The Uninvited
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-Transcript-
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Many extraordinary things simply go unnoticed. Nuances of their oddities get lost on paper. The Blackridge Society’s legacy has been spent cataloging strange anomalies. Though it’s often difficult to pinpoint their exact destructiveness, as resulting casualties tend to be masked behind mundane explanations and accepted truths. What doesn’t fit a convenient box, is cast aside as inconsequential, imagined, or conspiratorial, but that doesn’t mean those things don’t exist. They still linger in the shadows of civilization. Not constrained by space or time. Thriving in disregard to what we’ve built. Their greatest ally our disbelief.
The following case falls under the category of hidden in plain sight. So we ask the viewers to remain vigilant of… The Uninvited.
Through extensive research Agent Lemon has put together a docket of police and hospital reports from Greenwich, Connecticut. On the surface, they paint a picture of a troubled household on Maple Lane. Constantly interacting with law officers and emergency rooms. Though if you dig a bit, inexplicable patterns begin unearthing. The Wilsons are your run-of-the-mill suburban family. Two children, a white picket fence, and an affable couple charismatically leading the household. It wasn’t until November of 2014 that the Greenwich Police Department began amassing late-night disturbance complaints, reports of strange behavior, and domestic concerns. In tandem, most of the incidents are connected to ER visits for stitches or casts. So it looks pretty bad.
When Agent Lemon approached the family, they seemed instantly responsive to his authority and welcomed anyone claiming they could help. Inviting the agent in for coffee, they discussed their take on recent happenings. Acknowledging that admittedly from an outside perspective, it may look like a dysfunctional household. But assured the agent they had a normal life until a month ago. The mother, Nancy Wilson, went on to recall attending a wedding, leaving teenage Amber home alone to housesit. When they returned, the warm cozy feeling of their surroundings had been drained away. They felt like strangers in their own home. It wasn’t until Richard Wilson, a long-haul trucker, left for his weeklong shift that inexplicable bad luck befell the family. Flat tires, malfunctioning credit cards, late clocks, repeating flus, lost wallets, and even a skunk attack. Assailed by Murphy’s Law, anything that could go wrong did go wrong for the family.
Additionally, more paranormal things began occurring as well. Objects would shift around the house, switching places with other objects when not observed. Doors would sometimes jam, while other times refusing to stay shut. Lights inexplicably flickered throughout the day. And worst of all, Susy, the youngest of the household, began experiencing night terrors. She would frequently sleepwalk into the dining room and stand in front of the sliding rear doors outlooking the backyard, which itself, neighbored a national forest preserve. If no one was around to notice her, she’d stand there swaying until midnight, before waking with an ear-splitting yell of terror.
It was during Agent Lemon’s line of questioning that Amber hesitantly admitted to hosting guests while housesitting the weekend of the wedding. It wasn’t a party she claimed; just a small group of friends from one of her classes. Amber went on to say that a couple of them showed up with the strange girl of the school. Supposedly her name was Christine. No one really talked to her or ever seen her family. She’d always wear black and slather her face in matching makeup. Sometimes the girl would draw symbols and shapes all over her skin with marker. Amber was surprised to see her there but figured against being rude and saying something. It wasn’t until recently she recalled losing track of Christine for about an hour or so and couldn’t help shaking the feeling, she had something to do with everything.
As Amber started to ramble a sliver of bright red peeking out from beneath a carpet caught Lemon’s eye. He stood from the table and pulled back the rug back to reveal a large pentagram painted against the wooden parapet. At each of the five points were foreign symbols scratched into the floor. Symbols Amber quickly recognized as the ones doodled over the strange girl’s skin.
It was then Lemon excused himself and phoned in with escalation.
The following is transcribed from Agent Lemon’s debriefing interview.
“It wasn’t even fifteen minutes when we heard a knock on the front door. I knew HQ worked fast, but I thought securing a professional would take a lot longer. I digress, there in the entryway stood two women of striking similar appearance. They smiled casually and introduced themselves as “The Circe Sisters”, offering a limp handshake and extravagant business card. “Marvelous Mediumship and Psychic Cleansing” it read. Though unimposing in demeanor, the air around them felt strange, as if charged with energy. Like an actor or musician with a strong personality, one would feel invigorated just being in their presence. Peculiarly, whenever I’d look at one of the sisters while the other was in view, the latter’s face would become blurry. As if my attention could only focus on them individually. I could tell by the darting eyes of the others, that they probably were experiencing the same phenomenon.
