A Beautiful Dream (aka Asight)
Jan 1, 2019 20:40:53 GMT 1
Post by ThomasQM on Jan 1, 2019 20:40:53 GMT 1
My eye is always watching.
Log before container crash:
The first time I'd met startling loss was 6 years ago. When you attach yourself to a soul, you're indefinitely strung to them. I was stuck at home, rummaging through the fridge when I felt it. A broken string. I didn't identify the who until a friend carefully rang me.
"Hello?"
"Hey, this is Jane," she said, pacing through tears, "your parents passed away during the anniversary."
She stayed on the line for a whole minute while I was desensitized.
"Let me know if you need anything."
"I'll… be fine."
When you're in a state of passive loss, fine loses its definition.
Mom and Dad were out on their twentieth anniversary when they died on that collapsing cruise. The rescuers would later tell me the whole, brutal story, the way another survivor described it.
"There was a subtle noise, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough to be ignored. A far boom. A unfurling crack, much closer. And another. Then the boat swung in one direction, but not the other. It was a full minute before the emergency lights came on then flicked off with everything else as the electric broke. Panicking for the strong instinct of distinct sight and high ground, I climbed up the stairs and onto the terrace, while on-board firefighters stood by and guided me onto a rocking lifeboat. The scene broke on behind me as the cruise screamed, groaned, reverberated, and slowly collapsed at the cause of a bomb and at the cost of eighty lives."
All involved found it anomalous, but the evidence presented was undeceived. A sinking bomb was not much in the depths.
And all that was enlightening compared to the ending my parents received.
Yesterday, I lost Vito. The one who I told all these stories to. He was something of a town legend: spiritually minded, crafty, and a philosopher and scientist in all forms. I grew to love these qualities as he induced me into them. Vito would console us often, and had more wisdom than our parentage would allow for. He doesn't simply disappear along with his boat. There was no other info, and his estate lay disregarded, waiting to become its own legend.
It was almost as if he had wrote up his own disappearance.
We lived in a little town near the coast of Florida. The seas meant a lot to everyone here, and it was usually from 10 feet to half a mile from our backyard. A mellow bay gave us safety from the terrorists of the deep, enough for the occasional floods with minute threats. I regularly attended a local high school off the main road; everyone there knew it was cozy and tried to keep it that way, which I appreciated when I first moved here. Nothing strange has happened until now.
I took a day off from school when Vito vanished. Harrison, my favored teacher, met everyone with solemn eyes in the hall the next day.
"Condolences to all my friends who were close to Vito. He was a novel man, and his work saved the town on multiple occasions."
I had no idea what his work was, but I always assumed it was something this salient.
"Yeah, I'm sure he finally found something down there," Jay replied, snickering at my bewilderment.
Only the locals were buzzing about the disappearance during lunch. Jay continued to theorize with unfounded strength and Dillan skeptically shut him down.
"Did you guys check out his house?" Russell finally piqued.
"No, why?" Jay prompted.
"There's a weird light in it. Like… an eye."
"Yeah.. I saw it," Dillan voiced meekly, "I swear, it's like his ghost or something."
"Eh, the police have probably fully investigated the entire island," Jay continued.
The bell rang and we stood up.
I recall the first time I met Vito across the stretch of land past Collany Road, once branded a park. Mom was taking me for a hike along the beach. Vito was on his way to his boat. My eyes were drawn to it; All the gears and electricity working in tandem beneath the plastic cover fascinated me.
"Max, come on."
"Wait, one second, Mom."
Vito was gruff to say the least, but friendly, as he approached me and his eyes narrowed. His pocketknife, the one he always brought with him, intimidated me in my infancy.
"Hey there."
My mom told me not to talk to strangers but this was a natural "exception."
"Hello"
"Want to take it for a ride?" he knowingly asked with his atypical glint in yellow eyes.
"Yes!"
My mom was busy with the rest of the group she offered to follow. But I was decided and climbed in.
Vito gave me a tour of the vehicle which I struggled to understand; then he revved and the ocean gave way for the two of us. I saw Mom glance in horror before she left my careless view. It was speedy and splashes were frequent and fun, a sort of mix of a small fishing boat and a mini motorboat. The rifts folded by the thickening displacement alongside the boat were mesmerizing, but looking ahead, the trip was made complete by a stunning sunset brushing the staggered trees. Vito's expression softened, and he seemed to realize that this was a special day, too.
I came back to my mom exhilarated, but otherwise safe. I grew to trust Vito, as I matured and found myself talking about life its peculiarities with him more and more. I even took up boating. Sometimes, he'd even let me inside his house to have a shot of beer. Vito had inspiring direction unconditioned to harsh reality. He once told me that life's purpose was defined by its experiences. I took his bearings to heart when I made the heavy choice to put down Fred.
When I learned that I was not alone in this trust, I was jealous, but glad for others, and the network caved in. That was how I found an open heart within two of my only friends.
I habituated swimming across the bay, and even though my phobia of drowning would never dissipate, swimming made it easier. The third time I lumbered onto Vito's dock, voices emanated from his house. Blinking, I knocked on the Gothic door. Vito let me in and attempted an inept introduction, evidently discombobulated by the sudden change of topic.
"Hey Max, this is Dillan."
Dillan emerged in the doorway. I recognized everything but his personality from school: the attuned hair and deep voice.
"…Hi," Dillan continued after an awkward pause.
"Hey," I proceeded.
Vito nodded, "We were just talking about purpose."
I continued in and popped a beer. Dillan was often bored and lacking energy, but being more mature and having a job as well as school, maybe it was the stress wearing down without a hobby to fall back to. I often worried about his future, but we still became friends in the warmth of Vito. It was either dawn or late afternoon that we met, and either the blue or golden hour punctuated our visits.
