jonathansims-headarchivist

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

I- yes, I think I would. I know who I can trust, unlike some people.

Personal Log. Entry #1.

I think something is wrong.

Sasha has been acting strange... She told me she was just over worked and burnt out, but she's never missed this much work in a week. Not in all the time I've known her, and apparently not according to Tim, either.

I'm starting to something happened to her after the worm attack, but I dont have any proof.

I don't know...

Christ, who am I kidding... People don't just get replaced, that's preposterous. Besides, I think I'd notice if my only real friend went missing.

I'll have a talk with her when she gets back.

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Personal Log. Entry #1.

I think something is wrong.

Sasha has been acting strange... She told me she was just over worked and burnt out, but she's never missed this much work in a week. Not in all the time I've known her, and apparently not according to Tim, either.

I'm starting to something happened to her after the worm attack, but I dont have any proof.

I don't know...

Christ, who am I kidding... People don't just get replaced, that's preposterous. Besides, I think I'd notice if my only real friend went missing.

I'll have a talk with her when she gets back.

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Hello Mr. Archivist.

Could I interest you in a delicious salad?

- Stella Mills, the janitor

( @mushworms4ever )

The last time you offered me food I came down with dysentery.

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Lately I've been looking towards the sky.

It is so blue out and I have always loved blue.

But this time I feel like I cannot see all of it, for lack of better words. I think about how large the sky is, how far it goes out and out and out... it's impossible for me to wrap my head around. And instead of being afraid, I'm so at peace. Knowing I'm one insignificant grain of sand in a desert, and not just that, but a grain of sand in a desert in a sandstorm that goes on forever. That I can never ever understand simply how big the world is, the sky, space, the ocean... and this may seem all well and good but, lately, the feeling of dirt under my nails and even being under my blankets has filled me with the deepest, claustrophobic dread. As if the joy I derive from the sky comes with an inherent terror of the earth. I should stop. I should keep my eyes to the ground and stop. But the feeling of the wind in my face and the endlessness of the sky...

Case shows extreme claustrophobia, mental distress, and inferior feelings. I'd say this is simply some sort of existential anxiety related to the idea of being trapped or "too big".

However, this also reminds me of a few other statements, all of which were related to deep and overwhelming love for the sky.

Sasha is swamped and Tim's out of the office today, so I'll send it through to Martin. Though that means I can't promise good results.

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

There is something in my skin. It is not flesh and it is not bone, but it is something else entirely. It calls to me. It longs to crawl to the surface and be free after all of these years. So I scratch and scrape and cut to let it out. People around me tell me I should stop but what am I supposed to do? The blood looks so beautiful against my skin, so pale for never going out into the sun. The contrast is art, I make art, I am an artist. They tell me to stop but the pain feels  right and it lets just a little bit out at a time. Just a little, just a little, just a little. 

There is something in my skin and I do not know what it is and I do not want it to be there. It is cruel, and sharp, and sticky, and dark. It clings to my bones and pumps itself through my intestines and clogs my pores and prevents me from functioning. Functioning like a person, being a person, living as a person. I am prevented by this nasty, oozing darkness that clings to every inch of my being. 

There is something in my skin. It is not worms, it is not wasps, it is not flesh and bone, it is not sinew and tendon, it is not blood and organ, but something else entirely. I do not know if I will ever be able to get rid of it. They searched. They looked inside of me and could find nothing for it hides. It hides and I suffer. They cannot find it, they will never find it. It is all in my head but it’s not. I can feel it. I can feel it writhe and squirm and pulsate and ooze and move and consume all that there is to be about me. I am not me, not anymore, not for many years. I am nothing but a puppet for this oozing clinging nasty dark. And that’s all I ever will be. I have barely the free will to try and scrape it out but I never will.

There is something inside my skin. And I want it out.

I swear if this starts another Prentiss incident...

I'll send this to Tim for further investigation. We will... try... to figure out what's wrong with tou.

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

I wish I saw my face in the mirror.

Lately it's a new person everytime I look. Someone far too pretty to really be me.

A twisted version of the girl I thought I'd be.

Her eyes are such a cool grey blue the sky would be jealous but they are hollow. Those eyes don't belong to me.

Her hair drapes down to her shoulders and curls softly at the tips. A lapping flame of auburn. But my hair is blonde. It is blonde and short and straight as a line.

Her body looks unreal, hourglass curves so prominent and shapely her physical therapist had to comment. But that can't be my body, I eat so much sweets and junk, I should really just be fat now. But I'm stuck in the middle.

