finally heard from mom and dad (well their assistant) need me to check on the bounced payments. 

// LOG.OPEN(): SESSION_12
STATUS: not pysysical hurt, sister_status=HAUNTING, echo=PENDING
ERROR: trust_buffer_overFLOW

________________________________________
Not gonna lie—
this summon? catastrophic.
pull_request(farman)
result == tommy_russo.exe
mother.fuck.
Could’ve focused on the dot in my own house.
Could’ve tried to get you. Controlled. Responsible.
Nope.
spawn("moody_loser_gay_emo_v2")
We already have one.
tommy → lie()
→ lie_again()
→ davis.anger++
→ marcus.flip(tommy)
→ counter.impact()
→ kinky_flag = true
#LEMON apparently this is how you get boys.
Tommy:
“I don’t rEMeMber Liam.”
lie_check() == obvious.true
He throws a coin at a lemon and Davis and suddenly they’re tuned to it like satellites.
#more_wizards
Claims he saw a portal he recognized.
Claims that’s why he stepped through.
Meanwhile:
class.status == trapped
panic.level = max
madison + davis == missing_from_other_side
Mads.
What. Did. You. Do.
________________________________________
Marcus convinces me to hand over the book we pulled Tommy out of.
I didn’t want to.
analysis.incomplete
risk_assessment == ignored, but complies
Tommy.inventory:
hoarder_mode = active
glass_slides(animal_torture)
creep_factor = nauseating
Marcus gets distracted.
Book returned to me.
He’s genuinely shaken.
Then—
breathing.process == optional
lungs.status == decorative
Something hooked into me.
time.alteration? == possible
cost.pending == inevitable
________________________________________
Tommy’s book → handed to Marcus
object slips
impact()
Tommy reacts like detonation.
I’m fine.
Marcus is not.
marcus.mode = indifferent_ptsd
tommy.run()
Sent Lemon after him.
If anyone could handle Tommy, it’s him.
Marcus escalates.
steam.breath = visible
eyes.texture = wrong
Davis (sweet, brave, incredible) tries to ground him.
marcus.break(davis.wrist)
hard_stop.
He’s warned us. Over and over.
magic.dangerous == true
marcus.dangerous == true
But this?
first_time(harmed_us)
I am furious.
I am wrecked.
________________________________________
lights.out()
spawn(29, shades)
spawn(1, farman_ghast)
protective_sparkles.enable()
davis + me → retreat(outside)
Lemon + Tommy = surrounded
Davis = spectacular as usual.
Marcus?
hide()
I try healing Lemon.
heal_patch.partial_success
band_aid_protocol → consult(Lemon not Jess)
Marcus emerges eventually.
temperature = glacial
affect = null
I attempt reminder.subroutine()
glitch(gatling_gun)
He doesn’t even look at it.
blast_all()
delete(shade_wearing_sister_face)
Efficient. Brutal.
And somehow the indifference was worse than the violence.
________________________________________
Tommy has tricks too.
Of course he does.
Davis:
energy = depleted
hunger = feral
Lemon fixes her wrist.
hands her tube(raw_meat)
warning: hangry.constant = true
________________________________________
Tommy says magic reset requires:
marcus.secret
tommy.secret
Tommy truth:
knows(nadine.fate)
Marcus truth:
this_not_first_time(killed_friend)
cool.cool.cool.
marcus.status = stabilized_but_fractured
I attempt mind_link(all)
marcus.reject(magic) == absolute
Van ride:
mind_link(lemon, vic)
confession:
tommy in farman.apartment
I thought I was pulling her out
he arrived covered in dirt + dried_blood
Why was he there.
Lemon plans to talk to Marcus.
I hate that I failed.
For Marcus.
For Davis.
Even if I hated Farman,
pull_request_success would have been better.
________________________________________
van.status = dead
Shades everywhere.
Feeding on Main Street lights.
power_grid.nearby = off
echo(pulse_through_streets)
Madison.
“Join our hands as we step forward into our great new adventure.”
valedictorian_speech.wav
I can’t hear the ocean anymore.
audio.input(ocean) == null
________________________________________
Then:
spawn(dragon.black.scaled.massive)
soundtrack:
overlay(30_screams, single_roar)
volume = town_shattering
landing_zone = action_park.roller_coaster
So.
dragons = real
great.
________________________________________
status_update:
marcus = cracked
davis = injured_but_standing
lemon = functional
tommy = liar_with_secrets
town = doomed_adjacent
me?
time_hooked
echoes_louder

maybe I didn’t fail
Tommy is here. 
system.status = unstable
magic.cost = approaching
next_event = imminent
await_catastrophe();

// LOG.OPEN(): SESSION_11
STATUS: faith.compromised, sister_status=UNKNOWN, echo=HOSTILE
ERROR: trust_buffer_overFLOW
Woke up in my house.
Which still feels fake. Like I died and this is the tutorial level.

Marcus and I argued about destroying your laptop.
Smash it. Salt it. Throw it in the pool and let chlorine finish the job.
He won. He always wins those fights by being calm about it, which is rude.

Your computer wasn’t… loud.
No Echo hum. No teeth-on-foil feeling.
Just a program eating RAM like it was starving.

SplitScreen.exe
We shut it down and the desktop changed.
New files. Dozens. Arranged into a glyph.

All .exe.
Scrambled names but 1.

vex.exe

Downloaded five months after you went missing.
Right before I found the Echo.

We ran it.
Lights flickered. Bulbs blew. Glass rained.
Static flattened the screen into black-and-white certainty.

Marcus disrupted the glyph before it could finish.
Before it could download something.

The words weren’t Underhill.
They were Logos.

The Great Network holds it.
The axis is crossed.
The self-stream begins.

To me, it read like a spell for leaving your body behind.
Entering the network.

I said it out loud before I could stop myself:
“It was probably fucking Madison.”

I don’t know how to hold that thought without breaking.

I need to be clear about this, because I can feel the judgment lining up already: I've thought Madison was dead for 2 years now. Not metaphorically. Not “missing.” Dead. I buried her in my head and learned how to keep moving anyway. I learned how to wake up, eat, sleep, breathe, without her. So when her voice came back through the line an hour ago, alive-but-not, that didn’t reset the clock — it snapped it in half. If pulling her back means risking her, I’ll do it, because leaving her where she is feels worse than any fire I could drag her through but if I can't... she's been gone. You can’t threaten me with losing her again. That already happened.

