Porcelain

The following document is from a journal found in an abandoned mental facility. Please note that the probability that any of this is real is low, and most likely the result of the patient’s broken mind.

I doubt anyone will believe me,

I doubt any of you who might have stumbled upon this will even care afterwards.

This is my story. I’m writing this down because somehow that thing got in here. I don’t know how much time I have, maybe an hour, maybe a few seconds before it breaks the door down.

It all started the day I bought my first house. I had lived in apartments and flats, but never owned a place of my own. It was a small wood and brick house, and only had 3 rooms and a basement, along with a window and door connecting all the rooms. I was surprised by how low the price was. Apparently the couple that lived there before me just wanted to get the property sold as soon as possible so they could buy their dream house.

But that’s not the point.

When I first arrived, I felt the keys in my hands, cool and smooth. I was teeming with excitement. I slowly slid the key into the keyhole, almost dropping them several times before finally managing to contain myself enough to open the door. The moment the door swung open, I gasped.

The floors were a white carpet, with a small corner of stone flooring for a kitchen. There was an old rotary phone on the wall, and an old black couch. It even had a small island in the middle. That’s when I noticed it, just left behind.

It was a small porcelain rabbit, covered in cracks. Curious, I picked it up, turning it with my hand. It was hollow and smooth, with small pieces of porcelain cracking off in my hand. I gagged, the figure smelled like something dead. Disgusted, I threw it in the trash, and went on moving what little I had into the little house.

Later that night, I had prepared my water mattress, and was just about to get into bed. That’s when I heard it, echoing, like something in the back of my mind.

“Look out the window, I’m coming near.”

I gasped, and gently looked out the window.

Nothing. I brushed it off as my brain trying to scare me, and laid back down onto the bed. Then it happened again

”reach out for the telephone, tell me what you hear”

My eyes jutted open, hesitantly, I walked to the living room,  reaching slowly towards the old rotary phone, reaching it towards my ear. “Hello?” I said.

Then I heard it. Its voice was raspy, and loud enough to hurt my ears, even though the voice sounded like a whisper.

“I’M AT THE DOOR.

LET ME IN.

I’M AT THE DOOR.

LET ME IN.

I’M AT THE DOOR.

LET ME IN…” The message repeated, again and again, piercing through my ears, through my mind, through my very soul. I no longer had any control of my body, but I could feel myself reaching for the door, the handle creaking down as I pushed the door open, dreading what lay on the other side.

I was not prepared for what I saw.

It looked like a man, but he had shining, clear white skin, riddled with cracks. His eyes where like two large holes in his face, and his mouth was pushed out like a snout, filled with sharp teeth, save for the two buck teeth in the center, smiling uncontrollably. It had two long, almost rods sticking out of the top of its head. Suddenly, I passed out, watching as the thing slowly leaned into my face.

“DREAM” it said, its voice, the same cold whisper I heard on the phone.

Suddenly, my vision was black, and I couldn’t see anything except for a little girl staring at me, talking in a clear voice.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, `and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice `without pictures or conversation?’”

she continued talking as I watched on in horror. The more she said, the more she rotted away, as if every word took another year of her life away. I tried to turn away, but found myself unable to. Slowly, she turned to an old woman, and then, she started to decompose, her voice slowly being drowned out by the sounds of flies, I gagged. It all felt so real, I could smell the rot, I could feel the breath coming out of my chest as I watched on with fear. Suddenly, it all went quiet, and everything went black again, until I heard the girls voice again, only now, it was old, lisped, like the voice of an old woman.

“WAKE UP” suddenly, my vision was blocked out for a split second by a bloody skull, its eyes still hanging loosely in its sockets. Its mouth wide open like it was laughing,

Suddenly I jolted awake, breathing heavily. Was it all a dream?

No. No, it couldn’t have been. I was still lying down on the floor, in front of the still open door, letting the cool winter air in.

Thats why I checked myself into the hospital. I told them everything, I told them about the rabbit, about the man, about the girl. I spent the next year in a padded room, completely separated from the rest of the world. I had a total of three nurses, but two of them quickly became patients.

Strangely, they had checked themselves in as well, saying they had also seen the rabbit.

Slowly, the hospital’s funding started to dry up, the food became cheaper, and water became scarce. My nurse, Rebecca, felt it necessary to let me know  that the hospital was probably going to close by the end of the year.

She was wrong, it shut down, crumbled around me in just a night. The head doctor, Dr. Pentalagus, made an announcement over the speakers. His voice sounded strange, like he wasn’t the one saying the words coming out of his mouth. “ATTENTION ALL STAFF AND PATIENTS! WE HAVE A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT FOR TODAY.” I could hear the sound of a record player being set up, and the clicking of a button. Then the music started playing, it all happened within seconds.

“RUN RABBIT, RUN RABBIT,”

The screams filling the halls,

”RUN, RUN, RUN,”

The blood seeping under the door,

”BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG GOES THE FARMERS GUN,”

The relentless pounding on the door, never stopping until the door finally snaps.

It’s too late for me. I can feel it staring at me, its pitch black eyes staring at me from the back. I think I can hear it breathing, its breath flowing down my neck, but I won’t dare to turn around.

Please, if you are reading this, its far to late for me. Save yourself. I don’t know where it could appear next, I don’t know who it could be after, and I don’t know what it wants.

All I know is that it will not stop until it gets what it wants.

END OF NOTE.

Along with the note, a record player with a record of “Run Rabbit” by Flanegan and Allen, along with an old porcelain rabbit figure was discovered in the abandoned facility.