Later, we were introduced to Alicia in the same matter. She was golden haired and a while younger. She was the one who impelled wood carving in our toolset on the day she brung hers.
"What's in the box?" Dillan satirically entreated.
Alicia pushed a decent rounded mahogany box over. "Why don't you open it?"
He undid the charming little lock and threw open the inset lid.
"…I mean, cool."
I drew around to look at the contents. A full set of chisels, hammers, and wooden chunks of all sizes. Maybe there was more to this.
"Can I try?"
"Sure."
Alicia went through the tools and gave me a brief overview of how they operated on different shapes. It wasn't until she showed her intricately carved piece that I was roused. It was a slender sailboat with embellished sails attached to a tapering pole fixed on the beveled deck.
"This is for you, Vito."
"Oh my goodness… It's beautiful." Vito replied in his best, for once.
I couldn't help but be forever attached to the neat and nifty hobby. Dillan picked it up too, and it was often something we did while talking or thinking.
I bought Russell over one night and found him relishing the tranquil and casual sessions. He started coming as regularly as I did, so we included him in our group.
We also heard rumors of Jay being partaking of it as well, but we never found him. I brought it up with Vito.
"Why does it matter?" he replied.
That was his goto "answer" for anything he wouldn't answer, like how he profited. I learned to tolerate it, and we assumed he worked a remote job as some sort of researcher. We were not far off.
His disappearance made me all the more fond and forlorn of these precious memories. Vito was persistent, and that has never changed. This made the loss easier than the last to deal with. He wasn't something that was essential in day-to-day life and temporary in most guidance, like my parents.
The time the police got back to us and past Vito's relatives if he had any, which I often doubted, they had found nothing. More than that, a good half of their officers also disappeared in the investigation. They quickly suspected victims and looked out for us. I saw the arrest while stepping out of the car. Of course it was Jay. He had a suspicious past with Vito, and I presumed that the police understood the full picture and it was solved. My curiosity was ignited, but justice was served. So I put it all behind me, or I tried.
After class, I was intrigued to see the "ghost" for myself, so I visited Vito's residence. His estate lay on an island away from the mainland. I remember him telling me, "I lucked myself out here, 48k for a big house in front of a pier." But it was so far away from the town I doubted its worth. But I guess it depends on what he does, what he needs out there.
I stepped out of the car, and stumbled through the shallow water. Amidst the foggy darkness, trees, and dusty tables, surely enough, an unnatural light glowed faintly. Blinking, watching, and even moving slightly. I snapped a picture and ran out, creeped by the silent echoes drawing me in.
That night I struggled to sleep, but when I did, a beautiful dream began. Vito and his work filled my mind. He was fiddling on the workbench with an object unknown. But it was throbbing, pulsating, a formless yellow orb. The eye. The walls were of flesh and he was without skin. Gruesome at its raw, but it was beautiful in full. There was no roof, and a spectacular red moon shone overhead above a thin mist roiling the ether. The light rebounded off the bloodied bay, churning with lungs and hearts. I couldn't move. Serene in its own way.
Vito slowly turned around to look me in the eye. My inner mind was transferred into another scene.
Diving deep down, I saw the ghost. The eye. I grabbed it off the drifting ocean floor and lugged it onto the yacht. I was Vito. The orb rumbled across the deck.
"Nice catch, Vito." A man unbeknownst to me said.
"No idea what it is. Be careful with it, it stings." Vito warned.
"You can take it if you want," the man continued.
I awoke abruptly from the lucid dream.
When I arrived at school the next week, things felt different. Maybe it was Jay, but an odd sense I never knew crept into cognition. I went through my classes and it only got worse. During lunch, the locals still conversed about the recent news like normal. But rarely, there was talk of a truly beautiful dream.
On the drive home that day, the feeling strengthened. And while I drove past Ocean View Drive, I realized it stemmed from the bay. The lone island awaited a discovery.
I restlessly went to rest that night. Coming back to school the next day had the same sullen effect. Unnerved and determined by the recent events, Russell slid across from me.
"Did you see the eye?" he asked.
I mumbled positively.
Wanna investigate after school?"
"Sure. I can meet at eight on the beach."
Frankly, I had no idea what the hell was going on. I drove up on Shell Key Shoal around eight, prepared to swim across to the lone pier. Russell appeared already relaxed, utilizing his phone.
"Ready?" I knocked on his window.
He nodded and got out. We sunk into the water, the waves breaking my thoughts. He started paddling and I followed a foot behind his. The quiet splashes were consumed by the increasingly bright light. I only thought of the dream. We kept traversing the magnetic water.
Russell was lagging.
We kept paddling. I thought of the blood and lungs I was wading through. I shut down the thoughts, but they only came back in fuller force.
Russell had stopped and was slowly descending into the depths of the ocean.
They kept coming back.
Russell's lungs. The shining moon splitting its light through the pier.
I snapped out of the daze of the dream. Panicking, I reached out, passing a great tinge of energy crawl up my hand as I pulled Russell back. He gasped and coughed. I hastily swam back to shore and laid him back on the beach.
"Why did you stop?!"
"I-I can't feel! Vito.. he was there.. under…"
"Can you get up?" I ludicrously inquired.
I saw his legs shiver but they never moved.
Quivering, I reached for the phone and dialed 911. Russell would never walk again, and began to often have hallucinations from the event. He forgave me since it was his idea to go out, but I couldn't blame that his parents despised me. The split in our ship.
But now I knew that Jay wasn't the murderer. And I was inclined to think that there wasn't one to begin with.
Russell and I had been friends since elementary. We knew we were lucky to be together so long and that our intimacy would break off one day. I met him back in Kansas: Russell was full of energy and never seemed to have any other friends sticking with him, so I struck up a conversation.
"Hello."
"Hey, what's your name?" he replied warmly.
"Maxwell," I answered.
