Hey, Reddit. I don’t even know where to start with this, and I’m not sure if anyone will believe me, but I need help. My name is Alex, and my weekend has taken a turn for the bizarre over the past few days. I’m posting this from an old computer in the house, hoping Mark’s parents wont notice. I have to be quick. I don’t even know if this will upload.It all started innocently enough with a sleepover at my friend’s place. His parents were out of town for the weekend, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity for some fun with our group of four friends. What began as a typical Friday night has transformed into a nightmare and we don’t know how to snap out of it. I’ll share the events in a series of journal entries below because I don’t know how much time I have before they come upstairs. I need someone to tell me if I’m losing my mind or if there’s any way out of this. Everything seemed normal at first, but as the days passed, strange and terrifying things began to happen. Especially with his parents, they have somehow been off since their arrival. If you have any insights or advice, please help me… I don’t know what to do anymore.Stay safe out there.
Journal Entry - Day 1: Friday, 9:37 PMThe evening unfolded with the kind of infectious excitement that only a Friday night at Mark’s could bring. His parents off on some weekend escapade, leaving the house to our teenage revelry. The initial hours were filled with the resonance of laughter, the clatter of video game controllers, and the distinctive rustle of junk food bags. But as the night progressed, a disquieting undercurrent started to weave its way into the fabric of our plans.The lights flickered first – a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment that sent a ripple of unease through us. We dismissed it, attributing the anomaly to the quirks of an aging house. Only the shadows were a little off… the shadows cast by the flicker seemed to linger just a moment too long. That must’ve just been an illusion of some sorts, was at least what I thought at the time.Whispers. Almost imperceptible, if you werent listening carefully, like the echoes of voices carried on a distant wind. We tried to brush it off, exchanging uneasy glances, but the subtle tension hung in the air like an unanswered question.Fast forward to our horror movie marathon – a decision that, in retrospect, seems almost laughably ironic. Midway through a suspenseful scene, the old TV… glitched. Static crawled across the screen, and for a heartbeat, I swear I saw shapes moving within it. Shadows within shadows. We replayed the DVD, but the room’s atmosphere had shifted, becoming charged with an energy that defied explanation. Further on the night unfolded with a cascade of oddities. Footsteps echoed through the halls when we were certain everyone was in the same room. Doors creaked open, their movement seemingly random. And most annoyingly, a phone call to order pizza resulted in a cryptic conversation that ended abruptly, leaving us staring at each other in bewildered silence.Now, as I jot this down in the dimly lit room with my friends slumbering around me, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re not alone. Mark, typically the prankster, looks troubled. The air feels thick with an unspoken anxiety, and every creak in the floorboards sends shivers down my spine. I’m documenting this as it unfolds, half-expecting these words to vanish into the void of my imagination. Mark’s house, once a haven for our escapades, has become a realm of whatever this is today.I’ll attempt to get some sleep now anyway, but the weight of the night’s events weigh heavy. I’m still sort of hoping I will wake up tomorrow and it has als just been a really bad nightmare.
Journal Entry - Day 2: Saturday, 6:45 AMMorning breaks with an uneasy stillness. The decision to leave Mark’s house, made with a collective urgency, hangs in the air like an unspoken resolution. His parents’ weekend escapade, once an opportunity for teenage fun, now feels like a distant memory as we gather our belongings in the dimly lit living room.The initial excitement of our departure is replaced by a quiet determination. Laughter is replaced by hushed conversations, and the rustle of packing bags echoes through the house like a subdued prologue to something unknown. We step out into the morning light, hoping the daylight might dispel the strange unease that clings to us. However, the woods, once a familiar backdrop, defy our intentions. Every path we take and every, single, turn somehow leads us back to Mark’s house. It’s as if the forest itself is conspiring to keep us within its grasp, rendering our attempts at escape futile. The sun, filtered through the foliage, casts disorienting shadows on the path that seems to twist and turn, leading us in circles.The day unfolds in a surreal loop. Our attempts to navigate the woods transform into a bizarre dance with destiny. Landmarks become indistinguishable and repetitive, and our conversations, once charged with purpose, now drift into uncertainty. The air is heavy with an unspoken tension, and the feeling of being watched intensifies. By midday, frustration turns to desperation. No matter which direction we choose, we find ourselves back at the house. The realization settles upon us like an unwelcome truth – escape is an illusion in this forest. We decide to abandon our quest, retreating back to the house with a sense of resignation.As evening descends, the house itself becomes an arena of strange occurrences. The lights flicker, the whispers return, and shadows take on a life of their own. A chilling sense of déjà vu grips us as we replay the events of the previous night, the horror movie marathon etching itself into our memories like a recurring nightmare. Uneasy glances are exchanged, and the air becomes charged with a palpable discomfort. The walls seem to close in as we grapple with the inexplicable. Attempts to leave the house are met with the same disconcerting loop – every exit leads us back to the heart of the eerie dwelling.With no discernible escape, we decide to retreat to one of the rooms, seeking refuge in its confines. We lock the door behind us, a feeble attempt to create a barrier between ourselves and the inexplicable forces that seem to hold us captive. In the dimly lit room, we huddle together, awaiting the dawn that promises the return of Mark’s parents. The night is a tapestry of strange sounds and fleeting shadows. Every creak in the floorboards sends shivers down our spines. The weight of the unknown bears down on us, and the hours stretch into an agonizing wait.
