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[the-box-publisher]

Ok so BIG UPDATE! I was worried that the cameras didn’t work because the Journalist clearly reads my blog. So I took down all the cameras and dumped them in the trash, made a post expressing my frustration of them not working and secretly on my way home bought new disguised ones and installed them. And I caught the Journalist on tape- well, that’s the good news. The bad news is it climbed through my window- it didn’t open the window and crawl in but it went from the non existent balcony into my room as if the glass didn’t even exist. Can someone help me come up with an explanation of this? Science side? Anyways here’s todays story.

“Story submitted by Sasha Joyce

I’m dreaming, or I’m having a mental break because there is no way I’ve been trapped in this f****** place for 10 hours! Is this hell some sort of divine punishment for my actions? I’m a good person or at least I think I am… I do all the inconvenient things people like to avoid, I take cold showers and walk places and only shop local, I didn’t like go out and protest but I don’t think that should damn me. Look I even saw an exit but I can’t leave here without Gabriel, he’s only 9 and I love him more than life itself ever since mum and dad died we’ve only got each other. He was so sad because we couldn’t afford anything more than a local restaurant for his birthday. But I worked overtime and got enough money for the local Chuck E Cheese. It’s not one of those fancy ones with the animatronics, in fact the sign out front is so worn down it only says “-h— E -hee-e” so even worse than your normal one. You know I don’t know if I thought this was weird at the time but the kids I saw through the Window of the place when entering… I’m pretty sure every kid was different from the ones visible outside all looked like almost kids like looking for faces in an arcade floor kind of but not really I can’t describe it I’m really dehydrated. Every kid sounded the same like mimicking a voice but not having enough data. He played at the arcade for a while but I could feel his eyes wandering toward the play pen. I have claustrophobia and I dreaded the question but it never came, one moment he was here the next I only caught the sight of his shoes leaving and him scuttling in. He’s always been so rebellious… WHY DID HE DO THAT? THIS IS HIS FAULT WHY AM I BEING PUNISHED! Well I played on my phone until he came out but he didn’t. Eventually I had to go in I knew this but I don’t remember deciding or actually going in one second I was out the next I was in. The ceiling is just low enough i can’t crawl I have to slither and slink my way through staircases. I thought if I just kept going down I would eventually find the bottom but alas my phone tells me my altitude did not change. I can look out the windows at the children and staff fighting to ignore my pleas for help and screams… next time I see an exit I’m taking it, I just wish he stopped screaming always just out of sight behind a corner or up a staircase. On the bright side my phone still has 1p0% battery, no cell service, actually maybe I’ll try again I’ll see how high I can get see if I can get a single bar or sos. I don’t have high hopes I fear this maze is getting tighter movement is harder. Pray for me”

I think I know that Chuck E Cheese it’s not to far from here, it’s closed down but I’ll go check it out

Greetings from someone who has now broken into a kids restaurant. There’s something off about this place I still hear children’s laughter despite this places closed status. Something that really creeps me out is the two sets of shoes in the cubbies a child’s pair and an adults pair. I feel like the play area is calling to me i here banging from somewhere deep inside.

Should I go in?

[the-box-publisher]

Cameras didn’t work- BECAUSE WHY WOULD THEY????? Couldn’t have any answers huh? The box just seemingly doesn’t appear on camera and neither does “the journalist”. Let’s get this over with so I can sulk in peace-the opening letter is the same as always so we can skip that, don’t want to bore my near nonexistent audience.

“Story submitted by August Marita

You have to help me. Everyday I fear is my last; I think I am cursed or maybe theirs a bubble around me that curses people in my vicinity, blimey it could be a virus for all I know. Every single person I meet tries to kill me… I can’t walk down the street without being swerved at by cars, attacked by dogs or lunged at by pedestrians. One time this man tried to drop an air conditioner on my head! Do you understand how expensive air conditioners are?!?!?! I don’t think I’ve made an actual connection with anyone since the 80s, my family is all dead so I don’t know if they would want to, but something tells me they are rolling in their graves trying to drag me down with them.

