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18+ because I write smut. You'll find naughty stories in various fandoms here. Discourse free unless you're Louise. Icon by dorklyevil!

[hoodoo12]

Tether (18/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

@bjfinn @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun

September 15 2025

I’m eating a black forest cupcake in honor of you, BJ. I don’t think you’ll be reading this but it just felt like I should, idk, write this. And say your name like you said. I won’t forget you. We were thrown together for some reason that I’m not smart enough to understand and I think we did our best. It’s almost 11pm, I’m sitting in front of the window that looks out over Main Street, eating this cupcake and you know what? I’m going to scream your name out the window and up to the sky. My throat hurts now. I really screamed it. This sucks. All this is happening, and for what? We were told about this, recruited into it. Why? So we can be even more scared? Like we were some insignificant pieces on a cosmic chess board being moved against our wills for the amusement of . . . who? What? Why US. I’m sorry BJ. I wish I could have actually met you. I hate that you wrote that you “let everyone down.” You didn’t. If I had tried to deal with this myself I don’t even know what I would have done. Gone literally crazy, I think. No one else seems to notice or care or something. You did. You helped. You made a difference. Thank you for all the time you spent with me. Okay okay okay— Jesus. Writing in this journal has become a habit. I have to get this down. 

Everything went quiet outside. Then this mist, this fog, came in. Wrong time of year, wrong time of day for it. Whatever. That’s not even a blip on the radar at this point. It . . . erased the town. I couldn’t see other buildings or the streetlights or anything. But the Man in Black was there. Staring up at my window. At ME. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to scream your name and call him a fucking asshole and how I hated him, but I couldn’t get the words out. He made this weird little motion with his hand. Kind of a flicking motion. Up towards me. He’d never moved like that before— The next second it felt like I’d fallen into stinging nettles. Instant pain on my face and neck. I rubbed at them stupidly and they came out in my hand. BJ said they look like little shards of glass. He was right. Like when it happened to him, they dissolved too. I can still feel them in me, though. I got marked, just like BJ had been. When I had the ability to look out the window again, the Man was gone. The fog wasn’t though.

I’m writing this fast, because I don’t know how much more time I have

I went to the door. In the time it took me to cross my room (like six steps), the Man in Black had gotten from outside on the street to standing outside my door. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the glass in his mask. I couldn’t see him breathing. He held out his hand, palm up, to me. This is my last entry. It’s important.

If you’ve found this, consider it a curse. For those around you, however, it will hopefully be a blessing. This place is haunted by something sinister. What it is, we don’t exactly know and who we are, well that isn’t important. By the time you’ve found this we are undoubtedly dead, but we’ve used what may be our last moment to make a deal with something we can’t comprehend; a deal which ended in the creation of this journal. It is our understanding that whatever the terror that haunts this place is, it appears only periodically. Once every generation, it emerges from whatever dark pit it inhabits to feed on the fear and panic of the people. And for this, we must believe it has a weakness. Were it to stay here terrorizing us, we may be able to learn how to stop it. But showing up for a fleeting few days each generation, it is always an unexpected and new threat, preying on the unsuspecting and ignorant. That is why we created this journal. In the span of a few days, one cannot alone learn how to stop it, but if we can work together through the barrier of time, the key to setting ourselves free may not be so far out of reach.  This journal will connect you to another point in time. When, exactly, we do not know. What we do know is that the journal will only be found by someone who is in danger. If you have found this, we are sorry. May whoever is on the other side have the clues that can help you survive what you are about to endure.

I know it’s you behind that mask, BJ. I don’t know how you did it or what kind of crazy sci-fi time loop thing you managed to make happen (must have been because you read so much) (or maybe those glass nettles accidently pushed you into this and you did the same to me!) (I’m not angry!), but now this Terror has two people to take the fight to the next two that get this journal. I think next time is going to work. I’m scared, but I’m not. I’m going to take your hand, BJ, and see what happens.  

[hoodoo12]

Tether (17/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

@bjfinn @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun

Sunday Feb 21st, 1993

After reading your last entry, I decided to confront Tom – at first he denied knowing anything about the Terror, but after I roughed him up a bit, he admitted having heard of it. He showed me the newspaper clippings you found – turns out he was hiding them from everyone, because he wasn't sure if they were authentic (though he had a feeling they were).

I asked him if he remembered anything happening 30 years ago where a bunch of people died, but he shook his head and said he didn't remember anything like that. I believe he was telling the truth.

He said he doesn't know anything about what the Terror is or where it's from, but he thinks it's been around since prehistoric times. He also has no clue how to defeat it.

Anyway, I suspect that whatever happens now in 1993 is what drives him to drink.

You know, it wouldn't surprise me if this thing was the inspiration for Pennywise – and for Lovecraft's Great Old Ones.

So now I'm sitting here in my study with a glass of 20-year-old Glenlivet (which I'd been saving for a special occasion, but what the hell, right?), wondering what to do.

I feel like I have all the pieces of the puzzle, but I just can't put them together. No, I'm missing something – I have to be. Some tiny little thing ...

I'm scared, Krista. Khar'zul knows who I am, where I live ... I'm a threat to it, and it's not gonna let me live. I DON'T WANNA DIE. Please let me live.

I'm no hero, I'm just a dude who runs a bookstore.

I've thought about running away, just taking off for New York, LA, London, Paris ... but I can't just abandon everyone in town to save myself. Maybe you were right, maybe this thing needs a sacrifice, and maybe this time it's me.

It's not fair, you know? I'm only 42. Clinton and Gore were just inaugurated! I want to see what the future holds. I want to meet the daughter of Mark and Linda Bloom, who told me just this morning that they're expecting their first child. They didn't understand why I burst into tears at the news.

I wanted so much to tell them about you, Krista, about what an amazing woman you become ... but of course I didn't.

I wish there was someone who could tell me what to do. Where's the Man in Black now? I really could use your help, dude.

I know one thing – I don't manage to defeat this thing, otherwise it wouldn't exist in 2025. And since you don't know who I am, that means that I die. And all memories of me are erased from the world.

But this journal ... this journal exists outside Time, I think. And if so, then it will be the only record of my existence. I need you to remember me, Krista – the only afterlife that I know for certain exists is in the memories of those who knew us.

And remember when I said that names have power? Say my name, Krista. Say my name and keep me alive.

I'm sorry I can't figure out what we need to do – I know I'm letting you down. I always let everyone down. Story of my life.

I can sense it coming for me – it's like an itch in my brain.

I'm scared.

I don't know how much longer I've got before it gets me, so I want to say that it's been a real pleasure getting to know you, Krista Bloom – your parents must be so proud of you! Tell them they raised one helluva badass daughter!

Something is scratching at my back door. I don't think it's a raccoon.

My birthday is on Friday – February 26th. Wish I could be there.

I wish I could have a black forest cake for my birthday – that's always been my fav

[hoodoo12]

Tether (16/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

September 14 2025

I don’t want to meet that thing! Why is it showing itself to you?? All I’ve seen is the tooth and the horn (okay, yeah, the human sacrifice and poor Nitro too) but nothing like tentacles or a giant amorphous blob that shoots stingers at you!

I want to think it’s good that the Terror is scared of us, but . . . but animals get unpredictable when they’re scared. Scared can mean more dangerous when push comes to shove. I’ve seen squirrels fight back against foxes when they’re backed into a corner and have nothing to lose. I don’t know what this thing’s end game is but maybe we just have to wait it out. Hold it off until it has to go back to sleep or whatever.

Do you think that Stephen King got the idea for IT because of this thing?! Here’s hoping not, because I’m scared out of my freakin’ head and there is no way I can just, idk, push it down and not be scared.

