Recently, I have had some paranormal experiences. I was never one to believe in ghosts or anything religious, but I cannot deny what I have witnessed with my own senses. My name is Daniel, and I am begging, if anybody has any information regarding an old corporation called Florescence, please reach out to me. Please, I need to know if this is real. If you do not trust me, then at least let me explain why I need to know.
My father died when I was fairly young. I do not remember much about him, but I know he was a good father to my two older siblings. He had no relationships with any of his family, yet hundreds of his friends and acquaintances attended his funeral. Due to all of this, the effects on me extended to a simple longing for a relationship I was robbed from, but I cannot say I was ever deeply affected emotionally . However, my mother was. She lost much of her cheer after his death, and she would never even consider courtship from another man despite the urgings of her siblings. Perhaps strangest though, after his death my mother locked my father’s office and never opened it. It became a game between my oldest sister, my brother, and myself to guess what was inside. However, my mother would never answer our speculations and would always force the conversation to end if the room was brought up. I believe it is due to this room that she refused to sell the house, even when it was just her left after I moved out.
A few weeks ago, my mother died. I will save the details, but because I was the closest to her house and since I was the least busy, according to my siblings, it was my responsibility to see what needed to be done to the house before we could sell it. Truthfully, I did not mind all that much. After all, they were not entirely wrong. I am a thirty-one year old bachelor who programs and writes code for a living from my tiny apartment; in other words, I have a fair amount of free time- as long as my code works. The day after the funeral I made my way back to the home of my youth.
The house did not look as decrepit as I expected. My mother had put a lot of money into having several companies renovate it even after my father’s death. You would never have expected that just one woman had been living here for twenty years. Walking up the wooden steps and pushing the key into the front door, I found a disappointment in myself for not having visited her more. Walking inside was like stepping into the past. I could see myself running around the living room, almost knocking over the stand of ornamental figurines that were precariously placed next to the antique television. The house was completely silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock upstairs, and I felt more emotions swell within me. I flicked myself in the head as I reminded myself that I could not let myself get sentimental now. Sure, I had some time to reflect, but not an eternity to sit here mourning my past. I pushed forward, making my way towards the stairs. The house was rather small, so I figured it would not take too long to look over everything and make a list of what needed to be taken care of before we considered selling the house.
The main floor of the house consisted of only a kitchen and small living room. Going upstairs led to two bedrooms, a bathroom, and an office. Down the stairs unfolded to a second bathroom, a third bedroom, and a family room. Lastly, there was another door that led even further down, reaching the basement of the house which housed the furnace and wash machines. I decided to make my way from the bottom of the house to the top. I went through the hassle of looking through everything, every drawer and every closet. My mother did not hoard or buy much, so I decided that it would not be too much busy work to thoroughly turn over everything. With a new resolve, I put on some music and got to work. I opened and left open everything from drawers, to closets, to even the laundry machine.
In the downstairs bedroom I found tons of old kids toys in the closet. I had not known my mother to keep relics of the past, but I guess she could not part with the memories of her children happily playing. There were also several birthday and christmas cards that my older siblings made when they could just barely write. Notably, they were addressed towards her and father. I marked it on my list among a new carpet for the downstairs family room. The main floor had little that caught my eyes. I hesitantly put the knick-knacks that decorated the house on my list before moving upstairs. After a quick inspection of the bathroom, which needed a new shower head, I found myself before my father’s office. I pulled for the door handle but was met with a much expected, but still disappointing, revelation that it was still locked. I figured if my mother was keeping the key somewhere it was likely in her bedroom. After a bit of snooping I found a safe hidden in her wardrobe. Thankfully, my brother knew the code. I put in the year of my parents’ marriage and the safe clicked open. There next to every important document my mother wanted to keep safe was a shiny key. In hindsight, I wish that the key had been thrown into the bottom of the ocean.
I grabbed the key and immediately made my way towards my father’s office room. My curiosity now was greater than my own determination to catalogue what needed changing in my mother’s bedroom. I pushed the key in and opened the door. Dust blew in my face, and I stepped into a quaint office. Memories of my father were hung all about. A shelf kept several trophies and souvenirs my father cherished. On his desk was a picture of us all. I searched through the room thoroughly, delighting in all that I found. My father proved to be quite the collector, chronicling all of his souvenirs that he had acquired in far away places in a small journal. I probably spent half an hour alone reading that while examining the objects.
I thought I had found everything. I sighed as I sat down in my father’s chair. I guessed that my mother just kept this room locked because she could not handle the emotional challenge of seeing memories of her husband. I leaned back and kicked my feet forward. It was then that I felt my feet push something. I paused and got out of the chair. I leaned down and looked under the desk. Hidden underneath the desk was a fake wall. I pushed it forward and then out. I reached in and pulled out a small metal box. It had a green tint to it resembling jade, and it looked very prestigious. I could not believe it. Had I not known it belonged to my father, I would have believed it belonged to a Chinese emperor. On the front of the box was a five digit combination lock. I searched around for any clues as to the combination, but found nothing. Disgruntled, I fiddled around with it for a bit, but before I knew it the sun was beginning to set outside. I sighed and put the box down before walking over to my clipboard. I quickly finished my expedition of the house before taking a picture of my clipboard and sending it to my siblings. Now, it was in their hands. As darkness crept over the house I decided it was time to leave. I put on my coat and was about to walk out the door when I thought about that box. Why would my dad put so much effort into hiding it? I headed back upstairs and grabbed it before leaving. I figured that, if nothing else, I might be able to find a way to open it while my siblings concerned themselves with renovating the house.
