Spirit Walk (written)

Warning: Creepy/gross imagery

Called by some ancient, crying, phantom that lay somewhere deep within these decaying and archaic, rotting walls; Crypt traverses his boundary in search of the call. It had resonated one day somewhere within the unexplored depths of his boundary, barely perceivable at first until it grew into something that could not be ignored. Though it can not always be heard it will frequently disturb any semblance of peace by making that same wretched noise. Crypt has avoided it as long as he possibly could, but it demands his attention and he can no longer continue to feign ignorance, no matter how much he wishes to. 

As Crypt continues on his path the silence is yet again pierced by the ghastly call. It is languishing, mourning, a voice crying out for something, begging, for something. What that something is, Crypt can not be sure of, but he can feel its desperation. Its desperation pushes Crypt to move faster in order to soothe it, or if not soothe it, silence it. However, despite his familiarity with his boundary, there are still parts of it that remain unknown. Because as often as he has spent this postmortem life of his within these walls, there always remains something new to discover. The otherwise small shell of the radio station is almost deceitful, belying the true scale of what hides behind its walls, and what crawls under its grounds. 

As Crypt advances further into its depths, he is finding it unusually difficult to do so. Despite his familiarity with this landscape this particular path remains frustratingly the opposite. The way it weaves, dips, and moves makes it hard to predict and even harder to remember the way he came. Physically too, the way in front of him seems especially challenging, almost as if influenced by something, though what, remains to be identified. However, it's presence can be felt. Whatever it is lies deep within the bounds of this labyrinth of winding twisting corridors. Suffocated by miles of wire, twisting and twining together, strangled and chaotic. Hanging from walls and ceilings attached to dead tech with loose burnt ends, like the numerous vines that make up dense tropical forests. It is entirely claustrophobic. Crypt pushes through, though at multiple points it is a struggle. Something calls from deep within.

 As Crypt explores further, the walls seem to tighten even further against his hulking form, as if pushing in from all sides, their presence strangling. Even for one as comfortable with tight spaces as he, the space feels stifling. His hackles raise, and his hair bristles, as the walls come alive with his every step. Screens flash and flicker to life, trailing behind him as he makes his way to whatever is calling, crying, out to him. Despite his better judgment, he feels watched; wary and paranoid, haunted by something he can't truly perceive but yet, still knows, is there. 

Eventually, through half effort of his own, and half lack of other options, Crypt comes across what he has been looking for. Labyrinthine and decrepit lays the heart of the beast, awash in the crimson glow of long dead, yet now seemingly revived screens of numerous forgotten devices. They stare zombie-like into the room, faces flickering, occasionally marred by static and glitches, silent sentries in the otherwise dark space. There in the room, no, temple, situated against a wall, is an ancient TV that must be the source of the call. The room is frigid, almost freezing, it's gelid grasp causing Crypt's skin to raise with goosebumps. The room's presence made even more chilling by Crypt's elemental fog which creeps against the floor and lingers within the room’s corners. The far wall is made of a series of windows showing the surrounding forest and a very distant abandoned town, all illuminated under the gentle light of the moon. Crypt returns his sight to the object that has been calling him. However, as he approaches, he realizes it's not quite the TV but rather, something within, that has led him here. Obfuscated by the screen something lies, just out of reach; hidden, yet calling, in a chilling siren’s song that is impossible to ignore. Decision made, Crypt sheds his physical form, opting for something more. . . ephemeral, the transition over, Crypt takes a step, followed by another, and yet another before he finally takes the final one, stepping into the unknown.

The shrine, if it could be called that, is a mess of wires that twist and warp around each other, in some kind of nondescript gore. But on closer inspection, there is a method to the madness, no matter how chaotic, the pattern of the wires goes from unknowable to just barely definable, like the half-rotten organs from a cadaver. Little blinking lights and ampules appear along the mass like numerous tiny maggots eating away at the wirey flesh, and occasional sparks leap from damaged areas like flies buzzing. The mess metastasizes around a singular object. An old and worn cassette tape, stained and discolored with age, the tape itself spilling messily from its cartridge like a dying animal. Cradled within the chaos it seems oddly serene, for a moment. Seemingly at one with its surroundings despite how much it stands out now against everything else. Crypt moves closer to examine it. 

Taking in the extent of the damage, Crypt is astonished to suddenly be so awash with emotion. Since his transformation into an esk, his emotions have largely been dulled, at least when compared to when he was human. But now numerous emotions burble just underneath the surface of his fur, nearly threatening to boil over. Some are at odds with each other, while others emphasize each other. The weight of these emotions deafens Crypt to the outside world nearly drowning him in their intensity. Shaken, Crypt takes a step back, in a desperate need to breathe, suddenly out of breath, the air feels restricted within his lungs, his skin prickling and covered in goosebumps.

 He hesitantly reaches out to the cassette tape, his claws feeling oddly ineffective in this turbulent moment, before jerking back as if he had been hit. He moves his claws to the camera film floating around him instead, stroking it in an effort to calm himself. Suddenly he realizes the film may have answers for him, it has before, enchanted as it is. He moves to look at it and see if any images have become inked across its surface but is disappointed to find that it remains blank, devoid of any explanation. Frustrated Crypt almost gives up and leaves, to go back from where he came, but instead decides to take a moment and recollect himself. Though no answer is currently apparent, one thing is, that the cassette tape needs to be fixed in some way. Mended to if not be whole, at least functional. 