"Nice. I'll see you around."
"You too!"
That was back in first grade. We rapidly bonded and shared our secrets. My dark, cheerful Labrador Fred became a testament to our friendship.
When he moved off to another town, I begged my parents to let me go. We lived in an apartment, and although decently large, it was never a full house. Our landowner had dementia and deliriously drove us and our fellow tenants a bit mad. When my parents heard the land was even cheaper in the modest town of Florida, we packed up and moved a block away from Russell, managing to keep Fred all the while.
I took a week off from school after the failed mission. I recollected our old memories and stayed inside, away from everything. The third night, I had another dream. I was on a wooden dinghy in sight of Vito's house. The eye shone like a lighthouse, incessantly flaring. Photos cluttered the seats and tables. I reminisced over them; my lost family prevailed through all the prints and it brought back alien memories. The boat drifted and broke as I awoke, lathered with sweat. I activated the lights and rummaged through the fridge. A string cut inside me. I perked up, remembering what this meant.
I stayed awake after that, but nobody informed me of my very own grief.
The direct route to the school was deemed unsafe that week. The officers went door-to-door in the next three blocks, warning about the spreading sickness. The drive petrified the bravest of men, a topic that always brung a ripe discussion. I never see anyone sailing through the bay these days and the boats lining the gulf had vanished long ago. Now it had reached the roads, past the already evacuated homes. The officers struggled to close it off when a junior had went missing, and it was still growing. Even now, a meter of soil past the edge of the perimeter was sickeningly moist. What would they do when it reached the second row of houses?
I found myself lost in another dream that night. I sinked through the bay's clear water and watched Russell drown below me. He struggled upwards, skin ripping off through the torrents of his makeshift current. A light illuminated us from below. It was alluring, and the scene in full was ravishing and flawlessly composed. I woke up without meaning, even though today was the day I was going back to school.
My heart sank that morning as I took the other road and saw the board of missing posters. There were fifteen papers, flapping against the wind, laid out squarely across the bulletin board. I scanned through them all and recognized most. Three nights ago, Russell's profile had been pinned on the weary board. I took a deep, shuddering breath. He was on the first row of houses and couldn't even walk. I thought of heading straight back home but dismissed it.
I walked into school that day and the aura was only bolstered. Russell was gone. Harrison was gone. Jay was gone. It felt empty despite the full classrooms. Those who once recognized me found me different, though not nearly as different as I found them. The once warm coziness became a glacial frigid.
Sometimes I'd still see Russell in his house through his thickly tinted glassy windows, frail and broken. I dismissed the first few occurrences as specific hallucinations, but as it became more consistent, I dramatically realized that what the police described as missing was merely left behind and unable to be picked out. I knew I couldn't go in there without losing myself for nothing, so I stayed away from his block after that. It made me speculate all the more about Vito's "disappearance."
When the police finally realized Jay wasn't partaking in the deaths, they let him out. I awkwardly caught up with him after lunch, eager for answers and a possible course of action.
"Hey." I greeted.
"What?"
"Do you know what happened to Vito?"
"No."
"Do you know anything about Vito?"
"All I know is that he was a local researcher and he found some weird stuff in the ocean."
The lights crackled.
"Where did you learn that?" I asked after the terse interruption.
"He told me, 5 years ago. I left his company since and I guess he found new friends."
The lights went out and an intense cool overcame the left wing. The door stood in between it and the hall, and the silhouetted teacher was portrayed motionless through the framed window. The darkness drove into our thoughts and we ran out through the right door, watching the onset corruption.
"What the hell just happened?" Jay asked, visibly disturbed.
"I don't know; I think the eye reached the school," I replied.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
The emergency lights flickered on and flashed off as the power was lost. I walked back to my car in stunned silence. The authorities weren't doing much to appease the paranormal, and we were all close to being drugged by the expanding perimeter.
The next minute, the school was back to normal. Nobody who was in the left wing recounted exactly what happened, and me and Jay were distrusted, being the only couple left in the hall after the bell. It was like a dream, fading before you remember the specifics, even though you remember it happened.
I went to sleep fitfully. A quarter of a quarter of the town had vanished, and nobody took mind. Except me. The eye was approaching the main road, and the lone island awaited another discovery.
The party the next day remained moored at the school. A simple blackout wouldn't stop a Thanksgiving celebration. Disheveled, I appeared, sticking near the walls with Dillan and Alicia. We helped ourselves to the homemade snacks and strong beers, conferring about the rarities we had witnessed.
"We should do something about Vito." Dillan interrupted.
The music almost cut off.
"We'll need to get to the house to do anything," Alicia said.
We left it loose for another few minutes, waiting for any feedback whilst giving none. Dillan browsed through his phone quietly. I imbibed more of the crisp drinks and minutes passed. My mind became a blur.
"Wait, what if -"
"What?" I asked almost too quickly.
"Look at this," Dillan revealed his screen.
The headline blared about a local disappeared sailor and the thumbnail identified his boat. I faintly recognized him and a little spear shot through my heart. Dillan scrolled on and highlighted a sentence. "His boat remains at the pier mysteriously."
"What about it?" I said.
"We could use it…." he explained.
"Ok, and what if we die halfway?"
"Nobody dies, you should know that by now. If the boat stays on, we won't stop." Alicia said after a short silence.
Perhaps there was more to do than simply support the loss. The whole thing was suicidal, but there wasn't really another option. Each of us memorized the commercial code inscribed across the side of the boat, and we agreed to set off in clear skies tomorrow.
I woke up on the pier. Vito stood across from me, surveying the bumbling water. I turned to look at him, his raw flesh without skin. He glanced at me and we wordlessly observed the eye. The intricate shaping and the unworldly shading. Its expanse was lavishing. We watched as Dillan and Alicia joined us, drowning in muted horror. They never came back up. I felt a cord within me and I hooked onto it curiously, then tugged. I grabbed it and pulled myself up, out of myself, out of the dream. The surreal, beautiful experience left me gasping as I held onto the cord, the comforter of my bed.
