. Removal is taxing and painful for both the host and parasite, often ending with a lot of “tea”. According to the inhabitants, it is easy to recognize a parasite once they start feeding. But by the time they have started feeding, it is too late.

— —

Subsection 2.2 [Note 3]

The inhabitants change colors. It is unclear when or why. You should compliment them because it is polite. The colors grow brighter every year.

Sometimes they change names. Maybe the fae stole them. There are many fae here. When that happens, you must call them by the new words they assign to themselves because it is respectful. Do not be disrespectful. Do not be a parasite.

People simply disappear. Maybe they go Elsewhere. Maybe they go higher. Maybe, just maybe, they have escaped. Within a year, everyone has forgotten their name.

Entity Type: living inhabitant

Location: everywhere until you need one

Dwelling, if applicable: home

Journal Entry IX

The inhabitants appear to congregate in neat circles to converse with each other. Some appear unnaturally tall, while others bear unnaturally coloured heads and draping tresses. They decorate themselves with soda tabs and paperclip earrings, wearing shorts despite the abysmally low temperatures. Their behaviours and mannerisms are odd, instinctually reacting with strange gestures and the creation of strange popping noises akin to soft clapping to things that please them greatly. Sometimes, the words used to regard each inhabitant change as part of their Identity (I assume Identity to be some form of deity or mandated rule of law, considering the status that it is held to and the frequency it is praised and discussed). Many inhabitants seem to appear and disappear at will, silently reappearing right behind your shoulder at the most random times. They remind me of the fae folk in the old stories; perhaps wanderers and lost seafarers found themselves here, somehow. The ones that survived their wrecks told fantastical tales of magical, colorful fae. I suppose I will too, should I survive. The uncanny valley I find myself in is certainly reminiscent of the songs of old, after all.

The Campus has the strange ability to cause inhabitants that do not share the same mandated rooms/schedules to go weeks without seeing each other, despite the small size of the physical area. These are fascinating but strange liminal and spatiotemporal effects that The Campus and all of its inhabitants seem to be able to exercise at will. At the end of a set period (an arbitrary 365 midnights, or so I hear) some come back. Some never do. I do not know where these inhabitants go or what they have chosen to do in that time. I fear knowing.

— —

Subsection 2.3

The Eldest always have less fear. Maybe they are part of It. They have grown bold by the end of their tenure here, defying those who seek Control. They never come back, but the fire in their eyes burns in the next year. How do they do it? Soon, we will be one of them.

Entity Type: living inhabitant

Location: congregations around the courtyard, at Vallarta’s

Dwelling, if applicable: home, possibly

Journal Entry X

The Elders fret over numbers of words and names of ancient people housed in ancient corridors. They will soon leave, like everyone else. And we will forget them. Perhaps they will die alone, or worse have to go to community college. If they do not want to. I do not want to. But my time has not come yet.

Journal Entry XI

The Elders do not seem to care for the rules anymore. Perhaps they have been here so long, they neglect the order for chaos. Perhaps now, they have nothing to lose.

The Campus divides time into strange Modules. As of the second Module, the Elders have earned the right to leave. But they will always return. They cannot go far. I am not yet allowed to leave because of the arbitrary rules restricting my passage. Not yet.

— —

Subsection 2.4A

The guests must be marked in green. If they are not marked in green, the inhabitants cannot steal their names. They are likely here for theirs. If you see a guest who is not Marked, run and tell the Administrators. They can will fix the problem.

Entity Type: living?

Location: here, until they are not

Dwelling, if applicable: maybe they are the ravens

Journal Entry XII

The Adults and inhabitants have agreed to report unmarked guests. Or perhaps unMarced guests – I cannot fully tell. By agreed, I of course mean that The Adults have decided and the subservient inhabitants must follow. The marked guests wander on in droves on designated nights. One is coming soon, according to the bustling nervous energy in the air. I can feel the tension. Must keep from getting too involved, or I will gain their anxiety too. Yet I must continue to assimilate – it is the best way to avoid suspicion. I suspect something is strange about The Adults, but I cannot tell what it is. Make note later.

— —

Subsection 2.4B

The Visitor is in the corner. No one knows where she came from. She will not leave.

Entity Type: living?

Location: in the corner

Dwelling, if applicable: in the rocner?

