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BEN Drowned

Post #1 (Sept. 7, 2010)

Okay, /x/, I need your help with this. This is not copypasta, this is a long read, but I feel like my safety or well-being could very well depend on this. This is video game related, specifically Majora’s Mask, and this is the creepiest shit that has ever happened to me in my entire life.

Having said that, I recently moved into my dorm room starting as a Sophomore in college and a friend of mine gave me his old Nintendo 64 to play. I was stoked, to say the least, I could finally play all of those old games of my youth that I hadn’t touched in at least a decade. His Nintendo 64 came with one yellow controller and a rather shoddy copy of Super Smash Brothers, and while beggars can’t be choosers, needless to say it didn’t take long until I became bored of beating up LVL 9 CPUs.

That weekend I decided to drive around a few neighborhoods about twenty minutes or so off campus, hitting up the local garage sales, hoping to score on some good deals from ignorant parents). I ended up picking up a copy of Pokemon Stadium, Goldeneye (fuck yeah), F-Zero, and two other controllers for two dollars.…

The Well

We were told to stay clear of the well. Most of the time, we did. No one knew why, and no one cared. Down Innsmote Road, the long abandoned row of crumbling houses on the way to school, it lay beneath the shade of a droopy branched willow, in front of the old Leibowitz house. The house itself had fallen down years ago. The expansive section was now consumed in thick weeds and wild flowers, but we seldom played there. We didn’t like being amongst the derelict homes and the decaying foundations, and I would run past the well whenever I had to pass it alone. The footpath sloped dangerously close to the wells bare opening, itself hidden in long grass. Where the light touched the top most part of the gaping pit, it’s mossy brick inner surface was just visible. Below that, there was only darkness.

Me and Henry walked down Innsmote Road every day after school. Our friendship was an unlikely one. Henry came from a poor town down south. His family name was neither prominent nor wealthy, and it was new in a very old city. Raised as an only child by his mother, Henry had not had a fair life for such a nice kid.…

The Illusive Genius of Dr. Monroe

“Ladies and gentleman, members of the Board, I have two wonders to share with you tonight. First, allow me to present the next evolutionary milestone of our species – immortality.” Ever for theatrics, Dr. Monroe says this with arms outstretched, his burgundy dress coat flowing with every gesture.

There’s a collective gasp from the audience when the curtain drops and the pale, topless form of a seated man makes his appearance. Shackles pin his wrists to the arms of the chair; his face eerily mirrors the confusion of the onlookers.

“This man – a thief, a murderer and admitted pox to our society has generously offered to help demonstrate the latest breakthrough in medicine.” He pauses for effect, before removing a small, decorative vial from his belt. “This! This was born of my research into Xenotransplantation. I’m sure you must remember Sir Winston?”

They did. They would never forget last year’s unveiling of a genderless human body; naked and draped callously on the floor. Nor the drooping eyes of the basset hound’s head that had surgically replaced the original. For hours they’d watched with abated breath while the monstrosity lapped up water from a dish, only for it to seep freely through stitches at its throat; the fingers and toes twitching as if deciding whether to obey their new master.…

Room Zero

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything related to the Disney Corporation, and I’m sure you can understand why.

A lot has been going on since my last post. I’ve received a lot of questions and concerns from folks who read my first-hand account of Mowgli’s Palace… a resort that was built and abandoned by Disney.

I want to thank everyone who mirrored by post. It’s been taken down from a few places, mostly corporate sites that were easily leaned on by a larger power. However, for every nuked topic or disappearing blog post, it seems like a hundred more have popped up.

This is something they’ll have to face. There’s no turning back for them… none for me, either…

I’m definitely being followed. For the first month or two, I chalked it up to paranoia. Any casual glance or half-smile in my direction set me off. Hairs standing on the back of the neck and everything.

The first one, or rather, the first one I was actually able to spot, was a telephone worker milling around my apartment complex.

He was middle-aged, doughy, dressed just as you’d expect, but something just seemed off about him. I couldn’t place it, but I knew this wasn’t just my imagination acting up.…

World’s Best School Psychologist

When I was twelve, I came to the conclusion that everyone in the world, including my own family, was against me. I was never a problemed child, but my parents sure treated me like one.

For example, I used to need to be home by 5:00pm every day. This clearly restricted my amount of “play time” outdoors. I wasn’t allowed to have friends over to play at the house, nor was I allowed to go over anyone else’s. I had to finish homework directly after I came home from school, no matter how long it took. My parents refused to buy me video games and forced me to read books and then write a book report on them to prove I actually read it!

