Angelica:

I have been on the run since February. Stalked and taunted by a cult I discovered in central Massachusetts. Things are looking bad for me and this may be my last chance to share my story.

February:

I found a string of videos that were quickly deleted or unlisted. I managed to find them again through my history. Some of them led to a website link where I managed to find many more unlisted videos hidden beneath cryptic messages, base64 cyphers, gematria, and other esoteric/occult imagery. Of course this peaked my interest and I tore through the website finding the schizoid blog posts that seem to be hinting the videos are parts of an obscure snuff film. In the site I found coordinates to a geocache in a city roughly 45 minutes from my hometown. I built up the courage to go there, where I found nothing but a pile of rocks and a blank white mask.

It was in the middle of an overgrown field that used to be a mental asylum, but was razed in 2012. It was pretty open space so I didn’t feel unsafe. Although, there was some homeless guy in a long coat some 500ish feet away from me, but I didn’t think much of him.

One of the videos had a base64 code that a friend from college helped me decipher. Another location that was much more difficult to find, given it was in the middle of some industrial complex. GPS led me to a massive 100+ year old mill factory. I got lost in its lower floors and basement looking for a specific courtyard from the video content. The photos and videos of the courtyard looked like one of those liminal spaces where the bricks are on all 4 walls but the trees and grass are on the inside of the room. The mill was like a maze and I got lost pretty quickly. It was much scarier down there. I was afraid to run into a dead body or somebody tweaking on drugs. Knowing how the city is and how unpredictable people can be, I wouldn’t have been surprised. I went home empty handed because the sun sets fairly early in February.

When I got home from work the next day there was a hand written note in my mailbox. No envelope or return, addressed to me by name. Taped to the back of the note was a USB flash drive. Whoever left me this note delivered it by hand and must’ve followed me home from the mill.

The letter said

“Dearest Angelica, you’re getting very close, aren’t you? But you’re missing the point… Maybe this will answer your questions, regards.”

I brought the USB to the police, who treated me like I was some lunatic looking for attention. They must have looked up my record and seen my little grippy sock vacation back in college. I made sure to download the files on the drive before handing it over. I know it’s stupid and probably gave me a virus, but I dont even know where that pc is anymore. The drive had a text document and an image of a spider in its web. The cypher was a26/z1 and it translated to “IF I WAS ABLE TO GET HERE SO ARE THEY. THERES ANOTHER MESSAGE FOR YOU. WATCH YOUR FUCKING STEP” alongside another set of coordinates.

March:

I took my time going to the next location. I began couch hopping between friends’ houses. I was afraid of being stalked. I KNEW I was being stalked. There were videos of me through windows, in public places, and in my car buried throughout the website. I had other concerned users sending me the links through the dms even though I had already found them myself. I was stricken with some sort of fear based obsession over this website. The layout of the website would change as often as I would move around physical locations. I decided I had to go to the newest coordinates. Lord knows I brought the pepper spray in case I ran into my secret admirer. I’m not allowed to have a gun.

There I found a cobble stone structure about 10 feet tall with a base about 5x5 feet wide at the edge of a swamp. On top of a wooden plank was a zipped up plastic bag with a candle, a Polaroid of an extremely dark room with a piano, and another flash drive. On that drive was two images; one green Polaroid with the image ruined by ink streaked across it with a link photoshopped onto it. The link had my name in it. There was also a grainy red photo of teeth. This shook me to my core as I was having nightmares of gnashing teeth for days prior to this geocache. This is what was hidden in the two images using steganography;

“binahisthehighestformofluna.sheiswhatgivesthemthepowertocommunicatethroughdreams.thisiswhyyouvebeenhavingthosedreamsaboutgnashingteeth.theyarepoisonedjustlikeyouandi.youwillunderstandsoonerthanlater.

itswasnicefollowingyouaroundthisweek.youarequiteaninterestingperson.becautiouswalkingaloneinthedarkness.seeyousoon.”

April:

I knew there were at least 3 people following me. Two in masks would get real close to me at night. Looking through my windows, climbing the roofs of wherever I was staying. These two would only show up at night. For some reason the third guy kept his distance. I realize now he was the guy I had seen at the first geocache. I didn’t recognize him until I decided to go to the cemetery in one of the videos. He would circle me from a distance leaving little cryptic notes for me on scrap paper. I found the cemetery through what I believe was his blog page. He kept hinting at all these places around and outside of the city. There was an abandoned prison camp, an abandoned Girl Scout camp, and of course that fucking mill again. He also seemed to be communicating with whoever was running the website through mainly base64 cyphers. I think he was hinting to me what their next moves might be. Many more videos popped up on the website as it’s layout would change around. I went to the locations and continued documenting my descent, albeit in private since I knew this group was watching all my socials.

