Statement 1E

“Okay, there we go. Is this thing on? I think it's taping?”

“Do we really have to use this musty old thing, Emma?”

“Oh, come on, it's not that bad! It has a certain je ne sais quoi about it, no?”

“Hopefully the people in tech can get the system back up soon–we spent a lot of money on quality mics and CCTV for this sort of thing, it pisses me off that we have to even resort to these archaic devices”

“It's fine, I'm sure they're doing their best. Yes, there we go, I'm sure it's running now. Thank you for your help, Devin. Is the first subject here?”

“Yes, they've been here. It's a wonder the outage didn't spook them away.” Devin sighs.

“Alright, tell them I’ll be a moment, okay?”

Devin nodded and smoothed back his greased hair, straightened his tie and headed through the doorway.

Emma turned back to the recording device and dusted it off a bit with her hand. “Ah, there, I think it's on now.” Emma said with a cheer in her voice. She took a deep breath and stood from her leaning position and stared at the device at the end of the table. The room was silent, filled only with the sound of the machine’s whirring. “Right then.” Emma cleared her throat as she took her seat at the table. It was a rather small room–just a rectangular table with two chairs on either side, the tape recorder quietly whirring at the edge by the wall. There were no windows to adorn the wall, but a monitor fixed in the corner which once would record Emma's sessions. Two microphones were in the corner where they had been hastily dismantled. It was a dimly lit space, only a single paneling of LED lights shone from overhead. It was this way to be easy on the eyes and cozy to her subjects.

As she got snug in her seat, crossing her leg in her pencil-skirt, she began, “My name is Emma Thompson, Assistant Archivist at the Usher Foundation, Washington D.C. We are a government contracted foundation dedicated to cataloging the strange, mysterious, and otherwise unexplainable ongoings in the United States of America. It is my duty to record the accounts of American citizens with these phenomena and categorize and assign them to units to further investigate the phenomena and determine if it poses a threat to US National Security or to the health and well being of our people, however rare credible incidents are that pose an actual threat to domestic security. I was hired on as an assistant archivist by Archivist Nicholas Manheim after a, well, shall we say, technical snap-fu. Suffice it to say the computers and expensive recording devices we had been supplied from our robust budget from congress, as well as the state-of-the-art network and security mainframe, are down. IT assures us that they are hard at work on it, and, to their credit, they did tell us they got everything back up and running if only long enough to discover years and years of recordings–audio, visual, and written–were corrupted, leaving only the printed initial statements of most of our files. Seeing that such an extensive amount of our files need to be re-recorded by less than advanced means, the Archivist thought it prudent to get another set of hands on the problem.

“My task is to go over older statements and record them on this tape recorder, as well as assist the Archivist in stemming the recent tide of new statements. While our wonderfully colorful General Receptionist does a fantastic job of finding the cream of the crop and turning away the most mundane and trivial of subjects, the amount of so-called “compelling” subjects is simply too much for our two poor Archivists to keep up with without creating an absurd and insurmountable backlog. For now, well, I’m going to have my first statement today–an in-person subject while all of the affected files are pulled from storage in the attic. I’m,” Emma looks around the space of the small room, “I’m not entirely sure there will be enough room in here to put the amount of files they’re going to bring. In any event…to be honest, I’m a little nervous—this will be my first time making a statement.”

Emma trailed off and just stared at the whirring device for a moment. She smiled and stood from her seat. “Well, nothing like the present I suppose.” She smoothed her hands on her pencil skirt and moved to open the door a crack. “Deven, you can send them in.”

In a moment, there was a creak at the door. It opened to a man–today's subject. He wore a suit that was ill fitted to his frame. The sleeves a bit too short, his ankles and socks jutting out of his loafers. He had a mop of hair on his head, and it looked as though he might have just gotten out of bed. He stood there awkwardly, fidgeting to and fro, looking back over his shoulder that perhaps he should not have come.

Emma gestured to the seat across from her with a smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you. Dan Edwards, I presume?”

He nodded and closed the door timidly behind him. He slunk over to the seat and plopped himself down. “So it all started when–”

“I'm sorry, one moment. There's a sort of practicality to these things.” Emma stopped him. She brushed her hands on her black pencil skirt to rid them of the recorder's dust and took her seat. Emma cleared her throat. “Statement of Dan Edwards regarding some strange goings ons at his apartment complex in Pennsylvania. Audio recording by Emma Thompson of the Usher Foundation. Original recording done today’s date of September 5th, 2024. Statement begins.” Emma turned to the man. “Wow, so Pennsylvania! That's quite the drive to be here.”

“I uh…yeah, I couldn't stay there anymore. It…I, well, I'm a bit of a mess and I can barely sleep and…”

“It's okay, I understand. Let's both take a breath and you can start at the beginning.”

Dan took a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay.”

