Emptiness loomed over his mind like the moon over a night-lit landscape; in a similar way, Max felt the void was watching him like the Lunar surface watched the earth, creeping towards him at an unnoticeable yet undeniable pace. A dark wall of a sooty coloring edged towards him and just before he thought he'd be entirely engulfed by the emptiness- he woke up. Snoring could be heard from through the wall behind him. His bed sheets were damp with sweat and his heart was still racing. Even though he had woken up, Max was unable to shake the unsettling feeling that he was still being watched - but by what? His night terror consisted of one thing, or perhaps the lack of one thing: nothing. In the literal sense of the word, indeed, Max felt scared of not a single thing - and that's not to say that he wasn't scared; the exact opposite in-fact! Max was scared by the realization of nothing; non-existence; space; the void. Max remained bewildered and, even though awake, his brain continued to fire neurons in a desperate attempt to alert him to the situation that was to be feared! Nothing.

In the flat's shared kitchen he leaned against the worktop and sipped on a mug of tea. He resented the fact that humans forget up to 95% of dreams ten minutes after waking up, in that his dream remained in the 5% that he would never forget. He turned to pull the leaver on the toaster and - oddly - the toaster was out of reach. The thought didn't cross his mind that perhaps the toaster had moved - instead he quickly concluded that he was standing too far away, as anyone would have, and stepped closer.

Max returned to his bedroom still groggy. A hangover worthy of competitive drinkers remained wrapped around his mind and body like the flu. His clock beeped twice in quick succession, flashing the numbers 11:00 on the screen. A man shouted outside the window on the street below and cars drove slowly past. Having failed to finish his toast he lay down and returned to his sleeping state.



The house has changed minimally throughout the night. Walls are a little bit larger - or perhaps a little smaller. Only people who actively measured the walls would appreciate that they've indeed changed in size overnight. The change would remain largely unnoted aside from a very mild confusion that people may face when they realize that their alarm clock is suddenly out of reach - or that their bedroom door looks almost as if it's changed shape.

The wet, cool air bit against Linus' bared cheeks as he sat outside the house, simply watching as the sleepy citizens walk by the snowy awing in front of the house over the top of his book. Linus sat calmly on a bright red bench, leaning back comfortably with his book held loosely in one hand with the other tucked in his pocket, occasionally withdrawing to turn a page.

Sighing with boredom, Linus slowly presses a Lord of the Rings bookmark between the pages and closes the book. I never expected things to be this... droll. Setting his book to the side the man stands and stretches with his hands pressed flat against his back. He then looks around, noticing a small white hare next to the bench. Linus grins, crouching down to the hare's level and inching closer as delicately as possible. Opening his mouth, Linus' soft tenor fills the air.

"H-h-h-hello, lit-little rabbit." The hare's ears twitch towards the sound and a slight motion of the neck brings a beady black eye to peer at Linus. Linus take a step closer, within an arm's length of the rabbit, as he once again speaks "H-h-hey, b-buddy."

As Linus takes one more step, the hare quickly dashes towards the nearby road that hums with traffic. Linus yelps and sprints towards the rabbit as quickly as his spindly legs can carry him. The hare quickly maneuvers to the right and Linus jumps towards it, sliding across the snow with his hands splayed in front of his speeding body. Feverish hands clasp the furry rabbit just as the hare hits the road. Linus closes his eyes as he crosses the sidewalk into the street. Unable to find a purchase on the road, Linus continues sliding across the street, narrowly missing a bright red car as it swerves by, and from its driver a loud "SON OF A BITCH" splits the morning air as the car rights itself and continues going towards its original direction.

Reaching the end of the road, Linus then curls into a tight ball around the rabbit in a tight, protective ball. Jesus, why do I always get myself into this stuff. Linus unfolds, splayed like a starfish, laying on his back with the rabbit on his chest. The rabbit vicious leaps away into the nearby woods, hopping off of Linus' head as it does so.

Resting for a moment, Linus groans as he lifts himself up. It might be better to walk across the street this time... Limping across the street stiffly, uninjured except for some small scratches, Linus reaches the front door of the house. His hand gropes for the handle, missing it slightly by a few millimeters. His hand corrects, raising, before opening the door.

Am I really so woozy that I missed the doorknob?

The blank, white mannequin faced her, still and unmoving. It's head projected from the top of it like a pale balloon. On this face there held nothing that resembled a human save for the two slight dips into it that were empty and held no eyes. In a darkened room one could imagine that it was an unemotional, floating entity. Perhaps you would swear it would shift in the corner of your vision, only to spin on a dime and rationalize that it had just been your imagination. It made its home in the living room, just to the side of the television and at the moment to Nicole it held not one bit of fear, but instead posed a challenge.

