I remember waking up from the car, sitting in the front seat. My eyes were aching. I had (presumably) slept over the whole night; it was almost ten in the morning. Everything had turned white: snow kept falling down gently, each flake whirling slowly to the ground. I opened the door, only to realize how utterly tired I was; couldn't even stand up properly. So I decided to remain inside for a moment and regain more strength. Coffee helped to an extent, but this deep, quiet discomfort didn't disappear. I remembered the phone call from previous evening – yet my phone itself didn't. Of course, the only logical explanation was that I had been hallucinating. Perhaps something like that was to be expected, given the long drive and my motive for it. Yet because of this very same motive, I chose the much more illogical option: there was something unnatural in this town, and I had just confronted it.

I went through my notes and the red book's pages while sipping coffee, once again annoyed by lack of proper details: how was this ritual actually conducted? Reading some prayers here and there didn't help at all, just made everything more confusing. I gave up and stepped outside – this was just for the sake of circulation; getting lost in the town on foot wasn't part of my plan. I stared at the buildings, ornamental trees and single snowflakes; followed their paths all the way to the white blanket below. Air was filled with tiny shards of frozen water; they formed a barrier of icy fog around me. Visibility was low; the opposite side of the street got lost in white emptiness.

I went back in the car and decided to follow Midwich Street, moving slowly enough so that I could look around while driving. I passed a few crossroads; the street's left side was devoted for these similar apartment buildings. On my right there were nothing but more trees, fences and brick walls. It was easy to come up with further questions: assuming the town had been abandoned for a long time, everything should have been more or less dilapidated – but instead, things seemed to be in average shape. Some snow-covered cars were parked along the street, left precisely next to the sidewalks. I stopped for a moment and inspected one of them closer: it seemed rather old, doors were locked and windows frozen, but otherwise the vehicle was in good condition. If the former residents had left this town in a hurry, they had done so quite recently and without panic – once again I found such a scenario hard to accept.

I slowed down as a large vehicle appeared through snowy mist. Its yellow colouring and angular shape confused me for a while: a school bus. Nothing too illogical, since – as the map had revealed – there was a school building at the end of Midwich Street. Among other notable landmarks were the local church and some restaurants on Bachman Road. Given my reasons, it seemed reasonable to visit the church – even if it represented a branch of Christianity and not this pagan variation. While passing the school bus, ready to turn on Bradbury Street, I stopped abruptly: someone moved on my right, hidden inside the fog. As I climbed out in haste, the distant silhouette had already vanished – in direction of the school.

''Hey, anyone there? Hey!''

Nothing. I walked next to the bus and found two sets of clear footprints: one small and one large, as if a child and an adult had been walking together. I followed accordingly, getting more and more worried by each step: instead of relief, there was only distant anxiety. After passing some ornamental trees and bushes, a feeling of dread appeared – sense of terror. Was I supposed to follow the traces? It felt like I was being watched.

The prints ended at the school's front door – which wasn't locked. I peeked inside the high, dim lobby; this stale and cold scent of wood hit me. It wasn't really unpleasant, just rather strong. I turned around, anxiously rubbing the medical gauze around my left hand; the cut had started itching. Whole situation felt absurd: this school seemed just as deserted as every other local building, but apparently two people had just went inside. There was still a slight chance of finding a sensible explanation – like meeting a group of families sheltered in the school due to a severe blackout. Not that I really expected anything like that; intuition and the oppressive feeling told me otherwise. As I finally stepped through the school's doorway, fear hit me: something was utterly wrong.

At that point, I had no idea how right I was.


Pillar of light swept across the school's interior as I waved the flashlight around. Walls were gray and floor covered with brown wood; these darker ornamental squares were painted on it in precise and equally angular order. Luckily enough, there was a map of the school hung up on the lobby's bulletin board: the hallways formed yet another square with two storeys and a basement. All rooms were littered on the outer side of the architecture, which left space for a courtyard in the middle. Indeed, right in front of the lobby, there was another pair of doors leading back outside – this made sense; the courtyard was clearly meant for students' recess.