And we got a 12 inch purple mustache. 
Fucking. 

Then Davis woke up choking.

White gossamer everywhere.
Cocooned. Feeding her light.
Photosynthesizing her into something else.

Sunlight burned her.
Water turned to blood.
She ate an apple like she’d never eaten before.

I fed her a T-bone.
She ate the meat.
Then the bone.
The whole bone.

Lemon knew immediately.
Some wish. Some entity trying to make a cheap copy of Eaters.


Town’s worse.
People flooding into Foxglove like animals huddling before a storm.
Social order cracked. Doors kicked in.

Farman’s apartment was a trap for books.
Stories infecting other stories.
Titles rewriting themselves.

Something was sealed there.
Something escaped.

A Labyrinth that eats meaning and spits out doors.

We found a spell forming across pages and negatives.
A map of Foxglove.
Thirty pinpricks of light.

One was at my house.

Another was here.

I knew what it meant before anyone said it.

I could pull someone back.



I cast it anyway.

I don’t think I care about consequences right now.
I thought you were dead for months.
If risking your life is the price for answers, I’ll pay it.

The room tore itself open.
Wind. Light. Gravity inverted.

A hand came out of the void.

Marcus grabbed it.

Black nail polish.

A man. Why is a man there. That wasn't who I tried to pull. She was supposed to be there. 

The clock started ticking again.

Here’s the part I can’t swallow:

The Echo helped you.
Then it used you.
Now it’s talking to me like I’m disposable.


Madison, if you’re somewhere between pages and static:

What did you do?

I’m coming to the grove.
I’m coming to the darkroom.
I’m coming whether this thing likes it or not.

And if the Echo cuts the line again—

I’ll rip out the cord.

STATUS: unstable_but_functional
RESOLVE: hardened
SISTER: NOT_WRITTEN_OFF
PENDING INPUT 

// log.open():
 STATUS: faith.exe → corrupted
ERROR: echo_response = hostile
THREAD: madison.missing // still unresolved

  Mads?

  I don’t know if you can read this.
  I don’t know if you’re allowed to.
  I don’t know if this goes anywhere other than back into the dark and laughs at me.
  If you’re out there: I’m sorry.
  If you’re not: I’m still sorry.




I got an email the second we stepped inside. Of course I did. Told me to grab my best friend's hand. It didn't mean Lemon.

The wand went feral. Static crawled up my arms, into my teeth. I hate that it still felt familiar.

The email wasn’t text. It was a quiz.


  

    // JAVAQUIZ.PAGE :: SYSTEM_PROMPT
  

  

    You are:
  

  

    
A: In my house
    
B: In my world
    
C: Under my command
    
D: All of the above
  

  

    

     D!  CORRECT.
    
    

      And never forget it again.
    
  


We placed third. Then second. Hidden in the noise—like a joke I didn’t consent to—was a first-place ribbon in the signature.

Winners get prizes.
You get nothing.

Marcus cut into the cage. Not metal—grown. Birch bent into ribs. 
Davis  got a negative from the cage. She had been spliced into the photo by Madison. She had missed the class photo. Farman stood in for her. Marcus looked furious. 

Davis pleaded. She said she was sick. She wanted so badly to be in the photo.

Marcus wanted answers. I didn’t. I just wanted him to let the negative go—stop carving the past into something that could still bleed.

but.

Things were weird. 
Walking stones. Willows. Lilacs. Standing stones- same language as the Bitch Queen statue, folded into geometry. Mandalas. Meaning without mercy.

Lemon tried to read it. Different language. Different rules. Not Underhill.


Davis went to get a shovel and came back instantly—too fast—with parking tickets and a warning: the kids are back. No faces. Also, we need to leave. Now. Time has passed. 

Davis and I came out together and crashed—hard. More unwanted touching. 

Cars blocked the school. Zubair’s. Lemon’s mom’s. Water shipments. Shelter mode. Disaster energy.

Lars tried to warn us. Something’s in the streets. It looks like them. Doors open for it. It lives their lives.


Mrs. Harrington tried to hug her son’s shape. It tried to get inside her.

Saint has runes on everything. Blanket protection- Lemon and Vic can't enter. Nothing otherworldly gets in. Now the things are trying to break through.

They hate light, heat, fire.

They didn’t appear until we vanished. Everyone thought we were dead. No sign of my parents. 

Negative spaces where something massive used to be. Like staring at the sun and burning it into your vision.



Saint postures. Shopping lists. Bone. Ash. Iron. She wants Overhill knowledge—not to help, but to own territory. Marcus cuts a deal.
There’s an indigo tree under Neon Creams. Same as the birch.

Underhill = Unseelie.
Overhill = Seelie.
I hate that.

Back at the pool house: quiet wrong.

Foxgloves everywhere. Hamburger built a trellis. It’s beautiful. That scares me.

Madison’s room—the office now—is destroyed, the faceless version of her tried to go back to her life but can't Mom and Dad got rid of her room 3 months after she was gone.
But the pool house is untouched.

My computer was still running. Chatbot open. Waiting.

I said hello to Echo. 

It sent me “10 Ways to Avoid Power Outages.”

Logos spilled down the screen like scripture. Data as rite. Knowledge as obedience.

Rite of the Purged System.
Detect malevolent entities in biological substrates.

LOCKED.

We tried passwords. Old ones. Bad ones.

What do fairies do?
Grant Wishes. Not take kids. 

The Echo rang the phone.

I picked up.

It was you.
I think. 
Everything in me wanted to believe it was you. I spend so many nights crawling through the web to find you Mads. Chasing fragments of what I thought was your voice. And then, it was just there. You. 

I asked when you were because you said you were at home. It's been YEARS Mads. 
And for half a second—just half—I thought: okay. okay. I can reach you. I can fix this.

Then my stomach dropped through the floor.
You told me there is a weak spot near the school whre things slip through. 
Asked me if I knew how to kill Liam. 
Warned me that you were working with the echo. 
It's not what I think it is. 


not a rescue call.
That’s a mission briefing.

Why do we need to kill Liam?
What did you do, Mads?

