⚠️ Content Warnings ⤴
Info
Page contains cancer, drowning, slight sexual detail, and a depiction of suicide. Read at one's own discretion.
To: Agrias Haas
I think it is important to start this letter off with an apology. Obviously, I didn't know your home address until recently, but I went out of my way to find it to check up on you. Even with how much we've been meeting up the past few years, you've been cagey about it. Not that that's an issue, of course. I didn't want to break your boundaries, but everyone back at the craft group is worried about you, Agrias. I asked Milena if she'd seen any sign of you, she hadn't. So, I asked if she knows your address, and she does.
I know it happened halfway across the globe, but the news has spread. Small town and small world, I suppose. I can only offer my deepest sympathy over what happened with your daughter. It sounds like she was struggling a lot, and I can only imagine how you feel knowing your own flesh and blood is no longer with us. You know I don't have children, but I still remember losing my father and sister. It must feel ten times worse.
I can't imagine you feel motivated to do book binding or whatever Milena has planned in the next few months, but write back or call me so we know you're okay. Missing you greatly, dear friend.
From: Eliška Konvalinka
Originally written by Fandom user Biteszadust99, with later editions by Fazbearsecurity
Rewritten, twice now, by Boring Talkings! :4
Theme made by the incredible Moose0!
| Other pages by me | |
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| Levels | Level 2 | Level 11 | Level 13 | Level 19 | Level 22 | Level 25 | Level 38 | Level 41 | Level 74 | Level 82 | Level 100 | Level 106 | Level 111 | Level 120 | Level 134 | Level 145 | Level 174 | Level 179 | Level 185 | Level 196 | Level 206 | Level 208 | Level 222 | Level 320 | Level 368 | Level 369 | Level 370 | Level 371 | Level 421 | Level 427 | Level 445 | Level 511 | Level 557 | Level 587 | Level 600 | Level 602 | Level 603 | Level 605 | Level 606 | Level 607 | Level 608 | Level 609 | Level 669 | Level 713 | Level 790 | Level 812 | Level 910 | Level 948 | Level 998 | Level 999 | Blue Channel | The Middlesorts | The Frontrooms | PA98 | |
| Entities | Entity 1* | Entity 40 | Hypothetical Creator | |
| Phenomena | Phenomenon 31 | |
| PoIs | The Travellers | |
| Objects | Object 22 | |
| Tales | A Late Letter to a Late Friend | Case Closed | J. Doe and His Night With Your Mom | Permission Overwritten | The War For Scene-01.1 | |
| The playground | Click me! | |
The stocky frame and head of curly blonde hair stirred after sixteen hours of deep sleep. Her head pushed into the plasticky but comfortable pillow first, then her limbs stretched and joints clicked. Finally, signifying the woman was fading back into consciousness, she groaned sleepily as her eyelids struggled open.
"Ngh.. Fuck…" The woman grumbled, folding an elbow to rub the sleep from her eyes and drool from her mouth. Though her vision was blinkered by locks of hair, she still made out the room she'd fallen asleep in. She was boxed inside a rectangular room by four, corporate-white walls, a dropped ceiling, and a fuzzy, carpeted grey floor. An office break room with added amenities. She'd been told as such when she was shown it last night.
With a heave of effort, the woman was able to sit upright and dangle her legs off the bed. She yawned and stretched more muscles, willing some energy she did not have. The room was hardly pristine, but in the roughly 30 waking minutes she'd spent in it, she'd already mucked it with her crusty clothes strewn over the carpet in a trail from the door to the pillow.
Though her legs still ached from the walking she'd done, she found the strength to get to her feet and shuffle across the carpet to the circular breakfast bar in the "living quarters". On it, folded up like they'd been pressed, was a new set of clothes for the woman to wear. As she picked the clothes up, as well as the shoes to their right, she noticed the top garment she was given.
A red sweater.
"Why not?! Why CAN'T I!? My friends are going!"
"And you're not. I'm not having you go off to some… ruddy fucking private school. No chance in hell. Not even like your fat ass would fit in a uniform, anyways."
"What the fuck, dad? The tuition is fucking free, at least consider that! There's no other high school in the area, it's Newcastle or… or nothing! Ethan and the others are going!"
"Oh, Ethan, huh? You really want to just jump ass first on the first guy that shows interest in you, huh? Is that it? You are your mother."
"What the fuck?? I don't think of him like that, you're fucking gross! I just want to go to the academy with my friends, that it!"
"Stop whining to me! I'm not letting you go off and get lofty, bright ideas. You're staying here. In Bristol. I'll teach you if I have to."
The woman shuddered as she walked with the clothes, and kept her head up as to not look at the jumper. As self conscious as she felt walking through an office in her current state, she passed through the other door she was told about last night and into a bathroom. Individual cubicles lined the left wall, with sinks embedded in a wall-to-wall countertop on the right. After she set her clothes down by the closest sink, she started to walk to the end stall.
Keeping her head turned minutely left to avoid the long mirror that followed the many sinks, the woman walked by the stalls to the last one. The slightly shoddy work on the ground inside the final stall was apparent before she even opened the door. The amateurish plastering, uneven implementation of debossed tiles, and the clear outline in the back wall where the toilet of the stall used to be all showed the hands of someone unskilled did this work. All done to accommodate the addition of a showerhead, which the woman quickly stepped under.
She closed the cubicle door and turned the hot water tap. Icy cold water sprayed in a narrow jet right onto her forehead, and though she did recoil and scrunch her face, she had no intentions of moving. The water ran down her front, spreading a chill from forehead to feet, but all she did was breathe to wait for the water to warm.
The feeling was not unlike tempting the water at the beach.
"Th-There it is, Jen! The Beach!"
"Yep! Gosh, you're excited…"
"Faster! Please… I want to get to my spot!"
"I need to lock the car, silly…"
…
"Okay, then… Ah— No, don't go too far yet! You don't have a swimming costume!"
"That's okay! I don't want to go into the water."
"You… don't? Huh. Suppose it sounds like your dad to raise a strange girl… Hey, no, I said wait up! Stop running!"
The woman didn't spend a second longer under the nostalgic water than she had to. When her body was suitably clean of the past few days, she turned the tap back and stepped out the shower. Though it took a moment, she quickly found where the towels were being kept—a crudely installed towel ring next to the hand dryers—and wrapped herself in two. One for her body, and one for her hair.
Leaving a trail of water in her wake, the woman walked across the length of the bathroom to her clothes. When she dried her body enough, doing such while facing away from the mirrors, she turned sideways and started to pick through the clothes. It only took a minute before she was clad in black trousers, a boxy shirt, and white sneakers. The red sweater, branded with a nonsensical company name on the back, she left crumpled on the countertop.
She fussed with her hair for a good fifteen minutes next, seemingly never comfortable with how dry she was able to get it. Even when it was rubbed enough to leave her scalp red. She gave up when her head stung like it was given a carpet burn, and looked about the room for any containers that might have a hairbrush.
"Ah." She sighed to herself, realising there were no such amenities. Though she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, it didn't take long for her to realise it was the least of her concerns.
Instead, she turned fully, and looked at herself in the closest mirror.
"God, you still look like shit." She chastised to herself, the corners of her mouth turning in disgust. She pulled her bottom right eyelid down, looking at her bloodshot eyes and the dark circles that surrounded them. Her two fingers tapped down to her fatty cheeks, her narrow mouth, and the lardy padding under her skin that infected the rest of her body.
Using her fingers, as much as they were far too wide to work well as a brush, she started to iron out the knots in her hair. She winced at any little snag, and cursed either at herself or the pain each time. Though her eyes darted away from her reflection, her self in the mirror always tempted a glance back its way. More than once, her gaze returned to her body.
She felt like she was looking at herself in the water again.
"Am I…?" She asked weakly, still hacking up sand from her dry mouth. She felt the compulsion to clear her throat or cough constantly, and nearly spluttered on the grit she inhaled when she spoke again. She crawled away from her shallow grave towards the water, shaking her head and trying to forget what she saw, and caught her distorted reflection in the waves.
"Look at me…" She murmured, bringing her hands forwards to lean closer. The water finally made contact with her skin, licking her gently as the waves pulled back and forth. Whenever the water came in, she saw her face. She was soaked through, that much she could feel, and sand covered her face and stuck in her hair like glue. She noticed a bruise or two, too.
"How am I…?"
Her breathing heavy, she put her foot on the gas pedal and followed Bristol Road until she could no more. She passed the art gallery, watching curious people funnel in and out of the building, and parked the car in the lot designated for the historic lighthouse.
Her legs shaky, and her eyes still wet, she pulled herself out of the car once she parked in whatever empty space she could find. The crapbox spluttered before it stopped, but she wouldn't need to worry about it anymore. It was all somebody else's problem.
She passed the ticket machine for the car park, already getting a handful of eyes from the tourists who were surprised to watch the emotional, unkempt woman stumble towards the Atlantic Ocean. She stopped at the cliff's edge, and although she was several dozen meters above the ground, the ocean loudly lapped on the rocks below.
According to her phone, now sitting forever in the car, the tide was high but receding.
She'd finally be able to escape.
That fact felt more firm with every step closer to the precipice she took.
The woman snapped back to the present when the door out in the break room knocked loudly. Her manic, wide eyes returned to normal with some fast blinks. Her hands, tightly gripping the counter and her hair, unfurled and rested at her sides. Her back straightened so as to not be leaning over the sink.
"Hey! Are you, uh, awake and decent in there? Did you find the showers okay?" The voice, belonging to the same man from the night before, called through into the breakroom. His voice sounded practically underwater between two doors, but she heard him okay nonetheless.
"Uh, yes. Yes!" She replied, speaking louder when she realised the man wouldn't be able to hear her pitiful mumble. She looked back to the reflection, scowled at her teary face, and used the sweater to wipe her eyes before returning to the break room and opening the door.
"Hey, there you are." The man from the day before said, giving the woman a warm but simple smile. He looked a year-or-so younger than her, and wore a pretty simple work suit that looked incongruous with his gelled and trimmed black hair.
"Hi, yeah." The woman said, stifling a yawn but still moving her hand to cover it.