I inspected the map a bit closer – if someone was inside the building, where could they have gone? Some snowy footprints were left in the lobby, but they gave no further hints. I couldn't hear any sounds either; nothing but the faint echoes of my own steps. All I could do was following the first hallway and make quick observations: here and there stood series of metallic closets, almost pink in their colouring. Opposite of the closets were these low wooden benches – a row of tiny black shoes was arranged under them. Eleven shoes in total; all slightly dusty.

There was a reception right next to the lobby – it wasn't more than a tiny compartment with another door leading to staff room. Two green sofas were arranged around a wooden table; some coffee cups were left on it. A pile of old books as well: one was written in foreign language (I can't remember the title anymore – something like homaly). Under the books was glittering a silvery square; a keychain's ornament. There was only one key connected to it, an equally coloured and rectangular one. Single word was carved on the surface: Chemistry. According to the map, there indeed was a chemistry classroom in the second floor.

I stuffed the key in my pocket and returned to the hallway. Closest door was locked, so I turned around, passed the lobby again and entered infirmary. It was pitch-black inside; the light switch didn't do a thing. Something blocked the windows – these plastic, opaque films were taped over them. Only reason I could come up with was giving someone a proper sleeping environment – but of course, there was no one else in the room. A medicine cabinet was placed in the corner with its doors left open; a bottle of mild painkillers had fallen on the floor. Next to the cabinet stood a white examination bed. Some papers were scattered on it: one of them presented a detailed, seemingly hand-drawn picture of human brain. Under this image was a short paragraph:

A generalized tonic seizure, when affecting both sides of brain simultaneously, can in extreme cases stiffen the whole body, so that the patient is completely unable to move. In such scenario patient is prone to hurting themselves due to the likely fall on the ground. This is difficult to avoid, since the upcoming seizure gives no warning beforehand. As the respiratory muscles contract and air is pushed out from lungs, patient may produce a brief sound similar to crying. Once the contraction strength reaches its maximum, the sound stops and patient becomes immobile for a time period ranging from 10 seconds to over a minute. Due to lack of further signals, such condition may be left unnoticed by other people.

It could have been a coincidence – back then I didn't know any better. Even so, reading this pamphlet brought anxiety, then hatred. I was more than well aware of these seizures, so I left the room in haste and forced myself to stay in movement. Next door wasn't locked – I entered the perpendicular northern hallway. On my right was one of the staircases; on my left the hallway led towards obscure darkness – it was notably longer than the first corridor. Right next to the staircase was one of the large classrooms; apparently its door was left a tiny bit open. I stepped inside to make sure the room was empty – which it indeed was. Some sleepy, snow-filtered light entered through the windows. Air smelled almost sweet; the wooden scent was even stronger here.

About twenty little wooden desks were placed in tidy order in front of the teacher's table. Many drawings, paintings and posters hung on the walls, clearly done by the students. There was an empty aquarium, a globe and a map of USA in the corner; they all seemed ancient. At the very back of the room was another row of pink closets and a door to the neighbouring class. While looking around, the school's apparent age became more and more clear – whole interior still looked like something from the eighties or nineties. I sat on the teacher's chair, already tired, and stared at the green chalkboard; some pieces of chalk were left on its lower frame. I grabbed a piece and drew some wobbly lines, then a few active sites of metalloproteins – the wound on my hand started itching. Had my situation been less confusing, using chalk would have calmed me down.

I left the chalk alone and decided to head to the second floor – scribbling was nothing but waste of time. As I stood up, the wound's itching turned into pain; I felt dizzy. While leaning against the chalkboard a simple idea got too close to ignore: without thinking, I drew a crude circle. The chalk screamed and broke in two pieces; tiny cloud of white dust got free. I continued with the four smaller circles and two line segments between them, crossing each other. Once the picture was done, it became quiet – and not just quiet; for a moment it felt like no sound could have even existed. I stepped away from the board and looked at the messy curves, noticing how faint hints of blood were smeared on them. I glared at my hand – the wound was bleeding again, pushing some blood through the gauze.