I went back to the Mill. I don’t know why. Seems stupid, actually. If the Mill is an eye or a doorway, letting it see me or the possibility of “stepping through” to somewhere isn’t the brightest idea, but I didn’t know what else to do. The door was unlocked but I didn’t see Tom. No, I didn’t try to get down to the foundation! I just looked at all the displays that I’ve seen a hundred times. This time I actually read them, though. I also went through the guest book that’s always out, the one that out of towners sign sometimes.

I flipped it to the beginning and an old newspaper clipping caught my eye. Someone had stuck it in there like a bookmark. It was from the Harper’s Mill Standard, that old newspaper someone was putting out in the town’s hey day, long before my time. The article had one of those old timey tintype photos, and BJ—

It was a couple of men standing near the crossroads, beside the tooth!

I almost sat down it shook me so much. The article said:

Harper’s Mill Standard Est. 1890 Tuesday Edition MYSTERIOUS MONOLITH APPEARS OVERNIGHT ON OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN Citizens Baffled; Authorities Perplexed; Livestock Deeply Unsettled By Horace P. Willoughby, Staff Correspondent Residents of our fair township awoke this Monday morn to a most extraordinary sight: a towering monolith of unknown origin now stands in the north pasture of Old Man Haskett’s farm, where no such structure had been observed the previous evening. The object—if indeed “object” is a sufficient term for so singular a construction—rises some twenty feet from the earth, smooth as polished bone and pale as winter moonlight. Several townsfolk who ventured near reported a faint hum, “like a church organ warming up,” though others insist the sound was merely the wind. Mr. Haskett himself, a man not given to fancy, declared he heard “a low thrumming” in the night but assumed it to be the usual groaning of his barn. “If I’d known it was this thing,” he told the Gazette, “I’d have stayed in bed and prayed harder.” Sheriff Alden inspected the site at dawn and has cordoned off the area, though he admits he has “not the slightest notion” what the monolith is made of. “It ain’t stone, and it ain’t metal,” he said. “Feels cold, but not like ice—more like something that doesn’t care about the sun.” Local scholars have been summoned, though their early statements suggest equal bewilderment. Miss Clara Whitcombe, noted antiquarian, remarked that the monolith “possesses an aspect of great antiquity, yet stands as though newly placed.” She further added, in a hushed tone, that its shape resembles “certain artifacts described in obscure maritime journals,” but declined to elaborate. Meanwhile, townspeople gather at a respectful distance, whispering theories ranging from a prank by rival counties to a sign from celestial visitors. The Reverend Bartholomew has urged calm, reminding parishioners that “not every strange thing is a portent, though many portents are indeed strange.” As of press time, the monolith remains unmoved and unmoving, its pale surface catching the morning light in a manner some find beautiful and others deeply disquieting. Livestock refuse to graze near the site. Birds avoid the air above it. The Gazette will continue to report on this curious development as more information becomes available.

While I was reading it (and, ngl, I thought about shoving the clipping into my pocket and keeping it), Old Tom snuck up on me. Scared the shit out of me too!

He yelled at me when he saw what I was doing. Asked where I’d found that piece of fake news garbage and grabbed it out of my hand. He’d been drinking. A lot. He smelled so bad. But I’m scared and I’m angry, BJ, so I just shouted back at him. I said it didn’t seem to be fake news when this was from fucking 1901 and the same damn thing just appeared outside town! I said that something is happening and no one seems to even fucking care!>

I think I surprised him by shouting and swearing. BJ, he almost started crying.

He blubbered that he knew, he knew that it was “happening again” but there wasn’t anything to do to stop it, it did what it wanted and took what it wanted and we should just not try and fight it. The last time someone did, it made it worse. More people died that time, he said. He tottered off to the little side room that he uses as an office. I thought maybe he’d sat down and passed out, but he came stumbling back. Despite his anger about me finding and reading the clipping, he shoved another one at me.

Harper’s Mill Standard Est. 1890 Monday, April 13, 1936 DOZENS OF TOWNSPEOPLE MISSING AFTER MONOLITH’S DISAPPEARANCE Authorities Launch Search; Families Demand Answers; Sheriff Calls Situation “Unprecedented” By Elias Smith, Staff Writer The strange monolith that appeared on the Haskett farm last week—and vanished ten days later—has now been linked to a far more troubling development: the unexplained disappearance of more than two dozen townspeople, all last seen near the pasture in the hours before the structure vanished. Sheriff Cooper confirmed the missing persons reports early this morning. “We’re treating this as a serious and coordinated incident,” he said. “But I’ll be frank—we don’t have a working theory yet.” Among the missing are farmhands, two members of the Historical Society, several curious onlookers, and at least four teenagers who reportedly snuck past the perimeter late Saturday night. Their families say they believed the monolith might “do something” and wanted to see it for themselves. When deputies arrived at dawn, the monolith was gone. So were the people. No Signs of Struggle The ground shows no footprints leading away from the site, no tire tracks, no evidence of wagons or motorcars. The shallow depression where the monolith once stood remains undisturbed, as though nothing had touched it since its arrival. Deputies found several personal items scattered near the perimeter: a dropped flashlight, a woman’s handbag, a pair of spectacles, and a thermos still warm to the touch. “It’s as if they stepped out of their shoes and vanished,” said Deputy Collins, shaking his head. Town on Edge By mid‑morning, crowds gathered outside the Sheriff’s office demanding information. Rumors spread quickly—kidnapping, government experiments, even talk of a traveling showman with a truck large enough to haul the monolith away. None of these theories have been substantiated. State Authorities Notified Sheriff Cooper has contacted state officials for assistance. A search party is being organized to comb the surrounding woods and fields, though many residents question the usefulness of such efforts given the lack of tracks or direction. A representative from the Historical Society, who wishes to remain anonymous, had studied the monolith before its disappearance, declined to comment at length. “Its disappearance is as baffling as its arrival,” he is quoted. “I hesitate to offer theories. The facts are strange enough without embellishment.” A Community Waiting As night falls, porch lights burn across town, families sit by radios hoping for updates, and the Haskett pasture remains cordoned off—quiet, empty, and offering no clues. The Gazette will continue to follow this developing story as authorities work to uncover what happened on the Haskett farm and where our missing neighbors may have gone.

I asked Tom what those people did when they went out there, but he shook his head. He either didn’t know or wouldn’t say. He just started crying for real and shouted at me to leave. Leave the Mill, leave the town, just get out. I couldn’t agree more, but then as I was beating feet out of there he yelled, “you can’t escape, it won’t let you escape! I can’t get out either!”

BJ, if we fight back against this it’s going to make it worse I think. But we can’t just curl up and let it, or pretend it isn’t happening. Or can we? What can we do to make it stop??

[hoodoo12]

Tether (15/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

Thursday Feb 18th, 1993

Okay, okay, I deserved that – it was reckless and foolhardy of me to go down there completely unprepared. Mea maxima culpa! But in my defense, I wasn't expecting to encounter whatever it was – I just wanted to see if there was any evidence that Khar'zul is connected to the Mill. And I did say I was a dumbass!

Now that that's settled (I hope?), I've been thinking about what you said in your last entry about the Man in Black.

First, the fact that you managed to get some photos of him is amazing! And it proves that he's flesh and blood – or at least not some kind of spectral being. He has form and substance.

You're right about him looking slightly different in each picture, and your idea that it might be because our minds can't fully comprehend what we're seeing fits with Lovecraft's stories about the "Old Ones".

The "plague doctor" outfit surprised me, though – his mask (what I saw of it) was black, and mostly featureless. But that might fit in with your ideas about perception. Is there any reason you can think of that the idea of a plague doctor would be on your mind? 