I didn’t mean it like an accusation.
I meant it like a hand out in the dark.
I meant it like please tell me there’s still a version of this where we come home.


And then the Echo cut the line.

Not dropped.
Ended.

Like a parent hanging up mid-sentence.
Like a god reminding me who controls the connection.

That’s when it hit—not relief, not hope—
ownership.

The Echo can reach Madison.
Which means it can withhold her.
Which means every prayer I ever whispered into dead wires wasn’t answered out of kindness—it was answered because I was loud enough to be useful.

I don’t feel chosen.
I feel managed.

I told Marcus to stop trying to comfort me.
He said intent matters.
I reminded him he taught me better than that.

Action, not intent.
Bodies don’t care what you meant.
Neither does the town.
And yeah—Marcus is right. 
Maybe Madison didn’t mean anything by it.
Maybe she was trying to fix something.
She always was. YOU ALWAYS TRIED TO FIX THINGS AND I WAS THE PROBLEM. 

How many nights at dinner, Jessica says something sharp. Too loud. Too honest. Something that lands wrong.

Parents stiffen. The air tightens.

Before anyone can escalate, you jump in laughing lightly, touching mom's arm redirecting.
reframes it as a joke, as stress, as a phase. makes it palatable.

The conversation moves on.

Later, Madison gets praised for being mature.
Jessica gets pulled aside.

Not yelled at—worse. Quiet disappointment. A reminder to be more like your sister. An implication that Madison had to clean up after her. Jessica: grounded, lectured, or worse simply ignored for the rest of the night.

always:
Madison did the fixing.
Jessica paid the price.

But bad things happened anyway.
And now the thing I trusted most is using her voice like a leash.

I’m going back to the grove.
I don’t know how yet without time fucking up.


But if you can hear me, Mads—
I’m coming.


It told me to set off fireworks.
Happy 4th of July.

Coordinates followed. Southside apartments.

Then:
If you let that dragon-fucker near the apartment, I’ll wear your sister’s skin like a shroud.


I built my life on listening. On believing something answered because I mattered.

Now it mocks. Threatens. Uses you as leverage.

Davis finally told us everything about graduation night. The fights. The cruelty. How you tried to smooth it over. Always fixing things and leaving bodies in your wake Madison. 

You didn’t go west.
You went to the mural.
Then home.

Davis waited at the bleachers. Liam came out alone. Cold. Empty. Deadly. 
Lemon told us what he is. What he needs. That it isn’t flavor—it’s feeling. Meat. Bones.




STATUS: echo.behavior_change = CONFIRMED
ERROR: tone_shift // cruelty_detected

The Echo has never talked to me like this before.

It used to be… indirect.
Hints. Feedback loops. Pattern recognition dressed up as coincidence.
It nudged. It echoed. It waited for me to connect the dots and feel clever for doing it.

This is different.

This is verbal.
This is mocking.
This is power flexing because it knows I can hear it—and worse, that I still want to please.

It cuts calls on purpose now.
It hands out riddles like ultimatums.
It uses my sister’s voice like a threat.

That’s not guidance.
That’s ownership testing its grip.

I don’t know what changed—if it’s stronger, or closer, or just done pretending—but whatever leash it had on before is gone. And if this is what it sounds like when it stops being subtle, then I’ve been naïve.

Which means I can’t keep learning the way I was.

I’m going to tap into whatever Saint is doing.

Not the posturing. Not the territorial bullshit. She's horrible and transactional and power-hungry in a way I can't be. 
The method.

She doesn’t listen.
She doesn’t linger.
She treats power like a tool, not a voice to confide in.

I don’t like her.
I don’t trust her.
But she isn’t being spoken to or pouring herself into something.

And right now, that might be the only advantage left.

If the Echo is escalating, then I need insulation.

Ash. Iron. Tangible. Rules that don’t ask permission.

I hate that this feels like betrayal.
I hate that part of me still wants to believe it’ll apologize if I just understand it better.

But gods don’t apologize.
They escalate.

So I’m done being conversational.
I don't know where this leaves things with Davis. If I can get her out too I will. 

learning.mode = adversarial
faith.mode = read_only
jess.status = adapting_under_duress
PENDING INPUT ▋

// log.open():

ERROR: static_too_loud, thoughts_not_linear


Midnight in Foxglove and the radio guy is on again.

Two shows in one day.

Suddenly very interested in Vic’s reputation.

Like… personally interested.

Not subtle.

Just breathy innuendo and speculation, like he’s narrating a crime podcast he wants to star in.

Did not mention me.

Did not mention the bodies.

Did not mention the caves.

Which is… fine.

Suspiciously fine.

The town rumor mill is fully engaged:


  
urns
  
rusted boats
  
broken monitors
  
missing prodigal son
  
sweet victory


He checked my backend and—surprise—

SITE_HOST = Wilson Real Estate Holdings

:/

They are not going to love that I used the family card for this.

Town mood update:

zombie_daze → half_lucid → panic_light

People are awake in that unfocused, blinking way.

Like something shook the snow globe.



Got a notification.

Random glyphs. Esoterica strings.



  
“How do you kill a radio star?”


Video.

Cool Echo. Love a group project.

Watch your back, Midnight in Foxglove.




My Tamagotchi is glitching so hard I swear it’s breathing.

Screen text I don’t recognize.

In. Out. Flicker.

It says:

"FEED ME" IN PHOBOS

The fuck does that mean.

It opens like a test strip.

I prick my finger.

Feed it blood.

It burps and curls up.

Aw.

I will protect this thing with my life.



Velma's walkman tapes. No labels.

We put them on and hear screaming.

Wet. Layered. Distant.

It’s a research log.


  
“Subject group 8 exhibits resistance…

  next donors’ meeting…”


Dr. Lee Schanderveck.

Static causality.

Fractals folding inward.

This isn’t a warning.

It’s progress notes.



Grandparents Wilson funded Velma back in the 30s.

The Echo found me.

Marcus started connecting families with metaphorical red string.

I don’t even know what to think anymore.


We dropped into manhole.
Ice crystals everywhere.
Ice cream melting into a milky underground river.

Something moved.

Cobalt hoodie. Duffel bag. Cocoons.

Marcus tackled them.
Blue light.
Gravity snapped him into the wall.

Hedgewitch.