Journal Entry XIII

The guests appear sometimes, hearkening from the outside world. They come from where I did, and I suspect they are the origin of every inhabitant here. But we, unlike them, are still locked in chains and bound to this confusing realm. They lurk outside in groups, and sometimes inhabitants are deployed as diplomats or sacrifices. I, too, have been confused for an inhabitant and sent out as a diplomat. The experience was harrowing but survivable. I know not whether my ventures were successful in luring more to The Campus. I do not know if I want to lure any more unsuspecting victims in or not.

three: regarding administration

Subsection 3.1A

The Administration does not want you to know how you are doing. They do not want you to know where you are. I tried to tell you. I cannot tell you anymore. You will never leave, or maybe you are already gone.

Entity Type: administration

Location: everywhere, until you need them

Journal Entry XIV

I have been here for over 1558 days. I have not counted, but the calendar has flown for two years. Mine has been glitching – it cannot help me. Not here. The Administration continues to reason. Sometimes it feels like they blame us with their semantics. But they wouldn’t.

Maybe the Administration are the parasites. Maybe the Administration is the parasite. Maybe they are trying to help. Don’t fight them. Just give up. Just give up. Just give up. Just give up.

— —

Subsection 3.1B

He enters. The keys jangle. Where have the chairs gone? Nobody knows. Perhaps He ate them. He enters again.

Entity Type: Marc Alongi

Location: nobody knows

Dwelling, if applicable: everywhere at once

Journal Entry XV

He seems to drift around the campus, spectating as an omnipresent and omnipotent force. He rarely says a word. His sparse interactions indicate two purposes for His presence: He shepherds the flocks of Visitors to each representing inhabitant, and He takes chairs. Sometimes, He brings chairs. But there are never enough. I have no idea where they go or where they come from, and it has been at least two years since I stopped questioning.

— —

Subsection 3.2

The Adults do not like it when you say that. Do not say that. Do not say that. Do not say that. Do not say that. You must apologize. Start writing.

Entity Type: behaviour / The Adults

Journal Entry XVI

The mandated punishment for shaking the air with a vulgar insinuation, even if an instinctual exclamation, is an apology and a permanent staining of a sheaf or parchment with ink to permanize those words. But it depends on who catches you. I have since learned the rules: don’t get caught. It is far superior to self-suppression and allows for much greater bounds of freedom.

— —

Subsection 3.3 [Note 4]

Jesus is in the ceiling, but he is still below Marc Alongi’s feet.

four: regarding tradition.

Subsection 4.1A

Everyone must gather at eight in the chapel. If you are late, you will not be allowed entry. Do not be late.

Entity Type: tradition

Location: the chapel

Journal Entry XVII

Recently, The Administration has enforced a new policy. Those who enter late will be punished, though they cannot track those who do not appear. Do not get caught. Absence is preferable to lateness. But if you are caught, absence may become permanent.

— —

Subsection 4.1B

The bowl echoes through conversations. You may not speak after the gong. We speak louder. The bowl has been getting bigger.

Entity Type: tradition

Location: the chapel, in the morning. Where it lives otherwise, I do not know.

Journal Entry XVIII

There is a small golden bowl with a resonnt pitch that echoes through the silence when struck. It hypnotizes and syncs the inhabitants’ breathing patterns, creating a temporary hive mind. This ritual is performed each morning. In recent days, I have noticed the bowl’s size and pitch to fluctuate. Its hypnotizing effect almost makes you forget the questions you have about this place…

— —

Subsection 4.1C

The strange garbled phrases make sense to everyone but you. It is time for another birthday song. You do not know the lyrics.

Entity Type: tradition, song

Location: the chapel, on birthdays

Journal Entry XIX

The inhabitants have a celebratory chant that they all know despite never having taught the lyrics. Its ritualistic rhythm and off-key kilter echo through each morning. It truly is the pinnacle of unique confusion, though legally necessary. I have since learned the lyrics through cultural osmosis, though they now spontaneously appear to ensure the easy integration of new inhabitants into the cultural homogeneity.

— —

Subsection 4.1D

The Assigned patrol early mornings and seas of people wash away in their path. You must move forward. Always forward. Do not lean back. The Assigned will see.

Entity Type: the commune/cult of herders, Morning Meeting committee

Location: on patrol, always

Journal Entry XX

The herders of the inhabitants sweep around the room, cleansing the breakers of rules and urging them to fall in line. No one has ever tried to resist them, and this induced compliance only furthers their hive mind practice. They have been Assigned to make you obey, and obey we do.