As far as him looking beat up the second time you saw him, I think that's probably the result of his own battles with Khar'zul – maybe he wanted you to see him like that so you'd realize that he's on our side. After all, if we hurt the Terror, that's to his benefit, right?

And I don't think it would be a good idea for you to break into the Mill – aside from the fact that it would be illegal, it's very dangerous. I've been down there before, as a member of the Historical Society – and I didn't expect to encounter anything, just some clues. And now that the Terror has awakened, it's even more dangerous.

Now, on a lighter note – just in case we should ever meet in the future, I'm compiling a list of weird 21st-century slang that you're gonna have to explain to me ha ha!

Hang on, there's something going on outside – probably a raccoon in the trash can again. I'll be right back.

Holy Mary mother of God.

I ... I think I just saw Khar'zul. And it saw me.

I went out to my back porch with a flashlight (not the one I brought to the Mill – I'd dropped that one when I fell in the water) to investigate the noise I heard – it was no raccoon. It was a long, iridescent black tentacle slithering across my porch, like it was ... looking for something. It was tapered, and the end of it was the size of my fist. From what I could see of the rest of it in the shadows in the backyard, it was bigger than my waist – but I knew that wasn't the biggest part of it.

Then it was joined by a second tentacle ... and then a third, and a fourth, all searching for something. Or someone – me.

I raised my flashlight and pointed it out into the shadows ... there was a ... a gigantic blob – it had to be at least fifty feet high, glistening black, with dozens, hundreds of green eyes all over it. And it had hundreds of tentacles – they were continually forming and ... unforming, being absorbed back into the blob. Like a giant ameba, almost.

It seemed to have legs – at least at the front – and a huge, slobbering maw full of teeth that could have swallowed my entire store, and the whole thing was ... pulsating. I've tried to draw it as best I could, but it's a poor representation – I really can't make sense of what I saw:

art credit: drawing by bjfinn – based on an image found on Pinterest (artist unknown) And it smelled like stagnant water, but way worse – it was all I could do to keep from barfing up everything I'd ever eaten in my whole life.

I stumbled and fell on my ass, and the tentacles rose up and tried to grab me – lucky for me, they missed me, but only just. The blob roared, except the roar seemed to be in my mind – I can't really explain it. But somehow it ... showed me what it was – I don't think it meant to, because it withdrew right away. Almost like it slammed a door shut. But I felt its fear again – it's terrified of us. Of humanity. It knows that we can destroy it. And it knows how we can.

It's been around for hundreds of thousands of years at least, maybe millions – maybe since the pre-Cambrian. It stays dormant most of the time, but every thirty years or so it wakes up to feed, and then wipes the memory of its existence (and the destruction it causes) from the minds of the survivors – although before humans, that wouldn't have been a concern, obviously.

The blob suddenly started shaking like a ... a mountain of blackberry jello, and then hundreds of shimmering things were hurtling toward me. I got away as fast as I could, but a few dozen of them hit me, and it was like being stung by wasps – if I'd been hit by much more, I don't think I could have survived the pain. But I got back inside before most of them reached me.

I went into the bathroom and started pulling the things out of me – each was like a needle of glass, but they dissolved as soon as I got them out.

Each wound is just a pinprick, but I'm gonna keep an eye on them, and if I see or feel any sign of infection or poison, I'll head to the hospital right away.

But now I'm really freaking out – the Terror knows where I live. And it knows that I know that it's afraid. 

[hoodoo12]

Beetlejuice on the West End

For the love of all that is holy . . .

People are complaining that the show--that took forever to get to one of the theatre capitals of the world--isn't going to be exactly like the Broadway production. A few rehearsal videos have been posted on IG.

People are saying:

I have also seen comments about David Fynn not having "the voice" (can that complaint just be put to pasture please? It's so gdamn tediuous) or the energy(?), even though the only things posted right now are 15 second clips from a rehearsal room. Seriously, people. The show is never again going to be OBC cast at the Winter Garden. But it's still going and it's still fun. If you truly so bitter that no one else is Alex Brightman, don't spend your money on tickets and die mad.

Or be happy what you like is still available!

[hoodoo12]

Tether (14/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

September 13 2025

You tell me not to sacrifice myself and then you go rooting around in a slimy, dark underbelly of who knows what at the Mill??? Calling its name??? You were probably climbing on its face and those tentacles (or tongues?? *shudder*) were probably trying to drag you down into its maw or whatever! BJ you’re nuts!! I am glad you’re okay and it certainly seems like the Man in Black was helping. That actually brings me to something that happened here—

I don’t think I’ve seen that guy as much as you have. I’ve been looking for him but outside of a couple of times, he’s not around. I thought maybe he was ghosting me but then he showed up. Like, at my place. Outside on the sidewalk, like he was waiting for me when I walked down the stairs that morning. I snapped a few photos (thank god for growing up in the age of social media—it’s like I’ve been preparing for this my whole life!

This has to be the same guy you see, right? But also tell me that in each of those shots he isn’t exactly the same. Right? I’m using a camera but they’re all slightly different! I don’t know what to think about that. If we’re dealing with an ancient unknown . . . thing  . . . then maybe this guy is too. You said the horn in 1993 is different than what I took a picture of, so maybe all of this is so out of what our brains can process we kind of . . . fill in the blanks to make it make more sense. If that makes sense? One time you mentioned “Lovecraft” so I googled some of his stuff. Not my thing, but it seems like it was, idk, too much for the people in the story? They went crazy. I feel like I’m going crazy.

The guy saw me (obviously) and walked away. Fast. I yelled after him, like you did, and tried to catch him but he always seemed to stay ahead of me. Finally I chased him down another street and was so frustrated and out of breath I stopped, picked up a piece of gravel, and threw it at him. That made him turn around so I got one more photo

He didn’t talk. He just exuded this . . . disappointment. He stared at me, I stared at him, and then I got so freaked out I just turned tail and ran. 

(I know, I know! I should have grabbed his mask and torn it off like I was part of the Scooby gang but I was scared out of my wits!!!) I think you’re right about him wanting to help us. But it would be MORE HELPFUL if he just TOLD us what is going on and what to do!

Anyway, I went to the Mill too, to see if I could sneak down to the foundation. No luck. It was open, but Tom both watched me like a hawk and wanted to talk about the end of the season. He occasionally gets school kids for a field trip in between the summer and winter which helps keep him afloat, but apparently no schools contacted him to set up a visit. Since I was the only person there, he just kept talking. When I got a word in edgewise I casually mentioned wanting to see the foundation. He immediately clammed up and got suspicious, asking me why. I made up some lie about how I’d seen every other part of the Mill except for that, and he flat out told me no. It wasn’t safe and nobody’s allowed down there. Period. So I guess I’ll have to break in if you think I should check the space out. Since I didn’t know what else to do, I went back to the tooth and the horn. No blood or even evidence of blood, thank god. I started chanting what you said ”Khar'zul ash-vokh, Khar'zul ash-vokh” over and over, like I was a damn cultist myself. I hope you’re right about it meaning Khar'zul falls and not something like Khar'zul hurry up and get here!! Because the ground started shaking. Like an earthquake or something! I’ve never been in one so I don’t know for sure. But it was bad. I couldn’t keep on my feet. The thing is, though—I think the tooth is slightly smaller! It sunk back in a little, maybe. You might be on the right track, BJ. 

When I got back into town, I caught another glimpse of the Man in Black. He looked . . . different, this time. More beat up, kind of. Raggedy and kind of slumped. I know he saw me—he looked straight at me—but I don’t know if him being beat up is a good thing or bad thing. He seems connected to the Terror, so if we hurt it, maybe we hurt him too???