Utterly confused, I waved the flashlight around. The classroom was dark; as if night had already fallen. The symbol on chalkboard seemed unfamiliar: back then I had no recollection of drawing it. As I stared at the smaller circles, a distant sound appeared; like wailing of an alarm siren. I can't really remember the sound itself, only the feeling it created: the feeling of standing inside a massive empty space. The noise got gradually weaker until disappearing completely; I could hear my own breathing – and nothing else. I was sweating; moving around felt clumsy. I returned to the hallway, to the pitch-black horizontal shaft, and realized how this sudden darkness wasn't the only anomaly: every surface was wet, rotten by moisture. Ceiling was dripping here and there, floor was marked with watery stains. I ran to the front door; now it was locked – the doors didn't move an inch. Behind the lobby's windows was nothing but darkness; it wasn't snowing anymore.

I started panicking; forming rational thoughts had become impossible. I went through my pockets as the sense of dread forced me to move. Something cold touched my fingers – that key was still there; key to the chemistry classroom. I returned in the hallway and ran up the staircase. Soon the northern second floor corridor opened in front of me, almost identical to the one below. I started following it – and what happened next is difficult to describe. I do remember everything, that's not the problem; I just can't be sure about these memories.

There was another classroom right next to the staircase; its door got pushed open, faint sounds of footsteps emerged. As I turned around, the flashlight illuminated something which I still can't name: seemingly a child without clothes, walking slowly towards me. Its skin was pale, faintly gray and blue; the whole body was dripping water, glittering in the flashlight's glow. I saw its eyes, nose and mouth, yet they made no sense to me; facial features were somehow blurred, as if hidden behind an ice block – that's the only way I can describe it.

The creature – I can't regard it as human – fell on the floor and stood clumsily back on two feet. It made a sound while shaking its head; sort of a distorted whine. Only then I decided to run, as the shock let me finally do so. I followed the hallway until reaching another door; it led to the school's library. I threw myself inside, shut the door behind me and backed away, coughing violently. I looked frantically around in the dark room: a few rows of bookshelves, some chairs gathered around a table and couple of posters on walls – everything broken by moisture damage. I pulled the table in front of the door, fell on a chair and listened to my pounding heart. A few long minutes passed; I got dizzy while staring at the door handle, already questioning if that thing in the hallway had been real.

Painful itch pulled me back up; the wound seemed to go septic – which shouldn't have been even possible anymore. While walking around, I noticed how another door in the library's corner was left open; it led to a smaller room with additional bookshelves. Some of their contents looked revolting, all bloated and swollen by the sucked water. Air smelled horrible; its damp stench made me nauseous. Luckily this room had its own doorway to the western corridor, so I was able to continue towards chemistry class – without facing the creature again.

I applied the key and entered the classroom. There were three large tables for chemical experiments, yet they were mostly empty – just a few conical flasks and two batteries were left next to each other. Some bottles were arranged in a shelf: glycerin, distilled water, methylene, sulfur and so forth. A wide chalkboard hung on the wall, though nothing was written on it. I walked to the third table and focused on the cylindrical C batteries; something about them seemed bizarre. Apparently they were just the right type for my flashlight, since the device was rather old. This wasn't a coincidence, that much was immediately clear – which in turn was absurd. I stuffed the items in my pocket and leaned against the table, feeling sick again.

There was nothing else of interest in the room – as if this nightmare had guided me there for some old batteries. At least my goals had become much more practical: I had to get out of the building. So I returned to the hallway and entered another one – the southern second floor corridor. Another staircase was right next to me, yet a heap of small furniture was built in front of it, all eaten by moisture. As I started following the hallway, my shoes got filled with water; distant smell of mild soap appeared. More and more water kept seeping from the opposing darkness until it reached my ankles. I stared at the black ripples without even questioning this phenomenon – there was, however, a somewhat logical reason for it: two bathrooms were placed at the opposite end, one of them utterly broken and leaking water. Its door was dislocated and a few pipes inside had burst open. This was still a bit absurd, since such incident should have been extremely loud.

Opposite of the bathrooms, another double door led to the eastern hallway. Water got ahead of me as I opened the door and stepped in front of a music room. There was a black piano there; some wooden flutes were left on the benches. Right next to the music room was the lobby again. I peeked over a high railing towards the entrance – but something wasn't right about it. For a long moment I stood there, unable to realize what was wrong; the flashlight's pillar reflected and twisted in front of me, danced around and disappeared in something dark and murky – more water. Nothing but water; the first floor was completely underneath it, as the surface almost reached the railing.