The blonde shifted her hips as she stood for what had seemed like a very long time, facing this foe of sorts, but Nicki just couldn't decide... She held in each french manicured hand a different piece of cloth. In her left she held a houndstooth in a spicy ginger shade and in the other she gripped a sophisticated merigold with a flamestitch pattern. The woman's eyeliner painted lids lowered to make her eyes into a little more than slits and she delicately bit her glossed lips. This position was held for a long time as she shifted one cloth against the mannequin, to the next, in an attempt to gleam some enlightenment. The tension held like the most serious of staring contests, until... she yielded. With a groan Nicki's body slumped and she let out an almost feral, high pitched growl before exclaiming, "What the fuck?! Why can't I just decide already!" She didn't even think about the ramification this might have in waking anyone up. "I just--" The flaring woman began and tore her fingers into her scalp. "UUGGGH!" And with this she forced herself down into a couch seat, which she nearly missed. It was as if the thing had moved, but it was surely the fact that she had been too angry to coordinate herself. Even still, she was firmly seated, and was thus left to fume.

Nicole clicked her black heels against the ground as she continued to glare at the two fabrics that were causing her so much undying torture. Some would say that they looked almost exactly the same, but that was the furthest from the truth. They were different in every way, or at least that's what she told herself, and that was the very thing that made the decision very hard. They were both very inspiring colors and patterns, but she couldn't make a choice. It was like deciding between two of your children or choosing between whether to buy a new Coach bag or a new pair of Louis Vuitton shoes. This was a dire conundrum that could very well change her entire life, and she did not know what to do.

There was writhing and muffled mumbling in the night at the room of Taisto Nummi, he was vast at sleep, carried into the land of dreams by wings of drunken exhaustion, he once again dreamed about the end of the world, nothing out of ordinary there,
he had been getting these dreams since childhood and had come to accept them, not as an welcome addition to his psyche but as an regular happening.
At times it was an row of mushroom clouds in the horizon that ended all mankind in his dreams, and at other times it was an gigantic Godzilla creature that he and his friends would flee from. But again this night as in nights prior he saw visages of the black queen...
This arcane creature that Taisto could only identify as some sort of forgotten Egyptian goddess floated above his home town like an swarming mass of dark energy and unexplainable mass, before lunging forward and claiming the world as her own with man-sized tendrils of dark
purpose...
And at these times Taisto would wake up, still disoriented and half drunk, rather than being horrified by his dreams he was absolutely terrified that he would have to once again experience his hangover "manually" without the aiding of peaceful, numbing sleep. Taisto was accustomed to leaving an tall glass of water on his night counter to help with these uneasy nights, even in his most disoriented homecomings he rarely forgot this habit, and that is what he thought he had done as his outstretched hand failed to grasp the comforting pint of this cool, colorless nectar and found nothing in its space.
Taisto struggling parted his heavy eyelids to just confirm that there it was, his desired glass of water, he just had to reach an bit further to grasp his prize, he knew himself to be an uneasy sleeper and that he often made the bed rock with just his own tossing and turning.
That is why as he went back to his troubled dreams he failed to recognize that his bed was still as glued to the bedroom wall and it was the nightstand that had moved further away...

Early the next morning, a shrill beeping resounded through the house. With a groan, Alan awoke, groping groggily for the alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed, finding the annoying black cube after a few seconds and slapping it silent. He sat up and stretched, yawning a little as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The morning sun streamed in past his curtains, casting long shafts of light on the cold floor as he shuffled to the bathroom to wash up.

A few minutes later and he sat in the living room, nursing a hot mug of tea as his roommates went about their day. With her head resting in his lap, his black lab Bess was snoozing in the morning cool, while he read a book with his earbuds in his ears. Another regular, dull day. Next to him stood Nicki, one of his roommates; a leggy blonde with a head for clothing, she stood with two differently coloured lengths of clothed draped over her arms, comparing each against the blank white mannequin that occupied the corner of the living room like a silent sentinel. For the better part of ten minutes she stood in quiet, stern contemplation, alternating the fabrics against the dull white figure, before unleashing her frustration in a loud growl as she sat down on the couch. The impact, of course, woke his dog, who licked her lips and stared at the friendly if angry face next to her master, curiously flicking her gaze between the fabrics and the concerned expression on her friend's face. The fluffy black dog sat up and laid her head on Nicki's lap instead, staring up at the lady with her cute brown eyes, ears splayed as she wagged her tail gently against the couch.