"Still sleepy?" He asked, changing which hand was responsible for carrying a pretty big looking briefcase. It was a shiny metal with a yellow tag on the handle, and would look industrial were it not for its pristineness.
"I… don't know. Have I been asleep for long…?"
"We got you into this room about, uh, sixteen hours ago?" When did you fall asleep?"
"…Sixteen hours ago. I've only been up for an hour." The woman told him guiltily, rubbing the back of her neck. She looked back into the room, mainly to yesterday's and the unmade bed, and seethed. Her guilt worsened when the man looked in with her. "Sorry about the mess, too. I'll clean it."
"We have janitors, don't worry. And… you know, you need sleep and to take things easy. Entering the Backrooms isn't ever light on anybody." The man explained, sighing afterwards and flexing his straining fingers on his briefcase. When the room went silent, the man opted to offer his free hand her way.
"My name's Alex, by the way. In case you don't remember from yesterday. It's nice to finally talk to you properly."
The woman looked down to his hand. Tentatively, and remembering what had happened the past week, she reached forwards and shook it.
"Holly." She said with her best attempt at a smile back.
<Begin Recording at: 11:13>
Date: 31/08/18
Location: Level 4's Base Omega, hospitality centre.
Participants: Alex Patr and Holly Clove.
Holly Clove: Do I… need to wear anything?
Alex Patr: No, no… This device here works sort of like a room microphone. The quality… varies, we usually rely on the transcription device just next to it there to re-check interviews, but it means nobody has to wear or speak into a mic. We can just chat.
Holly Clove: Okay… Cool, that makes sense.
Alex Patr: Nervous?
Holly Clove: I—
Alex Patr: Actually, no… bad question, sorry. Why don't we break the ice a little? Tell me a little about yourself.
Holly Clove: About me? Uh, there's really not much… I do not have an interesting life. Far from it.
Alex Patr: I bet there's something? Here, I'll start. You can just copy what I'll say and insert your own life facts in, if you'd like.
[Alex Patr sat up and cleared his throat. He moved the clipboard and phone from his lap to beside him on the semi-circle sofa he was on. Holly copied his actions, though crossed her legs on the opposing semi-circle sofa instead.]
Alex Patr: My name's Alex Patr. I'm twenty-two years old, and my birthday was four-ish months ago. I'm from Slovakia, but I noclipped into the Backrooms at age seven. I lived with the Capital in Level 11, I'll explain that place to you later, but moved to the M.E.G.—that's this group—two years back. Haven't regretted a thing since.
Holly Clove: You're from Slovakia?
Alex Patr: I'm… not going to pretend like I remember much about it, or can still speak Slovak well, but yeah! Why?
Holly Clove: My, uh, mother's from Czechia. Czechoslovakia, technically. At least according to my, ah… m-my dad. That's what he said.
Alex Patr: Oh, no way! Ever been?
Holly Clove: Uh, no. I can't say I even know much about the place. My mom moved to America, just before Czechoslovakia dissolved, I think. That I had to look up myself. I was born in Bristol, which is in Maine, and specifically I was born in New Harbour.
Alex Patr: Bristol, huh… Never heard of it, unfortunately. What's the place like?
Holly Clove: Eh… It's where I lived? It's rural, empty, and there's not a lot of children. It's literally the basic image when you think of 'rural America', just it had cliffs and ocean, too.
Alex Patr: I'm sure there was somewhere nice about it! What about anything in New Harbour?
Holly Clove: Oh, right. My dad and I… moved out of there. I-It, uh—
"Stop trying to claw your way out of this! I KNOW it all! He fucking told me, Agrias!"
"I am… Sorry!"
“Oh, are you now? Does saying you’re sorry mean you’ve now unfucked him? Huh?!”
“No! But it is, err, is true! Jonas is a nice man! He does not belittle, he does not demand, he is… I would rather he find me on road than you!”
The young girl covered her ears and buried her face in her knees.
"Oh, really? You’d rather have hitchhiked smelling like you did in that home wrecker’s car? I gave you all this shit, and you repay me by jumping on some other asshole’s dick! Is Holly even mine?"
"It was only after child, I make promise! I—"
"Come the fuck on, Agrias. At least say your fuckin' point properly."
"English is ver, uh, very hard! Do not! Please! Thing like this is why I… wanted different! You are different man since we married, you do not… I was never your plan, and you always are sure I know that! I feel like nothing!"
Even through the walls that she knew were thick, even through her hands, their shouting downstairs was deafening. Her father's voice shook the floor like the waves rocked the docked boats in the harbour. Her mother's wavering tone played with her heart.
"Well I don't wanna hear it! I've done so much shit for you, and you've not given a thing back. Who picked you up along Route 1? Who gave you a free fucking house while you found work here? Who fucking MARRIED you to give you citizenship?! Oh, yeah, ME! I DID!"
"And I am thankful, Simon! Please, I… I know I did bad, I regret it, I—
"Not according to fucking Jonas you don’t. Im not taking excuses anymore, I'm going out."
"Again?"
"Thomas and Lewis want to take the boat out and drink. Don’t bring home any more cock while I’m out."
“Simon!”
The girl removed her hands from her ears, though immediately wrapped her arms around her legs. Even through the walls and the floor, she could faintly hear her mother cry.
Holly Clove: I-It, uh— my parents split up before I was old enough to remember anything. My dad then broke his leg in a boating accident, and… we moved away from the coast. Still in Bristol, just inland.
[Holly, during her stuttering, had looked off to the side and to the other couches and coffee tables that surrounded the room she was in. When her knee started to bounce and heel swivel, she launched her hand forwards onto her leg to stop both of them. Alex watched her, and Holly's attention snapped back to him when the springs in his couch squeaked.]
Alex Patr: Had you ever gone outside of Bristol?
Holly Clove: N…no. Look, I'm just gonna cut through this. What's the fucking point these questions? You want to record me speaking about my life for… what?
Alex Patr: Ah! Right, you probably don't remember what we talked about yesterday too well…
Holly Clove: No. I don't. Frankly, I don't like talking about this as it is without it being on a… a box on the internet. Or however it fucking works.
Alex Patr: Hey, that's okay! I get it… What this is for is for my group to understand where you came from, what you like, and what you're good at. We keep it all low-key, though we do record it to listen back on, and we find somewhere for you to live that'll suit you. Does that make sense?
Holly Clove: Can't I just tell you that stuff without me having to gush shit?
Alex Patr: If that's what you want, we can do that instead. Whatever works for you, Holly.
Holly Clove: Then can we just—
Alex Patr: Before you're so hasty, sorry to interrupt you, I want to say why we do this like we do.
Holly Clove: Okay…
[Holly Clove sighed loudly and sunk into the sofa, crossing her arms. Her eyes looked dead-ahead, watching Alex with an unintentionally piercing gaze.]
Alex Patr: I told you yesterday, and I can imagine you've already learned this, but you can't… uh… go home. To Earth, I mean. Once you're in the Backrooms, that's it for the rest of your life.
[Holly shifted uncomfortably in her seat, breaking eye contact from Alex to look at the far wall. The room fell silent afterwards.]
Alex Patr: Uhm— so we do this talk, where you go into as much detail as you want about your life, so you can remember it with someone! It's about as good as we can do without actually having an exit back home.
Holly Clove: Then… I'll be glad to not go back. Bristol sucks ass, a-a-and I… and I escaped it.
[The room went silent again, and Holly's attention only went further afield. She looked to the windows at the far side of the room, gazing into the white curiously. Alex sighed and shuffled forwards until he was half-way off the sofa. Holly's eyes turned to him, though her head stayed pointed squarely towards the windows, and gave him a confused look.]
Alex Patr: Tell me about a place there you liked.
Holly Clove: There isn't one.
Alex Patr: No…? I barely remember Earth, but I can remember a nice place? It was a fountain in the town square I lived in, it uh, wow… It was beautiful. I have a vague memory of climbing into the water once.
[Holly Clove snickered, rolling her eyes at Alex. She sat up and fully turned to face him, and though her face was still stern, her body seemed relaxed.]
Holly Clove: I… Okay. There's a place called Permaquid Beach. A lot of things were called "Permaquid", I think it was the old name for Bristol or… fucking something. Most of the place is cliffs, apart from that one specific place.
Alex Patr: Mhm? What did you like about it?
Holly Clove: Do I really have to do this?
Alex Patr: Not at all, no.
Holly Clove: I… uhm… W-Well, the place was—
"Woah… Ocean!" Holly beamed as she was helped out of the car by Jennifer. Her small, spindly, and pale fingers were different to how Jennifer’s hand was some months ago, Holly just realised. Though she paid it little thought.
"I know, right! Can't believe Simon hasn't taken you to this place yet… It is prime kid material." Jennifer sighed, closing the door behind Holly and putting her hand forwards to stop her from walking towards the beach curiously. "Hey, kiddo. Five-year-olds don't get to walk about on their own, m'kay?"
"Okay!" Holly grinned.
"Good kid." Jennifer said, guiding Holly along the gravel parking lot, past a building, and then through to the "Permaquid" beach. At least that's the name that Jennifer and her dad had talked loudly about.
Holly was guided gently towards the pale, white sand. The sounds of the lapping waves and chatty beachgoers was, while familiar, daunting. People laid on beach towels, sometimes under big umbrellas to shade themselves from the beating summer sun, while others ran or walked or swam. Holly could make out many, many families.
"There's… a lot of people." Holly murmured, glancing up to Jennifer as she rubbed one of her elbows. Her sandals kicked into the sand when she touched down on it, and curiously she looked to the powder that was already clinging to her ankles.
"There is, isn't there… You'll be fine." Jennifer said, putting her hand on Holly's back and patting it gently.
"Okay… The sand is getting stuck to me." Holly complained, raising a foot to try and push the sand off.
"Sand does that, kid! Have you really never been to this beach?"
Holly shook her head firmly.