That girl is not me. I repeat at the mirror that she is but so.ething is wrong. The ice eyes and the cold skin and the soft curved body all point to someone new. An imposter posing to take my place. For I am not this woman with a straight jaw, no baby fat, and grown up body. I'm still just a girl, falling asleep I'm my mama's arms. I'm still just a girl, reading out on the porch while my brother caught bugs. I'm still. Just. A. Girl. Dressing myself for the first time. I can't be grown up yet. I'm pounding on these big girl walls to break and let me put but she's too busy crying over math and chemistry and me. I am grown up. I am the woman. But I am not me and me is a shell. I am not a who and I don't know what I am. I am not a person with agency or thought, going through the motions and tending every whim. No time. No time to find the who inside of me.

Please help. I am not me.

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not me

I am not

I'm sorry.

I don't know how to help you...

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Around and around and around and around and around and around

The man in front of me walked

He did

Walked down down down winding.

The spiraling staircase might've gone on.

Might have

It did not.

Now I walk down down down down and around around around and I wind wind wind up like a spring.

And there is someone who walks behind me.

Good lord...

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Are you going to harm her? Eat her? Whatever it is you do with your victims?

Hi Hi Hi. Archivist Archivist. Do You Know Where Your Assistant Saoirse Is?

-Your Michael.

Do you honestly expect me to disclose the location of my coworker to the throat of delusion?

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

No, Saoirse, that's not Michael Shelley anymore. That's the Distortion. That thing kills people.

Um. Would any of you know how to get out of the

Of the

Of of of of the

Of the of the of the of the of the

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Let her out.

Hi Hi Hi. Archivist Archivist. Do You Know Where Your Assistant Saoirse Is?

-Your Michael.

Do you honestly expect me to disclose the location of my coworker to the throat of delusion?

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Saoirse, I really don't think that's a good idea. You should try to look for a way out.

Um. Would any of you know how to get out of the

Of the

Of of of of the

Of the of the of the of the of the

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Are you stuck in the Distortion?

Um. Would any of you know how to get out of the

Of the

Of of of of the

Of the of the of the of the of the

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

She went home only half an hour ago. I'd assume she's at her flat by now. Have you done something to her?

Hi Hi Hi. Archivist Archivist. Do You Know Where Your Assistant Saoirse Is?

-Your Michael.

Do you honestly expect me to disclose the location of my coworker to the throat of delusion?

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Hi Hi Hi. Archivist Archivist. Do You Know Where Your Assistant Saoirse Is?

-Your Michael.

Do you honestly expect me to disclose the location of my coworker to the throat of delusion?

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

I'll have to pass then.

Hello Mr. Archivist. I didn't know you were on tumblr! - Stella

( @mushworms4ever )

Yes. Tim suggested it would be good for business.

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Does it have anything to do with mushrooms?

Hello Mr. Archivist. I didn't know you were on tumblr! - Stella

( @mushworms4ever )

Yes. Tim suggested it would be good for business.

[jonathansims-headarchivist]

Of course you did.

JON

Statement of Stella Mills, about her… encounter with Jane Prentiss and The Corruption. Statement taken directly from subject, 10:41, on October 24th, 2017. Statement begins.

STELLA

So, you want me to give my statement, Mr. Archivist? I suppose I can do that. I don’t think you deserve it in the least bit, but I’ll give it to you.

I first started working at the archives, oh, about 4 years ago? It’s been a good job. Weird, but good. Paid enough for me to make rent. Paid more over the years as the other janitors started to… go missing. I didn’t have anything to do with that, mind you, regardless of what the police thought. I think the institute just… swallowed them up. The halls, the back halls, are a winding maze. Not quite as bad as the tunnels below the institute, but still had a lot of dead ends and doorways that led right back around. Easy to get lost. Harder to get found.

Or maybe they just couldn’t handle it and left. There’s a lot of things that aren’t nice to see, down in the maintenance tunnels and tucked away in back corners of closets. It’s like the lower you get in the institute, the closer you get to something awful.

Whatever happened, they were gone. I ended up the only janitor. Dunno why Mr. Bouchard didn’t hire more. Maybe he thought I was enough. Maybe he thought it was more cost-efficient to just have one. Honestly, I don’t know. But whatever the reason, it ended with just me. I minded the extra work, though the pay made up for it.

And for a while, that was it. Things were normal. I’d come to work, stay long hours cleaning and tidying the institute in patterned chunks, and leave late. I got very little sleep, and my attempts at socialization had mixed results, but it got me by. 

