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Interlude 8 - shapes in the night
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 14:50:55 +0000 UTCThe recording date jumped by one day from the meeting with Rey. The footage showed a forest road and four people walking on it in the middle of the night. The only thing lighting up their way was a few flashlights.
Cecil, with the tall man previously in a butcher’s outfit, walked at the front, while the younger woman walked next to Mercy, who was holding the camera.
“Hello, everyone—” Mercy started, but Cecil cut her off.
“What are you doing?”
“Vlogging. Duh.”
“I get that, but what are you vlogging? We are doing a ghost investigation, not some high school reunion vlog,” he spat with his high-and-mighty voice.
“Yooo. Maybe we should do a podcast with ghosts, dude. Like, we would have them on and speak through a medium and tell us shit. And then we would find this shit and solve cases… and shit,” spoke the man who previously wore the butcher’s outfit.
“Yeah, the only part about that you got right was ‘shit,’” commented the girl walking next to Mercy.
The tall man turned to her, walking backward with an offended expression.
“Ohhh, look at me, I’m Liz, I’m so smart and always know better, but never can come up with any ideas,” he parodied the girl’s voice.
“Shut up, both of you,” Cecil spat. “The cassettes cost, you know that, right? We are not paying for more because you want to play blogger.”
“What’s your problem?” Mercy asked.
“I’m looking out for my people while balancing our budget. I need your head in the game tonight.”
Mercy pointed the camera at her face and silently parodied Cecil before pointing it back at the road.
They walked for a few more minutes before the path finally opened up into a sizable clearing where an old industrial building stood. It was built from brick with sheet-metal roofs. It had sizable windows, now mostly broken, which once provided ample lighting. It was clearly built in a time when electricity was not yet cheap and widely available.
The people stopped, moving their flashlights along the building. It was long. To their right was a tall main hall with a wide wooden entrance. More to the left was a series of smaller buildings and magazines.
Finally, Cecil used his flashlight to light up a sign at the front over the wide wooden door. Greacie’s Slaughterhouse. The sign was old and rusted, but there was a newer addition to it. The “slaughter” part of the name was crossed out in pink paint, and “party” was written over it.
The tall man chuckled. “Huh. Some things don’t change.”
“Yeah.” Cecil nodded. “Wait, didn’t you vomit on Nancy’s t-shirt right about here?” he asked with a broad smile, pointing his flashlight to the side at the entrance to the magazines.
“Yeah, I remember that,” Mercy piped up. “We started calling you Vomictor after, right?”
“Yeah. I prefer just Victor, thank you very much.”
“Why? It does suit you,” snickered Liz.
After getting some laughs at Victor’s expense, they finally calmed down and put on somewhat professional demeanor.
“Okay,” Cecil started in his attempt at a commanding voice. “We need nighttime shots of the outside and the inside. You can do the voiceover, Mercy, as we go, so that we know what to shoot. Then we go around and find some good places. I want old broken-down machines and the rusted hooks in the storage. Okay? I want them to be creepy and unnerving. Do you have the flashlight?”
Victor nodded and pulled out an ancient-looking flashlight from his sizable backpack. After some tinkering, he finally turned it on. The device emitted a dim, yellow beam that spread out, casting many shadows.
“Perfect,” commented Cecil. “Get the proper camera,” he commanded Liz.
Mercy placed the small camera to the side and went to Liz to look into the screen connected to their recording device. It was a much better and bigger camera than the one she held.
“Okay. The exposure is set. Give me some more light,” Liz said as she tinkered with the settings. “All right, got it,” she finally said. “You can start, Mercy.”
At that, Liz took the ancient flashlight from Victor and held it under the lens as she started to sweep it slowly over the building while recording.
“Start with the sign,” commented Cecil, looking at the connected screen.
“Can I begin?” Mercy asked.
“Yes, we will do the first one with you and then take care of the voiceover.”
She stood with her back to the building, like a reporter, and began talking.
“Greacie’s Slaughterhouse. Once a symbol of prosperity and well-being, a source of the best meats in the whole of Georgia, and the pride of the town of Lermon. Now an abandoned ruin with tragic history.” Mercy spoke as the camera slowly moved over the writing on the front.
“The downfall started in 1945 when copper beds were found next to the small town. The population soon celebrate—what was that?!” Mercy suddenly shouted.
“What was what?” asked Cecil.
Mercy quickly went for her own flashlight and shone it into the forest. The pillar of light stopped on the trees and shrubs, unable to penetrate the darkness.
“Hello?!” Mercy shouted toward the tree line.
No answer came.
“What did you see?” asked Liz.
“I–I don’t know,” Mercy answered slowly. “There was some movement, I think.”
“Probably a wild animal, and you scared it off. Breaking the shot in the process,” grumbled Cecil.
“Whatever, let’s finish the shot and continue while we have the batteries. We can do voiceover later.”
They gathered the equipment and headed toward the interior of the main hall. Mercy went to pick up the small handheld camera. Then, while Victor was packing up his backpack, she took the time to shine once again into the forest as she recorded the tree line, but no movement could be seen.
“I’m telling you, I saw something,” she whispered into the camera.
“You coming or you want to stay out here?” shouted Liz.
“Coming.”
After that, they entered the main hall. The inside was filled with graffiti and bottles scattered about in piles. A makeshift stage was made from wood on one side of the room, and newer lights hung from the ceiling beams. The place reeked of dust and old, stale alcohol, which still wafted in the air.
“Okay, let’s get some good shots here,” said Cecil.
Mercy didn’t need to do the voiceover this time, so she just recorded the whole process.
“Creepy,” she commented after doing a sweep over the large industrial hall.
