I didn’t want to post this; I didn’t want my normalish post-holiday week to turn into my whole life but now it is…
So I’ll start at the start because that’s what you want or maybe none of you are involved in this and I just have something fucked up in my head. Hopefully, all this is a tumor that’s about to kill me because this, this isn’t right. It isn’t right to have to deal with everything around you slowly rotting into something that makes sense and less sense, to have your life being puppeteered in a way that you know is meant to mess with your mind till you break but not knowing why or HOW.
At the beginning, I was having a decent post-holiday/start of the new year’s week, nothing special because when is anything special in January, until I went to the Butcher’s. I wanted a lamb shank to treat myself for getting a promotion, for moving away from home and finally starting my own life. Popped into the store dressed to the fives, because fuck it who cares anymore it’s January, and asked the butcher for a lamb shank.
“Do you want that with the in-house marinade, no extra cost to you and honestly I’d suggest it especially if this your first time cooking with this cut,” he told me.
I awkwardly nodded my head as I wondered if he thought I was some 20-something year old with Daddy’s money who decided he wanted to toy with a fancy cut of meat for his girl or whatever.
Eventually I decided to distract myself, playing some tetris ripoff on my phone until I saw a figure rustling through the ribbons of plastic that are used as curtains in almost every butcher shop and supermarket’s meat section I’ve been to. There was this immense feeling that started to leak into the rest of the shop, which seconds ago had this Millennial artisanal feel. In retrospect, I remember the fancy cranberry stuffed turkey sausages bursting at their seams, new meat growing from within the casings. The figure that came from the was garbed in black plastic and my body tensed every muscle, now I was on my knees for this creature.
Right now I can smell the strong odor of freshly butchered flesh and the scent of absolute superiority that they exuded. The figure was God here.
I watched them, the figure sealed in a black trash bag observe me with no visible eyes or holes to see from, and I watched the butcher appear and carefully walked behind them. I’m certain the space behind the counter couldn’t hold more than a single person and I’m certain the butcher just appeared out of nowhere. He stretched his arm, in his hand was the lamb shank wrapped in butcher’s paper, to me. Breaking the kneel was impossible until the bag-bound figure motioned for me to come. Every muscle was commanded by the fear of what disobeying them would result and prior to that was frozen by the fear of what moving would result.
The butcher seemed to notice the figure and not pay them too much mind; it was like they knew each other. It was like this was normal and maybe…it is.
I left the store calmly and then immediately ran home, leaving my car in the parking lot, as panic filled every part of my body.
Minor oddities immediately happened, the first one and the one I only realized recently is that I have no idea on how to get home by foot. The follow-up realization was that my car somehow followed me home, my keys misplaced on my kitchen counter instead of the keyholder I nailed to the wall like I always do. Certain sections of my apartment/rented house seemed to be in completely different time zones, only noticed that one due to the sudden jarring shift in shadows. Rooms would grow in size and new doors would appear, they’d disappear after I noticed them so I took pictures.
The major things were that any record of proof I had and tried showing to other people would just not be sent, everytime my messages would say “not sent” whenever I tried to send a photo. Wanna guess what the little “help” option would tell me, “send it to r/nosleep”. I read through this forum, hell even enjoyed some stories until whatever wasn’t clicking clicked. Whatever was fucking with me wanted me to post its fuckery here, or maybe it’s you guys that…want this? Or or maybe nobody but me exists here, and it just weaved this together to further fuck with me? Or it’s answer D, all the above and all at once.
A meat processing facility popped up in my home, and I can no longer even properly navigate my way out of this place. Walking out of here usually just leads me to walking around my neighborhood as a rush of memories of doing the basics, like working or shopping.
Sticky notes appear around me, even on the sidewalk. telling me to post this on r/nosleep and they’re all signed by me. I don’t sign my name and if I have to make it more obvious, don’t remember writing that.
If I actually leave my neighborhood then this insane shit barely becomes audible in the background of my real life, which I don’t get to live instead having to wallow this.
I don’t want to have to go through the metal door that says meat processing plant to realize “oh wait I’ve played right into this thing’s hands and have figured everything out” but I also don’t want to keep living like this.
Suicide…has been an option I’m thinking of but I’m scared I’ll just wake up again.