My obsession with the website turned for the worst. I began littering my friends’ apartments and my hotel rooms with crudely drawn maps of its pages and thousands of notes attempting to decipher my stalkers’ messages to each other. I was losing too much sleep. I was afraid because I would see these people in my dreams. There was a horrifying feeling in my nightmares very difficult to explain. As if a giant, wet tentacle would wrap my bones like a centipede killing its prey. I could feel it’s claws inside my flesh ripping and pulling me down as the masked people approached. So I would stay up and wait for them to come in person. I’d see them outside the places I would stay. I’d run away and go missing for hours. Just to return covered in dirt or drenched in water. A friend who I stayed with said once my wet clothes would make her dryer smell like sulphur. Apparently that’s what makes that rotten egg smell. She said my lack of sleep was not only becoming visible in my speech patterns but also in the condition of my body. I guess I wasn’t eating or showering. She didn’t want me fucking up her apartment anymore because I was scaring her boyfriend, who stopped coming to her apartment because I was there. My speech became totally incoherent, and when I was able to get anything clear out, all I talked about was this fucking website. So her and another friend had me sectioned. I spent another 30 days in the institution, and i can’t remember much in until my release in May.

In the hospital, I do remember having extremely vivid lucid dreams. I remember that mill place and a vast forested park with broken down stone structures. I remember seeing Him down there in the mill. The guy with the trench coat. He never let me get close to him, probably due to me carrying pepper spray in the past. I never told anybody how I lost that spray during my second trip to the institution. I mean they were only dreams anyways right? The dreamscapes felt so real though. I saw the other two there as well. They would always chase me. The ones with the masks. One was a crude bloody mask that looked like somebody’s skin was removed and then worn as a mask. The other was that same blank white mask from the first geocache. All of these dreams felt so vivid that I believed they were real. There was something especially dark looming in them. Like a thick fog of black ink. And that unforgettable humming sound. God damn that fucking buzzing. It haunted me in every one of my silent moments, just like tinnitus.

Every time I got sleep it felt like being in somebody else’s dream. I know how it sounds, but its the only way to describe it. All one place. As if every landscape, indoors or outdoors was just another room in one big house. But I had to know, who’s house was it?

May:

Following my release from the institution, I only had moments of clarity. My memory mostly consisted of the dream scapes and the things that happened in them. They seem more real to me than daylight now. I remember giving into the Abyss. A feminine void. It was so cold. I can’t remember anything else until that fucking awful night. The night we tried to drown him.

He posted a picture of my cellphone on his blog with a set of coordinates reflecting off its screen, carefully taped to the wall. It was a clear message he wanted to meet me there. I thought my phone had been confiscated when I was sectioned. I have no idea how it landed in his hands. He said that it contains my missing memories. Probably more videos and photos like the shit I found on the website. I met him at the prison camps where the coordinates landed. That’s where we tried to drown him. I did not have control of my body. That inky darkness that clawed at my arms and legs, gripping my bones with my flesh. But there was something much stronger than us that woke me up. Whatever it was stopped us from killing him. I managed to throw him a string of lights before I woke up. I wanted him to know it was me. He stayed there. I don’t know if He can leave anymore. I have to come back to my body or the thousand legs sink deeper and take control again. I can’t go back to the institution.

June:

Weeks went by and there was no changes to the blog or the website. I knew something was wrong. I stopped dreaming. I tried to make contact but it was futile. I feared the worst. They had cut me off and killed him. I know it. I saw his body on my phone. It was the last video taken in my camera roll. He was all mangled and contorted, moving in inhuman ways.

I know they filmed it too. That’s what’s on the VHS tape from the cabin.

October:

I have no recollection of the past three months.

I am now states away, and have no desire to go back to that hellscape in central Mass.

I had an awful dream last night, and it’s the only reason I’m back here posting again.

They used his body to wake up that dreaming One who’s been taunting us all from the start. He is the eldest One. He is awake now. I took the video down there in that fucking mill. I know it’s real. I know that sick fuck is in that body, eating away at His host like a maggot. He’s been spitting blades and whispering to them in His gentle tone. I’ll never forget the look he gave me before the video ends. That awful fucking smile and those empty, dead eyes. This was very fucking real. It was not a dream.

My tether was cut when He woke up. I can’t go back. I can’t go back. I can’t go back.