Hello everyone. Me again. Seems like my experiences have been gaining popularity, so I thought I would share some more. I have not been to the road recently, these are just some more past experiences I’ve had in the past, so don’t worry. And I’m still getting pages of River’s diary mailed in to me by his grandson. Those will come soon.
With all of the clarification out of the way, here are more entities on that road.
-Shutter: On one of my more restless nights, I had headed into the older parts of the road that I mentioned in my post with the Figure. I was driving slowly down the forest, the mangled roots groping my tires. I was focused mainly on my phone, which is why I was driving rather slowly.
A warm smile blossomed across my face as I got a notification.
From: Britney Hey honey! What are you up to?
I opened the direct message and quickly responded.
“Nothing much. Just kinda driving. What about you :D”
“I was watching a movie. Wait…on that road again!?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong?”
“Don’t wreck into something!! Keep your eyes on the road! Don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Don’t worry, babe. Parking it right now.”
“Good. Maybe you can head home and I can come over.”
“Sure! Just give me a few minutes!”
“Miss you ;)”
I was typing out to respond when a bright flash filled my car, stinging my eyes. I cried out and covered my eyes for a couple of seconds. I looked up…and there he was. Shutter…
A young, hobo looking man. He would be handsome if we wasn’t covered in mud and…horrible lacerations dripping gore. His long, blond hair was soaked with blood from his scalp being adorned with a biblical crown of thorns. Jesus Christ those wounds were disgusting. Basically the left half of his face was falling out of his head from a huge gash.
Shutter’s baby blue eyes (or…eye since one was split in half in the meat avalanche that was the left side of f his face) stared into mine. His eyes were silently pleading and were full of complete horror. In his hands was…the source of the flash. A huge Polaroid camera that spat out a picture. It was…of me.
He then stretched out his bandage-covered arms and clicked the Polaroid camera again, blinding me again. I just thought “fuck this” and put my car in reverse and abruptly left.
…yeah…he just takes photos of you. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but he just take pictures of you. Only good thing is that the Figure violently convulses and shrieks in agony when it’s caught in the flash.
-Martyr:
Martyr is a strange creature to say the least. I’d also say he’s about as horrific as Headlights…if not more. In fact, Martyr is really recent and started appearing after I stopped going down that road due to Headlights. Martyr is always on the edge of the road…right where it meets the street.
Martyr is a completely black shadow that is barely humanoid. His head appears to have a rectangle…sprouting out from it. It’s like a slab of stone fused with his skull. Where this slab meets his head is two, dead eyes. They are arranged vertically, with one eye below the other.
He is horrifically emaciated, his body is just strands of flesh that is black as coal. Martyr is always hovering in the air, arms stretched out to both sides and feet bound together by the ankles. It looks like he’s been…well…crucified, except the cross is invisible.
He just…floats there…bounded to non-existent boards and nails with his head rolled to the side. Whenever I happen to pass by the haunted road, he’ll be on the edge of it. Staring at me with those morbid eyes.
My radio will often burst into static when he is nearby, and his…awful voice will seep through the blank noise. Martyr’s voice is a deep, masculine whisper that is somehow loud even though it is in a hushed tone like someone just took his whispers and turned up the volume. The things he murmurs are horrible.
“Are you dead?”
“Did you look in the back seat?”
“Is Britney’s head still on her shoulders?”
“Are your friends breathing?”
“Who is the corpse next to you?”
“What if you died in a crash?”
“Are you in Hell?”
“Is Rivers still here?”
“Am I from the Other Side?”
“Do you know about Connection Points?”
From time to time I’ll have nightmares about me in a pure white room with Martyr’s face inches away from mine while he asks similar disturbing questions.
Roadkill Phoenix:
Sorry…I can’t type anymore. I can’t do it…I can’t do it. I can’t leave.
Can you hear them?
All of them?
Breathing