Regardless, we welcomed the two inside, and just as the door was closing, from between our legs darted a black cat into the house. We tried to catch it, assuming it was a stray, but the Circe Sisters simply smiled and said, “he’s with us”. Before anyone had time to pose a question or voice a concern, the cat ran into Amber’s room, pouncing around from bookshelf to bookshelf, knocking knick-knacks and books to the floor. Making a mess of things. Short-tempered, Amber flew into a rage as she caught the cat by the scruff, tossing him out of her room. Though her anger dissipated quickly after seeing what the animal uncovered during its destructiveness. Lodged in between the pages of books, stuffed behind picture frames, and jammed into dusty corners, were various occult-looking objects. Multiple crystals, bundles of herbs, dried sticks, dried bones, and even various tarot cards. The Wilsons were devoted Christians and swore such objects had no place in their home. Amber’s reaction was one of shock and fear, so I was inclined to believe these things were not placed by anyone in the family. And as we all stood speechless trying to process the meaning of these items, our attention was once again diverted by that cat. He was furiously scratching at a bent floorboard in the hallway closet. Following a hunch I pried the loose board up, and under the floor sat an aged human skull surrounded by dwindling tealights.
The Circe Sisters wasted no time. At the sight of the skull, they quickly directed everyone towards the dining room table. We all situated ourselves as the two mediums began setting up an elaborate display before us. They lit candles. Scattered around stones, feathers, and mushrooms. Burned incense. And finally placed a Ouija board down to complete the bastardized centerpiece. While my description of the events likely sounds theatrical, it in no way felt like that. There was a heavy feeling present. The night was solemn. And as we sat watching the two mediums hover their hands over the burning wicks of their candles. A trance-like silence fell over the group. Their magnetism spinning our collective energy for their purpose. The two sisters gently placed their fingertips over the planchette and almost instantly it began to move, spiraling across the board in a figure eight. The ease at which these two produced results was astounding. The answers they got back were horrifying.”
Below is a list of questions posed to the Ouija board, and their respective answers.
Is there someone here with us?
Yes.
Do you have good or bad intentions?
Neither.
What is your name?
No answer.
Are you responsible for the bad luck?
No.
Do you know who is?
Yes.
Who?
No answer.
What is your name?
No answer.
What do you want?
Death.
After the session concluded, the family, naturally, was scared. But two mediums assured everything will be okay. The next day they’d gather all the objects found, cleanse them and the house. And everything will be back to normal.
As the group was wrapping up, the mediums suggested allowing their cat to stay the night. Seeing as he was an indispensable help earlier in the day, the family roused no objection.
“What’s his name?” was the only concern voiced.
“He doesn’t have one.” Answered one of the sisters.
“But you can call him whiskers” Finished the other.
The following day everyone once again converged at the Wilson residence. They were greeted by a concerned Nancy, thanking the sisters profusely for leaving the cat. It seems that little Susy had once again walked up to the sliding doors at the rear of the house while fast asleep. Though this time the door was inexplicably open. If not for the cat, Susy may have walked right into those woods.
When asked for her perspective, Susy’s description of the events go as followed:
“I dreamt I was walking down a long winding road. It hung in the air, bobbed, and dipped like a rollercoaster. On each side of the path were big bottomless drops. There were no sounds around. No smells. Nothing really. But I wasn’t scared, but I knew I had somewhere to go. I knew I had somewhere to be. So, I walked forward, and I kept walking until whiskers jumped on me. He woke me up inches from the sliding glass door to the backyard. It was early in the morning and there in the trees of the forest behind our house, two women dressed in white stood watching me. They were angry for some reason. But I knew better than to go out there. I knew better than to talk to strangers.”
Again, the Circe Sisters wasted no time, hastily loading the firepit outside with kindling and igniting it. Then the two gathered all the items around the house and began tossing them in the fire one by one. They’d bow their heads and whisper strange words, then one would toss an object into the flames while the other one took swigs of spirit straight from the bottle, spitting it over the pit, combusting it into a fireball. The sight was strange to behold and to Christians like the Wilsons, it probably felt taboo. Yet undeniably, with each object incinerated, Agent Lemon remarked that the oppressive air blanketing the residence relaxed.
It was toward the end of the ritual a rustle from the tree line caught everyone’s attention. There in the tall grass, stood what was later identified as a jackal. It was motionless, intently staring at the Circe Sisters with a glimmer of intelligence behind its eyes. And while perhaps it was the group’s imagination projecting onto the animal, everyone claimed it didn’t appear to be happy with what the group was doing.
The following is an excerpt from Amber Wilsons interview:
“We stood there shocked by the thing. There’s coyotes in Connecticut but not jackals. And it didn’t seem scared of us either, it just stood there watching like somebody’s pet. It wasn’t until whiskers came outside and hissed that the things ears perked up. The two met each other’s eyes and the cat actually started to chase it into the woods! Naturally, I was worried about the little guy, so I ran after it but was too scared to enter the forest. And as I stood there at the edge of the backyard calling for it, in the shadows of the trees, I could have sworn I saw the shape of a much larger animal… a panther or jaguar… something. And its eyes were emerald green… just like whiskers.”