I met Dillan and Alicia near the fork in the road to the docks.
"Ready?" Dillan waved me over.
I nodded and we walked around the house. Dillan held up his hand, observing for any observers, then signaled to continue. Our sandals clicked suspiciously in unison. After a swift few minutes, Alicia silently pointed to one of the crafts. Engraved were the sacred characters of a lost man. We casually ambled over the beach towards our targeted vessel, sand falling beneath our feet. A small homely, wooden dinghy.
"Do you think anyone will notice?" Alicia asked softly.
"Of course." I nodded facetiously.
I caressed the plastered paint and the history behind it. Then, sliding out of view, I picked the lock. It clicked open after a tense minute of uncertainty. We mounted the steps. There were photos littered across the seats, portraying the love of his little darling and affectionate wife. Dillan cursed; the guilt was unbearable.
"Do you think his family is still alive?" Alicia asked again.
"Of course." I repeated.
"Fucking hell, Max." Dillan grumbled.
I hit the pedal and the craft growled from the weeks of vacancy. I pressed it again and the gas circulated. The boat flew forward, through the small opening and back into the bay. I steaded the swinging bow. The clouds of mist blew over the water swiftly, and our ship swayed to match. The glitter of stars rebounded off the moonlit water, and the eye glowed fiercely against our lambent lantern.
"We're reaching in."
And we were. I felt it, a view into another world. The blood. The flesh. The lungs. I refocused and steered the craft precisely to the pier, fearing I may never be able to reorient it again. The mist floated into my dimming mind. It was all quite beautiful.
Dillan cursed yet again and Alicia stayed quiet, immersed in the scene. Much too immersed. She started choking and time stalled as I had no choice but to continue.
A boom. An unfurling crack. Under the sea, bouncing off the hull repeatedly.
"What the hell is that?" Dillan pressed.
"I have no clue."
The eerie lull heightened as the beach left our view and the pier came into sight. Rain pattered and fluidly dripped off the bevels of our vessel. I accelerated with new confidence and the boat lurched. Time was running short.
The booms frequented. Another crack. Alicia gurgled violently. Then it crashed through the hull, over the deck, and back under the depths.
The chopped boat swung in one direction, but not the other. I stumbled and was forced into the stinging icy water, temporarily restoring my senses and clearing my mind.
"Are you guys -" I choked out.
The scene broke on behind me as the dinghy screamed, groaned, reverberated, and slowly collapsed. I swam forward. Going back was unthinkable now; the shining moon split its light through pier a mere ten meters away.
I lumbered onto Vito's dock and my vision flickered. Not to black, but to a depiction of my sixth sense: one of the dream. The salt water soaked through and dripped off my shirt. I lagged through the mushy grass and towards the house. Towards the sea, where the eye awaited my presence. I lugged open the glassy door, and climbed down the ladder into the clear water.
I dove deep down, into the depths. Where bodies littered and sank to the bottom of the biggest tank. Where an eye is not much. Watching, learning. Running out of breath, I gripped onto its tactile surface. My hands stung and I pulled the glowering orb off the fulgurating floor. I latched onto my yacht's ladder and threw the eye over. It rolled with deep oscillating tremor. Electric. I confronted it. A thin box encased it, amplified it. The energy was colossal, beaming off the windows and dulling all the house lights. Vito sat across from me, believing its beautiful vibrations. His callous figure was diminished but somehow alive after all these weeks. He stared dumbfounded, lost in another world. I stared back.
I made my way into the garage, the blood bathed garage where the roof opened to reveal a sensational moon. I stumbled against the wall, the dazzling wall of flesh. Snagging a hammer, I hauled it back into the entry hall. Vito's ghost lay there, and I swung at it. An unfurling crack. Under the sea, bouncing off the blinding orb repeatedly. The case echoed inhumanly, and slowly crumbled apart. The eye broke open and flung at me.
I excruciatingly opened my skin and ruptured my organs to encase and amplify it. Then I closed myself in the same instant. Vito focused and took his pocketknife, the one he always brung with him, to me. I dodged sluggishly, out of control. He locked his eyes more accurately, and the next time he lunged, it hit home. I fell, stunned, with a literal hole in my heart. My aperture refocused only to be absorbed by the eye.
Vito is sickly and unable to talk, but safe. Russell has died of need. And the eye… I am alive and well, I am recovering from my loss, I am attending school regularly once again..
1. Thread 7 "thoughtprocessor" received signal SIGSEGV, Segmentation fault.
2. [Switching to Thread 0x7fff3adff700 (LWP 840)]
3. WorldObject::GetGridActivationRange (this=0x7fff0e023000) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/game/Entities/Object/Object.cpp:1520
4. 1520 return GetMap()-\>GetVisibilityRange();
5.
6. --- DEBUG: BACKTRACE FULL
7.
8. #0 WorldObject::GetGridActivationRange (this=0x7fff0e023000) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/game/Entities/Object/Object.cpp:1520
9. #6 0x0000000001609e55 in World::Update (this=0x20d0c08 \<World::instance()::instance\>, diff=50) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/game/World/World.cpp:2382
10. #7 0x0000000000ab3faf in WorldUpdateLoop () at /home/3.3.5/src/server/thoughtprocessor/Main.cpp:429
11. #8 0x0000000000aaf4cf in main (argc=\<optimized out\>, argv=\<optimized out\>) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/thoughtprocessor/Main.cpp:334
12. #9 0x0000000000uan2ie in backupPostReddit (this=0x5hdq14 \<ThoughtProcessor::Thought\>) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/thoughtprocessor/Main.cpp:133
13.