"Jesus Christ, Simon…" Jennifer sighed. Holly tilted her head confusedly, not knowing what any of the words she said meant. Jennifer just looked back and smiled warmly. "Listen, don't worry about the sand getting everywhere, okay? It'll wash off. Why don't we start walking down the beach, okay? It'll be fun! I think the Discovery Centre back there'll sell sandcastle pales, too, so we can make sandcastles and stuff! Sound fun?"
"What's a sandcastle?" Holly asked innocently.
"Oh, my fun." Jennifer groaned, mouthing a word Holly didn't know and 'Simon' after. "I'll teach you, m'kay?"
"Okay." Holly said, looking ahead to the beach afterwards. She started to take nervous steps forwards, trying not to look at all the other people around her. She was used to being surrounded by people she didn't know, but at least that was during Preschool. The beach was strange and different to that. People wore different clothes, acted jollily, and the ocean tried its hardest to shout over it all in a way Holly didn't entirely like. Though, with Jennifer's hand on her back as a guide, she kept walking.
Holding her hands together as she walked, Holly's eyes kept fixed to the left. The waves brushed against the sand, thinning out before being pulled back, only to then do the exact same thing again. The people and trees in her peripheral started to fade away, even more when she and Jennifer started to walk closer to the waves. Its perpetual calling got louder, and she felt a chill blow against her.
She stopped at the zenith between the water and the sand, and looked out to the deep blue beyond. Everywhere else on the beach she could see the scattering of islands and the other, faraway land across the coast. Though, from where she stood right now, all she could see was the ocean disappearing into the sky.
"Woah…" Holly mumbled in awe as her gaze stayed fixated on the background.
"Hm? You like the view, do you?" Jennifer asked, taking a few steps back from Holly and sitting down on some dry sand.
Holly nodded her head eagerly. When she noticed Jennifer's warmth no longer on her back, which did take a moment, she looked over shoulder confusedly.
"Hey, I'm still here! Sit, kiddo." Jennifer smiled, suddenly sitting up. "Actually… Can I trust you to sit very still here? Just for five minutes?"
"I dunno?" Holly mumbled, but she did waddle to where Jennifer was sat and placed herself next to them.
"Hm. Eh, good enough. Wait here, Holly." Jennifer said, smiling warmly to them. She momentarily shaded Holly from the sun as she got to her feet and quickly ran back the way the pair came. Probably to the building to buy sandcastle pales from, but Holly didn't care. She was too busy looking back to the ocean and the beauty of its infinity.
She pictured being out there, far out into the waves. She grinned.
Alex Patr: Sounds beautiful.
Holly Clove: Oh, god yeah, it is. Was? I don't know the wording, it's not like I can go back.
Alex Patr: It still exists? Did you go there a lot?
Holly Clove: A few times, yeah.
Alex Patr: Did anything interesting happen on any other time?
Holly Clove: Uh… No. Not really.
Alex Patr: I uh… see.
[Holly Clove sighed, shaking her head and deciding to lean back again into the couch. Surprising Alex, if his widening eyes were any indicator, she turned and laid across the couch. Her head settled into the soft armrest, and her hands rested on her stomach. Though staring at the ceiling for a moment, she glanced to Alex.]
Holly Clove: It was just a nice beach with a spot that I… liked. I mean, it was the only proper beach in Bristol, but I still loved it. I came whenever I could, usually only with whatever girl my dad was seeing or fucking at the time.
Alex Patr: Wow. Uh, direct.
Holly Clove: Yeah, well, he wasn't coy about it. Uh— Eventually, when I got my own car, I'd… drive myself there. Usually on quiet weekdays or late at night after my "work".
Alex Patr: "Work"…? What's the emphasis for?
Holly Clove: Don't get imaginative. I didn't get any high school qualifications because of my dad, so I did odd jobs with my car. Eventually that got me doing food deliveries for businesses late at night… basically any day of the week. It was about the only job I could get.
Alex Patr: And your father caused that…?
Holly Clove: He…
Alex Patr: We don't have to talk about it. I know I'm sat like a therapist here, and you laying down really isn't helping the look—
Holly Clove: I want to be comfy.
Alex Patr: And that's fine! Look, we don't have to talk about your father. You won't be seeing him again, so if he sucked like you're making it out to be… He won't be a problem anymore.
For a solid thirty seconds, Holly held her palm six inches above her crapbox's horn. That wasn't to say it worked that well, or if it would even hurry her father along, but at least it would get some of the anger out of her system.
She looked to the trees either side of her, then back to the lone house she was waiting outside of on Long Cove Point Road. The garden, which sloped up to the aged but well built clapboard house, had circles of drystone wall with what looked to be vegetables within. The person who lived here seemed fancy. Certainly outside of her family's league.
She looked forwards through the windshield, momentarily fiddling with her high beams just for something to do. She lit up the houses further along the road, although since the road quickly turned right to follow the coast south that didn't mean much. She fiddled with the lights until the sudden guilt of ruining someone's evening ran through her, and she meekly lowered her hand from the nob.
Then another light illuminated.
"Fucking shit!" Holly exclaimed, her hand slamming on the horn. A sad little wheeze came from the crapbox, but it was still enough to make her father groan.
"Holly, fuck off with that." He bemoaned, his eyes already scrunched from the "bright" car lights in the ceiling. He slumped over both back seats, colliding face first into the canvas bags Holly used to store food inside.
"Maybe knock or call my name, huh?" Holly chastised, watching in the rear-view mirror as her father struggled to sit upright. He seethed in…
He seethed in pain as he sat on the chair, and coughed… violently. His body lurched forwards.
Holly…
Holly asked…
"What happened this time?" Holly asked, turning the ignition key three times to spur the dying 1990s engine to life.
"Eugh, she was a bitch." Her father lamented once he'd finished coughing, sitting back in his seat. He looked uncomfortable. Pained. He looked…
Alex Patr: Holly…?
Holly Clove: I don't want to talk about my dad anymore.
[Holly Clove's breathing was tense and slow. Her fists scrunched the fabric of her shirt tight, threatening to ping off at least two of the buttons. When the room was quiet enough, Holly sat up and moved her legs off the side of the sofa. She was hunched forwards, looking down to her knees and watching the tip of her feet appear and disappear as she swayed them back and forth.]
Alex Patr: Are you…?
Holly Clove: I'm fine.
Alex Patr: You sure?
[Holly's head immediately craned upwards, shooting sharp daggers at Alex. Her features were sharp and contorted into a frustrated scowl. A red ring around her eyes complimented the wider dark bags, giving her a face intimidating enough to make Alex flinch.]
Alex Patr: Okay! I believe you, I do.
Holly Clove: Right… So, are we continuing on with this stupid shit, or what?
[Holly sniffed loudly, wiping her nose with her sleeve.]
Alex Patr: If you want to. Uh, hey, let's change subjects and push my questions along… Looking at the clipboard, uh… yeah. Okay. How about when you entered the Backrooms? What were you doing?
Holly Clove: Uh… I…
Alex Patr: We don't have to talk about that part either, if you really don't want to. What about… after? What's the latest possible part you're comfortable with telling me about?
[Holly shrugged weakly.]
Alex Patr: I can give you a moment to think about it, if you need?
Holly Clove: Don't patronise me.
Alex Patr: Sorry.
[Holly Clove sighed, shaking her head. She collapsed back into the couch cushions and tilted her head to look just above Alex's hair.]
Holly Clove: It… Okay. I know where to start.
Darkness was simple. It didn't ask for much, it didn't question your appearance, it embraced you no matter what. It was reliable like that, Holly felt. Its hug was… tight, though. It started off well enough, but now it was really squeezing her chest. In the black, when her limbs started to tingle, she took in a big breath of…
Holly's eyes shot open and her arms thrashed madly, spurred suddenly into life to claw away at the sand invading inside of her lungs and burning her eyes. It only took a few swipes, but she felt her arms reach the surface. She was barely three inches deep. Though she started to convulse and thrash with the last sparks of energy she had, and felt a new and scarier darkness forming in the corner of her eyes, she pushed and dug her way out to the surface.
In the brief, mad dash to get upright and propel herself to where the air was, she was sure she saw a vantablack figure looming either before her or to the land opposite. Her posture went hunchback far too quickly for her to register it, though, as she struggled to breathe.
For nearly a solid minute, Holly spluttered sand, breathed in the fresh air, and banged at her chest to try and ease the intense burning of grit in her trachea. She almost vomited and fainted more than once, but after a while she was stable enough to take in her surroundings.
"What the fuck…?" Holly croaked, her voice strained and sore from the soft, pale, and—she was now realising—tropical sand. She was knelt on the zenith between untouched sand and deep, turquoise water, the waves coming close to lapping at her bedazzled fingertips but falling just short with every push.
"Where am I." Holly asked in the cadence of a question, though she knew in the back of her mind she wouldn't get an answer. Her eyes, shaking, darted left and right. She was on an island. A very long, sandy island under a tropical, summer sky. She looked down to her hands, which were also trembling, and turned her wrists to look back and forth at her hands.
"No… No!" She cried out, her lungs starting to work overtime as air loudly and quickly cycled through them. She shook her head and cried out, holding the sides of her head as she shuffled back and away from the waves. She screamed as she fell back into the pit she was buried in, but made considerably less noise when the back of her head thunked against something stone.
She moved to rub the back of her head, feeling her hair that was an uncomfortable blend of soaked and clumped together. Probably bound by a mix of saltwater and, well, sand.
Her head turned a fraction to the left, and she spied out the edge of a smooth rectangle of stone behind her. The hand nursing the emerging bump on her head moved back further and tapped the rock, feeling across it as she turned around to look at it.
"I…"
Holly Clove
19/03/95 - 25/08/18
A woman who always pushed through, even for those who didn't deserve it or would never reciprocate. A trooper in all regards.
Lives on through Agrias Haas, her mother from many dimensions away, and her distant friends Jacqueline Steins, Ethan Garner, and Isabel Dulcie. All never forgot her.
Once Holly's eyes were finished parsing over the headstones writing over and over again, something they were stubbornly reluctant to do, her eyes moved to the contents of her purse that had been adorned over the epitaph. The purse itself was sat propped in the bottom left corner, but damp photos of her long-forgotten school friends were stuck with sticky tac along the edges of the stone. That and the medical card she used in the event her father had a health scare. Not that she needed it anymore.
