What follows is a story I want to try and write involving Spammers. It isn't going to be nearly as good as Joricks or RPG's or Elendra's. But I've had the idea bouncing around my head and wanted to try and get it onto "paper". What follows is the prologue. I'm currently struggling with chapter one because I need to fit people into characters and those characters into the narrative I have planned.
Enjoy. Tell me what you think.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Enjoy. Tell me what you think.
Do you remember when Flappy Bird became popular? Neither do I. Scary isn’t it. It seemed one day everything was normal and the next day everyone was frantically smacking their phones to make a small virtual bird struggle through the air. And no one thought that was weird. One day it doesn’t exist and the next day it’s a way of life. There’s an opposite of that as well. Ghost memories I call them. You know that something happened or that something existed, but no one else remembers it and acts like it never happened. It’s almost as if someone went back through time and erased every memory or instance of this thing from time. All memory and proof of its existence are suddenly gone, except that gnawing thought at the back of your mind. Not, “Did I leave the stove on?” more, “I’m pretty sure we didn’t elect Ronald Reagan as president.”
All these thoughts, these ghost memories, are real. They truly happened. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want, I understand that someone like me isn’t exactly the best messenger for something like this. Just remember that you found us, we didn’t seek you out. Whatever it was that brought you here, deep down you’re beginning to believe in the “paranormal.” I’m not talking about hearing thumping from you attic, that means you have pests call a fucking exterminator. I’m talking about when you’re walking to work and suddenly a man runs past without his shirt on. You normally don’t think twice about this except that instead of a flat chested male this man has a nice large pair of dolphin tits.
No, not dolphin shaped man boobs, two dolphin heads attached to his chest flapping wildly in the breeze.
Or maybe you were at the in-laws for a thanksgiving dinner. Suddenly everyone got into a giant debate about the morality of abortion. Great dinner conversation. It begins to seem like your father in law’s veins are going to burst right out of his neck. You look to the air vent to see glitter pouring into the room. Glitter? It just keeps piling up and up but no one around you is paying it any mind. There’s your husband’s aunt stuffing turkey down her throat, grease rolling down her chin, her fat rolls bouncing as she chortles to her husband’s off-color humor and slowly being covered in glitter. The thanksgiving turkey is lying there in the middle of the table coated in glitter and grease like a cheap prostitute. You begin to hyperventilate as you believe you’re going to drown in glitter, not the noblest of deaths. And then suddenly it’s all gone, the topic has shifted away from abortion and everyone has calmed down.
Instead of taking the easy way out and seeking therapy you found me and David, two high school drop outs that run a paranormal business. And before you ask, no we aren’t the Ghostbusters. You can call us, that’s perfectly ok but I do recommend seeking therapy. Nursing a prescription medicine addiction is a lot easier than falling down the rabbit hole with me and David. Believing that these demons are just in your head is an easier reality to live in. I wish I could go back, but it’s too late for me.
David isn’t even his real name. We’re pretty sure he was called something else ages ago. But David is what he goes by now. My name? Completely lost. One day I hope to remember it. But I don’t need a name to function.
This is the last chance I’m giving you. Go now. Show your family and friends love and affection, fake happiness and stupidity like the rest of them. Maybe one day you’ll stop realizing all the weird shit that’s happening. Abuse anti-depressants and make the scary thoughts go away. I really want you to live the perfect happy false life.
But if you think you can handle it, you can’t, keep reading. You were lost the second you found this website. You’ll either not be able to handle the truth, or they’ll find you and you’ll fade away as a ghost memory.
Yes they. There’s someone behind all of this.
Me and David, we live in a place called Spam. If you live here too, you know who we are. But Spam isn’t what it used to be. We all know that, in some eerie way, there was something that came before. That’s true. David and I were out on the edge of town one day when we stumbled upon this crazy man. He said his name was Nat. David gave him a chance against my wishes. Nat told us of a party he was having later that day at his trailer home. I did not want to go. I told David it was a terrible idea. But David went anyway. What he brought back has no true name. It’s a drug, it comes in a little red capsule, and it allows you to see into the truth of the universe. We can see the ghost memories.