Perhaps if he focuses Crypt can find the issue and remove or fix it, to end the object's insistent calling. So lost is he, in his thoughts, Crypt almost misses when one of his moths flutters by before gently landing on a blinking light, its wings illuminated in a sea of sickly green. Several more join it taking their places around the cassette tape and the screens that surround it, almost swarming it, though their number is too few to truly be considered one. It takes a moment for Crypt to notice what his familiars are trying to show him. On closer inspection, Crypt notices, that while the cassette tape is badly broken it can, in fact, be mended. The spools are still intact and the tape while weathered in some places remains whole. This new information brings the confidence Crypt needs to take the next step. With great caution, Crypt takes the cassette tape into the grasp of his magic gently, ever so slowly, Crypt opens its cartridge before starting to rewind the tape onto their spools returning them to their rightful home. It's slow going but eventually everything is properly back as it should, and Crypt softly closes the cartridge and seals it shut a quiet click. The cartridge itself still has damage though, with little cracks and flaking pieces, Crypt takes the time to mend those too, cleaning up any additional blemishes or scratches along the way. By the end, the cassette tape is still worn and discolored, it is old after all, but it seems to have settled and its desperate call along with it, at least for the time being. Feeling satisfied Crypt places the cassette tape back down to its original position with his magic, allowing it to rest amongst the coils of wiring and for it to be illuminated by the surrounding screens once more. 

With the cassette tape returned to its final position Crypt takes a step back and lets a sigh of relief flow through him. The tension bleeds out of him he feels as if he has aged by about ten years, however there is no call that desperately seeks his attention, and the feeling of being watched has lifted. Finally, it is over, the desperate cries are no more, and the feeling of wrongness that had been emanating from the cassette tape has dissipated. 

After a moment Crypt notices a change in his surroundings. The air which had once been so cloying has returned to normal, its suffocating grasp finally lifting from Crypt, allowing him to take his first full breath in what feels like ages. His thoughts have quieted from the disorganized mess they were moments ago, his mind clearing, Crypt can fully process what is going on around him without the feeling of panic gnawing on the edges of his mind. The atmosphere once chilling has become almost placid, more welcoming, and less hostile in comparison to what it was before. Disturbed as he is by recent events Crypt allows himself to calm, consoled that the issue has been resolved. Though the suddenness of the events still leaves his heart disquieted he feels far better than he was feeling before the cassette tape had been fixed, if a little unsure of everything. To go from being plunged into a maelstrom of uncertainty and dread not quite his own, back to peace is rather disconcerting for Crypt. Though relieved he still feels uncertain of everything that has just taken place and feels almost disembodied from his actual self. Though with a grim sense of humor, this feeling, he supposes, does match his current form disembodied and ethereal as it is, yet another step further from any actualness since his rebirth and removal of his human body. 

 While looking around and noticing the changes Crypt’s moths lift from their positions to return around him, apparently also being aware of the change in atmosphere. Though this shrine before him has not changed much if really, at all, in appearance; it is clear that its call has been soothed. Taking one last glance around the area, Crypt turns to leave, but not before stroking the cassette tape one last time. It's odd Crypt thinks, that despite being something that made him so distraught he feels strangely fond of the little thing now. Like departing an old friend Crypt slowly removes himself from the room, almost reluctant, though for what reason, he truly isn't sure. 

As Crypt phases through the wall and then the TV that stands as it's makeshift doorway, he finds himself surprised by the change outside the shrine. The room once dark and only illuminated by the few screens in the room is now awash in a golden tinted green. He turns to look at the windows and finds the scene to be just pre-sunrise. The moon is still out, and the stars still twinkle quietly in the sky, but just on the horizon, ever so faintly, the first traces of the morning’s light are starting to show. There is a sense of hope that comes with it, latent, but existing, like the bud before the flower. Crypt senses that this time of trial is finally over. It seems that with the calming of the cassette tape in its shrine peace is starting to return to the innermost ruins of this old worn building, and the promise of normality with it. Crypt returns his gaze to the mostly empty room around him, as he finishes phasing out of the TV. He gives himself a moment to collect himself before returning to his physical form. As Crypt continues to glance around the room, he comes to the realization that he doesn't really know where he is. Yes, he's still on the grounds of his boundary, but in his desperate rush to follow the call, he neglected to actually take note of where he was going. With a long-suffering sigh, Crypt starts his trek back the way he came. He has at least approximate knowledge of the area, so hopefully it shouldn't take too long to return to familiarity, but, knowing how truly winding the walls and hallways of his boundary are, Crypt knows that this new task may take a while. Yet despite all the effort, and all the stress that has come from soothing the cassette tape, Crypt can at least leave satisfied with his work. Giving the room one last parting glance Crypt starts his return journey to spaces more familiar, feeling oddly refreshed. Perhaps once he returns Crypt can finally fix those few issues that have been causing him grief. With spirits renewed Crypt can look forward to the future and whatever it may throw at him.