"Am I…?" She asked weakly, still hacking up sand from her dry mouth. She felt the compulsion to clear her throat or cough constantly, and nearly spluttered on the grit she inhaled when she spoke again. She crawled away from her shallow grave towards the water, shaking her head and trying to forget what she saw, and caught her distorted reflection in the waves.
"Look at me…" She murmured, bringing her hands forwards to lean closer. The water finally made contact with her skin, licking her gently as the waves pulled back and forth. Whenever the water came in, she saw her face. She was soaked through, that much she could feel, and sand covered her face and stuck in her hair like glue. She noticed a bruise or two, too.
"How am I…? No, no I can't be. Am I dead?" She asked to the void. Though her knees shook and she nearly fell into the water again, she was able to get to her feet with her arms out wide for balance.
Then she noticed it.
"Huh…?" She mumbled weakly, slowly pivoting on her heel. The mechanisms in her brain, covered with sand though they were, would've struggled to comprehend what she was seeing even in ideal circumstances.
The beach was not a beach at all. The sand did not loop around more land, or even turn. It was a thin, straight stretch of sand in an infinite, nearly static ocean.
One she was alone in, with only her grave for company.
Alex Patr: So the entire level is just a big strip of sand in an ocean? Nothing else?
Holly Clove: Uh, yeah, yeah. Totally. Just the sand and the water… The tide never rose or anything, and the wind was pretty… stagnant. That's all it was.
[Holly shrugged again lamely.]
Alex Patr: Hey, fair enough! Not all levels are good looking… Not at all…
[Leaning his upper body to the side, Alex slid his arm across the sofa and grabbed his phone. With only a small fumble and a rotate, he turned it on.]
Alex Patr: If you don't mind me rewinding just a little bit, uh, how did you access it?
Holly Clove: Access it…?
Alex Patr: Yeah! I assume from one of the early levels? If it's uncomfortable, don't describe the events, just the location. I'll show you images from the database and you tell me which ones fit.
Holly Clove: I don't follow.
Alex Patr: You… Don't? Why not?
Holly Clove: I didn't choose to go there. I only know what an "early level" is from your… pamphlet thing last night. I got to this level directly from Earth.
Alex Patr: That's… Hm. Okay… Not unheard of, but it's odd.
Holly Clove: I assumed… it was a weird place.
Alex Patr: Okay, uh— I'm sorry to do this, but we need to shift gears.
[Alex Patr, after tapping away urgently at his phone for a hot minute, quickly put it aside and smiled awkwardly at Holly.]
Holly Clove: Okay…? Why? What's going on, exactly?
Alex Patr: Oh, boy, how do I explain this easily…
Holly Clove: Just… however you can. You're scaring me a little.
Alex Patr: Sorry. Our group works to find new levels and document them for people, that's our whole thing. I had a quick keyword search of your level there, and I don't think we've discovered it before.
Holly Clove: O-Okay? So you want me to… What, explain it? For your group's ethos?
Alex Patr: If that's okay, yeah. I know it derails things, but it's important. And, speaking out of pocket, it means you don't have to get bogged down with sappy, personal stuff you don't wanna share.
[Holly Clove scoffed and rolled her eyes, but her brief amusement turned into a contemplative nod quickly. She wet her lips, squinted in deep thought, and then looked back to Alex.]
Holly Clove: So I just keep explaining the beach?
Alex Patr: Exactly as you've been doing, yeah. Floor's yours.
Though the reality of her current situation never quite hit Holly, boredom eventually did. She became aware that the water level would never rise or fall, that clouds would never form, and that the sand was all there is. So eventually, after sitting and watching the world pass by her for a long time, she got up to her feet again.
She looked to her left. Then to her right. It didn't make a difference; the trail either way was the same.
She took a step forwards in one way, but hesitated and immediately retracted her progress. The same mental processes occurred when she tried going the other. Her hands rhythmically clasped unsurely, making her aware of the sand agitating the folds of her finger's skin. When she turned back to look at her gravestone, her face crinkled in disgust and her fingers curled into her palms.
It didn't take long for her to pick a direction and follow the sand after that.
In the back of her mind, despite being presented with no evidence, she believed the vista around her would change. Perhaps the sky's basic blue gradient would shift, or the waves would be able to reach her ruined shoes, or the trail would tilt. She kept walking for hours and hours, looking over her shoulder every so often. Though doing such became futile when her gravestone dipped below the horizon.
Her attention quickly moved to the ocean after that, but there was even less to see beyond the yellow. The water only played close to the trail, but beyond that it was almost as still as a glass of water. It reminded her of the beach back home, a thought that made her simultaneously bite painfully on her lip to distract from the memories, and…
"See, dad? It's nice." Holly said as she got out of the car, waiting until the first moment it was shunted into park to launch herself out.
"It's the coast, kid. What else would it be." Simon sighed, grappling the handle of his cane from between the seat and the handbrake. He looked over to his current girlfriend and rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that look."
"She's your daughter, I… whatever." Mary sighed, shaking her head as she got out of the car. She flashed a smile to Holly, who was quick and eager to reciprocate, though her look became rather unenthused when she got the door for her father and helped him exit.
"Wind's not blowing…" He grumbled to himself, taking Mary's arm only until he had his cane on the ground, at which point he used only that to hold himself up. "No wonder it's so hot."
"It's nice! Don't you think it's nice, Holly?" Mary asked, putting her hand momentarily on Simon's back, but she retracted it quickly when he grunted.
"Yeah? It's why I always wanna come here… Can we walk to the beach yet?" Holly protested impatiently.
"Sure, sure… Go on, Holly. Run off. Get some exercise."
"Simon! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"So you're not coming to Lincoln Academy?" Jacqueline asked, leaning back into her towel to watch the glow of the sun underneath the parasol.
"No. I'm not." Holly told her friends in a matter-of-fact tone, her eyes dead-set on the horizon.
"Fuck… That sucks, Holly." Ethan murmured, glancing momentarily to her. She didn't look back, though her scowl did turn sterner when he spoke.
"Yeah." She replied, momentarily glancing back at her friends. They were all looking at her with concern, which made her blush awkwardly and raise her knees to hide herself and the beachwear Jacqueline had got for her from view.
"You made sure to tell your dad the tuition's free, right?" Isabel asked her, scooting closer to her.
"Yes! I've said this a thousand times, I told him!" Holly shouted, making the timid girl squeak and retreat her advance. She copied a body language similar to Holly's, but looked to her other two friends instead of the ocean.
"Holly…" Jacqueline said in a firm, reprimanding tone. Holly sighed and buried her face in her knees, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry, okay? Fuck, I am. I just don't like to talk about this shit. He doesn't want me going all the way to Newcastle, or any fucking city, and he thinks an academy is gonna brainwash me or some shit. I can't go. I just want to enjoy summer break."
"Then… where will you go? Lincoln's the only high school in the area." Ethan asked.
"Nowhere. My dad's getting off his ass for once and filing to home-school me until I'm eighteen." Holly told him, raising her shoulders.
"Is he suited for that…?" Isabel asked, although her tone and expression looked anxious. Not dissimilar from a cat knowing it might be sprayed with water.
"He wants me to get a driver's license now I'm sixteen to chaperone him around instead of learning shit, what do you think?"
Holly parked the car with a heavy, sudden jerk that threw her forwards. She grumbled at herself, turning into frustrated shouts as she fought clumsily with the seatbelt, and eventually got out of the car. Her trainers kicked the two empty cans at her feet on her way out, which collided noisily again as she pulled the quarter-drank eight-pack from underneath the seat.
Locking the car, Holly walked in the pitch black with only her muscle memory and the vague glittering of the ocean to guide her. She almost tripped once or twice, neither time her fault of course, but she sighed with glee as she reached the ocean.
"Oooh, fuck—" Holly grumbled as she came to a sudden stop close to the tides, dropping down and sitting on the damp sand. She leant on the drinks for a moment, but quickly took one out of the plastic housing and cracked it open. When another round of burning and disgusting liquid guzzled down her throat, Holly felt a little better again.
Though her vision was hardly stable, the view of the ocean was clear. The veranda of infinite potential, infinite escape, infinity away from Bristol, it was as tantalising under the moon as it was under the sun.
"This for you, Daaad. Fuck yourself." She called out loudly, raising her half-drunk beer into the air and spilling some on her lap. With her toast to the sky complete, she relished in downing the rest of her can and placing it in the sand next to her. As much as her instinct was to throw it elsewhere.
"Mgh, no, f-ffffhuck off." Holly grumbled as her phone in her pocket vibrated. She reached in with her free hand, struggled with her pocket, and pulled out her phone.
The Contented Soul
Sorry to hear you can't do deliveries for us anymore, Holly! Hope your father recovers.
"What happened this time?"
"Eugh, she was a bitch."
"Never heard that one before… But you've never been thrown out of a woman's house like this. So what the fuck happened?"
"It… When I—
Holly, rage and god knows what else brewing inside of her, shouted and threw the phone away into the ocean and collapsed onto her back. She kicked up sand, no doubt getting much of it in her hair, but she couldn't care less. She didn't need the outside world to disturb her, she just needed her spot.
Although it pained her to know her phone was getting exactly what she wanted.
She wasn't sure how long ago she'd stopped to admire the horizon and emptiness like her favourite spot on Permaquid Beach, but she only just realised she was crying over it. She reached up and touched her cheek, wiping one of her tears away and looking down at the smear on her fingertips.
"Fuck…" Was all she could muster, her face going sour as she flicked her wrist to be rid of the tear. She looked back to the identical road ahead, supressing the worry that she might be looking back the way she came, and squinted ahead. She'd been going for hours without pause, and although the clear sun wasn't relenting, it didn't help the fatigue she felt.
"Huh? No. No, fuck off. Fuck off!" She shouted once she spied something in the distance, shaking her head and taking a step back from the impossibility in the far distance. She racked her mind over the events of the last few hours, as identical as they were, to try and understand when she could've gone back around on herself.