Allan smiled. His dog was a member of their little family as much as Nicki was. As he watched Bess trying to cheer her up, he pulled the earbuds from his ears and reached over to set his phone down on the coffee table, which came to rest half on the table, half off. As he leaned back again his hand gently brushed his phone which toppled over and clattered to the floor.

"Ah, crap, my phone."

He bent over and picked it up, inspecting its screen for any cracks before placing it fully on the coffee table. With a resigned sigh he leaned back and continued with his book, but not before giving Nicki a glance to offer his quiet opinion.

"I think the gold looks better, Nicki."

Nicki had snapped her eyes shut in frustrated concentration regarding the whole situation and was swiftly awakened by something warm resting on her thigh. In a split second she had the instinct to slap whatever it was. When she was upset she didn't like being touched. It was as if the long-legged blonde was a snake that had been poked and prodded. Besides, usually contact on her thigh signified a man getting a little too friendly with her and was also usually quickly responded with a slap as well. However, fortunately, she chose to open her eyes before she acted and found to her surprise something very different from what she had expected.

There lay Bess, the beautiful black lab that Allan owned. Her cute eyes revealed she longed to be petted and held a million thoughts behind them that words could not express. This made Nicole utterly disarmed. The french tip fingers slowly floated down from her scalp and her muscles lost their tension by degrees. On the other hand, a part of her was still mildly perturbed at the thought that the dog was likely shedding all over white blouse or red pants... but... look at that face! The ends of her lips slowly began to rise in a surrendering smile as she began to stroke the creature at her lap. The stroke became a playful roughness until she took the dogs face in her hands and squished it a bit. "Awwww... how can I say no to that cute little face?" She said this in high pitched (though could be considered obnoxious) glee.

Nicole saw Allan drop his phone, but made no attempt to get it herself. He was a man and he could pick it up himself, however, on the other hand, if she had dropped her phone she would have fully expected Allan to be chivalrous and get it for her like a good man would. After which he said something that she figured was an attempt at trying to soothe her by offering his opinion, no matter ignorant. When he made the mislead comment, a long moment passed in which she just stared at him. It was as if the woman was giving him a moment to take back what he'd said to provide her with the right answer. When this silence continued she relented, giving a long sigh. "Well... thanks, but, like, none of these are gold." She continued as if she was painfully explaining what 2+2 was. "This one is ginger." She held up the one she was referring to and then followed with the other. "And this one is marigold." She rolled her eyes, "Gold is totally different in every way to marigold. Like, it's so obvious." She then patted Allan on the shoulder in light hearted comforting. "It's okay, Allan, I'm a designer and you're not." With this she flicked her darkly painted eyes up and down his current attire, reaffirming her statement. "Therefore I will excuse your mistake." With this Nicki flashed a polite and happy smile with a nod that caused her blonde curls to bounce. She was totally oblivious to her having said or done anything rude.

Lazy steps carried a tired Max to the living-room. His eyes barely open, he shuffled through the flat and into the main room. He offered a quiet 'Hi,' to the flat-mates he passed and upon entering the living-room he would have raised a lethargic hand and said, 'Morning' were it not for the table he stubbed his toe on. 'Damnit,' he exclaimed as his pinky toe throbbed. Scratching his head he sat on the couch and sighed.

Almost unaware of anyone who may have been in the room he says, 'I had the strangest dream last night.' He paused before continuing. 'I can't stop thinking about it. I can't even explain it.' He cast his eyes to the window and peered up at the sky. 'Nice day, anyway.'


Shoppers drifted down the empty street - the occasional car trundled down the road on the slow Friday afternoon. Max looked over the various shops and their windows with an interest in finding something in-particular. Spotting the small camera shop across the road, he wandered over and entered. A bell on the door signaled his entrance into the establishment and an old man wandered through a set of net curtains hanging in a doorway behind the counter.

'What can I do for you?' the man asked, slightly hunched and squinting due to the lack of his glasses. A shaking hand lifted his glasses from the counter and placed them delicately on the tip of his wrinkly nose. 'Ah, Max. How can I help?'

'I'm looking for an SD card,' he replied, smiling. 'Thirty-two gigabytes please.' Max walked to the counter and rest his hands on the wooden surface.

The old man turned to the extensive rack of memory cards and film rolls behind the counter. His hand flicked through various products before he uttered, 'I have a SanDisk for one-hundred-and-ten Krona.'

Max frowned slightly and asked, fearing for his wallet, 'No second-hand ones?'

The old man moved his hand to another rack where individually bagged memory cards hung haphazardly on a short rack. 'Yes, you're in luck.' Turning his head back to Max the old man asked, 'Ninety Krona okay?'