There has also been a recent development within The Assigned. They call themselves Morning Minute. They stand up, unannounced and unprompted. Yet their presence is eagerly awaited. Supposedly, overexposure causes symptoms to occur. But that is far preferable to the insanity of going without. The Hum grows louder.

— —

Subsection 4.2

They celebrate the trees speaking. Why do the leaves talk? No one knows. They try to explain, but it does not make sense.

Entity Type: finals

Location: in your computer

Journal Entry XXI

The trees call out stories, mainly through indigo poems. The leaves hold a story that They tell us each year, but each year I care less and forget more. The Elders appear to be free from the first round of culling. They deserve a reward for having survived the gruelling rounds, though each round is friendlier for the newer inhabitants. To induce complacency, to induce learning. They celebrate their survival at the end – those that do survive, at least. Each year the tree gains a dimension. First, it was flat. Now it is solid. I fear what it will become in the years to come. The leaves on it are not real, but we worship them anyway.

Journal Entry XXII

I do not remember how long it has been. Perhaps it has been one year. Perhaps it has been four. But it is another August. The leaves are silent. They do not know how to talk yet. This peace will not last.

five: regarding inside.

subsection 5.1

The traces of old class notes linger. No one erases them. Everyone forgets, like they forget all that was said in the rooms. The traces fade.

Entity Type: object, nonliving

Location: two per every room

Journal Entry XXIII

We try to search for information, but the goblins are back. They steal our whiteboard markers. Our messages must be permanent, or never be written at all. Make your choice: Sharpie or nothing. Theft, though, is always a valid response.

Journal Entry XXIV

The countdowns appear and disappear. They never reach zero, but everyone learns what they mean. Everyone dreads zero. Would you like to know a secret? I know who put them there. I know what they count down to. All I will say, though, is that 5 days remain. (See 4.2)

Journal Entry XXV

The Campus is not limited to one type of inhabitant – in the night, different creatures take shelter in The Campus for their own rituals. Sometimes words appear on the boards in a language very few of us can read. They say it has been Left Over. We are not allowed on campus after 5. Maybe we will also be Left Over.

— —

subsection 5.2

Sometimes they trap us in the walls to talk about what ails us. They talk to us about what ails us. They say it is helping. It is not helping.

Entity Type: program

Location: advisory

Journal Entry XXVI

Somehow, the Wellness program makes the inhabitants less well. I do not know how this works, but perhaps the program itself is a parasite? Many dread it, while others revere it. Last time, they gave us tea.

— —

subsection 5.3

They give us 21 and 23, but the liminal space remains hidden. Hidden, perhaps, behind Marc. Why must he protect it so?

Entity Type: liminal

Location: hidden

Journal Entry XXVII

There is a room behind The Administrators, between twenty-one and twenty-three. Between music and couches, there is a library of musical papers. I do not know why they hide it away, or why it sits above Jesus. Perhaps so they can walk right over him and assert their superiority? Or maybe they forget he is there. The room is entirely sheltered – I know not why. The balcony barely fits a chair and a table, but it still looms bigger than anything else (See 3.2 [Note 5]).

Each Friday, the Elder innovators take shelter within it. So did StewardSIP, before it disappeared. One year, they created a bright red sticker. But now both are gone to the winds – untraceable, unmemorable, and unloved.

— —

subsection 5.4

He stands up to fight as they talk about pants buckles and petals on a bough. Less than a week remains, but you fear the tables will not make it that long. Keep writing, or Hannah will See. There will never be enough Horrors, or perhaps there are too many. It is simply one of the many hazards of being here.

Entity Type: class

Location: Room 25

Journal Entry XXVIII

The inhabitants here enjoy combat. Perhaps they are training, though for what I cannot hazard any guesses. I am one of them, per my will and assignment. But I am not one of them. The inhabitants take turns discussing and taking apart each others’ words, inscribed permanently on paper. Soon, they may find this journal. I do not know whether it’s worth it to hide this anymore. Just keep writing. As the ink flows, the printer groans.

six: regarding music.

subsection 6.1

You can hear them in the walls. You can hear them in the ceiling, where Jesus is. Their songs bring memories you do not like.

Entity Type: Baby by Justin Bieber

Location: in the walls

Journal Entry XXIX

I have heard many an annoying tune worm its way into my ear, played by those who can deftly manoeuvre instrumentation. The music pierces the thin walls, dragging back memories that I have repressed and discarded. The enchantment lasts in silence – no one would dare break it. They have a total hold over our brains, eliciting groans with the power to rickroll everyone spontaneously. They still can’t pack up quickly, though.

