A world of Ink


Audio Log: Recovered on November 26th, 2015 outside Great Barrington, MA

*A Panicked male voice is heard*

Uh, let's see. It is… The 23rd of January, 2014. The time is: 23:05 P.M. Everything's gone to hell. Jake is gone. He's dead, he's missing, for all I know, he's sitting in a Jacuzzi enjoying a cold soda and a burger. All I know, and all I care: is that he's gone. He's not here. He left the car to go into the town, and that was over three hours ago. What was the town called? It doesn't matter. All that matters, is Jake is gone. He took the rifle and the backpack. Two of the things I need most to survive! BOTH OF THEM! I can't stay for much longer. If he doesn't arrive in two hours, I'm leaving. I don't care if he's still alive in there: If he doesn't get here by…

*Rummaging noises are heard*

…Umm… 01:05 A.M, I'm getting in the car, turning the keys in the ignition, and leaving. I don't care, anymore. It's him or me.

*Gunshots are heard in the distance, accompanied by near-supersonic screeches*

Oh, Jesus! They found Jake! I can hear their shrieks. Oh, god. This is bad. There's no time to wait for Jake. I have to leave. I have to leave now.

*Car door opens, and user sits into the driver seat. The car door is closed again behind him. The ignition is activated. Gunshots and screeches continue.*

I have to go… I have to go…

*Something lands on the roof of the car. The recording voice screams wildly*

Oh, fuck!

*The car is put into gear and drives. The wrenching and tearing of steel is heard from above*

No! No! NO!

*Something bursts through the roof. A loud splat is heard, followed by the recorder's pained screams.*

End of Audio Log

Diary Entry: Recovered on December 13th, 2015 in Moscow's Metro. Translated from Russian.

*The Diary has been discovered to belong to 12 Year old Olga Ivanov, one of the unrecovered deceased, following the 2013 Incident. This is the last entry in the leather-bound book.*

Dear Diary.

Today, I saw my first… Creature. It was HUGE. It had long, skinny arms and legs, and black skin, like ink. Its head looked like… Well, I don't know what it actually looked like. Kind of… An oval? It had two bright white eyes, and they looked at me. If I wasn't so small, it would have got me, but I ran into a vent, and hid until it went away. I think it's still out there, though. Walking around in the tunnels. I can't come out. Wait, what was that? Oh, no. I think the creature got into the vent. I'm scared. I have to turn out the light, and hope it doesn't find me. I'm so scared. I wish mom and dad were here, but they…

*A large blood spatter covers the remainder of the page, and scattered over the written words, are small dried circles of liquid: assumed to be tears.*

Video Recording: Recovered on October 31st, 2015 in London, on the ruins of the London Eye

The camera shows two men, each in their mid-twenties. One carries the camera, the other: a 9mm pistol. They are walking among the twisted bars and supports of what used to be the London Eye. The glass capsules that used to be so high up, now lie shattered, covering the streets in broken glass,

"What was that?" Asked the camera man, pointing the camera directly at his companion. They are American: likely tourists,
"You think I know?! I just emptied a clip into it: and it's not even dead!" He has a large wound on the left side of his face, clearly showing his skull, and part of his eye socket. Blood has soaked into his white T-shirt with the Union Jack printed on it. His blue jeans are tattered and ragged. His trainers are the most pristine clothes on his body. Tears are seen welling in his right eye. It seems his left has been disabled by the wound. A noise is heard behind the camera. The cameraman screams as he is lifted into the air. He drops the camera and it lands, facing his direction. A tall figure, at least eight feet high, is holding him up by the back of the head, with one hand. Its five fingers are elongated, about twice the length of a normal human's, and they end in katana-like claws. Its body is eerily narrow. Its arms and legs are about as thick as a baby's, and longer than any man's ever should be. Its head is obscured by the twin lights, assumed to be its eyes: causing a camera flare. The creature's hand tightens around the man's head, and it explodes, showering the camera in blood and chunks of bone. The cameraman's companion screams, and we hear the click of an empty pistol. The creature approaches him with unnatural speed and grace, and a terrified scream is heard, cut short by the crunching of bone and the splashing of blood. The man's body is heard slumping to the floor, and the creature is seen walking away slowly. The camera records the scene for several more hours, until the battery life runs out.