Max blinked away the remainder of his hangover as he pulled one of his cameras from a shelf in his room. He fished his newly acquired memory card from his jacket pocket and slid it into the empty slot in his camera. He tapped his finger on the power button and a faint clicking noise edged the camera into function; the lens adjusted and the digital screen began to brighten. A moment later a message popped up: Format memory card? YES | NO. Max flicked the pivot switch and highlighted the YES option, but he hesitated before confirming his selection. He flicked back the switch and highlighted NO and refused the camera permission to delete any content that may be lurking on the memory card.

Lazy eyes became faintly curious as Max flicked through the two pictures that the memory card played host to. He was not immediately concerned, yet he couldn't deny the fact that the two pictures (the second in particular) unsettled him slightly. Both pictures seemed as if they were taken in a hurry - they were both of what appeared to be pages in a notebook. Max squinted as he tried to decipher what the words said but his minimal English didn't permit it.

He huffed in confusion and walked to the living room and quickly held the camera out to Nicki. More curious than anything he asked, 'Do you know what this says? It's English.'

September 4th, 2015: 5:35 PM

At this point in the day she had long gotten over her indecision regarding the ginger and marigold pieces. Ah, what a fool she had been! The right decision had been clear from the start and had been right in her face the entire time. The color and pattern that she truly needed was a turquoise chevron. Yes, it had been the perfect fabric all along and she hadn't even known it.

Thus, now she was onto sketching the outfit and she was going for a kinda fall smolder look: dark, but not slutty or gothic. Nicki avidly swiped her pencil across the page and was putting a great deal of detail into the design, making variations across the page. Even tiny notes could be seen that pointed to the different pieces regarding fabric type, cost, etc. To her pleasant surprise it was all coming along nicely and she saw that it had the potential to be one of her greatest works so far.

However, her engrossed mindset was interrupted by Max who had thrust a camera in her face. If it was him asking whether his photography looked good or something she wasn't going to be happy. Nicki didn't appreciate is complexity and kinda found the work grungy. She always offered to put his work through Photoshop to make it brighter and fix blemishes to make it look nicer, maybe add a few filters... but he always refused. He did not ask for that, however, and instead requested her to read something in English on the camera. The blonde smiled with her pearly white teeth, feeling very important that she was so needed. "Sure, no problem!" She said with enthusiasm.

As her blue eyes squinted at the photo, her enthusiasm seemed to ebb away. It was rubbish. Even though she read fluent English it was still difficult to make anything out, but what she did make out was really disturbing and sent a chill down her spine. After a long moment she looked back up at Max and said, "Uhm... well the first page is a bit hard to read, but this is what I can see." She paused and looked at the scrawled mess on the screen. "Didn't... uh.. cunt's deny it." She shrugged and blushed guiltily, "I'm just reading what I'm seeing..." She began again, this time her voice going up a little bit over the next few bits. "The house watches, and then WATCHES in big letters... know I saw it... Zampino is telling the..." She paused, it looked like kat, she knew that wasn't right so she settled for, "... something. The rest is pretty clear." Her voice kinda tensed as she went over the next words. "Like he said it drove him crazy. The house is the creation of EVIL." Nicole paused and squinted further and sighed. "The rest says something about how he must kill ... the house?"

The blonde passed her long, delicate fingers through her curls a bit, a nervous habit that she had of messing with her hair. She then pressed the arrow on to the next page and she squinted again. "Well, the drawing is of either a creepy ass house or a weird microwave and it says 'HELP, thump or thumping, she thought of this, and THE HOUSE AVOID." She paused a little longer and she realized that her hands were shaking. "That's it."

Nicole took a moment looking at Max and her eyes narrowed slightly as if she finally had come to a conclusion. "Max, if you're trying to play a scary prank on me, I swear..." She seemed now resolved that it was a prank and she laughed, before turning her voice to ice. "Well, it's not funny. However, I do give you props for going to the effort of learning to write in English, you jerk wad." With this she thrust the camera back at Max. Nicki, turned her attention quickly back to the sketch in an attempt to let Max know that the gag hadn't phased her.

September 4th, 8:35 a.m.

As the door slowly opens, the high-pitched squeal of Nicki pierces the air. Linus stops in his tracks, the door not moving an inch further.

If I go in there, then I will have to be in the middle of one of Nicki's blowouts, I would have to guess. I remember seeing one of her mannequins set up in the living room, so she is probably working on one of those "Big Ideas" that she has. Looking down at his flannel and pants which are covered with dirt and wet patches, Linus sighs slightly, slumping his shoulders a small amount. And she would go ballistic on my clothes if she saw me like this. Maybe I should just...