She then heard a sound behind her. She rotated the camera and pointed it at the darkness behind a half-broken window.
“Hello?” she asked, as before, and, as before, there was no answer.
This time, her friends didn’t react, focused on their recording. She got closer to the window. “Hello?” she asked once again.
“Wait,” she murmured and turned the device to record herself as she started fidgeting with something. Then the screen changed, becoming green as she switched it into night mode. She pointed it once again at the window.
Then the footage shook as the device hit the ground. The last thing it recorded before hitting the concrete floor was the shine of two eyes in the darkness and a vague outline of a strangely shaped creature.
Mercy’s screaming could be heard as she ran to the rest of the people. But as her voice calmed down, the recording picked up another sound. A strange, raspy breath. It could be heard for a moment before it went away.
After some time, someone picked up the camera, and the recording stopped. It only picked back up sometime later.
“That is good footage,” said Cecil excitedly.
“What do you mean ‘good footage’? Something’s watching us!” shouted Mercy.
“Yeah, a boar. Come on, the scene with the eyes in the darkness is a moneymaker. Good job,” Cecil said.
Mercy pointed the camera at her face. “Fucking idiot,” she whispered aggressively before going back to recording the scene.
“Hey, boar or not, I don’t like to be stalked by wild animals. Maybe we should get back to the car,” Liz said, concern clear in her voice.
“Fine, fine,” Cecil relented. “But we need one more shot. Pack your things. Or not. Better record as we go. Maybe we will get a nice scene again.”
They slowly made their way through the industrial hall and into a corridor connecting them to the storage part of the complex.
“You think people still fuck in those?” Victor asked, pointing at one of the smaller rooms to the side.
“If they don’t vomit all over the girl, then yeah,” chuckled Cecil.
“I at least had someone to vomit over. How many chicks did you get into the pen, huh?” snapped Victor.
Cecil scrunched his nose and changed the subject. “I think it’s this one.” He pointed at one of the smaller rooms. Mercy moved the camera toward the place. There were still remnants of yellow police tape scattered around.
“Okay, we get good footage here and then spread out and get some photos each.”
“Photos?” asked Victor.
“Spread around?” asked Mercy with doubt in her voice about the idea.
“Yes. We need photos. I can see it in editing. We show outside pictures from the day,” he then switched to a presenter’s voice. “Greacie’s Slaughterhouse. Normal, calm, abandoned building. UNTIL IT WASN’T, and bang! We switch the photo to chromatic and show some night footage. It’s brilliant, eh?”
They all looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
After capturing some footage of the room with police tape, they all dispersed to take a few photos of the place for the chromatic take. After some arguing, Mercy finally took the small camera and went forward, blogging the whole experience.
“So here you have it. It was a normal slaughterhouse until it wasn’t—dum dum daaaam. God, why do we even listen to him? What kind of an idea is that?” she spoke in a nervous voice, clearly on edge.
She finally entered another room with long, rusted metal tables.
“Let’s get it over with,” she said and placed the camera on the table to take out her phone and get the photos.
She stepped out of the lens's view as the sound of her tapping her phone became audible. But the microphone started picking up something.
The same heavy, animalistic breath could be heard.
Getting closer and closer.
The sound grew until whatever was close seemed to be right under the camera, right behind the unaware Mercy.
The breath then changed. It went silent for a second, and then one louder inhale could be heard.
Loud enough for Mercy to turn around.
There was a moment of silence on the recording.
“H-hello?” Mercy asked hesitantly.
Nothing.
The recording picked up the sound of heavy breathing, which was getting further and further away.
Mercy went back and picked up the camera. As she recorded herself, the screen showed a pale face with wide eyes and quickened breath.
“Fuck this, I’m going back,” she said to the camera and started to run back to the room with police tape where they would meet.
The processing plant wasn’t that big, so she could hear the rest walking around. Once there, she finally calmed her breathing. Taking a swig from a water bottle, she sat down, steadying her breath.
“Just my imagination. All there is to it,” she said to herself.
The others were taking some time walking around the abandoned property, as she sat and recorded herself talking about nothing into the lens.
In her boredom, she began shining the light around, until morbid curiosity finally took hold when the light met the opening to the room with police tape. She slowly edged her way toward it as she started recording inside.
“So this is where they died, huh. Creepy as fuck,” she whispered to the camera. The room was a small magazine with a table on one side and a set of metal beams designed to hold up meat on the other. Some still with old, rusted hooks.
“Why would any–” she started to say, but then inhaled sharply.
One of the hooks was slowly swinging from side to side as if something moved it.
“I–I–Is anyone out there?” Mercy said in a trembling voice, shining the flashlight around the room.
It was empty.
She then raised the camera and switched it to night mode to record the hook closer. But when she did that, a loud gasp could be heard.
When she switched the mode, a pair of shining eyes, similar to those of a predator in the night, showed. No body, nothing, just two disembodied eyes seemingly frozen in the air.
She switched the night mode off.
They disappeared.
Back on, the eyes were there, right next to the hook.
Off.
Nothing.
With shaking hands, she tried again, but when the night mode turned on, the eyes were much closer. Mercy jumped back in panic. But then a scream could be heard as she hit something.
Someone was standing behind her.
“What are you doing?” Victor’s voice could be heard.
Followed by a loud exhale from Mercy. She tried to explain and show, but finally just gave up. They decided to see it when they got back, but for now, they had all the footage.
Mercy practically dragged them from the place, raving about what she recorded. After a few minutes’ walk, they finally returned to their cars parked in a small clearing.
The entire way, the camera was kept firmly on the woods, switched to night mode as if trying to catch something in the forest. The recording stopped for the day as they got to the cars, with Mercy’s barely audible comment.
“I swear something was watching us.”