She looked to the way her grave was, squinting tight to try and see if she was making a mistake. Though the wobbly visage of the stone was as concrete and true as it was before. As were… two other stones.
Holly did a double take to make sure that the horizon wasn't playing tricks, or that she was misinterpreting what little she could make out. She started to walk closer, feeling her knees strain and feet struggle to kick through the sand. The closer she got, the more clear it was. This was not her grave. It was three brand new ones.
Though she had a stumble in her step like she was inebriated, she had the determination to overcome her tired legs and reach the first new landmark she'd found. Even though she was starting to guess what they were for before she even reached them.
To get a good, wide look at the three headstones, she walked until she was ankle deep in the water opposite and turned to face the epitaphs. Her hands dropped to her sides and her breathing slowed. Her eyes went from the left one, to the middle one, to the right one. They were all identically laid out, both in comparison to each other and her own, but the minor changes in presentation made all the difference in the world.
Cautiously, Holly approached the one on the right. She knelt before it, just left of the bump in the sand in front of the rock, and read the engraving.
Joseph Arwell
01/11/74 - 25/06/18
A loyal protector for the M.E.G.'s most dangerous core base, and laid down his life so others could prosper.
The final stone in the Arwell family, which has lived in the blue for 102 years. Although the blood lives on in M.J. and A.J. Stanier, as well as many others, on Earth.
"'Earth'…? Oh, fuck me, I am dead." Holly said with a tremble in her voice. She reached forwards, grabbed the belongings of the man that circled the headstone, and flicked through them curiously. First was a nametag with the same name as on the tombstone, a logo of an eagle, and other information about 'levels' and 'entities' that Holly couldn't parse. She flicked past it quickly, and looked instead to the many Polaroids the man must've been carrying upon his death.
Him with an older man whom he looked similar to. Him in empty back lots with people who looked to be his friends. Him celebrating a birthday party in what looked like the innards of an electrical plant. For however strange the man was, he had a life. One that was now over and buried shallowly before Holly's knees.
Out of respect, she put the accessories back exactly as she found them.
With a heavy breath, she looked to the next grave.
Rebecca Cantor
24/09/82 - 24/06/18
A hiker and explorer at heart. One who never got to live the thrill of the infinite worlds she fell into.
Survived by her husband, Johannes Cantor, and the local hiking group she no longer runs. Its members are sure to hike Halti and Ridnitšohkka annually in her memory.
"Worlds…? Fell into?" Holly mumbled confusedly as she looked to the personalisation's around Rebecca's resting place. The main one, a slumped and restful looking hiking bag, she opted not to touch. Though she did take the singular photo and stared into the eyes of the woman who was now dead. She was out on rocky mountain, a gleeful look on her face as she took a selfie over the precipice.
"Maybe I'm… Maybe I'm not dead. I…" Holly mumbled to herself, returning the photograph and looking to the ground before the gravestone. Her hand moved to the sand that she assumed covered Rebecca's body, and although she made a single motion and brushed away some dirt, she quickly replaced the sand and shuffled away.
"N-No. What the fuck am I doing?" She said to herself, feeling an uncomfortable shudder travel up her back. She looked to the waves, to the infinity that stretched forever. She looked to the grave, the final and tiny resting point for all.
"No. I'm not dead. I don't want to be anymore." Holly said, her chest starting to heave in panic. She scrambled to her feet and looked out, on both sides, to the ocean around her. Her hands felt through her hair, and though the sensation felt real enough to prove she wasn't in the soil, it didn't quell her panic.
She took more steps back. The back of her feet splashed into the water. Her eyes, looking around madly, tried to focus on anything else.
She looked to the leftmost grave, the only one she had yet to read. Her voice cracked.
Alex Patr: What did the last grave say?
Holly Clove: I… I… Uhm—
Alex Patr: Holly…? Hey, talk to me, what's wrong?
[With a degree of urgency, Alex got out of his seat, leaving the clipboard and phone behind. Holly was starting to hyperventilate, breathing hard yet sounding like she was struggling for air. All while she gripped the couch tight enough to turn her knuckles white. She froze up as Alex sat besides her, shaking her head.]
Holly Clove: I can't do this interview anymore.
Alex Patr: Then we don't have to! If this is all that's in the level, you've done a great job. You don't need to say anything more.
[Holly's eyes widened, still shaking her head as though the information still wasn't going through.]
Alex Patr: Here. Take my hand, okay? Squeeze it as hard as you need. We just met, but I'm here for you. Whatever you're going through… it's not something you have to go through alone.
[Holly watched as Alex's long, spindly fingers uncurled around his palm which turned face up. With a moment of hesitation, she took his hand firmly in her own. She squeezed hard, making Alex turn his head away and wince, but he kept his resolve strong. He looked down to her hand, and watched the almost violent tremors simmer down. Holly's head lolled backwards, and her free hand ran through her hair.]
Holly Clove: Sorry.
Alex Patr: For… what?
Holly Clove: F-For…
[Holly gently released Alex's hand, who then moved it to between his knees.]
Holly Clove: For probably breaking your fingers. I'm not exactly dainty.
Alex Patr: My hands are just fine… Do you want to wrap up, then? Is that all?
Holly Clove: I don't… know. It's just the final grave, it… it was dedicated to someone who I relate to a lot.
Alex Patr: We don't have to talk about who it was if you don't want.
Holly Clove: No, I… I want to. I want to move on from, uh…
Veronika Fehér
15/03/01 - 24/06/18
A young woman loved by many, even if not by those supposed to care for her. Her choice stands as an example of the failings of many.
She is survived by her colleagues and old friends in the Capital, many of whom will be devastated of the action their old friend felt they had to make.
Alex Patr: So the girl buried there… She killed herself?
Holly Clove: She did, yeah. I mean, I never knew her, I… just saw myself in Veronika at an already bad moment.
Alex Patr: We don't have to talk about it.
Holly Clove: We don't, you're right. B-But I want to. That's what this whole stupid thing is, right? To remember shit because we're never going to see it again?
Alex Patr: Well, yeah, I suppose—
Holly Clove: I've been withholding a thing or two. Uhm, I didn't… I didn't set out to want to talk about it, but I think I should. It'll help your research thing, too.
[Holly Clove cleared her throat anxiously, and watched as Alex Patr offered his hand yet again to her. She took it, this time gentler, and gave it a gentle squeeze for comfort.]
According to her phone, now sitting forever in the car, the tide was high but receding.
She'd finally be able to escape.
That fact felt more firm with every step closer to the precipice she took. Each scuttle forwards brought more eyes, but she didn't care. She had the waves that were quickly coming up beneath her feet to distract herself with.
She looked down when the tips of her shoes no longer made contact with the ground. A few wise people among the curious tourists seemed to be saying something, but Holly couldn't hear them over the welcoming sound of the ocean.
"Fucking shit!" Holly exclaimed, her hand slamming on the horn. A sad little wheeze came from the crapbox, but it was still enough to make her father groan.
"Holly, fuck off with that." He bemoaned, his eyes already scrunched from the "bright" car lights in the ceiling. He slumped over both back seats, colliding face first into the canvas bags Holly used to store food inside.
"Maybe knock or call my name, huh?" Holly chastised, watching in the rear-view mirror as her father struggled to sit upright. He seethed in pain as he sat on the chair, and coughed violently. His body lurched forwards.
"What happened this time?" Holly asked, turning the ignition key three times to spur the dying 1990s engine to life.
"Eugh, she was a bitch." Her father lamented once he'd finished coughing, sitting back in his seat. He looked uncomfortable. Pained. He looked like shit.
"Never heard that one before… But you've never been thrown out of a woman's house like this. So what the fuck happened?" Holly asked as she started to drive down Long Cove Point Road, turning right to follow the road south down the coast.
"It… When I—" Her father mumbled grumpily and reluctantly, crossing his arms. He decided silence was a better option.
"I'm not doing this shit for you again, y'hear? I had to drop my job to pick you up." Holly complained as she kept driving, hunching forwards over the wheel.
"Oh, fuck off, lard ass." Her father chastised, leaning his head against the car window and tilting his entire body into it.
"Whatever." Holly replied absently, though she was quickly made alert to the sound of swiping and clinking metal underneath her seat. "Hey! What the hell?!"
"I know you keep shit under here." He said, followed by a loud cracking of a beer can opening.
"No drinking in my car!" She called loudly, glaring daggers through the rear-view mirror when they were on a straight road.
"My car. I paid for it, bitch." His words were slurred and quickly interrupted by the sounds of deep gulps of beer.
"Wonder who's fault it is that I can't afford a fucking car? Hm? Wanna take a guess while you're two steps away from vomiting all over your shitty leather seats?"
"I don't need yoooouuur attitude, Holly. I've had enough from bitches like you today." He slurred out, throwing the half-empty can between the front seats. Holly ducked her head and almost swerved off the road as it collided with the windscreen and sent fizzy, brown liquid everywhere.
"Are you trying to fucking kill us?!" Holly shouted, slamming her fist on the horn repeatedly to make her father cover his ears and wail like a wounded animal.
"Stop beeping the fucking horn…!" He wailed out. Holly's lips creased with guilt, and she slowed the car down to drive at a leisurely pace.
"Don't need this shit… That bitch kicked me out cus my stuff had blood in it when I finished, don't need this…"
Holly winced in disgust.
"TMI, Dad… But you should probably go to the hospital to get that checked."
Holly had been sat with her knees up by the school's two front doors for an hour, watching the rain cascade down from above with Miss Belmont for company. Holly had her raincoat hood up, although they were protected by the alcove that the door was set into. The pair talked for a little bit at first, though Holly quickly ran out of things to say that weren’t her being worried about her dad.
As she watched the spears of rain crash and splatter against the tarmac, her head perked up when a familiar car started to pull into the car park. The vehicle followed the tarmac, turned left, and parked just before the school's front.
"It's Dad and J-Jenifree!" Holly said with a grin, getting up onto her feet. Miss Belmont gave her a cautious look, though, one that made Holly stop and interlock her fingers worriedly. No teacher had given her a look like that before.
Miss Belmont walked to the car, standing one step before the rain, and watched as only Jennifer got out and walked to her.