14. --- DEBUG: --- STOP
Restarting system...
…and my eye is always watching.
Log before container crash:
The first time I'd met startling loss was 6 years ago. When you attach yourself to a soul, you're indefinitely strung to them. I was stuck at home, rummaging through the fridge when I felt it. A broken string. I didn't identify the who until a friend carefully rang me.
"Hello?"
"Hey, this is Jane," she said, pacing through tears, "your parents passed away during the anniversary."
She stayed on the line for a whole minute while I was desensitized.
"Let me know if you need anything."
"I'll… be fine."
When you're in a state of passive loss, fine loses its definition.
Mom and Dad were out on their twentieth anniversary when they died on that collapsing cruise. The rescuers would later tell me the whole, brutal story, the way another survivor described it.
"There was a subtle noise, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough to be ignored. A far boom. A unfurling crack, much closer. And another. Then the boat swung in one direction, but not the other. It was a full minute before the emergency lights came on then flicked off with everything else as the electric broke. Panicking for the strong instinct of distinct sight and high ground, I climbed up the stairs and onto the terrace, while on-board firefighters stood by and guided me onto a rocking lifeboat. The scene broke on behind me as the cruise screamed, groaned, reverberated, and slowly collapsed at the cause of a bomb and at the cost of eighty lives."
All involved found it anomalous, but the evidence presented was undeceived. A sinking bomb was not much in the depths.
And all that was enlightening compared to the ending my parents received.
Yesterday, I lost Vito. The one who I told all these stories to. He was something of a town legend: spiritually minded, crafty, and a philosopher and scientist in all forms. I grew to love these qualities as he induced me into them. Vito would console us often, and had more wisdom than our parentage would allow for. He doesn't simply disappear along with his boat. There was no other info, and his estate lay disregarded, waiting to become its own legend.
It was almost as if he had wrote up his own disappearance.
We lived in a little town near the coast of Florida. The seas meant a lot to everyone here, and it was usually from 10 feet to half a mile from our backyard. A mellow bay gave us safety from the terrorists of the deep, enough for the occasional floods with minute threats. I regularly attended a local high school off the main road; everyone there knew it was cozy and tried to keep it that way, which I appreciated when I first moved here. Nothing strange has happened until now.
I took a day off from school when Vito vanished. Harrison, my favored teacher, met everyone with solemn eyes in the hall the next day.
"Condolences to all my friends who were close to Vito. He was a novel man, and his work saved the town on multiple occasions."
I had no idea what his work was, but I always assumed it was something this salient.
"Yeah, I'm sure he finally found something down there," Jay replied, snickering at my bewilderment.
Only the locals were buzzing about the disappearance during lunch. Jay continued to theorize with unfounded strength and Dillan skeptically shut him down.
"Did you guys check out his house?" Russell finally piqued.
"No, why?" Jay prompted.
"There's a weird light in it. Like… an eye."
"Yeah.. I saw it," Dillan voiced meekly, "I swear, it's like his ghost or something."
"Eh, the police have probably fully investigated the entire island," Jay continued.
The bell rang and we stood up.
I recall the first time I met Vito across the stretch of land past Collany Road, once branded a park. Mom was taking me for a hike along the beach. Vito was on his way to his boat. My eyes were drawn to it; All the gears and electricity working in tandem beneath the plastic cover fascinated me.
"Max, come on."
"Wait, one second, Mom."
Vito was gruff to say the least, but friendly, as he approached me and his eyes narrowed. His pocketknife, the one he always brought with him, intimidated me in my infancy.
"Hey there."
My mom told me not to talk to strangers but this was a natural "exception."
"Hello"
"Want to take it for a ride?" he knowingly asked with his atypical glint in yellow eyes.
"Yes!"
My mom was busy with the rest of the group she offered to follow. But I was decided and climbed in.
Vito gave me a tour of the vehicle which I struggled to understand; then he revved and the ocean gave way for the two of us. I saw Mom glance in horror before she left my careless view. It was speedy and splashes were frequent and fun, a sort of mix of a small fishing boat and a mini motorboat. The rifts folded by the thickening displacement alongside the boat were mesmerizing, but looking ahead, the trip was made complete by a stunning sunset brushing the staggered trees. Vito's expression softened, and he seemed to realize that this was a special day, too.
I came back to my mom exhilarated, but otherwise safe. I grew to trust Vito, as I matured and found myself talking about life its peculiarities with him more and more. I even took up boating. Sometimes, he'd even let me inside his house to have a shot of beer. Vito had inspiring direction unconditioned to harsh reality. He once told me that life's purpose was defined by its experiences. I took his bearings to heart when I made the heavy choice to put down Fred.
When I learned that I was not alone in this trust, I was jealous, but glad for others, and the network caved in. That was how I found an open heart within two of my only friends.
I habituated swimming across the bay, and even though my phobia of drowning would never dissipate, swimming made it easier. The third time I lumbered onto Vito's dock, voices emanated from his house. Blinking, I knocked on the Gothic door. Vito let me in and attempted an inept introduction, evidently discombobulated by the sudden change of topic.
"Hey Max, this is Dillan."
Dillan emerged in the doorway. I recognized everything but his personality from school: the attuned hair and deep voice.
"…Hi," Dillan continued after an awkward pause.
"Hey," I proceeded.
Vito nodded, "We were just talking about purpose."
I continued in and popped a beer. Dillan was often bored and lacking energy, but being more mature and having a job as well as school, maybe it was the stress wearing down without a hobby to fall back to. I often worried about his future, but we still became friends in the warmth of Vito. It was either dawn or late afternoon that we met, and either the blue or golden hour punctuated our visits.
Later, we were introduced to Alicia in the same matter. She was golden haired and a while younger. She was the one who impelled wood carving in our toolset on the day she brung hers.