That night, I had the strangest dream. I dreamt I was lying underneath a massive tree. It was small enough that I could see the entirety of it, but yet somehow infinitely large. Its limbs stretched onwards like galaxies. Its leaves were like constellations. It was incomprehensible, yet it felt like I could wrap my arms around its trunk if I tried.
Needless to say, I was utterly confused as I stood up and pressed my hand against the tree. At that moment, I felt a terrible pain shoot through my head. Something had changed; I had done something I could never undo. It was like a seed in my head was growing. I felt like my body was tearing itself open. I was unfurling like a flower blossoming. Then I woke up.
I was in a cold sweat. What on earth had I dreamed? I rarely dreamed as it was, and when I did they were usually nightmares about the most recent horror movie I had watched. This was completely different. This felt. . . Real. I don’t know if something inside me knew or if it was utter luck, but I decided to check that box one last time. As I went into my office and opened the small drawer I had put the box into, suddenly a code flashed into my head. 1-32-24.
I had no clue what the code meant, but, as if possessed, I decided to try it. I heard a click, and I opened the box. Inside was a small vial completely sealed by glass on both ends. Inside the vial was a red liquid. It looked like blood. Inside, as well, was a card. It said my father’s name and then Florescence underneath that. It has a picture of him, and in the background of the card was a giant tree.
My curiosity was peaked. I tried searching up “Florescence Company” online but was greeted with a whole lot of nothing. As I sat in my chair, staring at the vial before me and the ID card, I wondered just how I had known the code? Was this some type of divine intervention? Was there something important about this all? I kept on my search, going through the depths of google, until I grew so tired that I fell asleep at my desk. In the brief moment I was asleep, I had another dream.
I was back lying underneath a tree I could not comprehend. This time though, it looked wilted and withered. I slowly stood up, and I saw that the tree was bleeding. Its blood was pouring down the hill I stood on, and from it flowers were sprouting. They didn’t blossom though. They simply sprouted and waited, waiting for some spectral force, the force that through the green fuse drives the flower, to guide them.
I woke up with a sharp pain in my head and a terrible thirst. I maneuvered slowly to my kitchen, and I drank half a pitcher of water. It did nothing. My thirst was unquenchable, but it was debilitating. In the back of my mind, somewhere in the recesses I had never before traveled, I knew what would cure my thirst.
I don’t know why I did it- maybe I was desperate, maybe I was possessed- but I took a hammer to the edge of the vial and shattered it. The edge broke off nicely, only a few drops of the liquid inside escaping. I then placed my lips to the edge and carefully drained the liquid into my mouth, trying my best not to swallow any glass that had mixed with the liquid.
I felt relief. It was instant, and I slowly came back to my senses. What had I just done? Why did I do that? The answers eluded me. Then, I heard it.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Something was slowly tapping against my office window. I turned around, and the sight before me was burned into my memory. It stood tall enough to reach the third floor of my apartment. Despite it being dark outside still, it seemed to glow softly. It had long and slender arms that looked as if they were made out of only bone, and yet they were black like the night. There was a human head, but it had blossomed like a flower, opened up from the center and sprawled outwards. My heart sank; I couldn’t find any words in my throat. I ran. I ran from my office into the kitchen and to my bedroom. I slammed the door shut, closed the curtains, and prayed.
The noise stopped, but I didn’t dare peak out the curtains. I just sat there on my bed, my knees hugged to my chest. What was I to do? How could I explain this? I pinched myself. I wasn’t dreaming.
I stayed there until my phone said it was 11:00AM. Knowing full well that the morning had come now, I hesitantly peaked out the window. There was nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked back towards my bedroom door. I slowly crept over and peaked out. Nothing. I fell to the ground in joyful tears. I was safe.
Then, I got a phone call.
I walked over and stared. It was from an unknown phone number. I debated not answering, but something possessed me to.
“You have made a grave mistake.”
A deep, rumbling voice emitted from the phone, and then it hung up. If that was a prank call, it certainly was not timed well. I panicked. I peeked out the windows one more time. It felt like I was being watched. I scratched the back of my head. It itched. I scratched my head some more. It itched worse. I began scraping my head until it bled. The itching turned painful.
Finally, I slammed my head once against the wall. For a moment, I had clarity. What was happening to me? Was I becoming delusional? No, I refuse to believe it. I won’t go to a ward. There’s something here. There’s a truth that needs to be uncovered.
That’s why in my moment of clarity I’m reaching out to you all. Does anyone know what Florescence is? Why did my dad work there? What did my mother know? What did I drink? I need answers. Please.