June 1st, 1997 The things are deadly creatures, but we do not know what they are. Their plan is going to send me into where the things are, but the problem is no one knows how to get there. The scientists are trying to figure it out though. A lot of people have been going missing without a trace, but they all go missing around the same area, so I hope they figure it out soon. I was given this journal to document what I see. They didn’t guarantee that I would come back, but I’m getting paid good money to do this, so its gonna be worth it.
June 3rd, 1997 They found a way to get into wherever the things live. They haven’t really described to me in detail onto what the things look like. I’m not sure if they even know…anyways, I’m supposed to be leaving tomorrow. I’m nervous to say the least.
June 4th, 1997 I made it into the things home. I was sent with this journal, a pen to write with, a flashlight, a camera, and some food and water to last a couple of months. The room I’m in right now looks oddly familiar, but I know that I’ve never been in it before. It has a dull yellow carpet, matching with the walls. The carpet feels wet, but its not. The room is heavy, almost humid, and it smells weird. The only source of light in the room is a dull lamp in the corner, making a buzz sound. And finally, there’s a door. It looks like any other door, not even a lock on it. Weird.
June 5th, 1997 All the rooms in here are the same, the only thing that’s different is the door, always appearing on a different section of wall. I’ve gone through about 50 by now. No sign of the things. But the walls seem to be talking to me, or that’s what I think at least. Hell, maybe I’ve already lost it.
June 7th, 1997 I’ve gone through so many doors that I’ve lost count. They’re all the same. I can hear the walls. It’s like they’re telling me to run. I feel like I’m being hunted, like the walls have eyes. Even though the walls keep on warning me, I feel like I don’t need to run from the things. I don’t know, maybe I’ve been in here for long enough.
?????????????????????????????? Nothing. There’s nothing here. The things are getting closer, I know it. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, but its so long that its starting to feel comforting. I’ve gotten skinnier, and paler. I feel like my eyes are sunken in, and for some strange reason, I feel taller. The walls are so loud. I can’t even here myself think. I don’t want to run anymore. The things can’t be that bad, maybe they just want to help me leave. I know that’s not true, and I don’t know why I even wrote that down. I think this is going to be the last thing I write in this in a while; or maybe ever. If someone finds this, then your just as screwed as I am. I pray you find a way out, and if you do, bring this to the company written on the cover; they’ll know what to do.
???????????????????? Don’t trust the things. Don’t trust the things. Don’t trust the things. Don’t trust the things. Don’t trust the things. Don’t trust the things.
???????????????????????????????????????????????? Trust the things! Trust the things! Trust the things! Trust the things! Trust the things! Trust the things! Trust the things! Trust the things! Trust the things! Trust the things!
October 8th, 2007 I’ve been in this hell for days. I found this journal in one of the rooms; looks like the last dude who had it went crazy, that’s comforting. He scribbled out the last couple pages, so I don’t know what he said. I don’t know how I got here, and I don’t know how to leave. I’m scared. I keep on hearing the walls talk about the thigs. What the hell are the things? Maybe they’re friendly, maybe they’ll help me escape. Maybe that’s the only way to escape is to find these things.