"You got my call, right?"
"Is he okay…?"
"I don't know. They've taken him all the way to Newcastle, but it didn't seem good. His leg's broken, and I think his arm isn't doing good either."
"Were you able to speak to him?"
"No, unfortunately not, Emma. The dock was crowded with people, and the EMT's wouldn't allow me to look.
"Gosh… Why'd he go out in a storm like that? I know it snuck up on us, but don't they have weather reports?"
"This is Simon we're talking about. I… Thank you for staying with Holly."
"My pleasure. She's a good kid.
As Holly watched the two, an unfamiliar feeling deep in her stomach began to brew. She froze up when Jennifer looked at her, and only stayed put because the door was behind her as she approached.
"Hey, Holly! How was school today?" Jennifer asked with a smile that Holly felt intimidated by.
"Where's Dad?" Holly asked, hugging herself as Jennifer's look turned forlorn.
"He's hurt himself on his boat today, Holly. He's gone to a hospital a little ways away from here to get better. We'll be able to see him soon, okay?" Jennifer tried to console as Miss Belmont watched on, her hands together.
"Daddy's hurt?" She asked, shaking her head minutely.
"He's okay, I promise. Let's go home and we can talk about this more, okay?" Jennifer offered, though Holly still didn't budge. Eventually, Jennifer offered her hand, palm side up, and Holly reluctantly took it. Jennifer's hand clasped hers, embracing her little hand entirely in a soothing warmth, and started to bring her towards the car.
Holly groaned as she pushed blindly in the direction of the incessant beeping, and ended up knocking her phone off the bedside table. She sat bolt upright as it loudly hit the wood floor, panting and rubbing the crust from her eyes so she could look around her room. Though, of course, it was empty.
The sun was barely gracing the horizon, even in the final throes of summer, but Holly still rolled out of bed and threw on the first clothes she could. A tattered blue jumper, jeans, and some Mary-Janes she struggled to fit in. Cleaner, fitting clothes were available, but they were too far away from the bed to grab.
With a moment of mental preparation, after sitting on her bed for a long while, she went to grab her phone to assess the damage. It only had a small scratch on the front from the fall, now joining a myriad of other little damages.
She made a coffee as the sun cast the shadows of trees through her window, and downed the entire tumbler before the shadows had receded. She dumped the tumbler into the cluttered sink, passed through the dust-covered living room to pick up her coat, and stuffed her phone into her pocket.
Just as she was about to unlock the front door, she craned her head over her shoulder to look back at the living room. To the side of the house that was usually her father's main living space. An area he hadn't occupied for over a year.
She sighed and left the house. The sun beat down gleefully onto her, but it didn't make a difference.
Holly moved to her car, used the fob to struggle the door open, and sat inside. She dumped her phone in the cupholder and her bag on the passenger seat, and switched off the former so it wouldn't distract her while driving. Once upon a time, she'd balance it on the centre console and use the maps app to drive to the hospital, but she knew the way to the hospital by heart now.
As she fought with the ignition and rolled the car out of the driveway, someone tried to ring, but the call went straight to voicemail.
The pot hissed and bubbled with the concoction that Holly had made, spitting out a potent smell of the many herbs and spices she'd thrown into it to add 'flavour'. On their own, thyme and sage and paprika and such all smelt lovely, but they combined to make something ungodly in an already gross tinned soup. One only made worse by the high heat scalding it.
Eventually, Holly poured the big pot of soup between two bowls. She spilt a fair bit from trying to wrestle the heavy pot with weak preteen arms, but eventually she got her cooking split unevenly.
She put a spoon in each bowl and brought them both through to the living room, where her father was passed out. His cane was across his lap, and he lay dormant in front of the idly playing television. While some movie played without him, she stepped one foot over the protruding end of the cane and set the bowl down on the coffee table.
"Ah! Crap—" Holly gasped as her other leg knocked into her dad's cane, making her lose her footing and almost drop her bowl. She careened the cane into her father's stomach, making him splutter and suddenly shoot upright.
"Holly! The fuck are you doing?!" He spluttered, pushing his cane over onto the floor and knocking into the bowl she made for him.
"I was putting some soup down for you! You've been asleep all day." Holly said, turning to face her dad. Her shoulders stiffened, and she ignored the burning pain from spilled soup on one of her fingers.
"Why? You think I can't cook for you myself?" Her father asked with a sneer, one she matched.
"Well you didn't today, so I—" Holly mumbled, shuffling towards the stairs.
"I’ve been tired. What did you make?" Her father interrupted when he leaned forwards, with effort, to look at the soup.
“Soup… I think.” Holly mumbled, looking down at her own still steaming bowl.
“You think?”
"I don't know how to cook. I tried, okay?" She said with a huff.
"Right, well… Good on you, I suppose. You tried." Her father grumbled, using his cane to bring the food closer to him. He looked back at her daughter one last time before he picked up the soup and tried it, making his lips scrunch in disgust. Before Holly turned and ran off upstairs, she could see he kept eating it.
Holly drove slow down the isolated road that led to Mid Coast Hospital, passing the outer parking lots to have a shot at having an spot closer to the building to stop. She found an empty spot close by, picked up her phone and stuffed it in her pocket without looking at the screen, and walked towards the the squat, compound building of the hospital.
When she passed through the automatic doors, she walked over to the receptionist. There were a handful of staff who rotated at the desk, and though she didn't know their names, she did know the faces and the usual reactions they'd give to her arrival.
"Uh, Holly. You got here fast. Good." The receptionist said, switching from looking at his computer to her. She raised her eyebrow at his face, and changed her trajectory from the elevator to him.
"I'm always early?" She said to him, moving both of her hands into her pockets. The receptionist looked at her with a cautious, calculating face, like he was trying to gauge how best to look but had yet to decide.
"Yes, but uh—"
"Oh, good, you are here. You weren't picking up… I'm really sorry, Holly." A doctor suddenly said, coming down the stairs just besides the elevator. He wasn't alone in his descent, though the other staff all went their own way with some urgency.
"Weren't picking up?" Holly asked, her hand starting to tighten around her phone in her pocket.
"We tried to call you, but we all assumed you were already on your way. Your father—"
"What's happened?" Holly felt a pit of dread immediately open in her stomach.
"He passed away about an hour ago, Holly. I'm really sorry. He wasn't brought out of his coma, and he was still on morphine, so it was all peaceful, but he is. I'm—"
Holly interrupted the man again.
"My dad's dead—?" Her voice quivered. She pulled out her phone and switched it on with a shaking thumb. As the doctor started to explain more, she waited for her screen to boot. Sure enough, waiting for her, were about five missed calls from the hospital.
"Listen, uh, I know you must be going through a lot." The doctor said, wrapping up whatever he was saying before that Holly couldn't care to listen to, "but we need you to help sign some things. Obviously, he never had a will, and—"
"I need to go." Holly breathed, stuffing her phone back into her pocket and starting to take some steps backwards.
"Hey! Holly, we need you to stay here. This is important!" The doctor called to her as she turned towards the door out and walked faster. "Holly!"
But Holly had already made up her mind.
Her father, his face thin and eyes wide, stared up at the ceiling without a care in the world. Holly, thinking he was distant and drugged enough to not care, reached her hand out his way.
He pulled his back, pulling the tube for his drip taut.
"What are you still doing here?" He grumbled, his eyes snapping her daughter's way.
"Because I want to go give you company!" She protested, moving her hand back to her lap.
"Why?" He hissed, closing his eyes with a sigh.
"Because I give a fuck?" She retorted back, clasping her hands tight around themselves. She squeezed tight, feeling the rings around her fingers to try and compose herself. "I don't want you alone in here, Dad. Okay? I'm worried for you."
"Why?" He repeated tiredly.
She scowled, though immediately her bottom lip wobbled.
“What do you think happened to Agrias?” He asked weakly, his eyes still closed tight.
“Eh? Mom…?” Holly asked unsurely, making her father roll his eyes.
“You ever met another woman called fucking Agrias?” He asked, phlegm catching his throat and making him keel over forwards in a coughing fit. Holly recoiled, her face creasing with concern.
“Good… Point. But I don’t know. I don’t remember her. She moved back to Czechia, right?” Holly asked, watching her father groan with pain as he laid back down.
“What would that bitch think of me now…” He wheezed out, squeezing his thin and raggedy blanket. Holly tried to reach out again, which this time her father did not fight.
“She’d… be happy you kept me alive and okay, I bet.” She said, tightening her grip on his hand as she felt him tremble and his fingers play with the creases of the blanket. He shook his head to Holly’s comment, and could briefly make out a sheen of watery upset when he opened his eye to look at his daughter.
“Leave me alone. Please.” He requested with as little delicacy as ever, pulling his hand back. Holly, this time, obliged.
Holly's eyes were misty the entire drive back from Brunswick, obscuring her vision of the cars and landmarks she passed on the way back to Bristol. She drove a few miles over the speed limit, which while was something other drivers did all the time, only made her driving that much more dangerous.
Thoughts, dangerous ones, racked about in her mind and swirled like planets around a sun. She hadn't been there to see him go, she hadn't even stayed to see the body or to see him off properly. Despite those thoughts, she still sped past every offramp and intersection of Route 1 that could take her back to the hospital, and continued on the path home.
"Come on, you're free of that asshole. Pull yourself together." She mumbled, shaking her head as she flew past the final intersection in Wiscasset and started to travel the bridge over Sheepscot River. She shook her head at her own thoughts, though, sniffling and huffing on the verge of a panic attack.
He was old and injured and had his dreams dashed four years into moving to his ideal home. Of course he was a bastard. She didn't remember much about when mom was around, maybe she was to blame. He did make it sound like all the faults were rooted in her.
"Fuck off with that, you can leave now. You just…" She said out loud, momentarily glancing out of her window and to the river beyond as the bridge finally touched down onto Davis Island. Although the way was obscured by the curving of the land, she knew the way led out to the ocean. It made her ponder until she was all the way back in Bristol.