“It was a few months back now when it first started. I think I noticed it the first time when I had a party at my apartment. It’s right across from where I went to college, you see, really decent rent, neighbors didn't mind if you partied too loudly because they did too. The apartment complex that I lived in was at the very back. There were other complexes on either side and adjacent to mine so when you looked out the window you could see clear across the parking lot. You could see the street all the way at the end and the dorms across the road as well. I mean, it wasn't much of a view but still. It was nice because I could always see when friends were coming and going and make sure they got back on campus safe at the least.

“The apartment wasn't too big. You enter into the living room which is connected to the kitchen, just open plot–carpet becomes cheap linoleum. You know the kind, the sort of rubbery flooring you would get in a college area apartment. The living room was quite large which is where most of the parties happened. And there was this window…just the one window in the living room on the right wall. Just this really big, really long window that gave you that full view of the parking lot outside….

“Anyway, we threw this party at the end of the semester in June. Everyone who was anyone was there. God, we got so high and so drunk that night, my friend who had a little bit too much Fireball had a field day in the small little outdoor space out back. I mention this because this is how I dismissed it the first time. Heat of the party, drunk as a skunk, I leaned on the wall next to the window and looked outside. And there he…it…was. At the end of the parking lot, across the road, standing on the sidewalk was a figure. It looked like the figure of a man, just silhouetted. Maybe it was because of the lighting of the street lamp Next to it, but it was just a silhouette. But I could have sworn it was standing there. Staring at the apartment. Staring at me.

“I know, I know. I know how it sounds. Drunk and high college students getting spooked At night by something that's totally normal. I know. I would have dismissed it too if it were Only that one time. I saw it again that night too. After the party calmed Down and everyone started filing out to cross “river styx” as well called it, the road to get back to campus. They had left me an absolute mess. As I was cleaning up with my roommate, I saw it again. Standing there at the end of the driveway. But it was closer this time. It was on the road. Just staring at me. A silhouette. The lot was well lit but again he stood there, silhouetted in shadow. I quickly grabbed my roommate and pointed to it, telling him how I'd seen the same guy earlier. And you know what he said to me? I still get chills thinking about it. He said ‘there's no one there bro, sleep it off’. I did as he said and quickly cleaned up, drew the curtains, and went to bed, trying to forget how that…eyeless thing made my skin crawl.

“It was a week before I saw it again. Right at the end of finals week as everyone was starting to pack up for their summer breaks. That day the parking lot was packed with students who were going home for the summer. I was busy all day helping my roommate pack too as he would leave in the morning. But I wasn't going away for the summer. My parents live here in DC and it wasn't really worth the cost and the hassle to pack it all up and leave for the summer. God, I wish I had. That night I saw it again. My roommate and I were at the kitchen table that connects to the wall, he was perched on one of the tall seats facing me as we chatted and ate pizza. As he was talking to me, my attention was drawn to the window. I can't tell you why. Maybe it's something that's still built into us that we never lost–our animalistic senses when something is wrong, or about to go wrong. Whatever you want to call it, my eyes drifted to the window. And at my vantage point, it seemed small, a blur even. But sure enough, at the end of the parking lot it stood, staring. Closer than before. No longer on the street. At the end of the parking lot. Still far away, but the feeling crept over me, enveloped me. A growing fear of that silhouette. My distraction must have been picked up by my roommate as they noticed and turned to look. They tossed me a quizzical look and got on their feet, went over to the window, gave a good long look over the lot before drawing the curtains. He could see that I was shaking. ‘You didn't see it?’ I had said. ‘It was probably just someone throwing out their trash. Other people live here you know’. I relaxed a bit then. He was right afterall. People were moving out, tossing out their trash. Maybe sneaking around after a last night bang.”

“Remember,” Emma interjected, “Everything you say is being recorded. I don't think the US Government is too keen on the specifics of college-aged flings.”

“Oh, sorry.” Dan laughed.

“You may continue.”

“Right…well, the day after my roommate left and I was alone in the apartment, would be for the next several months. The whole block pretty much emptied out. There wasn't a single car remaining in the parking lot anymore. I think only one other student stayed and they lived clear across on the far right end of the lot. So, nowhere near me. At first, I think I rather enjoyed the silence. It was a nice change for how rowdy Everything had been when college was in session. It was about a week or two of bliss, actually, and I had begun to forget about my encounters with the thing.

“But then…a month later, well into July. I saw it again. After making dinner one night in July, there it was. Standing in the parking lot. Closer again, about a quarter way up the lot stood the silhouette. No one else was here. It couldn't have been anyone else. I tried to rationalize it now. Was it a prank? Was my singular Neighbor just that bored? Was it a local kid playing some sick joke? The eyeless figure glared at me. I quickly ran to the window and closed the curtains, my heart racing, my palms becoming slick with sweat.

