Tyler's Spooky Story
| Tyler's Spooky Story Worn Unique |
| Tyler's phantom email story. |
| Used in "Spooky Stories of Solomon Island" |
Used for the mission Spooky Stories of Solomon Island, but given as a reward from the mission The Phantom Email
Transcript
I shouldn't have opened it. Maybe. It was in my inbox. It was addressed to me. Shit, shit, shit! Usually I am that guy everyone has blocked. the guy sending out the mass emails marked "THE TRUTH ABOUT FLOURIDATION OF THE WATER SUPPLY". Email for me is usually a one way communication stream.
Imagine my excitement when something comes to me and it isn't from a trustworthy businessman from Nigeria.
But this email. This fucking email. It was creepy, like they knew what was going on in my trailer. They knew details, intimate details, about who I was and where I lived and what I was doing.
Perhaps I'm paranoid. But I believe that intelligence can spring from the most unlikely of places. That technology is a new form of life, just waiting for a spark. What if spam is the internet trying to communicate with us?
What if these kind of emails are a desperate plea for intelligent discourse from an entity that doesn't know any better?
And we ignore them. We delete them from our inbox. We refuse to communicate.
So it cajoles, demands and eventually threatens. It adds subject lines like "IF YOU STOP READING THIS YOU WILL DIE" and "FORWARD THIS TO FIVE FRIENDS OR YOU WILL DIE IN 6 HOURS!"
It is reaching out to us, and we are trashing it.
So in the end, it starts to make good on the threats. It understands that people don't take it seriously and, like disciplining a child, the internet starts to kill us to teach the rest of us a lesson.
It is exploring the boundaries of its communication. And now, here I am, about to go into the Fog. I know I have taken every precaution, but sometimes it feels like a march toward the end. Did the email lead me here? Should I have done as it asked and forwarded it?
It's too late to ask those questions. Now I just need to move forward.
Tyler Freeborn
WARNING: YOU MUST FINISH READING THIS EMAIL!!!
I know who you are. Do you think that your grand conspiracy will protect you?
I've seen you, day after day, living in your shitty trailer, typing away on your Anansi laptop. you are always looking for stories on this Island but you never understood that you are a part of them. you are as much a victim of the conspiracy as everybody else.
Your blog, your emails...nobody cares. Nobody reads them. They don't want to know and they aren't interested. What is your life worth to anybody? Have I got your attention? Let me tell you a story. There was a girl, Carmen Winstead. She was never born. She didn't exist. And then the girls who pushed her told everyone she fell.
People read the email, and some felt sad for her, others horrified. many deleted it. But just a few forwarded it to friends. And then a few more. The email which gave her birth spread into the world.
Carmen understood that her existence was dependent on this email. Dependent on belief in the email. So she added a line. "If you don't repost this, then Carmen will get you, either from a sewer, the toilet, the shower or when you go to sleep you'll wake up in the sewer, in the dark, then Carmen will come and kill you."
And the fear spread and the email spread and Carmen, growing strong on the fear, found the ones who would not forward her mail. She killed them, dragging them screaming into a sewer that only exists in the minds of people who have read the email. They die and she lives.
Another story? Certainly.
A girl, babysitting for a wealthy family, finds the size of the mansion that they live in intimidating. She does her job, putting the children to bed in the nursery on the upper floor. Then she goes downstairs to watch television.
She finds it hard to concentrate however, considering the creepy clown statue in the corner. She has never liked clowns and this one seems out of place in the tasteful surroundings.
The father calls, voice slurred with drink, to check on his children. They babysitter assures him that all is fine and asks what possessed him to buy the horrible clown statue.
"Get the children and get out of the house."
She complies, bundling her bewildered charges out the door as the police arrive. The clown statue was not a statue at all, but a clothed killer.
In a bloodier version, the babysitter is cut down and the story ends as the killer clown moves up the staircase of the mansion.
The clown prefers this version. He enjoys killing the virtual babysitter, the taste of her digital fear. He reaches out into his newfound existence and finds his niche in the uncanny valley. he flickers easily among all the forms his legend can take and sidles up beside John Wayne Gacy in the Google hits for Killer Clown.
And to ensure his survival, he adds a line to the email. "If you don't forward this to 10 people, the clown will be standing next to your bed at 3am with a knife."
It's always 3am somewhere.
There are things that exist in the universe because they fill a space in our minds. A fear-shaped hole drilled into our souls. You feel it, don't you? you spend your life trying to fill it. I am the clown and the woman. I am the emptiness that lives.
There is a car park on Solomon Island, by Whale Watch. And I will be waiting for you, inside the mirror.
You will bow to me. You will salute me. You will worship me.
And if you don't forward this email to 5 friends within the next 2 days, you will die.
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