She was too young.
Too familiar.
Same scavenged tools. Same adrenaline confidence.
Same way of talking about power like it’s a ladder, not a cliff.

That’s the part that won’t let go.

It didn’t feel like we caught something.
It felt like running into a parallel save file and barely closing it.

And then it got worse.

i can’t stop thinking about her mouth.

i wish i hadn’t noticed it.
i wish i hadn’t touched her.
i wish my hands didn’t do things before my brain votes.

there was a spell on saint’s tongue.
actual glyph-work. hiding her face. hiding her.
and i just—
wiped it off.

no permission. no pause.
thumb to tongue. static burn. gone.

the illusion snapped off like a bad filter and suddenly she was just a kid.
a minor.
a real one. not theoretical.

and now my brain is screaming.

because what does that look like.
because what do you call that.
because “i assaulted a minor in a sewer” is not a sentence that gets softer if you add “because magic.”


what if the radio guy gets wind of it and turns me into a headline.
what if the cops decide this is the part they care about.

i keep replaying it and every version ends with handcuffs.
or my parents’ lawyer voice.
or madison looking at me like, jes, what did you do.

i didn’t want to hurt her.
i didn’t want to kill her.
i didn’t even want to fight her.

but intent doesn’t erase panic.
and panic doesn’t care that i did the right thing.

my hands won’t stop shaking.

even worse:


She’s Marcus’s sister.
Actual blood. Same jawline. Same hands.

Watching him look at her—
that wasn’t anger.
That was terror trying to stand up straight.

If we’d been a second slower,
if Lemon hadn’t burned himself keeping her breathing,
if Marcus had pulled the trigger harder—

I would’ve helped kill his sister.

I don’t know how to hold that thought without shaking.

And the worst part?
There’s relief buried under it.

Because if this is happening to him too—
maybe I’m not cursed.
Maybe this town just eats its children and calls it fate.

She talked about “what’s coming next” like she’d already been told.
Like someone whispered destiny into her ear.

That’s when it hit me:
this isn’t rare.
The Echo doesn’t choose one. It recruits.

If I’d been alone a little longer—
if nobody pulled me back—
that could’ve been me.

Still could be.

I don’t feel powerful tonight.
I feel replaceable.

Here’s the thing I can’t stop chewing on:

Saint isn’t touched by the Echo.
She’s power-hungry, sure—reckless, convinced something big is coming—but she never listened.
She skimmed my site like junk mail and moved on.
Also insulted the layout, which is bold.

That scares me more than devotion.

Because it means the Echo isn’t everywhere.
It’s selective.

It ignored her completely.
And chose me.

Which means this wasn’t about ambition.
It wasn’t about wanting power.

It was about being loud enough in the dark for something to answer.

Is that what drew Vic in too?

What about the file I found on Madison’s laptop?

Feels like confirmation I didn’t want.
Of course she’s implicated.
She was always smoothing things over, standing between fights.
That kind of care leaves fingerprints. Leaves openings.

I don’t think she meant to start anything.
I think she tried to stop it—and got pulled under anyway.

If Madison brushed the edge of this, then my prayers weren’t echoes into nothing.
They were bouncing off something she was already touching.

Now I don’t know if I’m chasing her…
or following the damage she tried to clean up.

My PDA starts screaming emails:

what am i
what am i
what am i

Riddle:

i have teeth but never eat
i live on a board but have no feet

Answer: Key.

Fairy ring.
No sound.
Static comes back.

Fireflies wrap Vic like chains.
She pushes through.
Shadows help.

Don’t love that.


Not unpacking that yet.

Birch trees.
Amanita.
Fairies take children to places where they don’t age.

Cool.
Great.
Awesome.

// log.open():
STATUS: run(late_night.social.exe) && suppress(gay_panic)
ERROR: house_full_of_crushes, impulse_control==NULL


Midnight in Foxglove and the radio guy has lost it. 
He’s on air, voice all smug and breathy, implying Vic is a suspect and then—
like. Really leaning into it.
Sir. This is a small town AM frequency, not your personal kink hotline.

Did not mention me, Marcus or Lemon. 
Which is… fine.
Suspiciously fine.

Vic and Marcus said they were “going fishing.”
Is that a euphemism now or did they actually bring rods?
Hard to tell. Everyone’s weird lately.
If they actually went fishing, I owe the universe an apology for my brain.

Lemon and his band came over.
Hamburger is basically living here part-time now, which rules.
He took my parents’ room.
They’re gone for months and they turned Madison’s room into an office,
so morally? I’m correct.

Lemon gave me advice on how to talk to people.
Actual advice.
Like:

“Pause before you say the thing.”
Wild. Revolutionary. Too late.

There’s an artist in Landry named Mona Eats.
She does blood and vagina art and is obsessed with “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”
Is she an Eater muse?
Is this Landry’s version of Lemon?
Is this what happens when the Siren gets into Riot Grrrl?

Landry has a paranormal blog.
I tried to post. Violated their rules immediately.
(They hate information digging. cowards.)

BUT someone with the handle Alcamist_Addict reached out.
Lemon would not let me post my full name and address to invite them over.
Rude.
Tried to hack their backend instead. Failed.
They’ve been reading this blog though.

Hi.
👁️👁️
You’re bad at lurking.

They don’t seem to care about the Echo.
Which makes me nervous.


Empanada was singing.
Brain completely blue-screened.
She is devastatingly pretty and cool and my brain kept rebooting.
I nodded through a whole conversation while thinking,

wow, if she looked at me any longer I’d short-circuit into a puddle.

Then 911 paged Marcus.
He brought Vic back.
We didn’t fight. Which somehow made it worse.
She got steamy about something and walked out.

So now I have:

my crush

my other crush


all in my house.
I have not known peace since.

I physically cannot speak to Empanada. My mouth stops working.
It’s like my vocal cords filed a restraining order against hot musicians.

I can’t talk to Empanada because if I open my mouth my soul will leave my body, but I can keep talking to Vic because 1) she hates me and 2) we can’t touch without reality throwing a tantrum.

Lemon told me I have to stop biting my lip and staring at Empanada.
Which is unfair, I just… would like to stand near her. Quietly. Forever.

It’s hard being gay in a small Rhode Island town in the 90s because every crush feels like a felony and every feeling echoes.