Linus' hand sneaks through the crack in the door, moving the grab his satchel that hangs on the rack next to the entryway. His fingers shake as they get close to the rack, and his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth in silent concentration. Finally, Linus' hand closes around the bag and unhooks it, quickly drawing it through the crack in the door as he closes it quietly. A cold gust of wind entering the room being the only major testament that the door was opened.

Turning his back to the door, Linus slings his satchel over his shoulder diagonally across his chest and whistles as he walks away, fetching his book from the bench and heading towards the town as he reopens his page and becomes engulfed in his book.

September 4th, 3 P.M.

The air in the afternoon was not warmer, by any stretch of the imagination. Still, that didn't appear to bother Linus as he walked down the street. In fact, he appeared unaffected by what was going on around him as he pressed his nose to the book.

“There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.”

Linus' eyes darted over that passage again and again. It opened up an entirely new doorway of thought. What events happen that harm the mind to this extreme? Is there a way to recover from it? Would people around that person realize that they are next to an insane person? Am I insane? Are we all insane?

The philosopher in him yearned for the answer and would not stop hunting for it, yet even now the biggest thing on his mind was that no answers were being found, only questions. Maybe if I just sit down for a little an-

Linus smashed into an object, knocking him flat on his back and knocking the air out of him. His hands do not go towards steadying his fall, and instead have a death-grip on his book. Once Linus stabilized on the ground he raised a hand to his head, dragging it down across his cheek in disbelief before opening his eyes.

"Oh, h-h-hello, Max!"

The camera shop door's bell rang again as it closed behind Max, this time leaving him outside. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, tightly grasping the memory stick he purchased, and made down the pavement.

Max's eyes were so fixated on the street ahead that he only noticed the toppled Linus when his name was called. 'Linus?' he asked, a smirk creeping onto his face. 'What are you doing on the floor?' He offered a hand to Linus and pulled him to his feet. 'Getting stuck in your head again?' he chuckled. 'You need to look where you're going.'

At that particular moment in time, Allan was in the kitchen. The smell of cooking meat was in the air, and though he was no master chef, he did know how to whip up a killer spaghetti bolognaise. With a measured hand he tipped a small cup of water into the pot containing his sauce and stirred with a wooden spoon, humming softly to himself as he worked.

The remnants of his ingredients lay on the counter next to him; some strands of dill, scraped clean, garlic and onion skins, the wrapper of a portion of frozen meat, an empty spaghetti box and a salt and pepper shaker. Messy as he was, he'd at least bothered to wrap up all the waste with the plastic meat wrapper for easy disposal later. The box could be recycled, which meant a different bin to throw it in. Later, of course.

As he leaned over his pot to give the cooking sauce a sniff, he felt something cold and wet bump against his knee. Allan looked down to see Bess, peering hungrily up at him with those big brown eyes, her tongue lolling out of her muzzle as if to question her master's decision to not feed her the yummy things he had. With a smile he leaned down and ruffled her between the ears.

"Don't worry, silly Bessy. I'll get you something to eat later."

He straightened up and caught sight of his roommate Max entering the living room and immediately stubbing his toe on the coffee table. With a resigned smile, he shook his head and waved back.

"Afternoon, Max! Want me to make you a cuppa?"

At the mention of a dream he paused. He knew that lately at least one or two of his friends here had been suffering from them. He was one of the lucky ones who'd slept soundly every night ever since moving into the house. Now he knew that Max was one of them.

"A dream? Do you remember anything about it though?"

It was well into afternoon when an door that had stayed shut tight the entire day was slammed open and immediately an smell of stale alcohol flooded the immediate vicinity.
From the darkness of his bedroom Taisto stumbled into the living room letting out an pained groan like an shambling undead.

"Ughhhh, Thanks for not waking me up."

He let out an long sigh after taking an look at the clock ticking away on the wall. He was on time to see the exchange of camera and those weird pics between Max and Nicki.

"Kill the house? Man somebody must have been even more drunk than I last night."
He said while rubbing his temples with his index fingers, wishing that he had twenty feet long arms so he could reach into bathroom medicine cabinet for some aspirin. He crashed face first onto one of soft luxurious recliner chairs around the sofa, cursing the fact that he must have missed dinner time by now.

"By the way guys, If I ever again drain an entire beer case BEFORE heading to the pub, please fucking stop me."

Max stared at the wall across the living-room as he tried to make sense of his dream. 'I remember it..' he started, unable to finish Sighing in morbid defeat he repeated himself: 'I remember it, but I can't understand.' He turned his head to Allan (who would now fully appreciate the hangover that haunted poor Max) and said, 'You know you have dreams where you're being followed? It was like that, but nothing was following me. It was empty.' After a short pause he shrugged it off. He lowered his hand to the floor and rubbed his fingers together, calling, 'Hi Bessy!'