She drove down Bristol road, passing by all the landmarks that gradually got more and more familiar the closer to home she got. The empty, lonely home. The roads were clear, but she stopped at each and every intersection, even on green lights, just to postpone the way back. The hospital was no doubt trying to get in contact with her, and soon anyone legal would be too. Would coroners? She wasn't sure. She'd deliberately not paid attention when discussing her father's chance of death.
She stopped on the intersection to Snowball Hill Road, just after the road into New Harbour, and contemplated her decision. She had every intention of turning right and following Snowball Hill to Permaquid Beach, to sit at her spot and imagine escaping. Perhaps by boat or by plane, perhaps to faraway or just to the next peninsula, but now she had that chance and…
She tapped the steering wheel rapidly, looking between the road ahead and the turn right. If she wanted that freedom, she didn't have to go imagine it. Her father was dead, she could drop everything, use the money left behind, and move somewhere new. But she didn't want that either. She wanted… a quiet escape. She wanted the simplicity of what she could see, and to never have to think or feel ever again.
The beach, for as perfect as it was, would not give her what she needed. What she knew she required for years, but could not articulate it until there was nothing else. She had to sit in one specific spot to picture what she wanted, but Bristol had plenty of places where she could get actual results.
Her breathing heavy, she put her foot on the gas pedal and followed Bristol Road until she could no more. She passed the art gallery, watching curious people funnel in and out of the building, and parked the car in the lot designated for the historic lighthouse.
Her legs shaky, and her eyes still wet, she pulled herself out of the car once she parked in whatever empty space she could find. The crapbox spluttered before it stopped, but she wouldn't need to worry about it anymore. It was all somebody else's problem.
She passed the ticket machine for the car park, already getting a handful of eyes from the tourists who were surprised to watch the emotional, unkempt woman stumble towards the Atlantic Ocean. She stopped at the cliff's edge, and although she was several dozen meters above the ground, the ocean loudly lapped on the rocks below.
According to her phone, now sitting forever in the car, the tide was high but receding.
She'd finally be able to escape.
That fact felt more firm with every step closer to the precipice she took. Each scuttle forwards brought more eyes, but she didn't care. She had the waves that were quickly coming up beneath her feet to distract herself with.
She looked down when the tips of her shoes no longer made contact with the ground. A few wise people among the curious tourists seemed to be saying something, but Holly couldn't hear them over the welcoming sound of the ocean.
She closed her eyes and craned her head up. The last step, she already knew, would be the hardest. It was also the only one that would give her results. She pictured the beach, and took a final step. It was the last Bristol saw of Holly Clove before she disappeared into the water several meters below.
[While explaining the events of just days prior, Holly Clove had kept her hand tightly clasped around Alex Patr's. She squeezed it on occasion when moments became particularly emotional, and Alex let her. He had listened intently the entire time, asking little questions here and there to show he was attentive.]
Holly Clove: And then, I… Wound up on that beach. Under my own grave.
Alex Patr: You had a grave, too?
Holly Clove: I… Yeah. Yeah, I did. I was buried in it by… A something. I didn't get answers out of it easily.
Alex Patr: An entity? That's what we call Backrooms animals and stuff here.
Holly Clove: Right, right…
[Holly Clove wiped her face with her sleeve, shaking it of the tears and snot afterwards. She retracted her hand from Alex's gently, resting them both on her knees.]
Alex Patr: I… can't imagine how that must've felt for you. I've lost people, it happens sometimes in the Capital. People can… vanish, and they're basically dead. But losing your, uh… I can't begin to picture how devastating it must feel.
Holly Clove: I keep forgetting how recent it all was. It feels like so much time has passed, b-b-but it… People back home are probably still trying to find my body, huh.
[Alex Patr gently shook his head.]
Alex Patr: We… can refer you to people who can help you grieve. If you're worried you'll ever, uh, relapse into that frame of mind that made you do what you did, I can call up a therapist or—
Holly Clove: That's city shit—
[Holly hesitated, looking down at her knees.]
Holly Clove: Why do I miss him? He sucked. Even now he's dead he still sucked. He could've gone into treatment and been fine, but he… He hated the world so much he'd rather fucking die.
Alex Patr: He was your dad, and you did more for him than he maybe deserved, you're going to feel like shit. It's natural.
[Holly Clove's bottom lip wavered, and she reached to take Alex's hand again.]
Holly Clove: I just wanted him to give a shit about me. I never knew what I was doing, but I was always trying. Never once did he ever show he cared or that he loved me… and now I'll never get that. All the shit I did in my life for him is meaningless. I just wanted…
[Holly's voice wavered as the waterworks reopened. Alex hesitated as Holly began to list, but embraced her gently when he was sure that was what she wanted. He patted her back gently, and waited until she'd calmed herself again.]
Holly Clove: Sorry for derailing this entire thing…
Alex Patr: You haven't done a single thing wrong…
Holly Clove: I fucked up an interview about myself and about this level thing.
Alex Patr: You haven't… It's okay. Would you like to get back on track, though? Perhaps you can talk about how you got out of this level?
Holly Clove: Y-Yeah, yeah! Sure, I can do that.
[Holly exited Alex's embrace and hugged herself. She watched, momentarily confused, as he got up and walked across the length of the room. He stopped at a water cooler, filled up a plastic cup, and brought it back to Holly.]
Alex Patr: Here, you've been talking a long time.
Holly Clove: Thanks…
[Holly took the cup and started to drink the water within hastily, taking big gulps to get as much of it in her as fast as possible. Alex took his spot next to her again as she finished and placed the cup on the table.]
Holly Clove: So… How I got out.
Alex Patr: Yes! Uh, as I said last time, floor's yours.
Holly Clove: Okay, okay… I won't leave anything out this time.
Alex Patr: If you're okay sharing it all, go ahead.
Nate Bails
Reilly Hershey
Satoshi Morita
Dmitriy Frost
Mika Sokolov
Leela Suggs
Although the names were blending together, and the eulogies were always simplistic, Holly found herself remembering the writing on each grave she walked by. They'd started to get more frequent, at least they had in her mind, although Holly was no longer aware of her own deliriousness. She was getting hungry and thirsty, and the determination keeping her legs upright was starting to fade. If it weren't for the names she was cataloguing, she'd think she was going in circles. Although that logical part in her brain quickly started to erode away.
Eventually, Holly collapsed. First to her knees, then to her side. Her eyes, distant and unfocused, watched the water closest to the horizon. As she panted from exhaustion, a theory started to brew in her mind. She wasn't sure for how long, but once her limbs were rested enough to put her thoughts into motion, she got onto her feet.
With careful steps, she started to approach the water. Her shoes, already ruined, welcomed salty water into her crusty socks and worn feet. She shivered, but it didn't deter her, as eventually all of her from the neck down was equally as soaked. When she could hold her head above the water no more, she pushed forwards with her toes and began to swim.
The static ocean water gave her no pushback as she started to swim outwards, although it didn't take long for her muscles to start to burn. In her mind, though, it would be worth it. Either she'd find a way out beyond the sand, or the ocean would actually take her away this time.
Her head turned when she escaped the small waves and transitioned to the static water to watch the strip of sand got smaller the further out she got. Although she began to notice that each swing took more and more energy. Every look back took precious, finite energy away from her limbs.
The horizon ahead remained stagnant. The sand behind became a thin, needle-like strip of yellow. Holly's limbs started to tingle like she was buried again, and eventually her breaststrokes stopped. She lamely kicked her legs underneath the water to try and remain upright, although her mediocre effort made her head often dip below the ocean.
The intense salt of the water burned her mouth, and although it momentarily spurred her limbs to act again, little came from it. She started to cough and splutter at first, but when even her diaphragm became weak, her sudden stillness could almost be seen as voluntary.
"Am I okay with this? I didn't die last time. This feels real. If I die now, I can be free." She pondered as the salt started to burn further into her body. Her eyes widened from the pain, but besides instinctual splutters from failing lungs she did nothing to fight it.
Her right arm suddenly jolted into life, fighting to keep her head above the water for even a few more seconds.
"The people who are buried here. What did it all mean?" She asked to herself as her left arm copied the motion of the right. "'Worlds', 'M.E.G.', 'Blue', 'the Capital', none of that is normal. Where have I ended up??"
Her arms started to give up the ghost. She struggled to spit out the water. She was just about able to turn back to look at the beach, but she had little energy to move forwards.
"I wanted to escape. I was given a chance." She said in her mind. She outstretched her fingers to try and reach the sand, but the possibility of a return journey had sailed long ago.
She gurgled water, trying to push it out of her lungs. All she did was breathe more of it in and sink herself entirely underneath the water.
Already close to death, darkness quickly shrouded Holly Clove's peripheral vision when she slipped underneath the water. The only evidence of her presence on the surface being the final bubbles of air that escaped her waterlogged lungs.
Before the darkness spread everywhere, a long, slender darkness glided over the surface of the water. Two tendrils of ink broke through and tried to reach for her, though Holly couldn't tell if the warmth that came next was the embrace of it or death.
"Please, stop fighting! Why can't you two just—"
"Shut the fuck up, Holly. You're not involved in this."
"THIS! This is why I'm leaving you, Simon! You can't speak to your own fucking daughter like that! You belittle her for everything, you mock her, and the shit you say for her looking absolutely normal? It's sickening!"
"I'll speak to my flesh and blood however I want!"
"Oh, yeah? You will? Holly, you don't have to stay with this asshole."
"He's my dad, Jen… I love him?"
"He treats you like—"
"Stop! If you're going, then just get out!"
"It, uh… was nice knowing you, Jen…"
"I'm sure… Sorry, Holly."
"Got it."
"Got what?"
"Driver's license, asshole. Like you wanted."
"Oh… Right. I'm surprised you got it first try."
"I studied."
"No shit."
"Are you… proud?"
"…Yeah, sure I am."
"I did this whole thing for YOU! Are you at least happy?! Can you be fucking happy?"
"I'll be happy you can finally drive me to places without having to rely on some other bitch."
"So you can be driven to 'some other bitch' instead, right?"
"Stop sounding so accusatory. You got your license, well done, but leave me alone…"
“I… Okay. I’m sorry.”
"No, I'm calling a fucking ambulance. You are in fucking agony."