"What's in the box?" Dillan satirically entreated.
Alicia pushed a decent rounded mahogany box over. "Why don't you open it?"
He undid the charming little lock and threw open the inset lid.
"…I mean, cool."
I drew around to look at the contents. A full set of chisels, hammers, and wooden chunks of all sizes. Maybe there was more to this.
"Can I try?"
"Sure."
Alicia went through the tools and gave me a brief overview of how they operated on different shapes. It wasn't until she showed her intricately carved piece that I was roused. It was a slender sailboat with embellished sails attached to a tapering pole fixed on the beveled deck.
"This is for you, Vito."
"Oh my goodness… It's beautiful." Vito replied in his best, for once.
I couldn't help but be forever attached to the neat and nifty hobby. Dillan picked it up too, and it was often something we did while talking or thinking.
I bought Russell over one night and found him relishing the tranquil and casual sessions. He started coming as regularly as I did, so we included him in our group.
We also heard rumors of Jay being partaking of it as well, but we never found him. I brought it up with Vito.
"Why does it matter?" he replied.
That was his goto "answer" for anything he wouldn't answer, like how he profited. I learned to tolerate it, and we assumed he worked a remote job as some sort of researcher. We were not far off.
His disappearance made me all the more fond and forlorn of these precious memories. Vito was persistent, and that has never changed. This made the loss easier than the last to deal with. He wasn't something that was essential in day-to-day life and temporary in most guidance, like my parents.
The time the police got back to us and past Vito's relatives if he had any, which I often doubted, they had found nothing. More than that, a good half of their officers also disappeared in the investigation. They quickly suspected victims and looked out for us. I saw the arrest while stepping out of the car. Of course it was Jay. He had a suspicious past with Vito, and I presumed that the police understood the full picture and it was solved. My curiosity was ignited, but justice was served. So I put it all behind me, or I tried.
After class, I was intrigued to see the "ghost" for myself, so I visited Vito's residence. His estate lay on an island away from the mainland. I remember him telling me, "I lucked myself out here, 48k for a big house in front of a pier." But it was so far away from the town I doubted its worth. But I guess it depends on what he does, what he needs out there.
I stepped out of the car, and stumbled through the shallow water. Amidst the foggy darkness, trees, and dusty tables, surely enough, an unnatural light glowed faintly. Blinking, watching, and even moving slightly. I snapped a picture and ran out, creeped by the silent echoes drawing me in.
That night I struggled to sleep, but when I did, a beautiful dream began. Vito and his work filled my mind. He was fiddling on the workbench with an object unknown. But it was throbbing, pulsating, a formless yellow orb. The eye. The walls were of flesh and he was without skin. Gruesome at its raw, but it was beautiful in full. There was no roof, and a spectacular red moon shone overhead above a thin mist roiling the ether. The light rebounded off the bloodied bay, churning with lungs and hearts. I couldn't move. Serene in its own way.
Vito slowly turned around to look me in the eye. My inner mind was transferred into another scene.
Diving deep down, I saw the ghost. The eye. I grabbed it off the drifting ocean floor and lugged it onto the yacht. I was Vito. The orb rumbled across the deck.
"Nice catch, Vito." A man unbeknownst to me said.
"No idea what it is. Be careful with it, it stings." Vito warned.
"You can take it if you want," the man continued.
I awoke abruptly from the lucid dream.
When I arrived at school the next week, things felt different. Maybe it was Jay, but an odd sense I never knew crept into cognition. I went through my classes and it only got worse. During lunch, the locals still conversed about the recent news like normal. But rarely, there was talk of a truly beautiful dream.
On the drive home that day, the feeling strengthened. And while I drove past Ocean View Drive, I realized it stemmed from the bay. The lone island awaited a discovery.
I restlessly went to rest that night. Coming back to school the next day had the same sullen effect. Unnerved and determined by the recent events, Russell slid across from me.
"Did you see the eye?" he asked.
I mumbled positively.
Wanna investigate after school?"
"Sure. I can meet at eight on the beach."
Frankly, I had no idea what the hell was going on. I drove up on Shell Key Shoal around eight, prepared to swim across to the lone pier. Russell appeared already relaxed, utilizing his phone.
"Ready?" I knocked on his window.
He nodded and got out. We sunk into the water, the waves breaking my thoughts. He started paddling and I followed a foot behind his. The quiet splashes were consumed by the increasingly bright light. I only thought of the dream. We kept traversing the magnetic water.
Russell was lagging.
We kept paddling. I thought of the blood and lungs I was wading through. I shut down the thoughts, but they only came back in fuller force.
Russell had stopped and was slowly descending into the depths of the ocean.
They kept coming back.
Russell's lungs. The shining moon splitting its light through the pier.
I snapped out of the daze of the dream. Panicking, I reached out, passing a great tinge of energy crawl up my hand as I pulled Russell back. He gasped and coughed. I hastily swam back to shore and laid him back on the beach.
"Why did you stop?!"
"I-I can't feel! Vito.. he was there.. under…"
"Can you get up?" I ludicrously inquired.
I saw his legs shiver but they never moved.
Quivering, I reached for the phone and dialed 911. Russell would never walk again, and began to often have hallucinations from the event. He forgave me since it was his idea to go out, but I couldn't blame that his parents despised me. The split in our ship.
But now I knew that Jay wasn't the murderer. And I was inclined to think that there wasn't one to begin with.
Russell and I had been friends since elementary. We knew we were lucky to be together so long and that our intimacy would break off one day. I met him back in Kansas: Russell was full of energy and never seemed to have any other friends sticking with him, so I struck up a conversation.
"Hello."
"Hey, what's your name?" he replied warmly.
"Maxwell," I answered.
"Nice. I'll see you around."
"You too!"
That was back in first grade. We rapidly bonded and shared our secrets. My dark, cheerful Labrador Fred became a testament to our friendship.