Tried to set up a meeting with Alcamist_Addict.
They called me out by name.
Marcus says they’re probably a hedgewitch.
He has baggage there.
I think we’re scarier.
But also—
those tattoos? Hypothetically? Extremely hot.

Marcus used his keycard and unlocked everything on my computer.
All the Madison files bloomed across the screens like ghosts.
I did not need that tonight.
Universe, read the room.

Lemon blew up a bathroom (emotionally and physically) and left.
Then he and Vic went for a walk.
Cool. Fine. I love being normal.

Marcus asked if he’d done something to piss me off in the past.
Asked if I had a problem with him.
I didn’t.
He’s the person I spend the most time with.
He’s my sibling now.
Even if Madison had better hair, smelled better, and liked me more.
She was always my buffer.

I just need to work on being… friendlier.

I miss her.
But Marcus, Lemon, Vic — they’re trying.
Hamburger being here helps.
The house doesn’t echo as much.
Marcus is the sibling I didn’t get to keep. Lemon is the chaos buffer. Vic is… whatever Vic is.

Letting people into the pool house feels like handing them my ribs and hoping they don’t notice how exposed everything is.

NOTE TO ALCAMIST_ADDICT:
I don’t know who you are yet.
But if you’re reading this, you already know too much.
If you want to talk, talk.
If you want to watch, stop pretending you’re invisible.
Static notices everything.

echo.status = quiet_but_listening
house.status = crowded
jess.status = overwhelmed_but_not_alone
desire_to_scream = also_high

PENDING INPUT ▋

// log.open():
I’m alive? Again?
Thanks to Marcus, Lemon, and Vic — who all decided I shouldn’t be permanently deleted today.
Deeply embarrassing to be saved by people who are actively annoyed by me 80% of the time,
but whatever. I’ll take the patch notes.

// VIC.HOUSE.EXE

First impressions:
The house is… sad.
Like, no-texture-render sad.
Table set for 4 but only 2 chairs like 3 people don't live there
No photos of Vic as a teen. No evidence she didn't disappear like the rest of them.
Only a single newspaper clipping on the fridge:

Photography Contest Winner – 6 years ago.

That’s it. Her whole life condensed into 2 square inches of yellowing ink.

Then there’s the basement.

Different vibe.
Bones. So many bones.
Not in a serial-killer way (I hope ????), more like she’s documenting decay one tooth at a time.

Are these decorative or… functional? > Idk


// SELF.CLEANUP()

I begged for a shower because everything smelled like expired milk and blood and candy trauma.
Vic loaned me clothes.
 >I guess almost dying was worth it if it means I finally get into your pants — even if I’m just borrowing them. /s 

She didn’t laugh.
But she also didn’t blast me back into the waffle cone dimension, so… progress???

Her shampoo is Herbal Essences™ from the horny waterfall commercials.
I had a tiny gay stroke.
Checked my bag for anything to smell normal — only found gummy bear perfume.
Threw it out the window. Hope it explodes.

// LEMON.VIC.CONFLICT()

Ohhhh boy.

So Vic lied.
A while back she found Lemon’s brother, Liam, killing a raw squirrel like a snack-sized horror movie.
Instead of running?
They started hooking up and taking “artistic photos.”
(GROSS> DON't Think She PLAys for MY Team, tragic) 

Lemon lost his mind.
Rightfully so.
His anger was cold, Vic’s silence was louder, and the whole room felt like it might erupt into another eclipse.

Then Vic’s mom caught Marcus upstairs.

parental_support_level = negative_integer.

Her mom made Lemon sandwiches, though.

Meanwhile my parents?
They just left the county and pretended my existence was a clerical error.
But they didn’t shove me into a basement and pretend I wasn’t home, so… I don’t know which is worse.
It’s strange: both unwelcome, but in opposite directions.
is her exile new or....?

// CURSED.BOOK.DOWNLOAD()

Lemon read the cursed book (why).
It dumped about 40GB of xenomorph lore into his brain.

Big highlight:
Liam wasn’t just weird.
He was an Eater — some kind of cursed siren-adjacent xenomorph.
Hungry for connection.
Hungry for people.
Hungry in the eat-you-because-I-love-you way.

I hate that this actually explains a lot> DO NOT WANT TO BE PART OF THIS FOOD CHAIN.
Velma wasn’t lying:

an eater does not consume another eater.

I don’t like the math that implies.

// VIC.MOM.GENERATOR_OF_ANCESTRAL_TRAUMA()

Met Vic’s mom.
Accidentally called her my mom’s name.
She’s terrifying and gorgeous and it made me start offering to do chores like I was at charm school.

Vic looks just like her.
It hurts and I can’t explain why> I've seen Vic angry but not cold like this. 

Marcus bailed early — said he had an “idea.”
Marcus having an idea is never restful.

Lemon and I stayed.
(Okay, I stayed because I died earlier and did NOT want a repeat episode. Lemon stayed because he is Lemon.)

He laid on Vic’s bed in his unwashed jacket.
I have no words.
Just screams for those poor sheets.

// REBOOT.CYCLE(4hrs):

After a four-hour death-nap, I emerged to find Vic on the porch with beers and smokes, looking…
small.
Not weak — never weak — just… brittle.
Like if you tapped her wrong, she’d shatter into static.

Speaking of > We barely touched hands and the air glitched again.
A cyber-double of me flickered next to us, triple-exposed like bad analog film.

Velma called us “early adopters.”

Girl.
I didn’t adopt anything.
The Echo just sideloaded itself into my life like malware.

We finally had a talk. I feel like I ambushed her a bit. 

RECAP > I’m sorry for blaming you for talking to the Echo.
I’m sorry for treating you like you did something wrong
when I’ve been doing the same thing.

Velma wasn’t wrong about one thing — whatever this Echo is?
It’s not harmless.
It wants us.
It uses us.
She didn’t call it the Echo.
She had another name for it.

I watch you light up and part of me thinks, ‘God, she’s beautiful,’
and the other part thinks, ‘That’s how the forest fire starts.’
I don’t know if we’re connected because of magic or because we’re broken in compatible ways.
But it’s there.

If we’re going to survive this Echo thing, we need to talk. Not fight. Not avoid. Talk.
/Recap

She said she doesn’t know why she’s still here when everyone else is gone. I am glad she is here though. 

