Joel wasn’t an uncommon kind of man. He would occasionally immerse himself in conspiracy theories, driven by his insatiable curiosity about past events. However, there came a time when he delved a little too deeply, causing a profound shift in our world that can never be reversed.
(3 weeks prior)
“Hey kid. Have you heard of something called the Minor Awareness?” Joel asked.
“No, I haven’t come across anything remotely similar to that. What kind of conspiracy theory have you stumbled upon, sir?” I questioned.
“Well, to put it simply, there’s a belief that there are individuals in our world who are born with knowledge encompassing all of human existence, yet they never feel compelled to share this information with others.”
“Well, that’s quite an outlandish notion. It’s hard to believe that people with such profound knowledge would keep it to themselves. Are you suggesting that these individuals are somehow controlled from birth, manipulated by a higher power?”
“I don’t have all the details, just the overarching concept. It’s said that those born with this knowledge possess the ability to tap into supernatural forces that can manipulate our reality, for better or worse.”
“I’m not sure how to react to this. You usually present logical theories, but this one seems to lack a clear purpose or significance. Even if it were somehow true, how would it negatively impact my life?”
“You clearly didn’t understand the magnitude of what I’ve said, I hope one day you do before it’s all too late.”
I never really understood what he meant until it was all too late just as he once said it would be. Joel was a choir teacher at my high school, he was driven by a passion to teach others, wether it was through music, theories, or established science articles.
Occasionally, he would invite me over for weekends to hang out and discuss life. In a way, I felt like the grandchild he never had, and our dynamic worked perfectly. However, one particular night, his mood took an uneasy turn. I could sense the unease radiating from him, which in turn made me feel unsettled.
After some trial and error, he finally opened up to me about a secret he had been keeping from me for a while.
“Look, Adrian, I haven’t been completely honest with you about the extent of my involvement in the world of conspiracies and ancient history. Why don’t you take a look in my basement? It’s on the far left side of my house.”
Taking a deep breath, I walked down the staircase. The basement appeared to be like any other until I turned the corner and discovered a vast collection of ancient texts, artifacts, and even jewels. Most of them seemed to be related to the Amazonian culture. I was in awe. I couldn’t believe Joel had amassed such a significant collection that correlated with all of his theories. Before I could delve into the details, I heard a voice behind me.
“Isn’t it fascinating? I had intended to show you all of this after you graduated, but it seems time is running short for us.”
“I have so many questions, but my first one is, how did you manage to acquire all of these things?”
“With time, dedication, and, most importantly, curiosity, you can achieve a lot. I know you have many questions, but I encourage you to read through this journey tonight. Everything will become much clearer.”
That night, filled with anticipation, I hurried home and delved into the pages of that aged and worn journey. It quickly became evident that Joel had been faithfully documenting his experiences in this journal for a significant period of time. The entries contained vivid descriptions of numerous expeditions he undertook, including visits to exotic locations like the Amazon rainforest, Egypt, and remote tribal areas across the globe.
I understand if you approach this with skepticism, but let me assure you that the precise dates, specific times, and intricate details portrayed in the journal appeared unquestionably authentic, leaving little room to doubt their veracity.
Just as I was about to delve deeper into the journal, a bird suddenly crashed into my window with a force that startled me. Filled with a mix of curiosity and unease, I cautiously ventured outside to investigate the commotion. What I encountered was a distressing scene—a lifeless pigeon, its head twisted and matted with blood.
The sight of this gruesome spectacle overwhelmed me, causing a surge of discomfort and disgust that nearly made me retch. However, amidst this unsettling sight, something caught my attention: there, fastened to the pigeon’s leg, was a note.
“Your eyes have become vessels for darkness; I shall reclaim you once more, mortal.”
These haunting words were ominously inscribed on the note, which was eerily affixed to the mangled leg of the lifeless pigeon. An overwhelming surge of the most dreadful emotions consumed me, causing my legs to give way beneath me, leaving me kneeling in a state of speechlessness and confusion. I was utterly clueless about the next course of action.
Doubts began to assail my mind. Had I unwittingly fallen victim to a cruel prank? Or had I stumbled upon something that was meant to remain hidden? Countless thoughts swirled through my consciousness, each one more unsettling than the last. Eventually, I resolved to meticulously analyze every page of the journal, determined to uncover the truth behind these disconcerting events.
I got back to my room and fast forwarded to the back in hopes that I’d find the knowledge necessary to understand this whole situation. And there it was, “the minor awareness”, titled on the top on the last page of this journal.
A brief summary of my findings reveals the existence of a phenomenon called the “minor awareness.” It suggests that at any given moment, there are at least seven individuals in the world who possess the entirety of human history within their consciousness. These individuals have no inclination to share or disclose these details for others to discover. However, the reasons why others are aware of the “minor awareness” remain unknown.