[hoodoo12]

Tether (13/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

@bjfinn @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun

Tuesday Feb 16th, 1993

DON'T YOU DARE SACRIFICE YOURSELF!!! DO YOU HEAR ME??? THIS THING HAS TAKEN ENOUGH LIVES OVER GOD KNOWS HOW MANY CENTURIES!!!

Okay. Glad that's settled.

Your mention of The Anarchist Cookbook took me by surprise – I don't have a copy in my store, but I did have one back in the day! Never used it, though. I might still have it – I'll have to dig around and see. Not sure what good it would do against a cosmic horror, but who knows?

I have some thoughts:

The mill is an eye??? Wow – never would've thought of that, but I can see why you did. Ivory=tooth/tusk, and the mill's waterwheel is round like an eye. The thought of something that big that its face is the size of the town ... 

There might very well be something beneath the mill – what, I don't know. I don't think this is connected to an ancient burial ground, though – after all, the whole continent is a Native American burial ground. No, if there is something there, it's a lot older than humanity.

     3.The gate of horn in your time looks different – more ... I don't know, mature? It doesn't have the rippled chocolate-vanilla fudgesicle look that it has in my time. So that means this thing is growing older. Assuming it's immortal, that means that, in 1993 at least, it hasn't reached its full power yet. And if that's the case ...

I noticed that "Khar'zul" appears in both the mysterious entry in the journal and the inscription on the gate of horn.     

The first time it seems to translate to "old power", but the second time it's left untranslated. (I'm very sorry to hear about Nitro, it's obvious how much you loved him. I wish I could give you a hug.) I wonder if that's the Terror's actual name ...

In most traditions, names have power. Naming something gives you power over it – in the Bible, God told Adam to name everything, giving him dominion over the earth, or something like that (Sunday school was a long time ago). And even just knowing a name can give you control over the person – whenever you hear your name, you turn around to see who said it, right? It takes a lot of willpower not to. And in a lot of Native American tribes it was forbidden to speak the name of someone who died, because it kept their spirit from moving on. 

I don't know what any of this means for us, but I'm getting an idea ...

I think I have a way to destroy the Terror.

Okay, to the being that's moving this journal through time: DO NOT TAKE IT TO KRISTA JUST YET! WAIT UNTIL I GET BACK! OKAY???

Krista, if you get this journal before I've written anything more, it just means that the journal's guardian (?) ignored me – don't do anything rash, okay?

AVE MARIA, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.

Okay, I'm back. Don't know how I made it back, but I'm back.

That was not a good idea. "The best laid plans ..." as they say. And this wasn't that, not by a long shot. Long story short, I'm a dumbass who's lucky to be alive.

I headed out to the mill to ... I don't know, see what I could find? Confront the Terror? Whatever, it was definitely not my finest hour.

When I got there, the first thing I did was to make sure nobody else was around – if anything happened, I didn't want anyone else to get hurt, and if nothing happened ... well, I didn't want to look like an idiot.

I headed down to the underbelly to see what I could see – I'd been down there before, to help with the restoration, but I wasn't looking for primordial entities then. It's kinda creepy down there, with just the light from the lamps on the walls, but I couldn't see anything. Just the stone foundation, wooden beams and the waterwheel – and the water, of course.

The stone foundation is slippery (because of the humidity), so I was extra careful clambering around – although I had my flashlight with me, which made it that much harder. And I was just wearing my sneakers. Told you I was a dumbass.

Anyway, I'm whispering an incantation I came up with – two words from the inscriptions: "Khar'zul ash-vokh", which I'm hoping means "Khar'zul will fall". No idea if I'm saying it right, but it's all I've got. So I'm clambering around the underbelly of the mill, groping in the dim light of the wall-lamps and my flashlight and whispering to myself in what might very well be gibberish like a crazy person, and suddenly I feel something carved into the stone under my hand. I didn't bring my camera, so I couldn't get a photo, but it looked like the same kind of script that's on the gates.

The mill was built in 1625 by Obadiah Harper – one of the accusers in the witch trials. It's possible that he carved the inscription into the mill's foundation, either as a protection against the Terror ... or as an invocation to it. So maybe there was more to our witch trials than mere hysteria.

Seems like I was on to something here ...

Anyway, I started chanting my little incantation louder, and that's when the shit hit the fan. There was a roar that was so loud that it was more felt than heard, the waterwheel began turning, and at the same time the stone under my hand began to writhe like it was alive. I jerked my hand away (of course) – big mistake. I lost my balance and fell into the freezing water. 

I couldn't see anything, but I could feel the waterwheel churning the water nearby and I knew I was way too close to it, so I started swimming – but something grabbed me. Something big. What felt like tentacles wrapped around my legs, pinning them together, and more tentacles started moving up my body, dragging me under.

Now, luckily I had my hunting knife with me (I'm not a complete dumbass after all), and I managed to get it out of the sheath on my belt in time to use it, and I started hacking away at the tentacles. I don't know if I'm gonna get free before I'm either crushed to death or drowned, but I just keep hacking away, and in my mind I'm still reciting my incantation, "Khar'zul ash-vokh, Khar'zul ash-vokh".

I managed to get free, but I blacked out before I could get to the surface.

The next thing I know I'm lying on the snow outside the mill. I sit up and look around, and I see the Man in Black walking away. I got up and ran after him, shouting "Hey! Who are you? Did you save me?" But he was gone.

I'm pretty sure Khar'zul is the Terror's name, and it lives under the mill. It's also afraid of us. I could feel its fear. And that fear gives us the advantage – we just need to figure out why it's afraid of us and how to use that.

[hoodoo12]

Tether (12/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

@bjfinn @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun

Sept 11 2025 Sorry, BJ. I guess nothing’s happened in your time recently or I’d have woken up to your entry. I was sedated (I guess) after all the shit at the stable. I’m all groggy and feel like I just want to give up. Dad’s taking care of the horses. Marjorie is helping, I guess. I want to go back out there, but Mom put her foot down and said no. She said that April is talking about me at the grocery store, so I guess it’s best that I don’t add to any more rumors. While I was out, I didn’t have any dreams or anything. I guess IV sedation is the way to go. But now I’m awake (still feel terrible) and everything just came rushing back. If this whole thing is a door or a creature or god-knows-what, and the Mill is the epicenter . . . is there something there? In the basement or something? Do Mills have a basement? Or was it built on an ancient burial ground or something?? At this point, I think anything is possible! Door or eye or whatever . . . maybe we need to close it. Blind it. Somehow make it so it can’t do anything (come through or see us). You own a bookstore. Got any copies of The Anarchist Cookbook? I bet I can find a pdf of it somewhere online if you think that blowing the place up is a good idea. . . . it occurs to me that the Mill is still in town in 2025. If this is the first time the Man in Black (no offense to Johnny Cash) was able to make this journal to bridge between now and then, and we destroy the place . . . will I remember it? Will it just be like the Presby Church and no one talks about it? There are too many questions and we have, idk, like half of a percentage of an answer. I’m tired and scared and I get the sense we’re running out of time. I don’t know why. Now I think I should have been more diligent about doing research, like trying to find out if anyone in your time went missing and if I could find out what happened to them or if they just . . . disappeared. Is this a sacrificial kind of thing? If I give my self up, then everything is good until another 30 years rolls around? Maybe that’s just the best approach. How am I supposed to continue on after everything that’s happened. Everything I’ve seen. I miss Nitro, that dummy. 