— —

subsection 6.2

The piece is always familiar but always wrong. It never ends. And then it does.

Entity Type: Für Elise

Location: The small chapel

Journal Entry XXX

There is a large instrument on three wheels called Ross’ piano. Who is Ross? We don’t know. The inhabitants enjoy crowding around it, though they never finish their songs. Music has a way of working its way into our brains, though it never ends right. The abrupt endings itch my fingers, but I am too busy writing to correct it. I will not forget the wrongness, even when I leave.

— —

subsection 6.3A

They say certain songs can summon the anomalies. You don’t know you’re playing it until it’s too late. They surround you. Their voices wrap you into a cocoon. Don’t even think about trying to escape.

Entity Type: Hamilton

Location: The small chapel

Journal Entry XXXI

I have observed a group of anomalies. Their capabilities and musical prowess allow them to change faces in magnificent performances. As a group, they are tight-knit and friendly (even if overly upbeat and terrifyingly energetic). Although I have to say, they have their quirks. Ross’ piano sounds, summoning them instantly. The presence of two will attract the rest as if they have an intuitive compass to each other. Their honeyed words and the pure charisma of their bonds lure many. I might join them. It looks fun.

— —

subsection 6.3B

The anomalies are tired. Soon, they will hatch into the sun. Then the cycle will restart. Auditions are next week.

Entity Type: tech week

Next Location: April 13-17, 2024, Lineage Performing Arts Theatre

Journal Entry XXXII

The anomalies lack their usual energy. They blame “tech week”. Soon, they will perform. Then they will collapse for another week. They said that this is hell. Yet they continue to repeat this limbo. Perhaps they have no way to become free. Why have I, too, sold my soul to this cycle?

seven: regarding lunch.

7.1A

The consumers seek to Consume. Sate their hunger with Swiss Miss and Blaze. If you do not, you too will be Consumed.

Entity Type: inhabitants

Location: 12:10 - 1:05 PM

Journal Entry XXXIII

They are hungry. I, too, am hungry. Tea outside of the small chapel, hot cocoa outside of the small chapel. No drinks inside the small chapel, or he will Know. Perhaps the small chapel provides. Sustenance can be purchased for $11.95, should you make the trek down. But many people do not bring their own sustenance. And many people are not allowed to make the trek. They have not been trusted yet. Thus, The Campus provides too. The baby carrots expired four months ago, but what is time in this infinite spiral?

We brush aside the thin layer of white mold. Don’t get caught eating inside, or His children will know. They are the cleaners, after all. We do not have a choice in this lunch, though the green letters tell us otherwise. I see the letters staring into my soul. We will only eat them for so long. I just know it. Soon, the roles will reverse. I don’t want to be consumed. I don’t want to I don’t want i don’t want

— —

7.1B

There are many sounds at eating time. The time is almost 1:05. You eat faster. You should run faster instead. They will be displeased.

Entity Type: inhabitant

Location: This is a Public Service Announcement. It is 1:05. Please head inside to your designated classroom.

Journal Entry XXXIV

The gong sings its call again. We must go inside if we have a place to be. If not, we are free to wander. Should you have a place to be but disobey their orders, they will forget you were ever there. Three strikes and you never were there. Should you have a designated place that you refuse to attend in a timely manner; should you disobey the system in place; you will pay. You may not enter without the marker of shame. (See 7.2)

— —

7.2

Someone walks in late. There are more pairs of eyes on them than not. They hold the yellow slip of shame. You do not want the yellow slip.

Entity Type: irresponsible

Location: 5 seconds late in Hannah Karmin’s classroom

Journal Entry XXXV

Just as we mark the Visitors, we mark the Late. Perhaps it is a form of public shaming? The impracticality drives us to more madness – for a second, we pay five minutes. The trip is long and tiring, burning more time than necessary. As a penalty for taking time. But why should we care? Start walking.

— —

7.3

You put it in. It spins endlessly, burning out your retinas in an amber glow. The line grows longer. You must move. You do not move. The line grows longer. It is not done yet, but the line stretches out of the windows. You burn your hands on the cold spots. The line grows longer.