As I delved further into my research, I uncovered the remarkable ability of these individuals to tap into supernatural forces. According to the information I came across, there are parallel worlds coexisting with our own, existing in a separate realm.
While we remain oblivious to their existence, those who possess the minor awareness are fully conscious of both our reality and these hidden realms. They possess the unique ability to perceive these realms continuously and even establish contact with beings capable of manipulating our world in various ways.
For a brief moment, I managed to momentarily set aside my fear and the unsettling events that had just occurred—the pigeon’s untimely demise, which seemed to carry an ominous warning. However, my nerves quickly resurfaced, overpowering any sense of calm.
In this state, I realized my only recourse was to reach out to Joel, but my attempts to contact him proved futile as he failed to answer. Faced with this situation, I hastily gathered a pocket knife and some pepper spray, hastily preparing myself for a journey to his house.
As I arrived at Joel’s house, my hands trembled uncontrollably, engulfed by fear that left me in a state of shock. Doubts plagued my mind, questioning the reality of it all. Had the theories that had long fascinated me, hidden within the depths of my heart, now resurfaced as undeniable truths?
Gathering my courage, I stepped out of the car and pounded on his door with all my might. His car sat parked in the driveway, and all his belongings remained inside.
I continued to knock relentlessly for at least ten minutes until I decided to check under his doormat for a spare key. Although I didn’t find a key, I discovered a note scattered with numbers, which I immediately recognized as a simple riddle he had once taught me. It involved matching the numbers to corresponding letters of the alphabet to reveal words. Within a few minutes, I managed to decipher his message.
The note read, “window in the backyard is open.”
I cautiously crawled into the house, only to find no sign of Joel’s presence. There were no notes, no lights on—nothing. Even his phone rested on the counter, displaying my missed calls. It suddenly struck me that I should check the basement. Perhaps he was there or had left some clue to his whereabouts. However, as I descended the steps, a wave of regret washed over me.
I realized I shouldn’t have entangled myself in a world I was never meant to be a part of. I yearned to remain ignorant of all these revelations. But my thoughts were abruptly interrupted by commotion coming from the left corner of the basement. I crouched down stealthily, trying to catch a glimpse of who was there. To my surprise, four individuals in purple robes were thoroughly examining Joel’s discoveries.
Feeling a sense of danger, I slowly retreated, making my way back to the safety of my vehicle. As I drove away, a peculiar sight unfolded before me—countless neighborhood pets, cats and dogs alike, gathered in front of my car, fixating their gaze upon me. It was clear that the unusual experiences I had encountered would not leave me unscathed.
I failed to mention earlier that I had kept the journal with me at all times, fearing that someone might come after it. Shortly after my departure from the basement, I arrived home only to discover that my front door was wide open, indicating a break-in. Anger surged through me, and with desperation, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “What the fuck do you want from me?!” I repeated this plea several times, and then proceeded to search every room of my house, meticulously examining every minor detail.
As I moved through the rooms, a trickle of blood caught my attention, seeping through the crack under my bedroom door. My heart raced with anxiety as I anxiously swung the door open, only to collapse in shock and heartbreak. There, lying before me, were the lifeless bodies of both my parents. In my father’s hand, he clutched a vial of an unfamiliar drug, while my mother lay beside him, whispering her final words in a pained whimper.
“They made me do it,” she cried, her voice barely audible.
“Mom! Everything will be okay. I’m going to call an ambulance! Please don’t worry, Mom!” I sobbed uncontrollably, trying to console her.
“I love you, son. Leave. They’ll frame you for our deaths. There’s a suitcase filled with money under our bed frame. Run, my baby. Everything will be okay. I promise.” Her tear-filled eyes expressed her love for me as she slowly slipped into unconsciousness and passed away in my arms.
Overwhelmed with hatred and heartbreak, my spirit engulfed, I made a solemn vow to survive—for the sake of my mother, even if my own will had waned.
I sped down the state highway, my belongings in tow, heading towards a camping site where my friends and I had always found solace. Throughout the journey, I couldn’t help but unleash a torrent of curses directed at Joel, blaming him for entangling me in a world that had shattered my own. Emotions of various shades overwhelmed me, but above all, a thread of intense hatred consumed me for whatever forces were responsible for my parents’ deaths.
Upon reaching the camping site, I secured my German Shepherd, using him as an alert system to ward off any unwanted guests. As a sense of safety gradually seeped back into my veins, my dog locked eyes with me, his gaze penetrating deep within, leaving me with an unsettling mix of confusion, fear, and hatred—a conscience devoid of clarity.
In a sudden turn of events, my dog’s gaze broke, and once again, a pigeon descended, delivering a note. It read, “In the shadows, they sleep. In the darkness, they keep. In my view, you will sleep.”