[hoodoo12]

Tether (11/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

@bjfinn @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun

Sept 10 2025

So much of what you’re saying make some sort of weird sense. I had to do a google search (writing that makes me realize there’s so much stuff I have said that you don’t know about—yet? Please god, let it be yet—and even just writing out “google search” by hand is so damn odd when I type and text basically everything else . . . but I don’t have time to get into the all the technology and stuff because I’m too dumb to explain it) about the town and read about the old Presby Church basically “going away.”  Weird thing was, there wasn’t much on it. Just that there used to be one and then it was “gone.” I always wondered why there was an empty lot. No one talks about it. There’s never any garbage or litter there either, like no one even wants to go near it. Reading over the info, I also took a ride out to the opposite end of town to see if there is another cow horn monolith. Um, I don’t want to sound like one of those doomsday preppers, but:

Yeah. It’s here too.

There’s an inscription on this one too but I only got a blurry shot. This is what I think it was but the humming was back and I didn’t stick around to take more pictures. ₭Ⱨ₳Ɽ’ⱫɄⱠ ₮ⱧⱤæ₥ VØⱤɄɄ₦,  

₳₴Ⱨ‑VØ₭Ⱨ ₦₳Ɽ’₮Ⱨ₳₳Ⱡ

Do you think maybe more of that “automatic writing” will translate it? The idea that the Mill is a doorway also makes sense, but I was also thinking about a horn being at one end of town and a tooth being at the other . . . this is going to sound crazy (ha ha, because everything else is so understandable!) but . . . what if the Mill is an eye? The top of the head has a horn, the lower jaw has a fang . . . oh jesus I’m scaring myself! Maybe there are more teeth and another horn somewhere else, deeper in the woods around here?! —I had to come back to this. BJ, I think whatever this Terror is . . . it knows about me. I was writing this entry and I got a call about an “accident” at the stables. I blitzed out there, only to find Marjorie Gardner and the sheriff waiting for me. I could hear the horses screaming and kicking their stalls. Both of them tried to hold me back, telling me it wasn’t good for me to go in and it was dangerous, but I got away from them and ran into the barn. All the horses were beside themselves. Sweating, kicking, squealing. I tried to calm them down even though I didn’t know why they were all doing this. It kind of worked, until I noticed the smell. I got to Nitro’s stall. BJ, it was horrific. He was dead. Laid out in the straw, all cut up. I’ve never seen anything like it. He looked like roadkill. On his side was this: Khar’zul knows the knowing, 

the wise are first to fall.

I could still hear screaming. It took a long time for me to realize it was me.

[hoodoo12]

Tether (10/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

@bjfinn @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun

Sunday February 14th, 1993

Okay, you're definitely a badass – and one of these days it's gonna get you killed.

It kinda figures that the people you saw were naked – a lot of cults and neo-pagan religions (not the same thing, by the way!) see nudity as a more spiritual state. The hippies back in the late '60s and early '70s, for example (those were the days – rocking out to Joplin, Hendrix, the Dead, Jefferson Airplane ... but I digress.)

Have you heard about the Harper's Mill witch trials? In 1627 two women and a clergyman were hanged for "consorting with demons" – and witnesses claimed that they and several others were seen to be "frolicking nakod in the fielde with a foule being who did resemble a manne but with the head, hornes and hooves of a goat" – your standard description of Baphomet.

So these people might be Satanists – basically just bored suburbanites ha ha. The worst thing they probably did was have an orgy afterwards.

Still, if you see them again, keep your distance.

Now, as far as what you saw on your last visit to the stone...

Could you see who'd been ... sacrificed? Was it someone you know? I sincerely hope not – and I hope it was just an illusion, like it was for me. And yeah, I can see the blood in the inscription, but that doesn't mean it's really real – just that the dream weaver can ... warp reality. Thank you for getting that photo, by the way. (You took it with your phone? How the fuck can you take a picture with a phone?)

The inscription looks mostly like Egyptian hieratic, mixed with proto-Semitic (Canaanite? Eblaite?), Linear B(?), Sumerian cuneiform ... possibly with some proto-Sanskritic. It looks like there's a couple of Harappan (Indus Valley) characters, as well, and maybe some Shang Dynasty ideograms? I wish I could read even just a few characters, but I'm not an expert – just a guy with a bit of a special interest in history and archeology.

That weird writing in the journal ... the first thing I thought of was H. P. Lovecraft's "The Call of Cthulhu" – there's a phrase chanted by the cultists: "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn." Don't ask me how it's pronounced, but it means "In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming." (It also kinda reminded me of the inscription on the ring in "The Lord of the Rings" – "One Ring to rule them all, one Ring to find them, one Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them" – which, in the original Black Speech, is "Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul." But I digress yet again – sorry for nerding out.)

And I'm pretty sure the stanza below it is the translation – it tracks poetically. The word VØ₭Ⱨ’Ɽ₳ is repeated, just like the word "rise". (By the way, writing that word felt wrong – almost like it was a word my mind wasn't made for, if that makes any sense.) And it's possible that you did write the translation – or something used you to write it while you were asleep. It's called automatic writing, and it's usually used in therapy to get in touch with your subconscious ... but in Spiritualism (which was very popular in 19th century New England), it was a method of channeling spirits – like a ouija board.

I think whoever (whatever?) wrote the first part wanted us to understand it, but maybe it doesn't speak English, so it waited for you to doze off so it could use your knowledge of English to translate it. Maybe it was the dude in the black cloak.

I realize you're completely freaked out by this, but if you take the time to read it objectively, it doesn't sound like a threat so much as a warning. I think it's meant to help us. I just wish it was 

Holy crap.

St. James Presbyterian just blew up!

No ... no, it didn't blow up so much as ... how do I describe it? It got sorta ... origami'd out of existence. Like something just wadded it up into a ball and made it disappear. And there was a service going on, with at least 50 people inside. Oh, God. People I know were inside.

I need to go and see if there's anything I can do to help. If there's anyone left to help.

I'm back – been gone all afternoon. A dozen or so people managed to get out – some minor injuries, thankfully nothing life-threatening, although a couple of them had to be taken to the hospital in New Haven – including Shelley Cooper. Poor woman was passing by the church when it happened and ... well, she had to be sedated. Can't say I blame her – imagine walking along, minding your own business ... and all of a sudden the building you're right in front of just crumples and disappears! Anyone would be a basket case after that.

Anyway, now there's a giant pit where the church used to be, and a few pieces of broken timber and glass, but that's all.

Apart from what looks like a pair of ... giant footprints. Like dinosaur footprints, but with way more than three toes. One on either side of where the church used to be.

Anyway, I spent the afternoon helping to clean up, and then I checked in on my friend Nick to see if he needed anything – he's got MS and is confined to a wheelchair, so I stop by every couple days. He was pretty shaken up by the news of what happened, of course – we all are. It's not every day that a giant invisible monster destroys a major building and kills a bunch of people.

Apparently, it's only every thirty years or so.

Holy shit.

I need a drink. And a smoke. Maybe some weed.

All right, nerves are steadied again. Sort of. Now, back to business.

I think our friend in black is responsible for the warning, somehow. Maybe he's even the one who wrote that first entry in this journal.

So why write it in that weird language? Maybe the language is important – there's plenty of belief systems that teach that a prayer, spell, incantation, whatever needs to be recited in a particular language. Latin for Catholics (used to be, anyway), Hebrew for Jews, Classical Arabic for Muslims. 

We might need to learn how to pronounce it properly, though – at first I thought maybe all those weird marks on the letters are diacritics, guides to pronunciation? Like the ñ in señor, or the ç in garçon. But looking closer, that doesn't seem to be the case – each letter has the same markings each time it appears. Hopefully we'll get more clues.

