Inherited Talent

You know it was weird. Things like this always are actually.

So when people die, they leave wills, and distribute their material things amongst others. Sometimes, strangers do it too, and you’re left with a confused feeling. Everyone has that friend or something, and you promise each other your things when you die. Or it’s your roommate’s stuff that they left behind when they have no family. Stuff like that.

Well, see, about three, or was it four, months ago, something like that happened. A friend of mine from high school, got in touch with me a month before it all happened. And then when that month passed, I found out that this friend left me an inheritence. I was entirely confused, let me assure you; I got a lot of their stuff brought to me, to go through. Albums, frames, notebooks. There was a lot of stuff. But I also got other things, like credit cards, phones, computers. Actually, it was one of their cellphones that caught my eye the most.

It looked like a regular phone, one of the older types actually. A flippy phone you can say. I think it was a Nokia? But I was curious and tried it. The battery was good, and I saw that a memory card was in. There were two random text messages, one of them a reference from Final Fantasy, which I laughed about, and the other their last address. They kept those as if trying to remember stuff. There was some music too actually.

Anyways, what caught my eye were the drafts. Like, two were names, Steam ones actually as it had a – Steam tied to it. And the other one was a note for a liked song. But the other texts.. were weirder. They had the maximum in length for a text, which is about 5 pages of it, and one was just numbers. It was a phone number, and I’d figured I’d text or call it later. So I sat down to read the full length texts. I was curious on how my friend changed. There were no dates, so sorry about that. I didn’t take pictures either. The phone isn’t around anymore so I can’t even take pictures, so take me at my word. I remember every single word. I just can’t forget. This is the first message.

– ”I don’t know what to say anymore. I just love you. And the closer we get the more it feels right. I just have a hard time trusting it. So what can I do if this is just so complex? I cant even see straight. Seriously. This just makes me all messed up inside. I love you. So damn much. I keep slamming into your wall. I’m so happy. But that wall will kill me. It will crush me if I am not careful. I am like a wandering butterfly caught by winter. And I cant help but be spiteful towards you sometimes. I want to raise those things that you hide from everyone. And I know you hate it but someone has to. And I hate it but.. I love you too much to just let it go. I just can hope that you want me as much. Just that would make me happy. As long as its you truly.”

So I noted that some grammar was missing. Probably was trying to save space. To me it sounded just like something that happened with my ex not too long ago actually. It tugged at my heart. Of course, I didn’t realize it back then, but the moment I had read that, I felt a bit different. I can’t really explain it, but it felt like I had just broken something. I cried a bit, wondering how pained my friend must have been to write that. How much in love they were. It was beautiful, but heart-rending all together. And then I decided to read more, and I really wished I stopped there. But here’s the second one.

– ”Life is a strange mosaic. Shattering is a strange connection a rift in all possibility. Curving and soth and yet uncouth round designs become a myriad of dusted butterfly wings sparks of glitter that move a mind of poor quality. It shoves the perception of all things into a change of soothed death. Yet it holds nothing but the verbose colors of absolute sin. Such things dance a ballet of soul and body. leaving only the traces of our joint mindlessness. Is such the paths that seek our wills? All that remains are the pale veils of our time together – just a farscape that speaks but in hazes of needs. Such a thing is but the touch of hoping despair.”

This was weird, but not creepy yet you see. I thought that someone else had wrote that, or it was a quote from a book. I used the internet to find out, but nothing. I really couldn’t match that sort of attitude to the previous message. When I read it, I felt a chill. I got pretty sick for a couple days after that, down with a cold. It was winter after all at that time. So it wasn’t knew but I couldn’t get over it. I felt so cold, so.. empty in a way. I just couldn’t stand it. Slowly it faded from my mind, so I decided to check another message. Actually, the message after this was the number. I decided to text that later once more. I thought I had time. So I read on.

– ”What is this melody in my mind? I hear it calling, whispering, needing, begging. Why? I couldn’t answer you that. It was just painful. It screamed, over and over again my name. It wanted me somehow. Yearning even. What did it want from me? Why couldn’t anyone hear it? I couldn’ tell you. It just whistles in my mind. It sounds like static from an old tv: just this ringing in my ears. It never stops: though I hear it less when around everything else. But when it’s quiet? That’s another story. I can hear it then. A voice. It speaks to me. I cant hear the words. Not with my awake mind. Thought some part of me can. Thats what the fear in my mind is. What that voice want? Is in there I think. I will find out though. Soon.”

See at this point I was freaked out. A strange phone, a friend that died where no body was found, and these weird, almost insane messages? It might have been pieces of a book, after all my friend was a writer. But I just.. I couldn’t think that. There were mistakes, things in there that seemed hurried, panicked. So I just felt like I was being either played a horrible joke from the grave, or that something was truly, utterly off. But part of me was excited. Was this one of those creepy pasta I heard about? Maybe my friend was trying to write one. I wanted to see what mind had made these. I can’t explain why I was curious about that specifically. I just wanted more of the story. At this point, there were three messages left. So I turned out the next one.

