This has been tormenting me for months so I figured I’d come here to get some help. I’ll start by telling the story, then I’ll explain some of my leads.
I am a archeologist. I’ve been lucky enough to work a lot in the field. It’s no big, earth shattering discoveries, but it’s still cool.
It was July when this happened. I had been working on a project to uncover some ruins we found in the Arizona. They were buried beneath tons of sand. At first, we thought they might be ruins from the Native Americans, but the architecture didn’t match anything previously excavated belonging to the natives. It was also far from anything else. It was literally in the middle of nowhere.
As we uncovered more and more, we realized it was a tomb. We were able to get into the main chamber of the tomb. It was full of bones and large clay vases. The vases, unlike a lot of pottery we had found prior, was plain. There were no designs or carvings in them. We collected some of the bones and pieces from the few vases that had broken so we could determine how old they were.
We started to close off the tomb for the night. I was in there with my colleague. He was taking a look at the bones and I was taking pictures of the vases. I was moving them around a bit, wearing gloves and a mask of course, so I could get pictures from all angles.
We left for the night and I headed to the hotel. My wife was waiting for me. She always traveled with me for work. She loved seeing the world. I told her all about the tomb we had found. She listened over dinner she had made in our small hotel kitchen. She ate a lot. Eating for two as she was well past her due date to give birth to our son. We went to bed that night like we always do.
I was soaking when I woke up and incredibly sore. I was confused. I reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. My bed was covered in blood. I turned to my side to see my beautiful wife, dead. I’ll spare the details, but needless to say, the blood was hers. Both her and my son were beyond the point of recovery. There were… pieces of them.
I grabbed my phone and called 911. I tried to explain what was happening but I could barely think. The police and ambulances arrived quickly. I moved to the living room, leaving bloody footprints everywhere. Handprints too, as I stumbled about. The police questioned me relentlessly. I get it. It looked like I killed her.
I would never put my hands on her though. My mother raised me better than that.
I was put into holding while they investigated the hotel room. They found no signs of forced entry, no murder weapon, and no proof that it was me. I was released and they closed the case as a cold case. There were no suspects, no leads. Nothing.
I got a new hotel room and took a nice long shower after I got out. I noticed weird scars on my ribs and hands. I gave myself a thorough pat down and found more scars on my jaw. While I was brushing my teeth that night, I found cuts on my tongue and the back of my throat. They stung when my mouthwash hit them. I knew it had something to do with this, but I didn’t know what.
I couldn’t leave it at that though. My family was taken from me. I had to find out why.
I had about as much luck as the police.
Now for the leads I found:
I went back to work, I had to get my mind off of everything. I developed the photos I took of the vases. Mind you, I took the photos in good light; we have to for the photos to be able to be used in articles and such. One of the vases consistently had a dark aura around it. In all the photos of it, and even when it was in the background, it was obscured by darkness.
For the first few photos.
The last couple of photos I took, the vase looked normal. I showed the pictures to my colleagues to confirm and they all saw the same thing. We all found it eerie and unnatural, but we are scientists. We can’t leave something unanswered.
I went back to the tomb and took more photos of that vase.
Still no dark aura there anymore.
Whatever was there had left. We didn’t know where though.
I went over the crime scene photos next. They weren’t released to the public, but I had access to them, as the husband of the deceased.
At first I saw nothing, but as I stared at them more, I noticed the doorway to the bedroom had that dark aura surrounding it. It looked like it was leaking through the cracks. I looked through the photos of the living room and saw the aura on the very chair I had sat on. It lingered, but it didn’t totally obscure the chair.
Then it happened again.
I went on a trip to the headquarters of the company I work for in Texas. I was put in a two bedroom hotel room with my coworker. I awoke in my bed, covered in blood. The story was the same. My coworker was dead, the hotel was drenched in blood, and there was no proof I did it. The scars on my body were darker though and my mouth burned.
I looked through the photos again and it was the same thing. Everything I touched had the faint aura on it.
After that, I started requesting my own hotel room. The company was happy to oblige.
I think I’m being haunted. There’s no other reason for this. Whatever was in the tomb took to me and is haunting people. I’m certain. It strikes when I sleep, so I’ve stopped sleeping in the same space as other people. I wish I could take this to the police but I know they’ll label me as crazy. I think it’s also trying to hurt me, but it won’t kill me because it needs me? I don’t know.
The only thing I can’t shake though is the last lead I have. It doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of the evidence.
There’s two voicemails on my phone. The number with them is mine. One the night my wife died and the other the night my coworker died. They both have timestamps just minutes before I woke up. They’re haunting to listen to, so I’ll give transcripts instead. Mind, the voice speaking sounds similar to me, but it’s scratchier and deeper.
1: “This —-“ unintelligible “is too…” long pause, accompanied by faint crunching sounds “…stiff. Can’t move well.” Another pause and the sound of sucking teeth. “—-“ unintelligible “feels good. Been too long. —-“ unintelligible “feels heavy. Must be —-“ unintelligible. End message.
2: “Stubborn host. Stubborn stubborn man. Won’t give me —-“ string of unintelligible words. A deep sigh. “Feels better though. Less stiff.” Laughter. The sound of joints cracking. “—-“ unintelligible “mine. All mine. To use.” End message.
I don’t know what to make of them, but it’s wrong to hear my voice sound like that. I don’t know what to do or how to fix this problem. I have to though.
I don’t know if this is important, but I took a picture of myself this morning to compare my body to how I was before, without the scars, and it wasn’t me in the picture. It was me but scarily thin, sunken eyes, and a creepy smile on my face.
The same face I see in mirrors nowadays. But it’s not mine.