One day while I was cleaning some of the back halls I saw something shining on the floor. When I looked down to inspect it closer, it was a little silver worm with a black head. I was never one to kill bugs, so I put it in a little container to put outside later. And then, I found another. And another, and another, until my whole container was full of the wriggling little babies. Once my shift ended, I brought them outside with me and set them free in the bushes out front of the institute.

JON

I’m sorry- you picked them up, carried them outside, and did you just call them babies?

STELLA

Yes. Is there something in your ears as well?

[She laughs, because ha ha there are mushrooms in her ears. Jon is displeased]

Fine. Not one for humor, I suppose. Well, anyway, that is exactly what I did. And what I continued to do. Every time I went down there, I had to bring bigger and bigger containers, there were so many worms. I could barely work.

And then… then I met her. The source of the beautiful worms. My darling, my goddess. Jane. Her hair was like ebony silk, skin like ivory, pocketed with glittering holes of silver and darkness. She had no eyes, but I didn’t mind. She was breathtaking. I felt awed in a way I’d never felt before, and I knew she was the one. She was special. Important. It was love. No, not love. Something stronger, more incomparable, more ethereal. Something so massively engulfing that I could have no hope of understanding it. But I felt it. And I could tell she felt it too.

JON

You… fell in love with Jane Prentiss? Are you sure that’s what you were feeling? It wasn’t… disgust, fear, hatred, the innate human instinct of survival?

STELLA

[sharply] Love is love, Mr. Archivist. Don’t be homophobic.

JON

I’m not- being homophobic! I don’t care that you fell in love with a woman, it’s simply… the specific… woman, if you can even call her that anymore.

STELLA

Regardless, quite rude. Jane is not some horrid monster, any more than you or I.

JON

[sigh] Please just… continue, Miss Mills.

STELLA Fine. One day, I met Jane. And she was… beautiful beyond words. I remember complimenting her dress. It looked wonderful on her. She thanked me, and her voice was like a thousand singing angels.The conversation continued, and talking to her just felt so.. Natural. Easy. Comfortable. Like conversations should feel. There was nothing forced like with my coworkers, or my other… acquaintances. Everything flowed as easily as water. This only confirmed what I was already feeling: That she was my soulmate, she was the one. I visited her every day, spending hours talking about anything that came to mind. It was heaven.

She taught me about rot. I’d always had a fascination with mushrooms, fungi, and the circle of life and decay. But she opened my eyes to the deeper beauty in it all. In the gentle snowfall of spores, the soft fuzz of mold, the singing murmur of bugs. It was enchanting.

I don’t know exactly when I began rotting. It happened slowly, naturally. It felt amazing. Pure ecstasy, knowing that I was spreading and joining the great universal ending. We all decay, Mr. Archivist. If not treated with those horrid chemicals, if not prevented by some unnatural means, we all decay. We are meant to decay. It is our destiny, our fate, our calling. Those who try to avoid this great finality are hubristic fools. I am no fool.

Then that horrible tragedy came. You broke the wall and started her grand plan early. And then you killed her. Killed her and all of her children. You refused her gift of rot, of unity! You never deserved it.

[pause.]

I see your scars, Mr. Archivist. You were so close to receiving her gift, and you rejected it so violently. You could not understand or appreciate it. Your ignorance… your hubristic fear… your small-minded hatred… killed her. Killed my darling beloved. And you didn’t even let her return to the earth. You caged her! Trapped her in a jar in your desk! You…

[sob]

JON

…… [he is unsure of what to do] …continue.

STELLA

[Quietly, and with great difficulty] …I rescued her. I snuck into your office and found her ashes. There’s an… exposed wall in the basement. I filled it… I filled it with life. With rot. I scattered her ashes in it and gave her that beautiful finality. The mushrooms and plants that grew there made the perfect habitat for the few children I saved. They’re blossoming. I’m- I’m so proud of them… [she begins sobbing]

JON

Is that all?

STELLA

[sobs louder]

JON

…end statement.

[click]

[click]

Follow up is… complicated. Miss Mills is, in fact, the only janitor at the institute. Elias will not explain why. Obviously her claims about rotting are correct, as she is covered in fungi and mold. As for the habitat… the Institute is a very complex building, as she claims. We cannot find it, however the ashes of Jane Prentiss are no longer in my desk drawer. I can’t say I’m too upset about it, however the implication that some worms survived is… obviously concerning. I have informed Elias about this. We will see what happens. End recording.

[click]

( @mushworms4ever )

Hello, Stella.

I was not aware you had direct access to the tapes. Since apparently you do, I'm going to instead question who you've sent me an entire transcript of your statement recording?