Ernest's Site

Listen to me. Please.

A week ago, Alton Jones called me in the middle of the night. There was something wrong with his daughter, Elizabeth, but he refused to state what. Against my better judgement, I promised to come as soon as possible.

It takes me half a day to drive to the Jones’ farm, a lonely place nestled in a dust-choked valley. In the rocky field out back, Alton grew what he’d call corn, but I wouldn’t trust his judgement. I had only visited them once before, back when I first moved to the area. The experience had kept me away for the proceeding three years.

By the time I had reached the farm, it was early morning and I was regretting coming. The place had only degraded since my previous visit; the house wilted like a head of lettuce while wild scrub-grass grew in patches around it. As soon as I turned the motor off, Alton burst out of the front door, hefting a shotgun. His eyes were red and bleary.

The shotgun was for protection, he told me. Some sort of wolf had come around, feasting on livestock before returning to its home in the abutting forest. I inquired about the corpses, but Alton simply shepherded me inside the house.

The story was simple. Elizabeth had returned from one of her customary jaunts in the forest later than usual, clearly shaken. Despite this, her parents couldn’t pry any information out of her. Once they realized their efforts were futile, she was given supper and sent to bed. Alton woke up a few hours later to find her gone. He found her standing outside, staring up at the sky and shaking violently. He brought her inside, which is when he rang me.

Now properly informed of the situation, Alton beckoned me into Elizabeth’s room. The girl was lying in bed, covers pulled up to her throat. But that didn’t stop the shaking.

Elizabeth drifted between unconsciousness and attacks of a raving delirium. During these attacks, she would speak, though what she said was nonsensical rambling. She would often repeat phrases, though I honestly can’t recall what they were now. Alton seemed to find them profound, for he kept writing them down.

A physical examination proved no less disturbing. She was cold, in both feeling and temperature, but constantly sweating. She had no reactions to stimuli, awake or not. During an attack, spasms would rack her body, rhythmic pulses of tension and release. That was when I realized that I’d forgotten my gear at the clinic. I would have to go back and get it.

Before I left, Alton went to grab some water. When I got up to follow, Elizabeth’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm. Her eyes snapped open, wet and sparkling.

“It found me in the forest…” she slurred, the words barely making it out of her throat.

“What did?” I asked. Her expression became confused.

“It… It’s between the stars…” she replied before falling unconscious again. Her hand released and fell to her side, leaving a trail of glittering fluid. I watched it drip from her hand, evaporating as it hit the floor.

I was clearly out of my league. I made my way out, brusquely informing the Joneses of my intent to return as soon as I could. Yet upon getting to the clinic, I sat panicking for a full hour about going back. Eventually, my sense of duty overrode my judgement, and I left. It was night when I got to the farm.

Alton greeted me on the patio, a lantern by one foot and the shotgun by the other. He said that Elizabeth had gotten up not long after I left, stating that she felt fine; great, even. But when nightfall came, she stood up in the middle of supper and ran out the door, disappearing into the corn field. His wife, Lucille, had elected to go after her while Alton awaited my return.

Just as Alton finished his story, Lucille’s screams came drifting from the fields. At this, Alton jumped up, grabbed the lantern and the gun, and invited me to join him in the field. I barely had time to respond before he was off. Alton was a fast man, and he entered the stalks several paces ahead of me. He left no trail. It was like he’d disappeared.

I spent the next few minutes wandering through cornstalks, hoping to cross his path. It was no use. I ran in circles until I was startled by the discharge of a shotgun. I traced the sound and emerged at the edge of the field abutting the forest.

There, I found what appeared to be Elizabeth. Her body was covered in a sparkling fluid that flowed as if in reverse gravity, dripping up into the sky. She was crouched over her father, her motions like a wolf devouring its prey; but what she ate simply disappeared. Alton was being drained away as his body lay rigid in the dirt.

Then Elizabeth heard me. And when she turned, she had no face. There was only the infinite, spiraling cosmos.

I ran. There was nothing left to save.

I keep having nightmares about the stars, now. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I see the night sky in my eyes. I know that one day, whatever lies between the stars will come down and find me. It will fill my head with the cosmos and my body with the heavens and let me leave my humanity behind. I can’t stop it.

But before that happens, I need you to do something. Go to the farm. Find Elizabeth Jones. And when you find her, kill her. And when you return, you must find me. And when you find me…

Well, I’ll have been found by then.

Please.