The whole "gate of ivory" thing got me thinking – if that's what it is, then where's the gate of horn? If I were a dream weaver, where would I put it? 

Either right beside the gate of ivory, or ... at the opposite end of town.

So I went early this morning to check, and sure enough, there it is. A huge monolith of what looks like cow-horn, swirled black and brown and cream and white. It kinda looks like a rippled chocolate-vanilla fudgesicle – yummy! Ha ha.

It seems to be inscribed like the other one, and it's humming and swaying as well. 

This ... whatever-it-is just destroyed a church like it was made of paper – a clear demonstration of power, and an indication that it's almost ready to come through the doorway.

The mill is right at the midpoint between the two monoliths. I'll bet that's the nexus. That's where whatever is coming will come through. The mill is the doorway.

I don't know how any of that helps us, but information is power, right?

And if you think you can get more answers by going back to the monolith, then that's what you should do – just for crissakes be careful. And if you feel anything odd – headache, blurred vision, dry mouth, itchy nose, anything – then GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THERE RIGHT AWAY!!! The last thing I need is for you to end up in the hospital. Or worse. 'Cause I can't do this by myself.

Got it? Good. 

[hoodoo12]

Tether (9/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

@bjfinn @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun

Sept 9 2025 I hate to always start these entries with “HOLY SHIT” but that’s all I can think. I want out of here. Out of this town. Nothing makes sense and I’m scared.I made a mistake, BJ. I went back to the monolith. I know I shouldn’t have. You told me not to! I should have listened! But I thought maybe I could get more information. I wanted to check out something you mentioned: is not stone? And maybe those people left some clue or something behind. I felt like I was Nancy Drew or something! I took my gun, and felt like that would keep me safe enough. 

Ha. I mean, I was safe. Physically. I want to scrub my eyes with bleach, though. Okay, here’s what happened. I didn’t take Nitro back out. He’s sensible but not exactly fast. I wanted to be able to get the hell out of there if something went down. So I saddled up Mister, who is an off the track Thoroughbred, and we started out. The humming came and went. I’d hear it, then it would go away. Over and over. I kept checking to see if I was bleeding again, but I wasn’t. (I didn’t go to the doctor . . . sorry!) It wasn’t unbearable either, so it was easier to keep going. At the treeline, I left Mister tied and went to the stone. There was a new sound. A buzzing. And a smell.BJ, there was someone on top of the stone. I don’t mean standing. I mean . . . like, broken. The first word that came into my head was sacrificed. At first I thought it was an animal, because the buzzing was from all the flies around it and I could really see much. But then . . . but then . . . I saw a hand. A person was impaled on the top of it. At least one of the points of the stone were sticking through them. They were all flopped out—it was so bad. Blood had dripped down on the sides of the stone. Not all the way to the ground, but close in some places. I know this is going to be the grossest part of it, but I kept walking towards it. The blood had kind of gotten into some of the scratches and I wanted to see if I could read it. Spoiler: I couldn’t. But I took a picture of it on my phone:

I had to leave. The smell was too much and I was getting dizzy again. The buzzing from the flies and the humming kind of merged. When I got home, I took a closer look at the picture, I couldn’t read the words. You run a book store so you’re pretty well read, can you read them? To answer some of the questions you posed: I didn’t get a good look at the people that were there before. I didn’t see anyone’s face. And I guess I should’ve mentioned it the last time but they were  . . . naked. Embracing that thing naked. I don’t know what that means, except everything is bad so it has to be bad too. The ideas of doors . . . that kind of makes sense. What if there is a door that is so big it takes a long time to swing open, and that’s what’s this is? Something getting through the door??? OKAY I’M OFFICIALLY SCARED OUT OF MY MIND LOOK AT THIS: ₭Ⱨ₳Ɽ’ⱫɄⱠ Ø₥ⱤɆ₮Ⱨ ₭₳’₮Ⱨ₳₳Ɽ,

ɄⱠ’VⱤɆ₦ ĐØ₴Ⱨ ₥₳ⱫⱧɄⱤłł—

VØ₭Ⱨ’Ɽ₳, VØ₭Ⱨ’Ɽ₳,

₴Ⱨ₳ł’₮ⱧɄɄ₦ ₦₳Ɽ’VɆⱠ Ø₴₴

BJ, I DIDN’T WRITE THAT. I put this journal down to go get a drink and when I came back, it was there. What the actual fuck?!

Sept 9 no, I guess it’s actually Sept 10 now since it’s 3am I woke up and this journal was on my chest. This is written in it Old power gathers like a storm, murmuring through unseen veins— Rise, rise, while waiting for the world to blink Is that what the other thing says?! Is that the translation?! BJ, the pen was still in my hand. I wrote that?! I think . . . I think maybe I should go back to the monolith. Maybe I can get more answers??? What do you think, BJ? What are we going to do about this?!

[hoodoo12]

Tether (8/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

Friday Feb 12th, 1993

Been thinking about my store being gone. I know nothing lasts forever, so it's not ... I mean, it's okay, I guess. It just makes me sad, you know? That nobody kept it going after I ... after whatever happens to me. I wonder when it closed? What happened to the books? Did anyone feel bad about it? Does anyone in the future remember me?

No, I don't really want to know – like you said, it might mess up the timeline. And besides, I don't think I could handle knowing. Knowing might stop me from doing what needs to be done. And I have enough of a problem with executive dysfunction as it is.

Maybe you're right – maybe I moved away after all this. Maybe in your time I'm a retired Broadway star ha ha!

Still no word from Tom – but at least I know he's not dead. Thank you for that. Sorry to hear that he's such a heavy drinker in the future – he always liked a tipple or two, but it was rare for him to go overboard like that.

Okay, on to your latest experience with the stone.

I've been doing some thinking, and I think you're right – we're only aware of it because we live here. Maybe visitors wouldn't necessarily notice because they wouldn't know it was anything unusual, right? Especially if they're focused on staying in their saddles!

The people you saw hugging the stone – were they locals? What did they look like? Were they dressed like regular people, or were they wearing robes or something, like some kind of cult? Anything you can remember could help, no matter how small. And whoever they are, I think you should keep your distance – they're probably nuts, and they could be dangerous.

I do think you're right that we need to stay away from the stone – it almost sounds radioactive, or something. And somehow, a swaying monolith sounds even more dangerous. As far as the inscriptions, I don't think we'd be able to read them – they might not be meant for us.

I want you to get checked out by a doctor right away – mention the bleeding to them, but obviously not the monolith. I need to know that you're gonna be alright.

As far as the dude in black, I'm still not convinced that he's bad – I'm pretty sure he helped me get out of the fog last time. He might not be able (allowed?) to actively help, but I think ... fuck, I don't know what to think. He puts me in mind of some figure from one mythology or another, but I'll be damned if I can remember more than that. I'll keep trying to figure that out – who knows, it might be important. Then there's his raven companions – ravens aren't usually seen as evil. They remind me of Odin's ravens, Huginn and Muninn ("Mind" and "Will"), but then this guy has three ravens. So I did some digging, and found a medieval Danish ballad called "The Valravn", about a knight that's transformed into a raven, and whose curse can only be broken by the blood of a little boy. Pretty gruesome, but it supports my idea that they're not working with the Terror. Of course, I could be waaay off the mark. So it's best, I think, to proceed with caution around this guy – at least until we know for sure.

I just hope we don't need to sacrifice a kid to stop this thing.

I can hear the humming all the time now – it's very faint, but it's there. Allison Grant (she comes in after school 3 days a week to help out) says she doesn't hear anything, though – so maybe it's only people who've had direct contact with either the fog or the monolith that can hear it.