Entity Type: box of warm

Location: outside, inside, everywhere – but none of them work

Journal Entry XXXVI

They are just hunks of metal, but we worship them almost as much as we worship the bowl, the gong, and the tree. They break in sentient rebellion to our efforts to overtax and exploit them. If they wanted to, they could kill the sun in the ceiling. And the lines are endless. By the time they are done, the yellow slip is inevitable. I smell burning. Again. Nobody moves. Three years down – perhaps next year, I will have less fear. Next year, I will have authority over them. Their uneven heating will not burn my tongue. The Elders, it seems, are unaffected by physical pain. Soon, I will be one. I don’t want to. But I would love to.

eight: regarding drills.

8.2 [Note 6]

The disease is over and our faces are bare, but They still fret. The tables of cotton probes have left, but the tickling sensation remains in our noses. We have stopped fretting. The disease is still at large.

Entity Type: pandemic

Location: rising again with the flu, in your lungs

Journal Entry XXXVII

The plague plagued us. And then it left us. At least, it has left our news sources. It has not truly left. They say it never will. We do not care anymore. We have learned to cope with the neverending stream of death and sickness. Do not staunch the horsemen’s flow.

— —

8.3

You sit in the flowers, paranoid. This is not a place of meditation. If need be, though, it could be the best place to escape. Or maybe you would die first. You walk away from the flowers.

Entity Type: There have been at least 80 school shootings in the United States so far this year, as of December 6, 2023

Location: I mean, there are worse ways to go than dying in the Meditation Garden, right? RIght? RIGHt? RIGH

Journal Entry XXXVIII

We wonder what the best escape would be if one of the parasites turned on us. Maybe they are biding their time. Maybe they are worming their way into our heads. Maybe they are already in our heads. At least we are not in the glass room. For now. Why do we have to consider these things? But we need to know how to run away. Just in case. Just in case one of the parasites turns real. Just in case they are no longer just a parasite.

…I fear the parasites less now. But we are almost free. Halfway through. Almost there. Almost free. But will we be free? We are still trapped in the glass room (See 1.2?). Maybe we can escape. But the Neighbors will know. And the Neighbors are easily displeased. We do not talk about the Neighbors.

nine: regarding the portal.

9.1

Week One. Week One. Week Two. Week Two. Why are there so many? You aren’t sure. Just another glitch in our reality, they say. It’ll disappear by tomorrow. Week Three. Week Four. Week Three. Week Three. Week Three.

Entity Type: annoying piece of glitchy HTML that crashes every day at like 3PM-12PM or something

Journal Entry XXXIV

The portal [Note 7] continues to malfunction. It duplicates itself and its entries. Maybe it will duplicate us, so we will stay here forever. The turnover rate is astronomical, but our classrooms overflow anyway. Maybe we should figure out why that happens? Maybe that is why He does it (see 3.1B) [Note 8]. Maybe we should just stay curious. But the more questions you throw, the more dexterous their dodge. Still, we should fix this. I can’t tell how much I’ve completed. The list of what to do seems endless, though. I don’t intend to sleep. Week One is done, but Week One still remains. Week One still remains. Still remains. Still remains. Still remains still

ten: regardingyou.

You. [Note 9]

You are one of them. You are one of them. I just hope you are not a parasite.

Entity Type: you

Location: literally everywhere

Journal Entry #???

Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them

One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them A parasite One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of them One of Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them Them
— —

Social Commentary?

Maybe we were all the parasites in the beginning, or maybe we are all parasites now. It is too late. You have been infected with complex thought. Live with the lucid awareness of your missed behaviour.

Entity Type: us

Location: literally everywhere

Journal Entry #???

A parasite a social innovator and a debate kid walk into Room 25. How much trouble will they cause today? I only hope it will be good.

Journal Entry #???

a child a parasite and a musician walk into Room 22 on a Friday at 1:05 PM. Time to change the world again. Or maybe we’ll just eat grapes.

Journal Entry #???

Mason’s Project looms over us, but none of us are healthy. Never were. Wellness makes you well, but Wellness loses more wellness every day.

Journal Entry #???

Are we the parasites? Are you the parasites? Are the parasites history? Or is History the parasite?

…At least we are prepared for college.

Journal Entry #???

A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite

A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite you (a parasite, probably?) A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite

A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite A parasite

— —

Me.

I cannot think, but it is almost December. December is almost June. I must leave soon. As much as I crave that day, I hope it never comes. don’t come looking for me. Unless you are prepared to be one of us.

Entity Type: Elder

Location: here, until I am no longer

Journal Entry #???

i am

one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of one of us one of us one of us one of us one one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of one of us us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of us one of one of us one of us one

us.

I must leave.

Soon.

