Author Raul F. O.

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The Horrorscope - Episode 15: Insecure in a Blackout

This feels like a mistake. Maybe it’s the drugs talking, but we shouldn’t’ve made a plan and I shouldn’t’ve left them to leave. So, here we are again. On my own, alone. Well, not exactly on my own, right boys? Y’all can still hear me probably loud and clear! Good thing that we didn’t evolve to read minds. You should stay here. I can’t believe they said that. If anything happens, at least you’ll remain. And do what exactly? We didn’t come up with any backup plan. But, now, I have to rethink everything. If what the mortician said is true in any sense. Yay books. Wait, no. Time is of the essence, I don’t have another 10 years. Who knows if I’ll have another 10 days. I need to look through the digital archive I’ve made. I hate reading on a screen. Now to find the damn laptop somewhere… Where is it? Where is it? There you are. Under the couch, of course. There are a few distinct books I remember mentioning something similar. I don’t know if that’s a coincidence or not. Now come on. What? Blue screen? What the fuck? It’s fine, everything is fine. Well… This… Wait… Where are the files? Where’s everything? What the…

Pick up your phone, Ken. Come on. I pace around the place as I look at my empty laptop. Yes? Finally! Ken, where are you? I hear him sigh. What do you want? Oh, this ain’t fine. It’s gone. My files are gone. All of them. Every little thing I archived, documented and gathered in the past 10 years, poof, gone. This is fucked. I know. It’s happening here too. It seems that someone hacked into our system and deleted any and all files about any mention of the death or deaths from ten years ago. I can hear Telum in the back asking him something. Oh yeah, don’t you have physical backups? I scratch my head. No. I hear him relying the information to Telum before returning to the call. What do you mean no? What are all those books and binders and things? I slam my fist down on the table. They’re just fucking books and binders with books. It’s fucking fiction and philosophy, you moron. Fuck! This is fucked. I hang up as I get up to draw the curtains. Something ain’t right. They knew I left, they knew about me. They knew what we were investigating and they knew how to stop us and create panic.

This isn’t safe anymore. I need to breathe. Breathe in… Breathe out… I need to think this through calmly. Why didn’t they kill us? If they knew where I lived and deleted that data, if they know about Telum, Bala and Ken. Why didn’t they just use that device again? It means that they aren’t ready to deploy whatever weapon they had again. Or… This was their only one, a prototype. Oh… Okay. I need to start getting my physical back up in order, find the stick and leave. I knew this was a mistake, but this definitely isn’t a coincidence anymore. There is no way that someone knows about my existence or cares enough to have kept tabs on me for ten years. Infamy can only get you that much in the conscience of an immortal, right? What time is it? What time is it? I have an hour… No… Less… Thirty five minutes. In an hour, they’ll be here to take me somewhere. And if my guess is right, that’s game over. This is bad, if whoever did this must be powerful. Extremely powerful to pull this sort of stunt off… A knock on the door. Oh no… Yes? Who is it? They are knocking again… This is bad…

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