CALL LOGS I’m not the first one to say it and I won’t be the last: I don’t think Brighter Futures Suicide Hotline is what they say it is. The past few weeks, I’ve been gathering as much information as I can find and I’m good at finding things. Damn good. It’s literally my job. I’m a Digital Forensics Examiner. I can’t tell you my name and I can’t tell you the name of the company I work for — I’m afraid of retaliation and not just from my company but others. For the purpose of this post, I’m going by Maddox. I’m beginning to see that this goes a lot deeper than a call center and a bunch of strange coincidences. This is massive. Global. From what I can tell, something is attempting to shift the path of humanity itself. They’re doing it unseen. They’re doing it successfully.
I dug for what seemed like hours. Hours and hours of clawing through dirt that varied between hard clay and the sort of thinning sand that normally makes its home on river-bottoms. Silt that sifted through my hands down and away as I went. That voice: I kept hearing that voice within my head as it repeated those words to me. I tried my best to ignore it, but it was often unbearable.
My brother is Officer Jake Swanson. He’d just graduated from the academy…only just earned his badge. He’d begun his first shift with his field training officer, when about an hour in they responded to a call from a pair of campers They went to that house in the woods. It was his first and last day on the job when he made the gruesome discovery that should be national news. It isn’t being reported. At least not in the way it should be.
I would like to start by saying, there are a lot of bad people in the world, but I am certainly not in their company. I am a good person. I recycle, I pay my taxes and I donate to the LGBTQ Youth shelter downtown. For Craig to call me a turd, if it weren’t so impossibly ironic, was audacious.
We adopted Charlotte shortly after we got married. We always knew that we wanted to be parents and we were finally in a position financially to allow that to happen. We had so many plans and dreams for the person she might become–plans for what we’d teach her–an architecture for her entire life; blueprints stolen away from us less than a week after her first birthday.
I just got a new laptop–but they didn’t wipe the harddrive before they sent it to me. There is a really strange video on the desktop. I hope it isn’t real… When it begins, there’s a man out by his pool. It’s nighttime. The water is rippling behind him, lit from beneath like a calmly undulating blanket of blue. He’s attractive, in his mid-40s, average build. He’s dressed in all white and barefoot.
The first time I saw one, I was seven. That was the night the neighbor-girl Cindy died. We were friends. It was summertime and hot and the marsh was foggy and the frogs were all going at once, making an awful racket with their obnoxious noises.