Silo

Pg. 5

My father began to serve as a fireman when I was a child. When an episode concerning individuals plunging into silos occurred once, and he and his unit were dispatched to assess, he returned home a completely different person. I recall him babbling about ghastly details and the like, turning from a highly regarded gentleman to a wretched demented chap in the blink of an eye.

We were jolted awake one night by a shriek, just to discover his lifeless body outside our lawn. And it'd linger to me, the things he would often tell me about. Like the horrors he encountered, but I was too young to embrace such reality.

From the kitchen, we strolled to the back door, which led to the driveway, where the car was parked. My wife insisted on knowing what was going on, and I just reassured her that someone was there. She appeared bewildered, with a worried expression on her face. I provided her one more affirmation before a commotion from inside spurred me to drive the car without thinking.

We settled into a hotel for the night, and I started telling her that we had to flee because somebody was threatening to kill us. If I told her the truth, she'd think I was insane, and my reason seemed convincing. When I called the cops to report a break-in, they came to me with much unfathomable news that our house had unimaginably vanished, as if totalled by a hurricane.

Picture the scene where like one part of a sequenced dominos has been taken out, like a missing part of a puzzle.

My wife was distraught, and she was on the brink of going mad as she couldn't imagine how it could happen. The cops were unable to come up with an explanation and simply resumed their investigations.

I was to go mad as well, but the house missing was the last from the list. We made the decision to reside with our folks until we could get our affairs in order.

Every night that came, I was petrified to death, because I knew it was out there, searching for me. Three days after this happened, I received the tragic news that Argon had died of unknown causes. Mushka also suffered a stroke and was unlikely to be able to wake up. As the day progressed, the entire team who had been inside the bin that day began to perish. And I had a feeling we'd be next.

To whomever may read this, I'm penning my final words. As the nights draw closer, I feel the dread engulfing me once again. I know it's right beyond our front door, merely collecting the fear building up inside of me. I apologise in advance to everyone as well.

Because I've recently discovered that it hunts for a reason. Anyone who has even the slightest inkling of its existence is doomed to perish.