– ”I can’t. I hear them all the time now. The truth. Don’t look. Just don’t. It will kill you. It will kill me. I know it. I saw it. If I had earlier I would be like them. The talented die young they say. And its true: the only way out is death… Or destroying yourself until you become blind again. But I cant. No way out. So what do I do? I have to warn. I doubt I will save anyone. But I can try. That is what I need to do. Try. Its all I have left. And that is perhaps why I hang on. Though for how long? I don’t know. Don’t look. Stay blind. That’s how you make it. It scares me. Just don’t follow. I know you will try.. But don’t. It will get you too. And then it will be my fault. So run: stay blind to everything. So long. I always loved you. So stay safe.”

Right definitely freaked out at this point. And it hit home. Actually I heard that my friend was a pretty genius like person. They were making heavy advancements in psychology and writing therapy. They had a few books, and I was a fan somewhat. Their books were heavy, and beautiful in a way. And plus, I had a giant crush on them in my teenage years. We never got together, but that was one of the one times I regretted not asking them out. So this message hit home hard. To know that they loved me was powerful. There were still mistakes of course, but I had to read the next one. Although I had questions, I had to read the next message. I wish I had taken pictures now, all this time later, but I didn’t.

– ”What is love? is it free is it hurting? I cant tell sometimes – hurting and spinning out of control – what is this? I cant control it. I feel strange and weird. Out of place even. The chill goes down my neck – a whisper of the solitude I feel. But that is prose : its just the wind. No need to render myself more melancholic – I rise. at last it would seem like. But I still doubt. I waver in the breeze. what am I to discover? Do I want to go into another world? I am truly afraid to be fair. I want a companion close to me by my side. A partner. That is what I desire most. Someone to share my path with. That way I would never be alone. That is a goal harder then life itself. It is like searching perfection. Impossible and yet worthy. Still sometimes I hope.”

It was like one of the others ones. I thought for sure they were writing a book, my friend that is. But I couldn’t place it in any of the manuscripts I got handed over, and more so, it just seemed too close to me to shake it off. What were these messages? It was like several different people wrote them. The last message was much shorter. I made up my mind, after that one, to text that number. I had a feeling that it was saved for a reason. But I had to read the last message first.

– ”Dark. that was all I knew. The hate and darkness was all I needed. I didn’t mind being alone. I just had to trust myself and thats it. It was how I made it through everything. The abuse and the bullying and the deaths.”

Now the way that this had left me had me pretty down. I mean, as I’m writing this out, I’m remember more and more of it. My leg is shaking. So I texted that number. Passed the hello, the who are you. Found out that the number belonged to another friend of that friend. I asked some basic stuff, and that person just told me to look in the creepy pasta folder. Part of me was excited. Maybe this was just a creepy pasta to entertain me, my friend knew I loved those. So I booted the computers, and finally found the folder. I hoped it would finish there. But when I opened it, there was nothing. So I did a file recovery. Nothing. I shut it off and went to bed, disappointed.

When I woke up that morning, files were in that folder. Maybe I had been too tired to see them the first time, but one of them was a bunch of creepy pasta. Slenderman, Ben, all that nice stuff. I was so damn happy. But reading through it, I felt weird. I knew they were pasta, but I just couldn’t shake off things. To confirm that feeling, I looked up the actual pasta itself. And then I knew. These were different versions. One my friend had written and it made me happy. But I also felt.. wrong. Like why would my friend reword all of these pastas? That’s when I heard it. That weird noise you hear when an old TV from the 90’s was on. It was static but not. I shook my head, since it happened sometimes.

And nothing happened for a month. Now we come to today. I can hear it, and I feel scared. Because the words that were written in those messages, are coming back up. I scrapped the messages, donated the phone, and stuff like that. But I just.. feel weird. I don’t see faces, and I hear faint voices, and I feel cold. So very cold. I keep seeing weird things, like parts of the pasta symptoms. Like my computer freaking out. Or a shadow of Slenderman. It might be because I reread them like thirty times.

Looks like I had a nose bleed. I’ll clean this up later. I just feel like I should post this. Before I fall asleep. Actually, I’ll send it to my other friend, the one that was with me and that friend. Send it and let them make heads and tails of it. I’m so tired. I’ll ask them to post it in two weeks. Night, this feels like a lame pasta ending though haha. Well goodnight pasta people! I’ll try to decode the messages tomorrow.

—-

That was the document I recieved. Now I have posted it. I am the friend that they are talking about in the end. I have not seen this person in two weeks. All of their stuff came to me, along with this e-mail. I am unsure of what happened, but that’s two of them missing. Actually, they are confirmed dead. Each time, parts of their jaws, incinerated, turned up. Enough to ID. I’m starting to hear the noises too. But I will post this. I will not hand out names of those good people. But my friend became suddenly genius like within those two weeks within something. I’m growing amazing talent too. Maybe it is a curse. After all, of the ones that were talented, either die young or cruelly. Van Gough. Kurt Cobain. Look it up.

Goodbye.