Since Tom is still alive in 2025, that tells me that this thing uses illusion and mind manipulation – not really a surprise, since it seems to erase everyone's memory when it goes dormant or whatever, but it's still information, and any information is good to have.

I just got an idea ... let me check something.

Okay, so I did some research on the mythology of illusion, and I found something. The ancient Greeks had this idea that dreams passed through one of two gates, depending on whether the dream was true or false.

True dreams passed through the gate of horn, false dreams through the gate of ivory.

What if the monolith isn't marble or some other stone, but ivory? Or at least, something that might've been mistaken for ivory in ancient times?

If any of this is right, then we're dealing with a ... dream weaver, I guess you could call it. One that specializes in nightmares and terror. And how do you conquer a nightmare?

By waking up.

I don't know what that means yet, but I think I just figured out the key to stopping the Terror once and for all. I just don't know what to do with the key.

[hoodoo12]

Tether (7/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

Sept 7, 2025

Hi again BJ. I know it’s only been a day, but some stuff is going down.

I’m sorry about your bookstore. I shouldn’t of said anything 🙁 Maybe you just moved away? I mean, why would you stay after all this? I could talk to Tom and ask about the bookstore … and you, if you want … ? I don’t know if that’s a good idea or bad idea …

I think what you said you saw wasn’t real, because Tom is still around! He’s … well, he drinks a lot. He still runs the Historical Society (well, it’s kind of an honorary position at this point) but most lunchtimes he’s down at Clancy’s (that bar on Maple Street. Is it a bar where when you are? I really should learn more about the history of this town!!). Of course, thinking about it, maybe he started drinking because of something he saw or knows from 1993!!

All this time stuff makes my head hurt

Anyway, the stone. It’s when you are too?! Keep an eye on it, because holy SHIT

I was out on that group trail ride (I mentioned I do that, I think?). It was all pretty good, because none of the guests were experienced so we just walked the trails. Nice and easy. It gave me an excuse to pass by the stone. Just moseying along like it’s nothing! Ulterior motive, lol. Well, we got closer to it and that hum was not pleasant. The closer we got, the worse it got. Thing was—no one else seemed to hear it. Not the horses, not the people. Just me. Since I was in front of the line, I started being able to see the stone through the trees. BJ, it looked like it was moving. Not much, just kind of slowly waving back and forth, more like a cattail in the breeze than a solid piece of heavy marble. It made me dizzy watching it.

Nitro just plodded on (that mule knows the trails better than I do) and all the horses followed along. The guests just kept chatting and pointing out birds or whatever. I couldn’t drag my eyes off that stone even though I wanted to. We got even closer, and I saw . . .

. . . I saw some people with it. They were, idk, hugging it? They were all against it, arms outstretched but touching fingers, like they were trying to determine its circumference or something. They were moving with it. Swaying back and forth. I got even dizzier. I felt like I was going to throw up. The humming was coming from them, or the stone, or both.

No one else said anything about how weird any of that was!

The next thing I knew, one of the women screamed. My horses are pretty bomb-proof, but they jumped a little. I turned Nitro around to see what the problem was and make sure everyone was okay. I had no idea what I would tell them about the humming, wavering monolith only a hundred yards away from us, but they were looking at me. I didn’t know it but there was blood streaming down my face from my eyes and my ears too! I had no clue!

I didn’t hurt. The dizziness was gone. It took a while to reassure them I was okay but they all agreed to go back to the stables. They still didn’t say they ever noticed the stone or the people around it. I fought the urge to look back at what was happening with it. I didn’t want to get, idk, hooked on it again!

I also thought I saw that black cloaked guy again, but when I tried to get a good look at him, he kind of flitted behind the stone. I don’t know what that was about. Is he good or bad? I have to think bad, just like I think the stone is now too. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t been with someone not affected by it.

Did I say keep an eye on the stone? BJ, I mean I think you should stay away from it!! It seems like it only did something to me because I’m a resident, not a tourist!! But what if we need to read what’s written on it? What if we have to knock it down or blow it up or something?!

I’m really scared. How are we going to figure this out?!

Stay safe!! Please!

[hoodoo12]

Tether (6/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

Thursday Feb 11th, 1993

Hi, Krista! Nice to meet you.

My bookstore is gone?

I mean, I know it's not gonna be around forever, but to think that it won't be here when you're a kid ... that I won't be ...

I don't remember any details of what happened when I was a kid, but after I read your latest entry I went out to the crossroads and the stone is there. It looks completely smooth, but if you look at it from just the right angle you can see that there's an inscription etched into the surface. I can't read it, but some of the letters/symbols remind me of Glagolitic (an old Slavic script) or the Voynich manuscript. Most of it just looks ... alien. I didn't touch it, so I don't know if it was warm. There was a low humming coming from it, though. I wonder if it's the same sound you heard?

I tried to walk past the stone, but there's an invisible wall that won't let me – some kind of forcefield. Maybe the stone is creating it, keeping us in. Or keeping something out.

That seriously freaked me out, so I went for a walk down by the river. Nature always calms me down and makes me feel better. There was a thick fog on the river this morning – something you don't see much in the winter (although it's not unheard of), and as I was walking along the shore it started to move up towards me. Remembering the fog outside my window the other day, I got a little nervous and started walking faster, but it swirled around my ankles and the next thing I knew I was in the grey nothingness again.

I didn't sense the monster or whatever it was, but I heard a voice saying, "The only way out is through." It sounded like the voice of a corpse, and I don't know how I know, but I know it was the dude in the black cloak.

So I pushed on ahead through the fog, and eventually it dissipated and I was on a trail in the woods down by the stables (they're still up and running in 1993, by the way, and I went on a trail ride with Bob and Ellen Carter when I was a kid, not long after coming to live here) and it was summer – late August or early September, to judge by the condition of the brush.

Okay, fine. Don't know how I ended up here, but at least I know where I am. So I start walking, heading back to town, right? Except that the trail keeps going the wrong way. And I know it's going the wrong way because I've been on this trail before. It shouldn't be heading toward the mill ... but it is.

So, all right. The mill. Fine, whatever. I mean, at least I'm not in Timbuktu or something. I can get home from the mill.

When I got to the mill I saw that the door was open – must be Tom Wagner, puttering around. He loves this place, restored it almost single-handed. Now it's the focal point of the Historical Society (which is comprised of Tom, Shelley Cooper, and myself, along with a few other part-timers – by the way, there are zero records of anything like this happening in the past, as far as I've seen – even though I know something happened when I was a kid).

I went in. "Tom?" I called. "Tom? Are you here?"

No answer. Maybe the door was left open by a couple of teenagers looking for a bit of privacy, if you know what I mean (wink, wink). So I take a look around, checking for any damage.

I wish I hadn't.

There was a body in the corner. It looked like it had been torn apart.

Have you ever heard about the "blood eagle''? It was supposedly a method of execution used by the Vikings, where they'd cut open the victim's back, pull open the ribs like a book, and pull out the lungs.

That's what had happened to this guy.

I went closer – I needed to see who it was, even though I was pretty sure already. And I was right. It was Tom.

I started crying – sat down on the floor, just sobbing. He was my friend, and now he was dead.

Finally I pulled myself together and I stood up and went back over to him. His eyes were open, so I went to close them, and that's when he (or something using him) reached out and tried to grab me, saying, "Abandon hope, ye who enter here!"

I never moved so fast in my entire life, let me tell you! I got my ass out of there and I swear I didn't stop running until I got back to town. I bought a pack of Butterfields at Hal’s (it's been 5 years, but God knows I needed a cig) and then went to my store. I poured myself a shot of whiskey and lit up a smoke to steady my nerves, and then I picked up the phone and dialed Tom's number, but there was no answer.

