Part I - Part II
Bear with me because I’m still learning how to use the gnarly gizmos of the twenty-first century. It’s been a hectic month.
Oh, and I guess I’ve, y’know, been trying to overcome the trauma of returning from the dead. But that isn’t even the worst part. I’ve scarcely scratched the surface of the past month’s horrors.
I’ve not even told you about the Hollow Man yet.
A new friend — most of my old ones are retired or dead, which is totally fucked — told me about this subreddit. First of all, the internet blows my freaking mind, man. A few geeks and freaks talked about it back in my day, but I guess this shit’s cool now, huh? Beats me. I’ll suspend my cynicism because this might be a good place to talk about my experience.
I’ve been reading about the occult practice of Veilbreaking:
… whereby a deceased individual’s soul returns from the world beyond the veil to its earthly body.
I think that’s what happened to me, but who the fuck would bring me back after nearly forty years? I do have an itsy inkling, but we’ll get to that.
All I know with any sort of certainty is that my return has totally harshed the universal balance. There are forces that seek to eternally torture me, so I need to return my soul to the realm beyond the veil before that happens.
I think I’m getting a little ahead of myself here. You’re probably confused. Let’s talk about February 5th, 2023 — the day on which I returned to the land of the living, thirty-six years after dying.
Dude, I wasn’t even psyched to be back. The process of resurrection is a hell beyond explanation, and I thought death hurt. It’s worth pointing out that I was flattened by a hit-and-run driver named Billy Riley — a high-school rival of mine. That’s a horrible way to go. And I remember, as I lay in a pool of blood, the taste of my own… Well, never mind all of that.
The point is that my resurrection was worse. I felt — and still do feel — like a reanimated creep. Like a zombie, man. And I was always a stoned slacker, but I just don’t feel right. It’s the kind of existential dread I used to feel when I was high, but I’m stone-cold sober, and this shit isn’t transcendent or eye-opening. It’s terrifying.
I’m acutely aware of the fact that I don’t belong here.
When I woke in 2023, I was lying on a pavement near the spot where I died in 1987. The houses looked a little different, but my surroundings were identifiable — you don’t forget your own death, after all. I was wearing the same denim jeans and leather jacket, though they were a little dusty and tattered. Blood-stained too, I realised. But my body was absolutely fine. Not a scratch.
After a few unsettling conversations with perplexed strangers, I realised I’d woken up in the distant future. My first thought was that it would’ve be great if some egghead had invented a Time Machine so I could go back to a decade I understand. Then I realised I don’t even want that — I need to send my soul back.
It’s not as simple as dying, according to the laws of Veilbreaking. If I die in the wrong way, my soul might be lost forever — I might not be able to get back to the afterlife. I need to find the Veilbreaker, and I suspect it might’ve been the Hollow Man — my petrifying pursuer.
He approached me in a scantly-lit back alley towards the end of my night shift. I worked at McDonald’s, thanks to John — the guy who told me about this subreddit. Let me tell you something. It was emotional to see a brand I recognised. You have no idea what it’s like to wake up in a foreign world. It’s terrifying.
As I tossed out bin bags, I was vaguely aware of a dark figure, sitting on his haunches. He watched me from the shadows of the alley’s dead-end corner. I ignored the seemingly-homeless man, but he finally stirred when I prepared to walk back inside.
The shadowy observer rose to his feet, revealing himself to be well over eight feet tall. When he unsteadily tiptoed into the light, I shrieked. He had a crooked posture, leaning in a lopsided manner, and I suddenly realised that I recognised him, in a demented sense. He had a contorted version of Billy Riley’s face.
His jaw hung abnormally slackly, and his eyes were black, colourless spheres. As he left his hovel, drowning my screams with the sound of his hissing mouth, I noticed something even more horrible. The Hollow Man had been curled atop a pile of flesh and bones in the corner of the alley.
One of his victims — a bloodied, gutted woman — was still alive.
“Help me…” She croaked.
What could I do but gawp in horror? I continued to back away from the haunting spectacle unfolding before me, but Billy kept approaching.
“Hello, Ron,” The man groaned in a demonic voice. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“B… Billy?” I cried.
He smiled, blood dripping from his crusty lips. “Thirty years of suffering… But now you’re home, Ron. And when they see you, alive and well, my name will be cleared.”
I fumbled with the fire exit’s door handle, but it was locked.
“Fucking Nadia…” I whimpered.
“Still… Can I resist my hunger?” Billy whispered, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I screeched and turned to face the monstrosity, which towered over me. Its enormous mouth grew large enough to swallow my head, and I could see the inside of Billy’s empty body. A cavernous chasm, begging to be filled. The Hollow Man.
“Perhaps I’ve already lost too much to be redeemed…” He hissed. “There’s no use in keeping you alive.”
I dropped to my knees and rolled to the side before Billy could engulf me. He snarled, snatching at my McDonald’s jacket, but I slipped my arms out of it and fled into the night.
Since that night, I’ve been living on John’s sofa, praying that the alley abomination doesn’t find me. I’m currently researching the world beyond the veil, desperate for a solution. I know Billy is the key to saving me, but I don’t think he’s human anymore.
My soul is doomed.