P2P WIKI
Entry: “Poltergeist”
[Last edited by Maytrix]
A poltergeist is a particularly wicked type of ghost intent on wreaking havoc on anyone who comes into its space. Unlike ghosts, they are not typically human in origin, and reasons for their manifestations can vary greatly.
AFTER a late lunch, Dad and Grandma headed out with Jess and Lidia to conduct a few interviews about the asylum we’d be investigating tomorrow. Oscar and I did a short algebra lesson with Mi Jin, who seemed a little distracted. After giving us an essay assignment for social studies, she pulled out her laptop and started typing furiously, brow furrowed. Working on her screenplay, I realized with a pang of guilt. She was probably nervous about showing it to Grandma. And the Thing’s notes couldn’t have boosted her confidence.
“Time!” she said an hour later, snapping her laptop closed. “Hand ’em over.”
Oscar and I dutifully handed her our papers. I turned to Oscar, tossing my pen down on the desk.
“Grandma’s suite has a pretty nice TV. Want to see if anything good’s on?”
“Um . . .” Oscar glanced at the time on his phone. “Maybe later? I’m gonna use Aunt Lidia’s laptop while she’s out.”
“’Kay.” I stifled a yawn. “Text me when you’re done. Bye, Mi Jin.”
“Bye, Kat!” Mi Jin gave me a quick smile before turning back to her screenplay.
Up in the suite, I kicked off my shoes and dumped my bag on the couch before flopping down on Grandma’s bed. Five minutes later, I’d found what looked like a pretty decent Korean horror movie with English subtitles. Five minutes after that, I was sound asleep.
The next thing I knew, a shriek woke me up with a jolt. Disoriented, I stared frantically around the suite before remembering the movie. On the TV screen, a screaming girl was climbing a ladder with some sort of grayish demon-creature right on her heels. I grabbed the remote and hit mute, then tried to go to sleep again.
But adrenaline was still racing through my veins. I lay perfectly still, watching the demon claw at the girl’s calves and eventually drag her down into the darkness below, listening to my too-quick heartbeat. Then I realized that wasn’t the only sound I could hear.
Click. Click-clack click click. Click.
I didn’t move. Just looked slowly, deliberately around the room, searching for the source of the soft clicking. My eyes fell on the laptop, which sat open on the desk. The dashboard to my blog was on the screen, opened to a new post. Words I couldn’t see from here were appearing in the blank space.
Someone—something—was typing.
An odd calmness settled over me. My pulse slowed, my hands were cool and dry. Quietly, stealthily, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to the couch. I pulled the Elapse out of my bag and flipped it on, making sure it was in video mode before making my way over to the desk.
I trod as softly as possible, my eyes flickering between the laptop in the viewfinder and the laptop itself. As I closed in, I could read the words in the blog post. Just two words, typed over and over again.
SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF
It was mesmerizing, watching letter after letter appear. So mesmerizing that several seconds passed before I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. I glanced at the mirror, and my breath caught in my chest.
The Thing sat at the desk, typing methodically on the laptop. It was wearing a nightgown this time, its long braid—the one I’d cut off, the one my mother loved—hanging over its shoulder. It didn’t notice me at all; or if it did, it didn’t show it.
I took a step to the side, framing the whole scene in the viewfinder. The empty chair in front of me. The other version of me in the mirror. And the reflection of me, the real me, next to it, capturing both of us on camera.
This was unreal. It was even more shocking than the footage Jess got on the bridge. Me and my “doppelganger,” side by side.
A few seconds later, the Thing stopped typing. It stood, and I took another step back. I watched the mirror closely as it walked past me, turning to capture as much of it as possible before it disappeared beyond the frame. I hurried to the other side of the mirror, but it was gone.
My hands trembled as I removed the memory card from my camera and slid it into the laptop. As the video uploaded, I scrolled down to the bottom of the blog post. After thinking for a moment, I added:
Everything above this was written by my doppelganger. It’s been leaving comments online for the last few weeks as “The Real Kat Sinclair.” Watch video below for proof.
Once the video was embedded, I hit play. And there it was, clear as day. Two Kats, captured on video. I almost laughed out loud. No one could say this was faked. Well, they could try. But this wasn’t a blurry image in a photo or a two-second shot of a girl surrounded by fog who looked like me if you squinted. Faking something like this would be expensive. The muted horror movie still playing out on the TV didn’t even have special effects as good as what I had captured just now.
I let the arrow hover over Publish, then frowned. One of the adults, usually Dad or Lidia, had to approve my posts before I could publish them. As much as I wanted to put this blog post up now, I had to wait.
I hit Save Draft, then shot a quick text to Oscar.
KS: Come to Grandma’s suite NOW!
I waited nearly a minute, then remembered how eager he’d been to use Lidia’s laptop. Quickly, I opened video chat and spotted the green Online dot next to Oscar’s name. He was probably talking to Thiago.
Sighing, I started to close the window, but another green dot caught my eye. I glanced at the time and did a little quick math in my head. It was a bit after three in the morning in New York; he couldn’t actually be online . . . right?
Only one way to find out. I clicked Call next to Jamie’s avatar and waited, holding my breath. After nearly ten seconds of ringing, the window suddenly expanded—and there was Jamie, rubbing his eyes, hair sticking out all over the place.
“Kat?”
“Sorry, were you sleeping?” I asked stupidly. “I mean, I know it’s late there—or, um, early—but I noticed you were online and, uh . . . something kind of weird happened? And I need to talk to someone about it.”
Now Jamie looked wide awake. “The Thing again?”
“Yeah.” I launched into the story, the words spilling out of me. The more I talked, the more tired I felt. Not just tired. Exhausted. Like every single one of my bones was increasing in density. My vision kept blurring, and when I blinked, my eyelashes seemed to be weights, pulling my eyelids down.
“And you recorded all of it?” Jamie asked eagerly. “You checked the video?”
“Yeah, it’s even better than . . .” I trailed off, yawning hugely. “Sorry. Better than what Jess got on the bridge.”
Jamie frowned. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine, just really sleepy.”
“Isn’t it, like, the middle of the day there?”
“Mmhmm.” I could see Jamie’s bed behind him. Curling up under a pile of blankets seemed like the most inviting thing in the world. “Sorry again for waking you up.”
“Don’t be,” Jamie said. “This is exactly why I left video chat open.”
“For . . .” I paused for another gigantic yawn. “For me to creep you out in the middle of the night?”
“Well, yeah.” After a second’s hesitation, he added: “What are boyfriends for?”
The word boyfriend took a moment to register. A blush crept up my neck, and I realized he was smiling kind of nervously, waiting for me to respond.
“For emergency doppelganger sightings, I guess,” I said, smiling back at him. “Straight out of a sappy romance movie.”
Jamie laughed, then stopped when I yawned yet again. “Seriously, why are you so tired?”
“I don’t . . .” I covered my mouth with my arm as another yawn hit. “. . . know. I was taking a nap when the Thing showed up. I just need to . . . to lie down for a sec . . .”
I couldn’t fight my eyelids anymore. Jamie was saying something as I rested my head on my arms and closed my eyes. “Just for a sec,” I murmured again, and sank into a deep sleep.