I'm still trying, but no luck. I know it was a hallucination, it had to be, corpses can't talk! But I need to know for sure that he's not dead, you know?

After what's happened the past couple days, I'm not sure what's real and what's not.

[hoodoo12]

Tether (5/18)

intro, chaps 1, 2, 3, 4

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

Sept 6

I thought I was freaking out before but now… that’s bumped up 1000%

So all that stuff I blew off at the beginning of this journal was true? What? How? I’m leaving out why because now that I actually have read it again, it’s pretty self explanatory.

Uhhhhh, okay. Okay.

Hi? BJ? (omg if this is still some kind of joke or prank I swear I’m going to hunt you down) I’m Krista. Krista Bloom. My parents have Thorn & Thicket Outfitters here in Harper’s Mill. Problem is, they opened up in 2007, so I don’t think you know about it yet? I also took over the old Foxglove Stables, up on Pine Hollow Road. I know that was around, although it was pretty beat up when I got it.

I don’t remember a bookstore on Main Street, unless it’s that storefront with all the shelves that’s been empty for years. Oh shit—if I say stuff like that does it change anything for you? It’s 2025 right now! I don’t know about this time travel stuff! If you’re in 1993 and I’m what, like 30 years later and I mention something in my time, can you change things? But if you did, would I know it? Or would it rewrite history and make what you did my (the future’s?) past?

THIS IS ALL SO CONFUSING

I guess we can’t focus on that. If we need to work together, we can’t get side-tracked.

There’s some weird coincidences I’ve noticed between what you’ve written and what I’ve written. Some kind of cloaked person. Those ravens. The sense that something is wrong. I haven’t had any fog or that sort of thing like you did, but I did hear that humming sound. Oh! And get this:

A new stone cropped up at the crossroads leading into town. Not like a little piece of gravel. I mean a stone. It’s probably 15 feet tall and Maureen Stevens, the science teacher, says it looks like white marble and would weigh about 4 tons. There was a town meeting about it because it just . . . appeared. Overnight. A giant monolithic stone out of nowhere. The sheriff has told everyone to stay away but he’s only one guy and can’t stand by it 24/7, so a couple of people (Maureen included) went out to examine it. Said it was warm and kind of, idk, pulsing? Just slightly. Like it was gently breathing. shudder There are some scratches on it too and it was suggested a rubbing be done of them, but I don’t know if anyone got the courage to do it.

Did this happen back when you were a kid? Or now—1993, I mean? If this thing is something that pops up every so often it would have the same MO, right?

I wonder if there’s anything at the Historical Society about this? If a random monolith just appeared and disappeared, they’d have a record of it I bet. Maybe I could even find out more about your bookstore. Nvm, that’s probably not a good idea. Just in case it messes up the timeline, you know?

But if you want the lottery numbers or something . . . 🙂

Let’s figure this out. I’m scared but I’m glad there’s someone else with me.

[hoodoo12]

Tether (4/18)

intro, chap 1, 2, 3

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

Tuesday Feb 9th, 1993

Okaaay, this is weird – how the hell did another entry get in this journal? There's no sign of a break-in, not even any footprints in the snow outside. Whoever is doing this is one helluva prankster. Fucking David Copperfield caliber magician!

No. Not a prank. Just went back and read the entry. Whoever's doing this, whatever's happening, this is seriously creeping me out. Either this is real, or someone is trying to fuck with my mind. And I don't think I know anyone who'd want to fuck with me like this ... so that means this is real. Someone in 2025 is writing in this journal, and responding to what I write.

How the fuck did I end up in an episode of the Twilight Zone?

Oh, shit, what the ...

Just looked out the window and there was nothing there. Like, absolutely nothing. Just a ... like a wall of pale grey smoke or fog. I'm going to go see what's going on.

I'm back. I went outside and I've never been so scared in my entire life. There was literally nothing – I couldn't even feel the sidewalk under my feet. Actually, I couldn't even feel my feet. No wind, no sound, just cold. Like absolute zero cold. Like I was floating in outer space. I did get a sense of something out there, though. Something ... just a shadow in the smoke, but it was ,i>huge. And it felt ... I don't know. Primordial. Chthonic. Elemental. And hungry.

Okay, so ...

To the person in 2025, hi. I'm Brendan James O'Hara (everyone calls me BJ) and yes I'm in Harper's Mill. It's 1993, I'm 42 years old and I run a new-and-used bookstore. I'm just as freaked out by this as you are, but it seems we're supposed to work together to stop something called the Terror.

The thing is, I don't think that's a joke – I have a vague memory that something really bad happened here when I was a kid and a bunch of people died. But I don't remember anything about what happened or who died. And nobody else in town seems to remember anything about it at all. I'd half convinced myself that it was just a bad dream ... but maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was real. And maybe it's coming back. In fact, I'm sure it's that thing in the fog.

I don't know if the three ravens or the dude in the cloak are connected to this (or even to each other, although I suspect it's both), nor do I know if they're part of the Terror or if they're here to help us. I hope it's the latter.

I don't know what we're supposed to do or how we're supposed to stop this thing, but you seem to be pretty badass and I've no doubt you know how to use that gun of yours, so I definitely want you on my side – I'm just an overweight ex-theater kid who runs a bookstore, and I'm scared shitless.

So do you wanna help me stop this whatever-it-is from killing a bunch more people in both our times?

Please?

[hoodoo12]

Tether (3/18)

intro, chaps 1, 2

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

Sept 5 2025

Okay, soooo . . . I’m a little freaked out. Not just the writing that’s appeared in this journal that I have in my house, in the drawer in my bedside table (I’m gonna get back to that . . .) but there’s something in the woods.

I took Nitro out. Just me and him, trying to get him settled down for the ride this weekend. (note to self: verify there are four people and that they all signed the waivers!) He’s typically fun to just go out and tool around on. He’s sensible too, which is why I use him as my personal ride even though he’s a mule. I thought maybe he was just feeling cooped up in the barn so I took him out on the steeper trail to give his brain something to think about.

Halfway up–like, not in a spot that would be easy for me to dismount, turn him around, and get him situated again, he stopped dead. Like, planted his feet and would.not.move. Weird thing was, he didn’t fixate on any place in particular. We’ve had foxes run in front of us, and once there was a coyote in the brush and he knew about all of them. He’d stop, examine them, then flick an ear back towards me before heading on. This time though . . . those ears wouldn’t stop moving. Just all over the place, like he couldn’t tell what he should be looking at. Lots of snorting too.

I told him he wasn’t a stallion and to knock it off. He ignored me.

Then I realized . . . there wasn’t any sound. No birds. No insects. What the hell? It started creeping me out so I started looking around too. The only noises were him snorting and the saddle leather creaking as I looked around. There were three ravens up in one of the trees. I got the stupid idea they were watching me. After a minute I heard this, idk, low whistling? Humming? In a rhythm, kinda like a sentence but not quite? A rock tumbled in the trail behind us. I wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t so damn quiet. Nitro jumped, I jumped and turned in my seat. I can’t be 1000% sure but I think I saw someone? At least some kind of figure in a weird ass cloak? He/She/They/It stepped off the trail just as I turned, so I didn’t get a good look.

The birds flew off then too, over my head. Didn’t like that. Once they were out of sight, Nitro started moving again like nothing happened. Stupid mule. Or maybe smart mule! I wanted out of there and back home asap.

Now. Whoever’s sneaking into my house and writing in this—fair warning! I have a registered handgun and I know how to use it! This isn’t funny!! I know you’re here in Harper’s Mill because you mentioned Hal’s like you knew it. If this is some kind of joke, I’m shooting first and calling the cops later!