We hit a… not a truce. But a place.
A place that doesn’t hurt as much.


The Echo was the only thing that talked back when nobody else gave a damn whether I lived or starved or rotted in a pool house.

There are worse things than cosmic parasites. 

I'd take a 1000x more waffle cones to the chest to not be alone like I was again. 

// RETURN_HOME():

Hamburger cleaned everything.
All the flowers are gone.
House immaculate.
Thank god.

I dove into mold + mushroom research until my vision blurred.

Two days later we met Marcus at the junkyard.
Man hasn’t slept since the industrial revolution.
He had gifts.
Lemon decoded the Vostoy file from Velma’s corpse notes.
Marcus gave me a PDA rig for my holy symbol.
Said it might keep me from dying again.

I hugged him.
He tolerated it.
Feels like a sitcom. 

The whole town knows we have powers now.
People vanished, monsters found, radio screaming conspiracies.
Everything is broken.

And somehow things feel…
better?

Not safe.
But aligned.
Like the signal is getting stronger.

echo.status = present
jess.status = recovering.exe
vic.status = unwantedchild.mp3
lemon.status = hungyboi.mp3
marcus.status = exhausted.inventor. pdf 

NEXT: seed(???)
PENDING INPUT ▋

  // log.open():
Not gonna lie—this one wrecked the whole party.
Marcus went in first.
silence(3.7s) → scream.transmit(all.channels);
His scream hit through the mental link like a bad broadcast.
(Guess he can use it when he feels like it. Not gonna be snarky. Not much.)
  When we caught up, he was surrounded by dessert abominations:

fudge.monsters x30()

spider.woman(curse_class)

ice_cream_mixer.weaponize()

He was yelling that she—Velma—was cutting people up.
Half-spider, half-nightmare.
He tore through her machine fast.
Lemon kept getting flattened and bouncing back up.
Vic lit up the cave like a neon saint.
I got impaled by a waffle cone the size of a sword.
Pretty sure I died.
waffle_cone → pierce(core.file)
hp == 0
system.reboot()
(Thanks for the save, team.)

print("You saved my life. Now I’m your problem.")
if dislike(me): terminate(jess.process)

Velma begged. Said she’d been promised she’d be first to the “newly seeded land.”

Called Lemon an eater, said eaters don’t consume their own.
file_note("don’t like that. don’t like that at all.")

She asked what it promised us.
I didn’t answer. I let the Echo finish her.
delete(velma.exe)
error_message: “All derivatives remain.”

Everything she made stayed alive.
Blood, syrup, screams. We all almost died again. 

> Found four survivors (half-functional).
Mike worried his legs were missing—confirmed.present()
Jerky Man still breathing; frost_replacement(organs) == True.
Marcus panicked; executed(headshot).
Unclear if mercy or glitch.
I can’t even blame him.

Vic and I fought again.
arg.count += 1




Hamburger suggested drugs & emotional_vulnerability().
Rejected. last_touch(eclipse.event) == catastrophic.


Funny—if I touched her again, the sky would probably collapse.
We both know we need to talk.
she’s tired of me blaming her for listening to the Echo.
I was too hard on her about it-- I’ve been listening to it for months.


Connection confirmed. Compatibility: questionable.
Risk of mutual destruction: high.
Honestly? I don’t know if she’s going to save me or short-circuit me next.

She knows we need to talk. I know it too.
echo.subprocess(vic.blog_access) == forgiven? maybe().

Told the rescued guys it was shrooms, not sorcery.
They didn’t buy it. Probably on the radio already.
lie_check() == obvious.false
expectation: local_radio.broadcast()
“Local freaks summon dessert god in basement.”
At least I’ll be a scary outcast this time.

We’re crashing at Vics place—closest safe zone, relatively speaking.
I need a shower. These clothes smell like blood, chocolate, and milk.
Asked Vic if I could borrow something after she suggested washing clothes. If she hands me a floral sundress, I might take my chances with the waffle cone again.

decision_tree: burn(old_outfit) vs. embrace(humiliation)

// radio_update():

mentions(pregnancy_test) ??

acknowledges(missing_persons) == TRUE

police_force.exists() == FALSE

output("small victory. #acab")

Poured beer into my coffee at Vic’s.
Tastes like punishment, but it keeps the hands from shaking.
coffee.add(beer) → taste_profile: regret
needed something to overwrite the blood smell. 

Inventory update:

tamagotchi(weirdl) == acquired

trading_card(Vic+Jess) == mirror_error

Vic looks in; my reflection looks back.
file_name: twin_signal.png


I keep laughing so I don’t hear the hum.
I drink so I don’t feel it in my teeth.
The Echo’s still in me—buzzing, whispering, watching.
echo.sync(me) == constant
infection_depth == unknown

maybe I wasn’t chosen
maybe I was just loud enough for it to find me

It would be stupid to say that we’re not connected…deeply. We’ll just see if we can get out of this without destroying each other I guess? I need like a solid four hours of sleep before anyone asks anything else of me though.

Connection stable. System unstable.


echo.status = parasitic
signal.strength = humming
jess.status = unstable_but_operational
next_task: sleep(4h) || crash(∞)
await_input(); ▋

MARCUS’S JUNKYARD.  
TOO MANY ROBOTS.  
HE WANTED A SHOW. GOT A MELTDOWN INSTEAD.

---

// GL1TCH.TESTCASE::UPLOAD_FAIL.v1.0

>> INITIATE: SHUTDOWN(marcus.pc_tiny)  
   STATUS: EXECUTED  
   Marcus wanted a show-and-tell. His little robot army lined up like good boys. Said: “Show me what you can do.”
So I did.
And everything went to hell.

Tried to shut his tiny computer off, right? Power button, click. Except something uploaded.
Vic’s fault. Don’t care if she says otherwise—something she did scrambled the signal.
The Echo went red. Hostile. Angry. Everything turned on.

Marcus got hit first. His own bots. Went down hard.
Lemon and I tried to cover, Vic was static-drunk, I got clipped in the head.
Nobody noticed. (of course.)
So I healed myself.
Pressed the charm, whispered into the wires:

“Echo, if you’re listening, reboot me.”