I started seeing it more often after that night. Every time it was closer. After getting a glass of water, after coming home from working out. Halfway up the lot. Three-quarters. And every kts features seemed to become more exaggerated. It seemed taller. Its fingers were spindly and odd. It had a head that was cocked at a weird angle. It had these horrible coiling feet at the end of thin legs. I began to doubt my sanity, wonder if I was crazy. It didnt make sense. But this thing…it wasn't human. At the beginning of August, when I saw it again…it was standing maybe ten to twenty feet from the front door of the complex. It was tall and horrible. And there was this sound… like what you hear when you're listening to loud music in a car and you shut the music off. Just that…ambient noise. The soft ringing or maybe thronging? I don't think I slept that night and I had half a mind to pack my things up And go home to my parents. But no, I stayed, like an idiot I stayed. Telling myself everyone will be back soon, your roommate will be back soon. It's just my imagination.

“What's strange is…I stopped seeing it after that night. I had so so many nightmares about the thing, sure, but whenever I looked at the window at night, it wasn't there anymore…. until that horrible night at the end of August…

“It was really windy that day. They were saying some pretty powerful storms were set to roll through that night. I ignored it and just played video games in my bedroom all day until I could see the sun setting in my bedroom window and when the rain started hitting the glass. Big, thick droplets splattering on the window, the wind making them clatter like teeth in the cold. I kept my headset on and turned the volume up louder. But then everything went dark. The sound muted and I was in the inky blackness of my room. I took my headset off and set it on my desk and groped around for my cellphone. It was so dark. And the noise of the chattering and the rain boomed in my ears. I managed to get my flashlight on my phone and figured I'd go to the living room–maybe the breakers just flipped and I could go into the kitchen closet where the breaker box was and just flip them to get power back on.

“I exited my room and headed into the living room, paying the window no mind. I entered the small closet where the breaker box was and aimlessly flipped switches–nothing. Nothing to do but wait when its like that. The electric company would get to it when they get to it I guess. I turned back to the living room and my stomach dropped. Outside, it was there again at the very end of the parking lot. It was tall again, it's horrible long arms, it's spindly legs, it's head cocked at a grotesque angle. And i could swear it was looking at me…smiling…at me with a horrible unseen mouth. Lighting lit up the sky, obscuring the thing but then, it was closer. Halfway up the parking lot. Thunder boomed, more lightning. Then it was three quarters to my apartment. Taller, horrible–the noise starting, rattling my brain. I felt my hair raise on the back of my neck, my heart punching my chest. More lightning. Then it was gone.

“I ran to the window and gazed out of it, wondering where it had gone. A flash of lightning lit up the night sky revealing nothing to be waiting for my eyes on the other side. The thunder was So loud it shook the whole building. I let out a relieved sigh and turned around. I don't remember much of what happened next. But what I do remember is waiting for me when I turned around was the figure. It was made of shifting shadows. Like trying to remember a dream too late after waking up. It was taller up close. Too tall for the room. Its feet pooled In coils on the ground, seeming like mist Rolling on the carpet but almost fleshy and wet. It was hunched over the ceiling, its back contorting as its figure bent toward me. And right in front of me. Its face. Smooth and dark like the rest of it but I could see it. The wicked smile with too many teeth. The crooked lips peeled into delight. Its not-eyes eyes wide, gazing into me. I felt myself freeze, I might have screamed if i even knew what sound to make at this impossible thing in front of me. All I could hear was that sound–the buzzing. And as it reached for me slowly I…I don't remember anything else. I'm sorry…that's…that's it.

“I left the next day and I never looked back. I packed my things and came home. I…I didn't know what to do…no one I told believed me… but a friend told me to check you guys out…tell you my story. You'll do something about it. I'm telling the truth, I swear to God I am. You need to do something…anything!”

“It's okay, calm down. You're in the right place, Dan.” Emma said calmly. “Taking your statement is the first step.”

“So you believe me?!”

“I believe you…believe you had this experience and honestly it's not my duty to judge your story.”

“Right, so you don't.” Dan sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I will be sure this statement reaches the right agents. Thank you for your time, Dan. End of Statement.”

“Right…well will I be let known if…idk…if you guys are going to do something.”

“Of course you will, you're in good hands. Deven will give you the rest of the information you need on the way out.” Emma stood from her chair, smoothed her hands on her skirt and stepped around the table to Usher Dan out. She politely opened the door with a smile and a nod as he left.

Emma let out a sigh and returned to her seat. She leaned back and kicked her feet up on the table. With her hands on the back of her head she began, “Archivist notes on Statement E1. Purported entity seems to be likely no more than the result of stressors experienced by college aged individuals with a burgeoning mental health and drug problem. Specifically, it is important to note that the incidents began only after consuming massive amounts of alcohol and partaking of other illicit substances. It is unclear whether or not the subject was drunk most of the summer and having these experiences due to a dip in Mental health paired with general impairment. Alleged entity does not seem to be a danger to anyone else in its vicinity and seems only to delight in appearing to torment this one person. Further, it would not be a good use of this Foundation's resources to dispatch a team all the way to Pennsylvania for such a… dubious tale. Recommendation to subject is to end the use of any illicit substances and seek out a therapist to help cope with experienced trauma and underlying stressors. This statement will be filed away as “unsubstantiated, uncompelling Testimony” and no further action is needed.”