Now, even though those rules listed above were quite frustrating to me as a child, they aren’t what upset me most. What really hurt me was the lack of compassion on behalf of my parents. My mother was a bitter woman who always made me feel guilty of accidents or mistakes I’ve made. My father only knew one emotion: frustration. The only time he spoke to me was when he screamed at me for receiving poor test scores or beat me for misbehaving.…

Ickbarr Bigelsteine

When I was a small child, I was terrified of the dark. I still am, but back when I was around six years old I couldn’t go a full night without crying out for one of my parents to search beneath my bed or in my closet for whatever monster I thought was waiting to eat me. Even with a night light, I would still see dark shapes moving around the corners of the room, or strange faces looking in on me from my bedroom window. My parents would do their best to console me, telling me that it was just a bad dream or a trick of the light, but in my young mind I was positive that the second I fell asleep, the bad things would get me. Most of the time I would just hide under the blankets until I became tired enough to stop worrying, but every now and then I would become so panicked that I would run screaming into my parents room, waking up my brother and sister in the process. After an ordeal like that, there would be no way anyone would be getting a full nights rest.
Eventually, after one particularly traumatizing night, my parents had had enough.…

The Flesh Market

Have you ever visited Edinburgh? Beautiful city, no matter what time of year you go. The castle that sits at the centre of the city is awe-inspiring, looking down on the surrounding area from the Mount. The peaks and valleys of the land have resulted in a city that flows with the landscape. Streets that surround can be steep, with the numerous sprawling alleyways even steeper. It is here that we find Fleshmarket Close.

It could be mistaken for any other darkened causeway in the city. It sits among the shops and tourist traps, relatively non-threatening, and can be used as a short cut to get down to the station if you are in a hurry. The name has been justified, through some who point out that fleshmarkets were a local term for butchers, and through others who suggest it a hangout of women of the first vocation. These are incorrect. There is a market on the close, but flesh is not the product. It is the currency.

Market hours are dusk until dawn, and the entrance fee is one mouthful of your own blood. Prepare a glass, and progress down the alley. As you get halfway down, swig from the glass and spit it against the wall.…

Prisoner’s Dilemma

Hear me out.

I don’t plan to stay here long. One way or another, this place won’t hold me. Yeah, sure – I know ‘they all’ say that. But trust me – I’m different. No, that’s not right – I’m probably bog-standard, but the circumstances are different. And the circumstances are going to make things a little difficult. Unless I tell someone – even if I tell someone.

Since I was a little boy, I’ve had a problem. The doctors call it kleptomania, to me it’s a challenge. Not a challenge like the kind you see in the big budget block-busters, the one where the suave gentleman spy gets the girl, a fortune, and the respect of the people he’s stolen from.

It’s a challenge to reign myself in. A challenge to try to keep myself from taking something, anything – and a challenge I always inevitably lose.

First memory I have is when I was six. My parents were in this store, a resteraunt or something. There were a bunch of pastries, fresh and flaky and delicious behind the counter. Glazed with honey, and chocolate, and maple syrup that looked like it’d be taken from a broken and unresisting tree.…


For me, collecting is more than a hobby – it is a way of life.

To me, there is no greater thrill than that moment when you complete a set or find the one rare piece that has eluded antiquarians for years. I love things – cards, figures, dolls, puppets, watches. And as my desire to surround myself with material possessions grew, I found that I did not care for the things so much – but the thrill of collecting them.

So after I’d collected several years worth of goods, it was only natural that the store grew up around me. Little Dreams Antiques. Say you know me from our little chat, and I’ll give you a discount on two items of your choice – and we’ll both share a good laugh.

… Where to start, where to start. I’m fifty-something years old, set in my ways, and my recent passion has been collecting video games. Not to play – I’m a bit out of the loop when it comes to their stories or art. I’ve got a hunch that in the next twenty years, rarer video games will fill the niche that baseball cards seem set to create. And with rare mint games already going for a decent amount on the market, I’ve been looking at them as sort of a nest egg.…

A Tape from Treasure Island

[POST #1]

Hello all. Today I went on an interesting trip. It took me a while to save up for the plane tickets, but it was worth it. Before I get into too much detail, I should introduce myself. Well, not really, I’m very paranoid when it comes to the internet, and I won’t disclose my real name, so if you want to speak to me, just call me Delmar. I don’t know what’s about that word, but I’ve been digging it lately.

Okay, let’s get down to business. I recently got plane tickets to Florida, and booked a stay at a small hotel near a special location. It was worth the six hour plane ride for where I was going. If you haven’t heard of it, I was planning to visit an abandoned Disney resort called “Discovery Island”. I did my research, and it was originally known as “Treasure Island” in the early 70’s. The mystery behind the island is very intriguing to me, because it was shut down suddenly in ’99. There was a lot of controversy behind the island, and it is commonly accepted that it was the reason behind the islands abandonment. I don’t necessarily accept that as easily as others might.…

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