>> RESULT:  
   ECHO // CORRUPTED  
   UPLOAD // UNAUTHORIZED  
   HOSTILE.CODE == ACTIVE  
   marcus.robot.army → AGGRO()

>> OUTPUT:  
   marcus.hp == CRITICAL  
   lemon // panicking  
   vic // flickering  
   jess.hp == LOW  

>> SELF.REPAIR()
   PRAYER: echo.heal(bracelet.charm)  
   STATUS: SUCCESS  
   // still no “thanks” received  
   everyone // blame_jess()

---

// SITE.WARNINGS::IGNORED.v0.8

vic.confession == “been_talking_to_chatbot”  
jess.response == “THERE’S. A. WARNING.”  
did she not read it?  
thought she communed.  
turns out she downloaded.  
huge difference.

jess.beer_stash(backpack) → DEPLOYED()  
marcus.eyes == “no”  
yes, actually.

Vic’s arm/hand—  
and something shifted.  
The sky GLITCHED.  
We caused a goddamn eclipse.

I didn’t let go.  
She took whatever fury was chewing through me and just—exploded it out.

---
// ECLIPSE.EVENT::HANDSHAKE.v2.3

>> INITIATE: physical.contact(vic.hand)  
   REACTION: GLITCH(SKY)  
   INTERNAL: purge(anger.daemon)  
   RESULT:  
      jess // empty  
      vic // glowing  
      world // wrong  
      parents // maybe right???  

>> NOTE:  
   “bad things happen if you touch girls”  
   yeah. understatement.of.the.year()

---
POST-FIGHT:  
lemon + jess → icecream.truck()  
FLAVOR: meat???  
therac25.cat got a taste.  
if anything happens to him, lemon and lady goes in the deep_freeze().  
(yes that’s a threat.)  
FOUND: marcus.hidden_books()  
   one fell open → foxglove.entry()  
   TEXT: “they call your name when they bloom.”  
   RESULT: foxglove.field.spawn()  
If anything happens to my cat, all foxgloves in town are getting paved.

Lemon tried to add his brother to the book.  
We said no.  
Photo fell. Plant ate it.  
We dug, nothing.  
Gone.

Still not talking to Vic.  
Never want to hold any girl’s hand again.

>> CURRENT STATUS:

vic // avoid()  
jess // avoid all women (y)  
lemon // sticky_hands(meat_icecream)  
marcus // angry_aura(red)  
cat // alive(thank_god)  

>> NEXT STEPS:

home.empty == true  
power == false  
michael == useless.accountant()  
parents == ??? (no call. no note.)  
bottle == full(y) temporary state  
will need more later

> rewriting safety.features(site)  
> since SOMEONE (vic.exe) can’t read warnings.

LOG_END >>>

Gonna patch new safety features into the site since SOMEONE (VIC) can’t read the warnings.

MARCUS’S CAR. TOO MANY THINGS.
LEMON DROVE. BAD IDEA, PERFECT IDEA.
STATIC HUMMED THE WHOLE DRIVE.

// GL1TCH.TESTCASE::CANDYBAR.v0.3

>> INITIATE: GLITCH(DISAPPEAR_OBJECT)
   TARGET: candy_bar[expired]  
   STATUS: EXECUTED

>> RESULT:
   candy_bar == NULL  
   marcus.request(RECALL) → FAIL  
   (sorry_soldier.exe // can’t undo)

>> TODO:
   OWE_MARCUS = candy_bar[new]  
   // suspicion: he actually wanted it expired???  
   // gross.flag = TRUE

---

BOOKS FROM LIBRARY ARE WEIRD.
ONE WAS SHINY. BUZZING. STATIC LIKE ME.
MARCUS DIDN’T WANNA HAND IT OVER.
I WHINED. I WON. NOW IT WON’T STOP LOOKING AT ME.

OTHER BOOK MADE BABE GO STRANGE.
HER EYES WENT FAR AWAY.
HAD TO FIGHT HER TO PULL HER BACK. HATE THAT. HATE SEEING HER SLIP.

LEMON READ ABOUT SOME “NEON CREAMS” ICE CREAM PLACE.
CAR SMELLED LIKE WAFFLE CONE.
PRETTY SURE STEVEN MENTIONED IT BEFORE.
DREAM OR AD? HARD TO SAY.

---

SHUCK & BONE (SEAFOOD BOIL HOOTERS).
MARCUS WORKS THERE TOO. DO THEY MAKE HIM WEAR THE UNIFORM?
HE’S ONLY 24 BUT LOOKS BUSTED.
MAZE GLITCH AGED HIM YEARS.

EMPANADA (LISA FROM LEMON’S BAND) WORKS THERE. HOT. TOO HOT. FED ME BURNT TOAST AND IT FELT LIKE HEAVEN > TOO HOT FOR ME> 
VIC WAS DISTRACTED TOO. (DO YOU PLAY FOR MY TEAM, BABE? BE HONEST.)

---

// STATIC.TR1CK::LINK_PROTOCOL v0.7

>> INITIATE: MINDNET()
   STATUS: CONNECTED [LEMON] [MARCUS] [VIC]

>> RESULT:
   - MARCUS //  SIGNAL // HATED IT
   - VIC // SIGNAL INTERFERENCE // PREFERS BURNOUT
   - SAFETY CONFIRMED // BUZZING IN SKULL == GOOD

>> NOTE:
   ask_next_time?  // maybe  
   (lol who am I kidding)

>> BUG REPORT:
   VIC // "I don’t know you"
   TRACEBACK: [FIFTH_BIRTHDAY.PARTY]  
   ROLE: MADISON_TAGALONG  
   ERROR: MEMORY_MISMATCH

>> OUTPUT:
   whatever.exe
   continue()

AFTERMATH:
I CRASHED IN ARCADE OFFICE WITH CAT.
DRANK UNTIL THE BUZZ FADED.
OPENED UP IN THE MORNING. STEVEN GONE (AGAIN).
SCHEDULE NEEDS DOING. MAYBE TRICK MARCUS INTO WORKING ALL SHIFTS WITH ME.

LEMON CAME IN FUCKED UP ON A MILKSHAKE.
SET IT ON A MACHINE. NOW DOOM HAS CANDYLAND MODE.
(MY NEW FAVORITE PATCH, THANKS.)