"I'm not going to a hospital, Holly! Don't you fucking dare!"
"Dad! What the fuck?! You tried to attack me!"
"I'm not letting a bunch of shits in white coats poke around with my fucking body, Holly! I'm FINE!"
"Like hell you are! Please… Just sit down! I'm not fighting you on this, I'm getting you to a hospital. That's the fucking end of it."
. . .
The darkness in Holly's vision stayed stagnant. There was a brief moment, just before it completely overtook her, that colours danced and swirled in a mad rave before everything truly went silent. If her brain wasn't starved enough to the point of near-death, she'd have been completely alone with her thoughts.
Though she wasn't sure why at first, the colour yellow spiralled into life first. A pale yet pleasant hue that surged into her opening eyes while numb tingles echoed across the rest of her body. When she was aware of her senses, her eyes traced the sand forwards until…
She tried to gasp, but the closest she could get was spluttering the last dregs of saltwater out of her lungs. It burnt her insides as she struggled to will her limbs into motion. Before her, not even ten inches away, was the slender form of an alien as black as a sunset's shadow. It was knelt before an open grave with the corpse of a woman to its right, and was etching writing into a headstone using a thin point on the end of its arm. When it finished writing, it lovingly lowered the corpse inside, and covered it with sand.
The creature was at least ten foot tall, with a figure entirely of jet black skin in the figure of a dress. Its arms, though it was difficult to tell with how tentacle-like they were, must've reached to the equivalent of the creature's knees. Though the closest it had, with its chess-piece like lower half, was just a bend in its body that allowed it to sit.
Holly started to pant nervously, finding the sudden spur to try to shuffle away from the creature.
It looked at her. She started to breathe faster.
"No! No no, please!" She called as the creature started to shuffle towards her with the ends of its arms outstretched. Though its face was as featureless as the rest of its form, she could make out round divots where eyes would be, and two slits for air.
Its arms stopped. Its head tilted, though it said nothing.
"I… what are you? Where am I??" Holly wheezed, her lungs still aching and protesting being put to work.
The alien before her gestured with one arm. Its head turned to follow, giving Holly a look at how conical the back of its head was.
"I-I don't understand." Holly told it, groaning as she got onto her feet. She almost fell left, and would've tumbled right back into the water had the creature not caught her with one arm. Its skin felt surprisingly warm.
Despite lacking a face, it looked into her eyes. Holly looked back as best she could.
When it was sure she was able to stand up unaided, it retracted its tendril arm and used it to point to the grave. Holly wasn't sure what it meant, but eventually approached the headstone when it held the pose for a stubborn fifteen seconds.
Neve Laher
26/01/55 - 25/06/18
Someone loved by all. First by her family, then by her pupils. A wise presence who will be missed, even with her community in ruins.
She is survived by those who passed through her home. By those who learnt from her advice or listened to a tall tale. Her knowledge has allowed others to thrive.
"You… You do all of this, don't you?" Holly asked after reading the grave and looking at the singular photo attached. It was of an old woman celebrating with at least 20 children.
The creature gave a singular, slow nod. Holly copied unsurely.
"Why?" Holly asked, her breathing still heavy but at least moderated.
The creature moved the end of its tendril arm to the last sentence on the first paragraph. underlining it and leaving a few chips in the stone whenever its tip brushed the surface.
"The… I…" Holly tried to connect the dots together, and then her mind pictured the first three graves she had seen. Someone forgotten in a fight, someone never found, and someone who… "You do it for people who are forgotten, don't you?"
In a way Holly couldn't articulate, the featureless face lit up. It gave a slow, understanding nod.
"Then I… Am I dead?" Holly asked.
Her saviour shook its head.
"Then where am I?"
Tendrils started to reach out to her, trying to grab her by the sides. Holly, gasped, taking a step back. The alien recoiled back from her.
"Hey! None of that!" She scolded, huffing angrily. The creature gave a slow, understanding nod.
Holly sighed and held her nose, shaking her head.
"Listen," she started, watching the creature and having to tilt her head quite far back to do so, "I imagine you can't speak, so I'm just going to tell you what I think is going on. Okay?"
The creature nodded.
"Okay." Holly nodded slowly, composing her thoughts. "There are… other worlds, right? Like… this is one world, your world, but there are others, right? Your graves mention them, and all these people seem to come from them. Is that right?"
The creature nodded again.
"Are you trying to take me to them…?"
The creature nodded. This time, it also tried to reach out again. Holly took a step back.
"W-Wait!" She gasped, holding her hand forwards. The creature patiently obliged. "Why was I buried? I'm not dead!"
A look of embarrassment formed on its face. One tendril moved to rub its cheek.
"You… Thought I was, didn't you?" Holly asked, sighing loudly when it, yet again, nodded to her. "I, uh… Right. I mean I did want to die, you… You knew that. I'm glad you saved me."
The creature tilted its head.
"Really, I am! I'm thankful for both times! I… Oh, you already know, you wrote it on the grave… How did you know that all that, anyway?" Holly wasn't surprised when she got no response. It shuffled towards her, leaving no trail on the sand underneath its base. It offered its arms forwards.
"Are you taking me to the other worlds?" She asked, hesitant to allow the creature to touch her. Its arms hovered by her sides, seemingly waiting for her approval.
It nodded.
"I.. okay. Uhm, yeah. Okay." She said, her breathing starting to get heavy again. She looked either side of herself.
The creature tilted its head and could feel her discomfort.
"I-I… You know, I've come to like this place a little bit." Holly said with a small, nervous laugh. "There was a place back home, uh, really just one specific spot on a place back home… and it looked sort of like this. Will I ever be able to go back…?" She asked, shuddering when the creature shook its head.
"Oh. Then I… Then I got out. I escaped." Holly mumbled, looking back to the alien. "I-I, uh, thank you. I know I already said that, but… thanks."
The creature nodded its head gently. It brought its arms in a fraction closer, and Holly decided to raise her arms up to make space. The alien gently wrapped its tendrils around her waist, gave her a chance to look around at the beach once more, and then disappeared with her.
Alex Patr: Then… Then what?
Holly Clove: It… It brought me here. Not here here, like to your base, but it brought me to this office world. I was on my own for a few days, but obviously I… ended up here, met you, and… yeah. You know the rest.
[Holly sighed loudly, looking to her cup and reaching her hand forwards. She tilted the top towards her to look in, and seemed disappointed that it was empty. In response, Alex immediately got up, took the cup, and walked back to the water machine to refill it. He returned just as quickly.]
Holly Clove: Thanks…
Alex Patr: I'm… Sorry all that happened to you. I know it's not much, but I… am basic. I-I don't know what else to say.
[Alex sat back down next to Holly, watching her drink from the cup.]
Holly Clove: It does mean a lot. Thanks for, uh, giving me a chance to speak my mind on things. And I helped you discover a level, too, right?
Alex Patr: Yep! Hey, you know… to leave your mark on the Backrooms on day one, if it is brand new, you do get numbering and naming rights.
Holly Clove: I do?
Alex Patr: It's a small thing, mainly to get people to go out there and find levels, but yeah! Whoever discovers a level first gets to christen it.
Holly Clove: What happens if, like, multiple people discover it at the same time?
Alex Patr: I… don't know.
[Alex pursed his lips in thought for a moment, making Holly momentarily smile as she watched him think. He shook his head after a moment and got up onto his feet, circled the table, and picked his phone back up. When he unlocked it, he handed it to Holly.]
Alex Patr: There is a process of numbering levels that's a little more technical than this, so I can't guarantee that the number you pick will be used for some time or… at all, even. But hey, feel free to look.
Holly Clove: Sure! I… wow. Your numbers go really high. So many of these aren't used, too.
Alex Patr: Tell me about it.
[As Alex sat back down and watched as Holly scrolled the available numbers. She hovered around some of the lower triple digits, and curiously turned her head.]
Holly Clove: I figured the 100 slot would be taken.
Alex Patr: Is it not?
Holly Clove: Nope… I figured if you let people pick any number, they'd want like… the fun ones.
Alex Patr: We do sometimes have to delete old documents or reshuffle them? Is that the number you want?
Holly Clove: Uh, sure! Feels like an honour to actually name something… And I'd like to take the number 100. It was an important place to me, so it gets an important number. Do I get to pick a name, too?
Alex Patr: Here, let's see about that.
[Alex Patr took the phone back, tapping on the free Level 100 slot and filling out a few details.]
Alex Patr: I've reserved the slot for you! I'll need to go in on my end and fill out the necessary information to prove it's a level, which really will get filed onto the PA department, but… There we go. More or less, we're done done.
Holly Clove: Done? Like…?
Alex Patr: We've wrapped up! Professionally, I mean. There's nothing else to talk about with the level, or with you, unless you have anything else you want to bring up?
Holly Clove: No, I don't believe so… But I wouldn't mind talking more? What exactly happens to me?
Alex Patr: You'll have to stay here for a few more days, just while we sort out where to house you. Although I think Level 11 would be the best place. Uhm, let me just—
[Alex Patr reached forwards towards the audio recorder. His hand stopped just shy of the stop recording button, however, and he looked over his shoulder to Holly.]
Alex Patr: Actually, before we wrap up here, I just want to ask… How did you know to find us? I didn't think someone like you would be able to find Base Omega.
Holly Clove: Oh! Well, someone helped me. They weren't part of the whole Level 100 story, so I didn't mention it. I do still get to call this place that, right?
Alex Patr: As long as it's not stuck in pending approval hell forever, yes. Erm, so some random good Samaritan helped you out? I'm not writing any of this down. I'm just curious.
Holly Clove: Yeah, yeah… A uh, just a person. He wasn't too thrilled about me calling him—err, them—mister.
Alex Patr: Did they have a name? Were they aligned with anyone?
Holy Clove: No, no allegiance… No name, too, weirdly. I asked, and they said they were just a traveller.
Alex Patr: Huh… Odd.
Holly Clove: Were they not, uh, part of you guys?
Alex Patr: Nope! Never heard of the name before… Eh, I'll log it somewhere anyways.
[Alex Patr reached forwards and switched off the audio recorder.]