'It doesn't make sense to me either,' Max claimed. He took the camera back and looked again on the pictures. Cogs in his brain strained to find an answer and in response to Nicki's proposal that this was a "prank" he replied, 'I just bought this memory card - second hand. These pictures were on it.

Max held the camera up to Taisto and showed him the first picture that was on the screen. 'It's just nonsense. It creeps me out but I can't make sense of it.' He grinned faintly and looked back at Nicki, jesting, 'It's like the sort of thing you'd find in a horror movie - a scary picture! What's next? Coordinates to a body? Your body!?'

For a moment Max flicked through the pictures, slumping down on the couch. 'What is this house?' he asked, saying the word "house" in English as Nicki had said it (although his accent was miles off - Nicki might have heard something more akin to "Howsee"). 'Does that mean anything to you? In English, I mean.'

September 4th, 2015: 5:35 PM

Nicki hoped that Max would reply to her accusation of a prank with a little bit more liveliness and vehemently refuse to make it worth the while something like, 'It's not a prank I swear! This is serious!' Unfortunately to her he only dryly claimed that he had gotten the SD card second hand. To this she murmured, "Yeah, sure. Likely story, Max." with sarcasm dripping from her glossy lips. It was after this that he began teasing her and talking about how this was like a horror movie or something. She liked the jest, it was funny, but she wanted to maintain her stubbornness in not liking him. "Hey, that's not funny!" Nicki said, but she wasn't good at keeping the hint of playfulness out of her voice.

When Taisto came in, still smelling of the liquor from the night before she giggled a little when he talked about the oddness of the 'house killing' bit. When announced his desire to be held back from making future bad decisions she had replied, "Oh, come on! I won't stop you. It's like watching a wreck in progress and stopping you would take away all the fun!" She injected a piercing giggle after this.

Then Max inquired what 'house', which sounded like 'howse', meant and Nicki was confused. Had she really said that word in English? Hm... she didn't know, so she explained what house meant in Swedish. However, she didn't say this without before giving a strong huff, as if to say that it took all of her energy to stubbornly divulge this information. "Well... I don't know, it's a house! A place where you live. You know, like, this is a house." Nicole said this as she waved her arm around, signifying the structure that they were in.

September 4th, 2015: 17:30

With a final heave, a loud thump resounded throughout the house as a tire flipped for the 60th time in total. During his workouts, Adrian tended to finish with a bang, flipping the 100 pound tire, instead of merely toppling it. His routing was simple, on the first of every month, he would bring home a tire that weighed 25 pounds more than the last, and use it for what he refereed to as his, "mountain man training," which in his words, "was like strongman, but manlier." He had spent the last several years performing rigorous and all encompassing exercises on a daily, and occasionally bi-daily, basis. It often consisted of an abnormal number of one arm/one legged push-ups to warm up, then lead into a total of sixty squats, lunges, dead-lifts, farmers walks, and tire tumbles, all of which with the added weight of a very heavy rubber tire. Breathing heavily, he wiped the sweat from his face with the T-shirt he had taken off about twenty minutes into the workout. Despite the icy weather, he was clothed only in a pair of shorts, no shoes, and his hairy, muscular figure exposed to the world as he turned his back on the makeshift gym, and walked inside.

As he walked inside, he found his way into the kitchen, and lit up a cigarette from a pack he kept on the windowsill, and it was his one and only vice. His first cigarette had been several years ago, about a month after his ninth birthday he had picked one up from his mum's ashtray, and hated it. But for several weeks, he had an odd craving for one, and he decided to pick another up. Again, the same occurred, he would go into a coughing fit and then immediately put it out, only that time, the coughing wasn't so bad. He was finally hooked the third time around, and then grew to be a rather heavy smoker, despite his athleticism. Taking a long, slow drag, he inhaled deeply before walking into the living room, behind the couch that Nicki was sitting on.

He hand clasped on her shoulder, a slight squeeze and then a release, a bit of a tease as to the great shoulder rubs he was capable of, and gladly gave out to anyone interested. He had spent hours rubbing his mother and grandmothers shoulder's as a kid, and had naturally developed quite an ability for them. Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, he took another drag from his cigarette, listening to the conversation to see if he would be able to pick up on their talk. So far all he heard was Nicki explaining what a house was to Max, which naturally confused him, but par usual, he kept his mouth shut.