Journal Entry - Day 3: Sunday, 7:15 AMMorning arrives with a flicker of hope but a lingering uncertainty. The dawn light seeps through the curtains, casting a subdued glow on the room where we’ve sought refuge. We awaken with a collective sense of anticipation, half-expecting the bizarre events of the past two days to dissipate with the rising sun. As we gather in the living room, the atmosphere is tense but tinged with a newfound determination. The strange occurrences have not abated, but the imminent return of Mark’s parents offers a glimmer of hope. We console ourselves with the belief that their arrival will break the eerie nightmare we’ve been in the past few days. The morning wears on, each passing minute heightening our anticipation. We share nervous glances, unsure of what to expect when Mark’s parents finally walk through the front door. We try to find comfort in the little thing, making breakfast and cleaning up, giving us a sence of normalcy. The clock ticks away, and as the hours pass, a subtle unease settles in our stomachs. The excitement that initially accompanied the thought of their return now morphs into a growing doubt. Where are they? Why haven’t they returned yet? Anxiety brews beneath the surface, but we cling to the hope that the day will unfold in a way that brings normalcy back to our lives.Journal Entry - Day 3: Sunday, 3:30 PMAfternoon descends with a growing sense of anxiety. They should’ve long returned by now, however there is no trace of them yet. The clock hands seem to move slower than usual, and the once hopeful glimmers in our eyes have dimmed. We’ve exhausted attempts to reach Mark’s parents by phone, only greeted by an ominous silence on the other end. The forest outside remains an impenetrable barrier, resisting our every attempt to escape its grasp. Our refuge in the house has become a cage. Doubt creeps in, accompanied by whispered conversations about the inexplicable nature of our situation. Desperation mounts, and a sense of helplessness pervades our makeshift sanctuary. Ideas are tossed around, ranging from the supernatural to the absurd, as we try to make sense of the events that have unfolded. The unsettling realization settles upon us – we are trapped, not just within the confines of the house, but within the confines of a reality that defies explanation.Journal Entry - Day 3: Sunday, 10:15 PMEvening falls with a darkness that mirrors the uncertainty within us. The clock hands point to a time long past the expected return of Mark’s parents. Anxiety has transformed into a silent dread, hanging heavy in the air as we sit in the dimly lit living room. The echoes of our whispered conversations reverberate with a sense of urgency. Where are they?The front door creaks open, and relief washes over us as we hear footsteps approaching. - But the relief is short-lived.Mark’s parents stand in the doorway, their figures cast in an uncomfortable silhouette. Something is off – their movements are robotic, their expressions devoid of the warmth we remember. Their eyes, once familiar, now seem distant and unrecognizable. The air in the room grows thick with an unspoken tension as they enter, and the disquieting feeling intensifies.They speak, but their words are hollow, lacking the familiarity of parental reassurance. Their behavior is unsettling, and we exchange uneasy glances. As they move through the house, their actions seem calculated, almost mechanical. The reality of the situation sinks in – these are not Mark’s parents.Despite the tension in the house, we tried to act normal. We later huddled together, voices lowered to avoid detection, discussing our options, formulating a plan to confront the surreal nightmare that has engulfed us. The decision is made to document our experiences and share them with the world, hoping that somewhere, someone might have answers or insights.
And that’s it, now we are here, the old computer becomes our lifeline, a connection to the outside world. I type this entry, the keys clicking in this dimly lit room, hoping that they don’t find out what we are up to before we have a plan. I have also uploaded the narrated story to YouTube, in hopes that more people will see it
Pleas, for the love of god, someone needs to have an answer.