Voices in the Dark: Interlude

Interlude

And now, dear reader, a brief pause.

Take a breath, and consider whether you truly wish me to continue. For this is the moment where

I, as an ethical storyteller, feel a certain responsibility. Unless you give your full and willing

consent to glimpse what still, even now, lies hidden beneath the surface of Orangevale,

California, it may prove to be a cruelty to go on.

You have every right to stop here. To call an end to story time. To brush your teeth, say your

prayers, and go to bed holding fast to the comforting belief that reality is stable, and that the

universe is fundamentally safe and sound.

You don’t have to continue beyond this point. I mean, we’ve already had a pretty good time,

haven’t we?

Look, there are stories that are merely scary, like your classic haunted house. There are stories

that unsettle, like the tale of those stranded souls at Donner Pass who made a feast of each other

when faced with starvation and frostbite. But then there are stories that go one step further.

Some would say, one step too far.

These are the tales that offend reality itself. Stories where the geometry of the cosmos breaks

down… where triangles have seven sides and two plus two insists on equaling five. Where the

rules you’ve quietly relied upon your whole life begin to slip, just enough to notice… enough to

gnaw at you… like a splinter under the fingernail of your mind.

This is one of those tales.

If that doesn’t trouble you, then by all means, read on. But I feel duty-bound to warn you: from

here on out, we wade into strange, murky waters… viscous fluids that leave stains on the soul…

that will cling and suck at your waterlogged shoes long after you believe you’ve escaped the

loathsome depths of an abysmal and putrid lake.

But I digress.