184 days. [Note 10]

Addendum: Context & Disclaimer

The Horrors: A Documentation of the Strange Happenings of The Campus was transcribed from a diary found in the Lost and Found basket of a currently active and unnamed school campus. As of the transcription date, the owner has still not been found and their name will remain anonymous out of respect for the family. Please note that any grammatical or chronological inconsistencies may have been in part due to transcription errors, handwriting discrepancies, or errors in the reproduction of this text. Some sections have been amended for length purposes. It is unknown whether the stories contained within this text refer to a real place and events, though many experts agree that the implications of the strange inhabitants described cannot possibly be true. When using this text to assist further academic study of supernatural occurrences or other subject matters, please keep in mind that the author’s identity is unverified and that it is impossible to find any corroborating information. For further information, please contact GMCCWPublishing@gryphon.et with any questions, comments, or valid concerns. Insanity and legal suits against this text for “ruining your child’s mental health” do not count as a valid concern.

Notes

Note that section 1.2 was missing from the journals. This page contained a hastily scribbled note of the words “Room Eight”. No further context was given. It is unknown what this refers to or what other rooms exist. Entry 5.3 seems to allude to the existence of a Room Twenty-One through Twenty-Three (21-23), but they remain unconfirmed. The amount of rooms supposedly contained within this area is anomalously large, as the place that the narrator claims is home to “The Campus” seems far too small to house twenty-three average-sized rooms. This may allude to the mysterious nature of “The Campus”. Alternatively, it may also allude to an early sign in the decline of the author’s mental health. These stories, while wild and fantastical, are unverified. Please take note of this: the author may have created a fictional world far too absurd for common existence for entertainment purposes before discarding it for our archives to unwittingly recover. Or they may have simply gone mad.
Note that section 8.1 was irrecoverable, due to the state the page was found in. We were only able to recover the section title and description: “Our Fire Drill. They say the trees will protect you from fire. No one is sure how. The dead tree grows higher each year.”
Section 2.2 originally specified three separate entries: Hair, Gender, and Transfers. These sections have been abridged and combined due to a lack of substantial information as independent entries. This is the only section fully modified by the editors and transcribers.
No further explanation was provided. The only provided note/form of explanation read as follows: “You wouldn’t get it, but there’s something in Room 2.”
Note that section 3.2 is not present in the journals or notes whatsoever. No sign of tampering or damage were present. When scouring through the author’s miscellaneous notes on the last page of this journal, a possibly related note was recovered: “Mention Add/Drop Period”.
Other sections were mentioned but removed for various reasons. See Note 2 for the contents of entry 8.1. The other recovered sections were too damaged to fully include, and their contents were more disturbing. It appears that The Campus exists with the possibility and fear that it may be attacked by people possessing firearms or weapons of some sort, as it feels the need to teach its inhabitants how to shelter in case of this type of emergency. This dystopian and terrifying threat, while completely unrealistic, only adds to the uncanniness of this realm – if such a fear-instilling and confusing place has a fear of a larger, threatening world, this surrounding world (should it exist) may pose a severe threat to our safety. However, as some philosophers have speculated in response to this text, it is possible that we are the surrounding world.
It is unknown what this “portal” is or where it leads. The author never mentions any further specifics regarding this, so the reader is left to infer, interpret, and guess the meaning. This has led to numerous other articles and novels stemming from The Campus, including A Letter to The Administration; Blackbaud Gives Me Hell (And It Should Give You Hell Too), the trailblazing new science fiction novel, The Duplicate: A Trailblazing New Science Fiction Novel, and the book rife with social commentary and world-renowned for its cleverness, Coding001: HTML.
No further explanation was provided. This was transcribed directly from the journal. While the author’s original intent is unknown, we assume that “Maybe that’s why he does it” refers to the movement of chairs by the entity who summons and disappears them at well.
Although the section heading was included, section 10 appeared more messy and chaotic than any previous writing in the journal. The transcription team struggled greatly to create an accurate replication of this section (full image on GMCCWreal.site/image6). Subsections were not numbered, but rather titled.
No further notes were recovered. The author appears to have succumbed to some form of delirium, leaving the entries unfinished. Any recoverable pages were found heavily scribbled over with permanent black ink, with any underlying text fully irrecoverable. Upon further study, some experts have noted that a vaguely humanoid face with piercing eyes and an emotionless smile

Lauren Lee

The Horrors: A Documentation of the Strange Happenings of The Campus

Cloud Atlas Fanfiction