Someone for the last week has been trying to break into my house. I live alone get it? I live miles away from any concept of humanity or civilization. I haven’t seen a person in years but this chap is buggin around outa my house banging on my door, trying to smash in my windows. Every day at 8 smack dab on the dot he comes and bangs on the door, once, twice and then he whispers all creepy like “August, May, June, July, the commonalities of the common fly” and he just repeats that over and over until suddenly he moves over to the window and starts banging hard on the window trying to break it. Lucky for me experience has driven me to reinforce my windows. I know this guy isn’t human, I mean he looks and sounds real human like but he’s almost too human if you get what I’m putting down. He’s is such a John Smith he looks too perfectly normal I can’t stand it. He is going to kill me I know it. His eyes whisper it to me all sneaky like, he is waiting for my guard to fall and I fear I can’t stand it much longer. I haven’t left my house in weeks I’m out of water you have to help me please!

The Journalist: “ you should open the door, who knows he may be helpful :)”

Hell No! No way in gods green earth! I thought you were here to help me

The Journalist: “I do apologize I lied you wouldn’t tell me your story otherwise, but this, this is very INTERESTING. I’ll be on my way now can’t keep my publisher waiting ”

Wait… please at least answer me this: why don’t you want to kill me?

The Journalist: “who said I don’t”

I think I’m going to be sick- is this my fault? It feels like it may be. I never wanted this- I want to go home- but I am home. I don’t know how to feel or to act. What do I do? please someone anyone help me-

[the-box-publisher]

Of course there is another one I mean why wouldn’t there be another one. I’m writing this after coming home from work another beautifully wrapped orange box sits there on my desk. I haven’t opened it yet but my spider senses are telling me I know what to expect.

Dear Publisher,

Thank you. Please publish this.

Yours truly,

The Journalist

Yep! Exactly as I thought, I suppose we can write another story but then how many after this?! Should I avoid writing more? Someone who can effortlessly break into my apartment with no one noticing kind of scares me so one more story can’t hurt.

“Story submitted by Andrea Ristor

People are fascinating every single one of them, imagining their inner lives gives me a headache just thinking about thinking about it. I don’t know if I’ve always been like this or if one day it just started, but it happens every time without fail. Yesterday I was at Barnes and Nobles looking for a board game carefully reading the back when I hear a jangling noise behind me, a young woman stood there with a set of die in her hands carefully inspecting them. “Don’t get those they only pretend to be hand made” I say she looks at me and we strike up a conversation about dungeons and dragons. We chat and browse the store she tells me fun facts about books she likes and I buy her a coffee. We agree to meet up again sometime and before I know it we are dating. We constantly are together even for the most mundane tasks, she brings up the mood with her novel sense of optimism and her ability to share her excitement with everyone near her. Heck she even made going to the DMV fun, I didn’t even know that was possible! It came to no one’s surprise when we moved in together. We adopted a cute golden retriever his name is Artichoke he is dumb but full of love. Sure we weren’t without our fights and unfortunate accidents but we were happy. I was shopping for the perfect ring for her when I met her mother, a conservative hateful woman but I put on the charm and slathered it on thick and eventually even she came around to me. I asked her to marry me on a beach, she loves the beach always wanting to spend our summers there. I ask her “Elaina Will you make me the happiest woman on earth and marry me?” And she says “I’m sorry can I help you?” She glances quizzically at me holding the die set still, “I’m sorry I zoned out in your direction”. I curse myself out and embarrassed retreat to a different aisle. This happens every time I meet someone new or just see them. I know it’s true I looked up Elaina Marcusdale on insta and saw her smiling with her mother in her top photo, knowledge it would be impossible to have. I’ve lived through hundreds of lifetimes this way, my body is 21 but my mind is centuries old. I don’t know what to do, how to make it stop! I nearly crashed my car because I keep on living lives that do not belong to me, I can’t afford to have these visions in the middle of the road, or boarding a train. Though the odd thing is when I met with you I can’t see anything from your future.