September 4th, 2015 5:30

Reclining against the door was Linus, with his book open in one hand and the end of his pen pressed lightly to his lip. That same phrase from before kept coming to mind and, using his pen, Linus jot some thoughts down into the text.

"Insanity: Reversible and voluntary or involuntary and permanent?"

The pen reverts back to its original placement on his lip as he continues reading through the book as Max began to bring up the subject of the camera. His eyes stopped, fixing on one point on the page as he listened to Nicki's translation and with Max's jests. When he looked up at the camera his eyes were bright. Closing his book and setting it aside Linus tucked his pen into his shirt pocket and moved closer to the group, reaching for the camera.

"L-l-let mmm-e see." Linus looked through the pictures curiously, noting less of the words and more of the writing style and pattern. He speaks again. "A-are y-y-ou sure t-t-t-this isn'-t a j-j-j-oke, Max?" He continues looking down at the pictures, humming quietly as his thoughts raced.

Seems to be written feverishly and messily, and not simply because of the handwriting. The words overlapping could be a sign of... "Insan-ity" Linus murmurs out loud, before continuing his thoughts. Whoever wrote this was in a hurry, maybe his thoughts were muddled or... something. He brings up his left hand, scratching the side of his face thoughtfully. Of course, it could just be a silly game that some teenagers had a part in...

Linus powers off the camera before looking at the card itself for any details or writing, turning it over with critical eyes.

"This so-called house sounds like something out of a late night TV show."

Allan was seated in one of the living room's easy chairs, Bess curled up on his lap with her head nestled in the crook of his arm. He was staring idly at...nothing, really, but was listening into the conversation that had started across from him. By this time everyone had somehow convened in the living room; there was Linus across the way, book in hand as he checked out the camera. There was Adrian, standing behind Nicki, giving her shoulders a squeeze. And there was Taisto, slumped face down on one of the recliners next to the couch. Everything as it should be.

"Where do you suppose this house is anyway? These notes don't specify a location, does he?"

'I doubt it's a joke,' Max said in response to Linus' question. 'Second hand cards like that are usually formatted before being sold.' He watched as Linus looked through the pictures and eventually took the card from the camera (which would have no visible blemishes or markings). 'Perhaps he forgot to format it?' he asked himself aloud, referring to the shopkeeper of the electronics store; it was an unlikely scenario, but possible nonetheless.

'No, it doesn't say anything about location,' Max replied to Allan. 'It's nonsense. It must be.' he scratched his neck and paused for a moment, thinking. 'House.. House.. It just sounds so... out of place. So normal, yet so..' His mind strained for the word. 'So strange!'

Pulling out his phone, Max typed in a quick google search: "Hus", using the swedish spelling of House. No results seemed at all relevant or interesting - they all were links to sites about "Hemolytic Uremic Syndrome". Using a translator he discovered the english spelling and punched that in to google: "House". Again, nothing. Just as he was about to try another search, he turned his eyes to Linus.

'Insanity?' he asked. It only took a moment for him to realise that it makes sense. The scrawny writing, overlapping words, a hastily drawn picture that could have resembled anything; it started to fit together. The pictures were a perfect product of someone who wasn't thinking straight. 'Is that a doctor's opinion?' he asked Linus.


Pitch black. Not even a speck of light, not even a morsel dented the perfect darkness that surrounded Max. Silence accompanied it and shared its entireness. The only assurances that Max could find that he existed was sensation: his hair brushed against his forehead, a loose t-shirt flapped against his body and light, delicate pants shivered in a quiet wind.

But that was it. The realisation didn't occur to max quickly but instead crept up on him like a predator. First he noticed the sensation of weightlessness, and then the lack of his sight and hearing. As he groped around in the dark it occurred to him that a common sensation was missing: his feet on the ground.

What had been skulking before now attacked. The slow realisation that he was in limbo, blind and deaf and floating, or falling, suddenly hit max's consciousness like a bullet. Panic set in. He thrashed his limbs like a shark thrashes its prey and screamed - his vocal chords shook, his throat started to dry up, but silence prevailed. He attempted to scream again but before he could muster the required oxygen his thought was confirmed: he was falling. He could sense it. He could feel the wind against his body and he could feel the ground getting closer. It was quick. Only seconds after his brain could compute the entirety of the situation Max hit the floor. The last 5 letters to flash in front of his mind's eyes were
H
O
U
S
E
.

Max bolted upright in bed gasping for air. He blinked once confirming his vision remained. Turning his head and squinting at the light he saw on his clock 2:50 AM

September 4th, 2015: 5:40 PM

"Heheh, now that we are in the vein of scary happenings, want to hear an good one from last night?"

