"It’s a story my grandmother used to tell us all to make us go to bed early. They say if you stay up after dark, or walk around the house too much, the Blair witch will come and get you."
#36 - The Blair Witch Project
USA | 1999
"Destruction is a form of creation."
Donnie Darko (2001)
I’m sure that all of you on tumblr are used to the cry for help type stories by now. Help me, help me, blah-blah-blah. I won’t bore you with another. Even if I wanted your help, you couldn’t give it to me, because your help is useless.
Because you’re not a member.
I just wish that I wasn’t either.
It all started innocently enough. With a phone call.
I’d been up for a few hours, unpacking and cleaning, waiting for the plumber to call. I just moved into a cabin and the contractors fucked everything up. Because of that, I now have the wonderful task of making calls to competent people that can fix what the original contractors did wrong.
The phone rang at 12:06.
Not bad, I thought. Usually plumbers don’t bother to call or show up until 5.
When I picked up the phone I didn’t even get a chance to say hello before a woman on the line told me to “Please hold for the next available operator.”
I hopped up and sat on the cabinet in the kitchen. It was one of the few places in the cabin not occupied with boxes. Elevator music leaked into my ear. I’d started to drowse off when the music stopped and a piano chord that sounded like it was three notes that didn’t quite go together played through the receiver twice.
A voice came on the line.
“Welcome to Boothworld Industries. My name is Samantha and I will be your operator today. Name?”
I didn’t know what to say so I told the operator my name.
“Sir, we know who you are. I’m your operator. Please give me a name to access.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“It can be anyone, sir. We just need a name.”
“Uh, okay,” I said. I made up a name. “Harold Withers.”
“Sir, as your operator, I must point out that fictitious names, or the names of people that you don’t know, cannot be used.”
“Used for what?” I asked. How had she known that I’d made up that name? The whole thing felt like it was some sort of prank, but hardly anyone knew my new phone number.
“Remodeling? Is this the plumber?” I asked.
“Welcome to Boothworld Industries. My name is Samantha and I will be your operator today. Name?”
I took that as a yes and gave them the name of an old ex-girlfriend. “Jessica Goodwin.”
I could hear the clicking of a keyboard on the other end of the phone. It sounded like the woman was pounding the thing with her fists. After a few moments of this, she returned.
“Jessica Goodwin,” she said. “Remodeling is scheduled for August 21, 2015. Would you like to reschedule?”
I was silent on my side of the phone. I couldn’t believe this. Someone had to be playing a prank on me.
“Who is this? Is this you, Jessica? Are you playing a prank on me?” I asked.
The woman didn’t respond for a long time. I thought that whoever was on the other end of the phone was holding in a laugh.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Yes or no, Sir?” The woman asked back.
“Yes?” I said, not understanding what the woman was asking.
“I have a Tuesday appointment available. Will that work?”
At this point I thought I was going insane and that it actually was the plumbing company.
“What about today?” I asked. “Do you have anything available for today?”
“Normally we can’t arrange for a reschedule on such short notice, but today we had a cancellation. How does three o’clock work for you?”
“Three o’clock is fine,” I said.
“Three o’clock it is then. Would you like a courtesy call?”
“Wonderful. We at Boothworld Industries say thanks and welcome to the club. You have a marvelous day.”
That strange chord played twice again and the line went dead. I rolled my eyes and went back to unpacking.
My phone rang at three o’clock on the dot that afternoon.
“Hello?” I said.
“Sir. This is Samantha with Boothworld Industries again. Your courtesy call begins now.”
“What do you-” I began to say, but was cut off by those diminished chords blaring into my ear, then I heard Jessica’s voice.
“Why are you doing this?” Jessica asked. I could hear the tears in her voice.
“Jessica?” I asked.
“Sir,” the operator said. “She cannot hear you. This is a courtesy call. The appointment has already concluded.”
“Please,” Jessica begged. “Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll-”
Jessica’s voice choked off into a wheeze and all I could hear on the other end of the phone was the rustling of clothing and more wheezing. Eventually it stopped and someone picked up on the other end.
“The scheduled work has been completed,” a man’s voice said. “We at Boothworld Industries say thanks and welcome to the club. You have a marvelous day.”
“Sir?” The operator came back on the line. “Was that to your satisfaction?”
I sat there for a long time, cold sweat dripping down my ribcage. Jessica was my ex, because I walked in on her and my best friend fucking at a party in high school.
I smiled and whispered, “That was perfect.”
“Wonderful,” the operator said. “We at Boothworld Industries aim to serve. Would you like to make another appointment?”
As I stared at the water leaking from the door of the dishwasher, I smiled even bigger.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes I would.”
“Dan. I don’t have a last name. He’s a contractor.”
“Dan Arencibia. July 13, 2032. Would you like to reschedule?”
“Yes,” I said.
“How would Wednesday work for you?”
“Didn’t you say you had a Tuesday appointment available?” I asked.