I backed away in shock – the water flashed as something moved there, swam around with smooth movements; a huge shape that didn't make any sense to me. I wasn't able to act until being forced to do so: another childlike creature walked on the hallway from a nearby locker room. As I ran back to the southern hallway, third creature came from the bathroom – and another from the hallway's opposite end. I backed away once more; one of them let out a whining cry and grabbed my ankle – from time to time I can still feel it, even if the bruise has already healed. That thing, despite being similar to a starving child, could have broken my leg. I panicked, forgot to scream and threw myself against the wall. Creature's head followed; its grip got looser. I pulled myself free and ran inside the closest classroom. After pushing several tables in front of the door, I fell down from exhaustion, gasping for air.

Felt like time wasn't running anymore; all light disappeared – the flashlight stopped working. Nothing but quiet darkness remained; air became warm. I started inspecting my pockets mechanically and slowly – the batteries were still there. Changing them with trembling hands and without seeing a thing felt hopeless. After dropping both of them and correcting their positions several times, I finally got the flashlight on – and the whole room was filled with dim, pulsating shine. It was red and orange, in a way even black; light from a fire. Flames surrounded me; they climbed and slithered on the walls and the windowsills, on the row of lockers, on the teacher's desk. I stood up, fell down and stood up again – somehow I was able to breathe and look around, despite the air getting painfully hot.

I wasn't alone anymore, now there was someone else in the room. Right in front of me, kneeled at the desk: seemingly a human, with peach-coloured skin and no clothes. As its head turned sideways, I saw the horns: two bone-made spikes pushed through its temples. They were crooked, asymmetrical. There were no eyes nor mouth; just the nose and two round holes replacing ears. Even so, as that thing kept turning its head, I could hear a muffled sound – it morphed into an agonized scream. Violent crash followed as this humanoid hit the desk, crushing both the wooden panel and its left hand. I just stared at it – I don't recall being even afraid. For a long moment, there was nothing else but this wailing creature amidst the fire.

Perhaps it hadn't even noticed me: as I finally started moving slowly around, this thing paid no attention. It kept tapping the floor with the broken hand, as if testing how much it would hurt. I walked past the desk and a pillar of flames next to it. Door in the corner led to the neighbouring classroom – this one wasn't burning. Just a large, almost empty space, with another row of lockers and a bed of water covering the floor. Once the door closed behind me, I was left standing there in utter confusion. Mere thought of that fire became distant and hard to accept; was my short-term memory failing? I walked to the opposing wall until turning back – water splashed against my legs as the door opened again. Fire was gone, so was the creature; every surface was smeared with wet soot.

I returned to the neighbouring class and looked anxiously around; nothing about this made sense to me. After suppressing another strike of panic, I tried to think rationally: since the first floor was under water, my closest way out would have been any of the windows – yet all of them seemed tightly shut. I had no means to pry them open, so the only remaining option was getting on the roof and finding a ladder. I peeked through the doorway; none of those pale creatures was in sight. Stairs were right next to me – all steps below were swallowed by black, pulsating ripples; some water kept splashing on the hallway. I glanced at the surface until its smooth motions grew disturbing. As the soapy scent got stronger, I ran past the pile of rotten furniture and entered a short third floor corridor. Door at its end brought me to the roof – finally outside.

It was completely dark, seemingly past midnight. As raindrops landed on my forehead, dizziness brought me on my knees. Concentrating on the flashlight's shine gave me enough self-control to pull myself up – just get down and run to the car, that's it. I started following the roof's edge, but there was no ladder nor staircase – and jumping wasn't an option. While looking around in haste, I noticed the courtyard below, completely filled with water; this huge glittering mass, waving lazily around. Something large was still moving there, swimming underneath the surface. I kept staring at it, following its curved path. Took me a long time to realize that my phone was ringing; its high-pitched tone felt almost painful – but I didn't answer.

I remember falling over the edge; towards the water. Whether I ever reached it is much more unclear.