When he moved off to another town, I begged my parents to let me go. We lived in an apartment, and although decently large, it was never a full house. Our landowner had dementia and deliriously drove us and our fellow tenants a bit mad. When my parents heard the land was even cheaper in the modest town of Florida, we packed up and moved a block away from Russell, managing to keep Fred all the while.
I took a week off from school after the failed mission. I recollected our old memories and stayed inside, away from everything. The third night, I had another dream. I was on a wooden dinghy in sight of Vito's house. The eye shone like a lighthouse, incessantly flaring. Photos cluttered the seats and tables. I reminisced over them; my lost family prevailed through all the prints and it brought back alien memories. The boat drifted and broke as I awoke, lathered with sweat. I activated the lights and rummaged through the fridge. A string cut inside me. I perked up, remembering what this meant.
I stayed awake after that, but nobody informed me of my very own grief.
The direct route to the school was deemed unsafe that week. The officers went door-to-door in the next three blocks, warning about the spreading sickness. The drive petrified the bravest of men, a topic that always brung a ripe discussion. I never see anyone sailing through the bay these days and the boats lining the gulf had vanished long ago. Now it had reached the roads, past the already evacuated homes. The officers struggled to close it off when a junior had went missing, and it was still growing. Even now, a meter of soil past the edge of the perimeter was sickeningly moist. What would they do when it reached the second row of houses?
I found myself lost in another dream that night. I sinked through the bay's clear water and watched Russell drown below me. He struggled upwards, skin ripping off through the torrents of his makeshift current. A light illuminated us from below. It was alluring, and the scene in full was ravishing and flawlessly composed. I woke up without meaning, even though today was the day I was going back to school.
My heart sank that morning as I took the other road and saw the board of missing posters. There were fifteen papers, flapping against the wind, laid out squarely across the bulletin board. I scanned through them all and recognized most. Three nights ago, Russell's profile had been pinned on the weary board. I took a deep, shuddering breath. He was on the first row of houses and couldn't even walk. I thought of heading straight back home but dismissed it.
I walked into school that day and the aura was only bolstered. Russell was gone. Harrison was gone. Jay was gone. It felt empty despite the full classrooms. Those who once recognized me found me different, though not nearly as different as I found them. The once warm coziness became a glacial frigid.
Sometimes I'd still see Russell in his house through his thickly tinted glassy windows, frail and broken. I dismissed the first few occurrences as specific hallucinations, but as it became more consistent, I dramatically realized that what the police described as missing was merely left behind and unable to be picked out. I knew I couldn't go in there without losing myself for nothing, so I stayed away from his block after that. It made me speculate all the more about Vito's "disappearance."
When the police finally realized Jay wasn't partaking in the deaths, they let him out. I awkwardly caught up with him after lunch, eager for answers and a possible course of action.
"Hey." I greeted.
"What?"
"Do you know what happened to Vito?"
"No."
"Do you know anything about Vito?"
"All I know is that he was a local researcher and he found some weird stuff in the ocean."
The lights crackled.
"Where did you learn that?" I asked after the terse interruption.
"He told me, 5 years ago. I left his company since and I guess he found new friends."
The lights went out and an intense cool overcame the left wing. The door stood in between it and the hall, and the silhouetted teacher was portrayed motionless through the framed window. The darkness drove into our thoughts and we ran out through the right door, watching the onset corruption.
"What the hell just happened?" Jay asked, visibly disturbed.
"I don't know; I think the eye reached the school," I replied.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
The emergency lights flickered on and flashed off as the power was lost. I walked back to my car in stunned silence. The authorities weren't doing much to appease the paranormal, and we were all close to being drugged by the expanding perimeter.
The next minute, the school was back to normal. Nobody who was in the left wing recounted exactly what happened, and me and Jay were distrusted, being the only couple left in the hall after the bell. It was like a dream, fading before you remember the specifics, even though you remember it happened.
I went to sleep fitfully. A quarter of a quarter of the town had vanished, and nobody took mind. Except me. The eye was approaching the main road, and the lone island awaited another discovery.
The party the next day remained moored at the school. A simple blackout wouldn't stop a Thanksgiving celebration. Disheveled, I appeared, sticking near the walls with Dillan and Alicia. We helped ourselves to the homemade snacks and strong beers, conferring about the rarities we had witnessed.
"We should do something about Vito." Dillan interrupted.
The music almost cut off.
"We'll need to get to the house to do anything," Alicia said.
We left it loose for another few minutes, waiting for any feedback whilst giving none. Dillan browsed through his phone quietly. I imbibed more of the crisp drinks and minutes passed. My mind became a blur.
"Wait, what if -"
"What?" I asked almost too quickly.
"Look at this," Dillan revealed his screen.
The headline blared about a local disappeared sailor and the thumbnail identified his boat. I faintly recognized him and a little spear shot through my heart. Dillan scrolled on and highlighted a sentence. "His boat remains at the pier mysteriously."
"What about it?" I said.
"We could use it…." he explained.
"Ok, and what if we die halfway?"
"Nobody dies, you should know that by now. If the boat stays on, we won't stop." Alicia said after a short silence.
Perhaps there was more to do than simply support the loss. The whole thing was suicidal, but there wasn't really another option. Each of us memorized the commercial code inscribed across the side of the boat, and we agreed to set off in clear skies tomorrow.
I woke up on the pier. Vito stood across from me, surveying the bumbling water. I turned to look at him, his raw flesh without skin. He glanced at me and we wordlessly observed the eye. The intricate shaping and the unworldly shading. Its expanse was lavishing. We watched as Dillan and Alicia joined us, drowning in muted horror. They never came back up. I felt a cord within me and I hooked onto it curiously, then tugged. I grabbed it and pulled myself up, out of myself, out of the dream. The surreal, beautiful experience left me gasping as I held onto the cord, the comforter of my bed.