“I did, but unfortunately that slot has been filled by another member. Would Wednesday work for you?”
“No,” I said. “I have a job interview that day. What about Thursday?”
“Unfortunately Thursday will not work. You are due for remodeling Wednesday night.”
“What?” I asked.
She repeated the exact same thing to me again.
“Can we reschedule my remodeling?” I asked.
“Of course we can, sir,” the woman said. It sounded like she was smiling on the other end of the phone. “There’s always a way.”
I waited for her to tell me how. She didn’t speak.
“HOW?” I asked.
“Boothworld Industries is always looking to add new members. We are, of course, a membership by invitation only club. Sadly, our membership numbers have fallen in recent years. Economic recessions. Wars. Politics. What we would like you to do, in order to avoid your own remodeling appointment, is help us add several new members.”
The light at the end of the tunnel, I thought.
“How many members do you need?” I asked.
I choked. “One thousand?”
“Yes, sir. Otherwise we’ll have to keep our scheduled appointment. We must inform you that the member that scheduled this appointment did request a courtesy call.”
Everything stopped at that point for me. All my life I’d just skated by, not doing anything, not making a difference.
My mouth actually dried up. I’d always thought that was just a thing people wrote in books to be dramatic.
“I’ll get you your one thousand members,” I whispered.
“We at Boothworld Industries say thanks and welcome to the club. You have a marvelous day.”
The connection ended.
I hung up the phone and stared at it for a long time. I’m scheduled for remodeling on Wednesday, and somewhere, someone will be getting a courtesy call to listen to my last few breaths if I don’t get one thousand members to join Boothworld Industries.
It’s funny. I’d always wanted to join an elite club. Skull and Bones. New World Order. I’m not sure how I got in, but now I’m a member. I’ve got until Wednesday to enjoy it.
Like I said at the beginning: even if I wanted your help, you couldn’t give it to me, because you’re not a member.
Membership is by invitation only.
I’m inviting you in.
You can help me.
Just call 630-296-7536.
Okay, so the events I’m about to share with you literally happened like last night and I’m still fucking shaking. I’m not here to tell a story. I’m here to get insight from all you guys that are in to fucked up stuff like this. I don’t wanna hear “dude your writing is terrible” because I just don’t fucking care at this point. I just want someone to say it’ll all be alright. I want HELP. Fair warning: I say fuck a lot.
Now that we’ve cleared that up here’s a little background on me. I’m your average hard working blue collar all American guy. I work nights in Texas but I live in Louisiana and every evening I make an hour long drive to get to my job and on this little drive I’ll stop to get a red bull and a pack of camel blue shorts to help me get through the night. Always stop at the same gas station, always pay the same amount, $13.35. Hell, the old lady behind the cash register knows my name at this point. The one thing I never stop for though is to use the bathroom. this time I did.
Everything was normal I walked in nodded hello to Pam (old cash register lady) and walk to the back cooler to grab my red bull. It was at this point that the Taco Bell that I had for dinner decided to make its appearance and began to bang it’s war drums against my stomach. Fuck you Taco Bell. I instantly headed towards the bathroom gripping my stomach in agony. I Needed to purge myself of this unholy entity quickly before it destroyed my favorite pair of work jeans. With Lightning quick speed I locked myself in the first stall I could reach and pulled my pants down and sat on the toilet. With a sigh of relief I began to release my bowels. Holy mother of god it felt amazing. As I sat there I began scrolling through reddit no sleep on my phone, which has become a daily ritual for me. About a minute went by and I heard the bathroom door open and someone shuffle in.
Now this would be completely normal and itself had the unidentified person not walk directly to the stall I was in and just stand there. I waited for a knock so I could give the awkward “Occupado” that I usually do when this happens. It was then that I noticed the person’s feet. I could tell that it was a woman by the size and shape, and that they were wearing women’s sandals. Little green ones with pink flowers painted on the thongs. but their feet were dirty as fuck. Like haven’t showered in a month dirty. I just figured some drunk girl accidentally stumbled into the men’s room.
“Uhhhh hello?” I said in the most casual Way one can while sitting on a toilet. After a second I started hearing whispering behind the door like she was talking to herself. I just couldn’t make out what she was saying. Okay so now it was a little weird but I just wrote it off as the bitch was just some homeless crazy person. “Someone’s in here.” I said, slightly annoyed at whoever this was that was bothering me while I was trying to take care of business. Then I heard two knocks. Very slow and very deliberate. “Yeah. Hey. Occupied.” Two more knocks. This was starting to piss me off. “Look lady-” I was cut short by a loud banging that shook the whole stall. Bang bang bang. It’s like she was hitting the door with a fucking sledge hammer. Over and over again. Bang bang bang. And she’s still just whispering away, having her own little conversation as she battering rams the stall door repeatedly.