By the time Circe Sisters completed the ritual, it was once again dark out. Getting rid of all those objects produced a noticeable different atmosphere. The air felt lighter. The family looked less tense. They even started joking and laughing with each other. While that’s all well and good, the sisters said that there’s was still more to be done. Once again, they suggested their cat stay the night and scheduled a visit for the following day. Though this time, as they all left the house, one of the sisters turned to Agent Lemon and in a hushed tone said:
“There’s a full out moon tonight.”
“A witching moon.” Clarified the other.
“You should be careful.” Added the first.
Agent Lemon had the foresight to bug the Wilson’s residence, surveilling the family from a van parked across the street. It was around midnight a mic went hot in Susy’s room. The equipment picked up audio of a strange scratching noise. It sounded like someone running a fingernail down drywall. The noise sounded familiar, the agent could exactly recall where he had heard it before. He had no time to contemplate it because through the stillness of the night rang out an ungodly roar followed by Susy’s pleas for help. Something snatched her, whatever it was, wasn’t human.
The following is part of Agent Lemon’s statement:
“I burst into the house and made the mistake of running in to check Susy’s room. The instance I crossed the threshold, the door slammed behind me, jamming itself shut. Dread set in as I saw the girl was not in her bed and heard her whaling from the living room. I began to charge the door, slamming into it repeatedly in an attempt to dislodge the thing. Distant reverberations of Amber and Nancy screaming from their rooms mixed with the chaos of furniture being toppled over. and monstrous growls. It was when the distinct sound of a sliding door violently wheeling open echoed throughout the residence, a shocked silence to befall the house. Susy’s calls for help stopped being pulled around, instead becoming sedentary. She was about to be dragged out of the house, into the wood, when all went silent. The creature that snatched her had stopped for some reason.
The air tensed and through the walls bellowed an eldritch screech.
(Creature roars.)
It was met in response by the Circe Sister’s cat.
(Cat growls.)
The thing didn’t like that.
(Sounds of a fight echo through the walls.)
As the clash subsided, I finally managed to break the door off its hinges. Crashing into the hallway I saw Susy running towards her mother’s bedroom. The corridor she was in had been unnaturally dark. Light was being swallowed by the thick oily shroud of night. And out from that thick darkness jutted a hand, grabbing Susy by the hair, yanking her towards the anomalous blackness. I lifted myself up, the pain of my shoulder setting in through the adrenaline. I started to trudge onward trying to help, but between us stepped one of the sisters. Blocking me off.
She reached into her pocket pulling out a fist full of white powder. Speaking words in a language I’ve never heard before; she clapped her hands together, and the substance puffed into the air like dust. It linger there for a moment before igniting into a blinding white flash of light that wiped the unearthly darkness away. And with it, vanished the mysterious hand.
That’s when Amber darted out of her room and snatched her sister Susy into her arms. Retreating to safety. It wasn’t until we budged open the door to Nancy’s room and saw Amber trapped inside with her that we realized our mistake. We turned to confront the doppelganger, but it was too late. They were nowhere to be seen.
Panic set over the house as we frantically searched for Susy. It was then through the kitchen window we saw them. Amidst the trees in the backyard stood a group of strange women. Most were in the nude, but the few that weren’t had on odd customs.
Nancy ran outside and collapsed onto her knees, stricken with sorrow. She wailed out at them, pleading for her daughter. “Give her back to me!” she yelled with an intense heartbreak cracking through her voice, the strain of the months leading to this day weighing down her words. The women just stared, emotionless, alien. And a moment later, weaving her way out from between the group, was Susy. They made no effort to stop her, snatch her back. Instead, they let Nancy spring forward and embrace the child. Her tears of sorrow turning to tears of relief as she muttered the words thank you at them. Then they turned around and walked back into the woods once more.
Nancy held her child sobbing in catharsis. I walked over to console them, but offering a helping hand she erupted into a rage at the sight of me. She barked to leave, pushing me towards the door. She blamed everything on us, on the sisters, on the society. I tried to take control of the situation, but she just grew more frantic, throwing things at us, threatening to call the police.
So, I did the only thing I could and left. The Circe Sister followed suit.
I stood outside dumbfounded. The events of the night felt like a bad dream. Foggy, impossible, over too quickly. I thought about returning to the Wilson’s house, but the sound of distant sirens made me think otherwise. I thought, perhaps it was all over? The house did feel different. Susy was reunited with her mother. But now I see that was naive optimism.
“You should keep an eye on this place.” One of the sisters said to me as they turned to leave.
“That’s not her daughter.” Added the second one.”