There was a Spam that came before the one we are currently in. For some reason it was destroyed and forgotten. For a good reason I’m sure. But it’s beginning to bleed over into our world. David has a theory; one day it’s going to finish bleeding over and only one Spam will be able to remain standing.
That’s why I need to tell this story, our story. We need to find a way to save ourselves before we’re completely replaced by these ghost memories. That’s what follows, “Our story”. The story of two losers who are trying to save the world.
Whether or not you listen is up to you.
All these thoughts, these ghost memories, are real. They truly happened. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want, I understand that someone like me isn’t exactly the best messenger for something like this. Just remember that you found us, we didn’t seek you out. Whatever it was that brought you here, deep down you’re beginning to believe in the “paranormal.” I’m not talking about hearing thumping from you attic, that means you have pests call a fucking exterminator. I’m talking about when you’re walking to work and suddenly a man runs past without his shirt on. You normally don’t think twice about this except that instead of a flat chested male this man has a nice large pair of dolphin tits.
No, not dolphin shaped man boobs, two dolphin heads attached to his chest flapping wildly in the breeze.
Or maybe you were at the in-laws for a thanksgiving dinner. Suddenly everyone got into a giant debate about the morality of abortion. Great dinner conversation. It begins to seem like your father in law’s veins are going to burst right out of his neck. You look to the air vent to see glitter pouring into the room. Glitter? It just keeps piling up and up but no one around you is paying it any mind. There’s your husband’s aunt stuffing turkey down her throat, grease rolling down her chin, her fat rolls bouncing as she chortles to her husband’s off-color humor and slowly being covered in glitter. The thanksgiving turkey is lying there in the middle of the table coated in glitter and grease like a cheap prostitute. You begin to hyperventilate as you believe you’re going to drown in glitter, not the noblest of deaths. And then suddenly it’s all gone, the topic has shifted away from abortion and everyone has calmed down.
Instead of taking the easy way out and seeking therapy you found me and David, two high school drop outs that run a paranormal business. And before you ask, no we aren’t the Ghostbusters. You can call us, that’s perfectly ok but I do recommend seeking therapy. Nursing a prescription medicine addiction is a lot easier than falling down the rabbit hole with me and David. Believing that these demons are just in your head is an easier reality to live in. I wish I could go back, but it’s too late for me.
David isn’t even his real name. We’re pretty sure he was called something else ages ago. But David is what he goes by now. My name? Completely lost. One day I hope to remember it. But I don’t need a name to function.
This is the last chance I’m giving you. Go now. Show your family and friends love and affection, fake happiness and stupidity like the rest of them. Maybe one day you’ll stop realizing all the weird shit that’s happening. Abuse anti-depressants and make the scary thoughts go away. I really want you to live the perfect happy false life.
But if you think you can handle it, you can’t, keep reading. You were lost the second you found this website. You’ll either not be able to handle the truth, or they’ll find you and you’ll fade away as a ghost memory.
Yes they. There’s someone behind all of this.
Me and David, we live in a place called Spam. If you live here too, you know who we are. But Spam isn’t what it used to be. We all know that, in some eerie way, there was something that came before. That’s true. David and I were out on the edge of town one day when we stumbled upon this crazy man. He said his name was Nat. David gave him a chance against my wishes. Nat told us of a party he was having later that day at his trailer home. I did not want to go. I told David it was a terrible idea. But David went anyway. What he brought back has no true name. It’s a drug, it comes in a little red capsule, and it allows you to see into the truth of the universe. We can see the ghost memories.
There was a Spam that came before the one we are currently in. For some reason it was destroyed and forgotten. For a good reason I’m sure. But it’s beginning to bleed over into our world. David has a theory; one day it’s going to finish bleeding over and only one Spam will be able to remain standing.
That’s why I need to tell this story, our story. We need to find a way to save ourselves before we’re completely replaced by these ghost memories. That’s what follows, “Our story”. The story of two losers who are trying to save the world.
Whether or not you listen is up to you.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