Taisto was certain that most of the gathered knew what he was talking about, not the first time he had shared his crazy end of the world dreams on the dinner table.

"Soooo, there I was walking along back alleys of this some town, probably European as the houses were beautiful and old, red bricks. I heard an noise coming down the alley and I started running, the world grew darker with each step and I finally came upon an regular street, filled with boarded up shop windows. There was this white ash that filled the ground and I just knew it was all made of human bones, really dreamlike I just knew it was so. I continued on my way until I came upon an large market square, in its center an fountain that depicted an beautifully sculpted scene of an father, killing his son. But that was not noteworthy, what was important was the fire filled sky and the figure that majestically floated on it. You have all heard this from me before, but it was the black queen again, like Ursula from little mermaid but infinitely hotter and scarier, not to mention she this time was the size of the entire damn planet! Just floating in the sky before taking it in her hold and molding it into an shape never heard of... And I died in a boiler room..."

Taisto kind of enjoyed the vacant eyes that usually followed his stories but then again it was just dreams, talking about dreams and trying to find their meanings is fun right?
He picked himself up and headed for the nearby interconnected kitchen.

"Man I hope there is some brews left to cure this headache."

September 4th, 2015: 5:40 PM

Max didn't seem terribly satisfied with her translation of the word 'house', and so proceeded to enlist the knowledge of the internet to fill in the gaps. Nicki didn't see the point at all. I mean, come on, he was trying to figure out some hidden meaning behind the word 'house' for Pete's sake! It was silly. A house is a house is a house, and that was it and there was no more information to be gleamed from it. Nicki saw this all as some very sad attempt to keep the ruse going, but Nicki wasn't stupid and refused to go along with it. So, it was about at this point that Nicki checked out of the conversation and had only the barest interest in the rest that was going on.

Yes, she lost interest in the conversation, but her interest was caught by something else. The petite blonde felt a heavy, warm grip on a shoulder. It was pleasant, like a heavy heat pack being placed on a area of tenseness and stress. It even increased in pressure and massaged lightly, like a tease. Oh, she knew who it was. This was undoubtably Adrian, the hunk of the flat. He was handsome and she didn't mind throwing a flirt now and then, but he always struck her as the quiet type and that just didn't jell with Nicki's loud attitude. Thus, she tended to see him as a big teddy bear because he was not only a big guy, but she was sure he had a big heart as well. When he went and sat down she offered him a smile, a gesture of thanks for the momentary shoulder grip, and a playful wink just to tease him right back. Nicki kept her extravagantly painted eyes on him for a little while before becoming distracted by the mousy stutterer who had inched his way into the room.

Linus seemed to be concerning himself with the obvious prank, even muttering some kinda nonsense about insanity. Meh. The little medical man was always rather gullible and looked to much into things, but hey, he was fun to mess with. In fact, if there hadn't been other people conversing she would have taken no time in asking him, 'Where's your blanket, Linus?' She had never quite gotten over the thought that Linus reminded her every time about the character from Charlie Brown.

Lastly, Taisto made himself uncomfortably known by giving a monologue about some dark dream he had. Nicki only picked up on a few things like fire filling the sky and the dark queen he was always going on about. Yeah, this was another conversation she didn't really care about at all. The whole interaction seemed kinda pointless and she only wished they would all go away and leave her to her sketch, which had been turning into a masterpiece before she had been so rudely interrupted. Still, once the man was done telling his dull tale she offered only a single comment to sum up her compelling opinion of the unconscious phenomenon, "Yeah, umm... that's kinda fucked up." Nicole added a forced giggle to turn the whole thing into a joke.

September 5th, 2015: 2:45 AM

Nicole was awakened in the night by a scream from down the hall. At first her heart pounded in her chest from fright and her eyes began to scrape and grope at the dark room for answers as to what had caused the fright. After a long moment of looking into the blackness she felt around her bedside table for her lamp and then by extension, her lamp switch. Once she found it, she turned it on, expelling the dark. Now with the comfort of light she managed a few deep breaths as she processed what it could have been.

It took her a little bit before she pieced together that it was probably one of her flatmates having a nightmare. It seemed like many of them were all having night terrors lately. Even if they didn't say so she could tell. Nicki was particularly attentive to the look of dark circles and bags under peoples eyes, especially her own. Yes, many of her roommates had these deep and weary features.

For a moment she considered investigating and comforting whomever it was who experienced the fright, but after a second of thought she decided she just didn't feel like it. Nicki wasn't really a nurturing type and thus decided to choose beauty sleep over helping whoever was afraid. So, with that she switched off the light switch and closed her eyes tightly and forced herself back to sleep.