The journalist: “Tear your eyes out, that’s an easy solution you can’t see any new people if you don’t have eyes ;-)”

“

Well that’s at least new information- so the journalist is real and getting these stories from people somehow or more likely writing them themselves. I don’t know what to do with that but I think I will put up cameras. Elaina Marcusdale is a real person and it is true her latest post on instagram is her with and older woman, I assume is her mother, from last week meaning the story must have been written this week I don’t know if that helps me at all. This journalist person is truly awful because according to the news Andrea Ristor was committed after screaming about being free and ripping her eyes out with her bare hands.

[the-box-publisher]

Hey, I don’t expect anyone to see this in fact I hope no one does. For some context I woke up this morning to find a box on my desk- my door was still locked and my windows don’t open I live alone on the fourth floor of a building. At first I was scared it was a bomb but then I realized no one would go through this much effort carefully wrapping and decorating this box to kill a nobody. Anyways there was a letter on top of the box that said:

“Dear publisher,

Please publish this story.

Yours truly,

The journalist”

I was obviously extremely put off by this. Who is the journalist? am I the publisher? How the actual flying f*** did they get into my apartment? But I supposed just to play it safe I would publish it just because it was a small request and I’m scared of what might happen if I don’t. I suppose I’ve always been a very paranoid person but what else can I do. Plus who would believe me anyways I’m sure you don’t. So inside the box was a story covered in dirt like it had been buried:

“Story submitted by Mathew Coppula,

I am very strong willed, I always get what I want. No matter what ever since I was a kid everything always had to go my way. It used to be everyone would tease me because I could control everyone and everything except my own body. I tried to be intimidating but my body would always have great timing for “cute” sneezes, stomach gurgles or hiccups. Then when I was 15 I read you could apparently stop your body from hiccups by just telling yourself not to. I don’t know what I expected but I decided to try the next time I hiccuped I told myself to stop and to my surprise it worked! After continuing this for several years it occurred to me that just maybe it would work for other things and with time and practice I found that I could perfectly manually control every part of my body. I quite enjoyed this everything perfectly controlled, neat and orderly. It wasn’t until I went to the beach a couple of years ago I had any anxiety related to this ability (though I shut that anxiety off to). I was at the beach and after not paying attention I got wiped out by a large wave, since I was caught off guard I didn’t have much breath left in me and quickly I was about to pass out, as wave after wave crashed over me I was so scared of passing out, when suddenly a little voice in the back of my head said “tell yourself not to pass out” and so I did. That’s not normal telling yourself not to pass out and functioning without air is not… was not normal. I found recently I stopped needing to tell myself to do it and it just started happening automatically.

I don’t remember how it happened I was just driving and suddenly it was dark, I was so disoriented everything was spinning and spinning and then I woke up in a hospital bed. Or at least I tried to I could see but couldn’t move my eyes at all, I could hear smell and feel but I could not move a muscle. I could feel a desperate burn from needing to breathe but I could not take in any air. I assumed they had me under heavy anesthetic, but then I saw it. The blank line on the heart monitor, nurses and doctors looked saddened as one moved to shut my eyes, I wish she didn’t being here in the dark is so much worse than being able to see. I heard them talking about what to do with me, I don’t have any family and no one to take me. I tried desperately to let them know I was still alive. But it was no use. Now I only hope they chose to cremate me.”

I- don’t know what to do with this. Obviously it’s not true, even if it was how would I even have a written copy of it, it’s not like Mr.Coppula could transcribe it. Why would anyone be so desperate for me to publish this that they broke into my home?

My curiosity got the best of me so I chose to look him up. Apparently Mathew Coppula was in a bad car accident after lightning struck his car. He died hours later in the hospital, it was deemed an accident, an act of God if you will. He was buried.