I met Dillan and Alicia near the fork in the road to the docks.
"Ready?" Dillan waved me over.
I nodded and we walked around the house. Dillan held up his hand, observing for any observers, then signaled to continue. Our sandals clicked suspiciously in unison. After a swift few minutes, Alicia silently pointed to one of the crafts. Engraved were the sacred characters of a lost man. We casually ambled over the beach towards our targeted vessel, sand falling beneath our feet. A small homely, wooden dinghy.
"Do you think anyone will notice?" Alicia asked softly.
"Of course." I nodded facetiously.
I caressed the plastered paint and the history behind it. Then, sliding out of view, I picked the lock. It clicked open after a tense minute of uncertainty. We mounted the steps. There were photos littered across the seats, portraying the love of his little darling and affectionate wife. Dillan cursed; the guilt was unbearable.
"Do you think his family is still alive?" Alicia asked again.
"Of course." I repeated.
"Fucking hell, Max." Dillan grumbled.
I hit the pedal and the craft growled from the weeks of vacancy. I pressed it again and the gas circulated. The boat flew forward, through the small opening and back into the bay. I steaded the swinging bow. The clouds of mist blew over the water swiftly, and our ship swayed to match. The glitter of stars rebounded off the moonlit water, and the eye glowed fiercely against our lambent lantern.
"We're reaching in."
And we were. I felt it, a view into another world. The blood. The flesh. The lungs. I refocused and steered the craft precisely to the pier, fearing I may never be able to reorient it again. The mist floated into my dimming mind. It was all quite beautiful.
Dillan cursed yet again and Alicia stayed quiet, immersed in the scene. Much too immersed. She started choking and time stalled as I had no choice but to continue.
A boom. An unfurling crack. Under the sea, bouncing off the hull repeatedly.
"What the hell is that?" Dillan pressed.
"I have no clue."
The eerie lull heightened as the beach left our view and the pier came into sight. Rain pattered and fluidly dripped off the bevels of our vessel. I accelerated with new confidence and the boat lurched. Time was running short.
The booms frequented. Another crack. Alicia gurgled violently. Then it crashed through the hull, over the deck, and back under the depths.
The chopped boat swung in one direction, but not the other. I stumbled and was forced into the stinging icy water, temporarily restoring my senses and clearing my mind.
"Are you guys -" I choked out.
The scene broke on behind me as the dinghy screamed, groaned, reverberated, and slowly collapsed. I swam forward. Going back was unthinkable now; the shining moon split its light through pier a mere ten meters away.
I lumbered onto Vito's dock and my vision flickered. Not to black, but to a depiction of my sixth sense: one of the dream. The salt water soaked through and dripped off my shirt. I lagged through the mushy grass and towards the house. Towards the sea, where the eye awaited my presence. I lugged open the glassy door, and climbed down the ladder into the clear water.
I dove deep down, into the depths. Where bodies littered and sank to the bottom of the biggest tank. Where an eye is not much. Watching, learning. Running out of breath, I gripped onto its tactile surface. My hands stung and I pulled the glowering orb off the fulgurating floor. I latched onto my yacht's ladder and threw the eye over. It rolled with deep oscillating tremor. Electric. I confronted it. A thin box encased it, amplified it. The energy was colossal, beaming off the windows and dulling all the house lights. Vito sat across from me, believing its beautiful vibrations. His callous figure was diminished but somehow alive after all these weeks. He stared dumbfounded, lost in another world. I stared back.
I made my way into the garage, the blood bathed garage where the roof opened to reveal a sensational moon. I stumbled against the wall, the dazzling wall of flesh. Snagging a hammer, I hauled it back into the entry hall. Vito's ghost lay there, and I swung at it. An unfurling crack. Under the sea, bouncing off the blinding orb repeatedly. The case echoed inhumanly, and slowly crumbled apart. The eye broke open and flung at me.
I excruciatingly opened my skin and ruptured my organs to encase and amplify it. Then I closed myself in the same instant. Vito focused and took his pocketknife, the one he always brung with him, to me. I dodged sluggishly, out of control. He locked his eyes more accurately, and the next time he lunged, it hit home. I fell, stunned, with a literal hole in my heart. My aperture refocused only to be absorbed by the eye.
Vito is sickly and unable to talk, but safe. Russell has died of need. And the eye… I am alive and well, I am recovering from my loss, I am attending school regularly once again..
1. Thread 7 "thoughtprocessor" received signal SIGSEGV, Segmentation fault.
2. [Switching to Thread 0x7fff3adff700 (LWP 840)]
3. WorldObject::GetGridActivationRange (this=0x7fff0e023000) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/game/Entities/Object/Object.cpp:1520
4. 1520 return GetMap()-\>GetVisibilityRange();
5.
6. --- DEBUG: BACKTRACE FULL
7.
8. #0 WorldObject::GetGridActivationRange (this=0x7fff0e023000) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/game/Entities/Object/Object.cpp:1520
9. #6 0x0000000001609e55 in World::Update (this=0x20d0c08 \<World::instance()::instance\>, diff=50) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/game/World/World.cpp:2382
10. #7 0x0000000000ab3faf in WorldUpdateLoop () at /home/3.3.5/src/server/thoughtprocessor/Main.cpp:429
11. #8 0x0000000000aaf4cf in main (argc=\<optimized out\>, argv=\<optimized out\>) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/thoughtprocessor/Main.cpp:334
12. #9 0x0000000000uan2ie in backupPostReddit (this=0x5hdq14 \<ThoughtProcessor::Thought\>) at /home/3.3.5/src/server/thoughtprocessor/Main.cpp:133
13.
14. --- DEBUG: --- STOP
Restarting system...
…and my eye is always watching.