At this point I was a mix of really fucking pissed and pretty fucking freaked out. “What the fuck is your problem!?” I yelled. Kicking the door back. The banging continued but now it was accompanied by a wet smacking sound. And then she spoke. “Let us in.” Her voice sounded almost childlike which just added to the creepy factor. Bang bang bang. “Let us in. Let us in.” The banging and wet smacking sound got so loud I had to cover my ears. “LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE YOU CRAZY BITCH!!!” And then almost instantly she stopped.
I watched her feet as she backed away from the door and right into the bathroom wall. She slid down the wall until she sat facing my stall. I waited for five minutes for something else to happen but when nothing did I stood up, pulled up my pants, and reached hesitantly for the lock. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding in my ears. I didn’t really think about what I would do once I opened the door but if I didn’t get out of there I’d never make it to work on time and I doubted the old “Some crazy woman wouldn’t let me shit in peace” excuse would get me much sympathy from the boss man.
So I went for it. Very slowly I opened it. I let it swing all the way open to get a good look at this chick. I want to remember what she looks like before I book it out of there. And there she is. Sitting there staring up at me and smiling this big fucked up horror film smile. She’s got blood just dripping down her face from her forehead. I pull the stall door around and see blood splatter. This crazy fuck was bashing her crazy fuck head into the fucking door until she fucking bled. I was surprised she was even still conscious. “What the hell is wrong with you lady?” Was the most intelligent question I could muster. She just stared. She must’ve been on drugs or something.
I felt bad for her. I inched my way to the sink to grab paper towels to help her stop the bleeding of her nose and forehead. Her head never turned but her eyes followed me the whole time and that creepy fucking smile never left her lips. I grabbed the towels and squatted down so I was eye level with her. My face and hers were about two feet apart as I dabbed at her forehead with a paper towel. She was actually pretty cute if you could get over the bloody, creepy smiling and wide eyed stare. Maybe 22 years old, black hair, and petite. But then I noticed her eyes. Like REALLY noticed them. She was staring right at me but it’s like she wasn’t even there. Like she was empty. It made me shiver a bit.
I continued trying to clean her up and finally she spoke again with the same little kid voice. “Why didn’t you let us in?” At this point she couldn’t really startle me anymore so I non-chalantely said “Well I wasn’t expecting company so I didn’t have time to clean the place up.” In the most sarcastic way I could. Nothing. Not even a giggle. She just kept up the creepy possessed act.
I was just about done helping her and going to stand when she said “Will you let us in now?” And before I could reply I see movement to my left and I jump up just in time as a box cutter blade slashes through the air and instead of hitting my throat makes contact with my wrist. I start spurting blood instantly. I’m standing there holding my wrist and gritting my teeth and she’s still just sitting there. Only now she’s holding up this box cutter, smiling at me like she did me a favor.
“WHAT THE FUCK!?” I screamed, as I tried to stop the bleeding. But I instantaneously forgot about any damage I’d taken after what happened next. This girl. This fucking girl starts running the box cutter down her face. I don’t mean just skimming over it either. I mean she was digging it as far into her fucking skin as it would go then dragging it down her face. Over and over again and she was just giggling about it. The cuts kept coming, the blood kept flowing. And the sound…oh God the sound it made. I gag just thinking about it. Like a knife through a very raw steak.
I just stood there, watching in horror as she mutilated her face with the blade. I couldn’t do anything. I felt sick. She just stared at me with those blank eyes and giggled some more. Fuck. There was so much blood and more came as she sliced through her eyelids and a white/red liquid oozed from the socket. She cut through her lips until they hung by nothing but a strand of meat and when the lips were gone she started on her gums and tongue. Just slicing and slicing. Oh God the sound…I couldn’t watch anymore.
I turned away and began slowly making my way to the door. I had to get out of there. “Wait.” I heard her mutter behind me. “Please God help me PLEASE!!” There was pain in her voice. So much pain. And it was HER voice. Not the childish tone she had before. I looked to her. She was on her hands and knees vomiting uncontrollably. In between retches she looked at me with begging eyes. HER eyes. I started to cry and sob like a fucking baby. I fell to my knees.
“HOW!?” I cried. “Tell me how! I’ll do anything just tell me how!” I held my face and cried into my bloody hands. This was so fucked up. This was so fucked up. “Tell me how…” I whispered. Sniffling. “Let us in.” That childish voice…I looked up and she stood over me.
Her face like bloody shredded meat. One blank eye looked down on me as I kneeled there, shaking from terror. “Let us in.” She said with a smile as she raised the blade to her throat and sliced from side to side three times, spewing her blood all over me, and then she collapsed in a bloody heap. She was seizing, convulsing, dying…but she was still fucking smiling.
Then I ran. Covered in blood I ran out of the store, to my car, an I drove home. 120 miles and hour the whole way. When I got home I locked myself in the bathroom and sat in the shower, crying as scalding hot water washed away the blood. So much blood. That was 14 hours ago. My boss called me 100 times but fuck him. He didn’t see it. He didn’t see the smile. He didn’t hear that childish voice demanding “Let me in.”