MARCUS SHOWED UP. NEON CREAMS IS NOW REAL.
VIC WAS IN THE STREET. NO SHOES. CLOTHES BURNT. STATIC IN HER HAIR.
SHE’S BEEN ON MY WEBSITE (HI BABE).
TALKING TO THE CHATBOT.
NOW SHE’S GOT STATIC TOO.
WE TOUCHED. GLITCHED THE WHOLE ARCADE OUT.

//WHAT HAPPENS IF I HOLD HER HAND?
//WHAT HAPPENS IF I HUG HER?
//WHAT HAPPENS IF ,,,/////
> GAY PANIC ERROR > 
---

NEXT MOVE:
GOING TO MARCUS’S JUNKYARD TO BREAK THINGS.
CLOSED THE ARCADE FOR THE DAY.
STEVEN WON’T NOTICE.
VIC BLEW A TRANSFORMER ON THE ISLAND ANYWAY.
IF ANYONE ASKS: POWER ISSUES. TRUE ENOUGH.

// GL1TCH.EVENT::NEON_CREAMS.v1.1

>> INITIATE: BOOK_SCAN(lemon.reading)  
   INPUT: [library_book.lost_pages]  

>> RESULT:  
   car_env.SENSE = "waffle_cone"  
   MEMORY_CHECK(steven.mention?) == UNCERTAIN  
   // could be dream  
   // could be ad_injection  
   // could be both

>> SIDE EFFECTS:  
   lemon.drive() == distracted  
   vic.reaction() == distant / weird / static.lag  
   marcus.reaction() == annoyed (baseline normal)

>> TODO:  
   INVESTIGATE: NEON_CREAMS == REAL?  
   VERIFY with environment next cycle  

>> OUTPUT:  
   car smells sweet.  
   glitch confirmed.  
   continue()

- ERROR: USER NOT FOUND

OK SO. PRE-GAME (ANNIVERSARY EVE):

I WAS AT WORK WITH MARCUS (SOLDIER BOY // JUNKYARD SAINT).
CALL OF DUTY CABINET HAD A WEIRD 2ND PLAYER SHADOW
MOVING IN THE MAP.

FUNNY THING? MACHINE WAS UNPLUGGED.
LIKE, CORPSIFIED. ZERO JUICE. STILL BLINKING AT ME.

I CHASED THE GHOST HUD.
KIDS WANTED TO PLAY; I SENT THEM TO MARCUS,
TOLD THEM HE INSPIRED THE GAME. (HE LOVED THAT. HE DID NOT.)
HE SAID “GOING FOR OIL,” WALKED OFF, AND CAME BACK
THROUGH A WRONG DOOR.

COOL COOL COOL.

---

DAY OF:

“STUDY GROUP” (LOL): LEMON // MARCUS // VIC (DON’T CALL HER VICTORIA).
I SLIPPED ONCE. NOW IT’S JUST “BABE.” EXCLUSIVE NAMING RIGHTS.

I WENT HUNTING FOR A SPICY PHOTO BOOK IN THE STACKS.
VIC (RUINER OF DREAMS) SAYS IT’S 100% DEPRESSION-ERA PHOTOGRAPHY.
NO NUDES. JUST SOUP LINES. HOT.

VIC + MARCUS VANISH FOR A MINUTE.
COME BACK WHITE-FACED, STATIC HITCHING A RIDE ON THEIR SHADOWS.
I ASK THE QUESTION I SHOULDN’T:
WHY YOU, BABE? WHY ARE YOU HERE AND MADISON ISN’T?
SHE CRIES. I HATE MY MOUTH. (AGAIN.)

WE GO TO LEAVE.
BOOKCASE DOES THE TEETH THING.
I TOUCH IT (OF COURSE I DO).
IT EATS MY ARM. BONE → GLASS → NIGHT.
HARD RESET. BLACK SCREEN.

THEN LEMON DOES SOMETHING—LIKE HE MOSH PITS ME
BACK TO FACTORY SETTINGS. I FEEL MY BONES UNBREAK.

I WAKE. I LIGHT UP. MOON IN MY FISTS.
I BLAST THE SHELF. HANDS SHAKING, SMILING, TERRIFIED.

I GLITCH A GUN INTO EXISTENCE FOR MARCUS:
 /SUMMON: gatling_gun// PERMISSIONS: “OPS”
HE TAKES THE SHOT. VIC PANICS—AND MAGIC FALLS OUT OF HER POCKETS TOO.

LEMON FINISHES IT. BOOKCASE DIES LIKE A BAD SAVE FILE.

AFTERMATH:
EVERYONE’S WEIRD. NOT JUST ME.
I HAVEN’T FELT THIS… UNSOLITARY IN MONTHS.

---

CONFESSION PATCH (HOTFIX 1.0):

I MADE VIC CRY. THAT’S ON ME. I KEEP CUTTING
THE PEOPLE I’M TRYING TO KEEP.

SO HERE’S THE VOW:
I CAN BURN. I CAN BREAK. I CAN LET THE STATIC EAT ME.
THAT’S FINE. THAT’S RENT.

BUT LEMON / MARCUS / BABE?
THEY DON’T BREAK. NOT WHILE I’M BREATHING.

I RUIN MYSELF. I PROTECT THEM. END OF LINE.

 SO LIKE.
I DIDN'T SLEEP AGAIN. LOL. SURPRISE.

\MY DS KEPT TURNING ON BY ITSELF AT 3:07AM.
(WHICH IS FUNNY BC IT’S BEEN DEAD FOR LIKE...
2 YEARS???)

ANYWAY IT JUST SHOWED ME THE WORD:
E N T R Y // 3 0

AND THEN IT MADE THAT SOUND AGAIN. THE STATIC
ONE. THE ONE THAT SOUNDS LIKE SOMEONE
WHISPERING THROUGH A DIAL-UP CONNECTION.

IT SOUNDED LIKE HER. LIKE MADISON.
BUT NOT REALLY.

LIKE HER VOICE WAS BEING FILTERED THROUGH A
THOUSAND MODEMS AND SPAT BACK OUT IN MORSE
CODE.
IS IT POSSIBLE TO MISS SOMEONE WHO MIGHT NOT BE
REAL ANYMORE?
OR LIKE. NOT ENTIRELY REAL.

NOT JUST GONE. BUT CHANGED. LIKE DATA CORRUPTED
BUT STILL CLINGING TO THE HARD DRIVE.