Recovered ██/██/████ by Tesseract Field Agent: “Tank” Flemmings
0 LIKES SHARE
1. I CAN'T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME THAT I DREW.
It was long before the organization.
Long before calling their phone number from the ad online.
I DON'T REMEMBER WHAT IT WAS THAT I DREW.
A BIRD MAYBE?
An old white woman on the train playing with her hair while reading in the park.
A small man with his arms full of gifts on the subway smiling nervously.
I REMEMBER THE DRAWINGS, BUT NOT THE TIMELINE.
Timelines have been weird for me, since I was a child.
Art was vivid.
I MADE IT QUICKLY AND WITH PASSION UNTIL I DIDN'T.
I was selected by the organization for a test study.
I signed an NDA and they promised me that if I was picked for their trial it would all end.
THE PERSON WHO INTERVIEWED ME WAS VERY ADAMANT OF HOW GOOD A CANDIDATE I WAS.
"YOU HAVEN'T DRAWN IN HOW LONG?
Wow, and this is your old portfolio?
ARE THESE DATES ACCURATE?
Do you mind if I show this to my boss?"
WHAT WOULD YOU GIVE TO THE DEVIL TO GET YOUR VOICE BACK?
I was accepted for the preliminary trial.
I WAS MONITORED AND GIVEN SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS NOT TO CREATE.
I wasn’t drawing anyway, this I honestly felt, would be getting paid for what I was already doing,
BUT SECRETLY I KNEW I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING TO DRAW AGAIN.
WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF AFTER YOU GAVE HIM EVERYTHING THE DEVIL REJECTED YOUR ADVANCES?
I DON'T THINK I EVER GOT THAT PORTFOLIO BACK.
2. THE DECAY OF MY ART IS COMPLETE.
THE GHOSTS OF MY FINGERS ARE BROKEN.
Yesterday I stared at a blank piece of paper for 2 uninterrupted hours.
For a moment, for a glimmer I had an idea make it through the net of critiques that the devil has placed in my brain.
THE INNER CRITIC LOOMS OVER EVERY PIECE THAT APPEARS HALF FORMED IN MY BRAIN.
Another idea stillborn.
HEAVY ARE MY FINGERS AND MY HANDS ARE DEADWEIGHT.
The promises of the organization hang on them like lead rings.
I can't remove them for they've fused to my gangrenous fingers as my devil rots me from within.
ONCE I DREW TO QUELL THE DEVIL. NOW THE DEVIL DRAWS ME TO THE VOID.
I have been calling the organization to see if there are any openings in the old study or new studies to join, but they won't answer my calls.
IF I HAD BEEN PICKED THE TEST WOULD'VE BEEN STARTING SOON.
0 LIKES SHARE
"Hey, it's Tesseract Agent Judas [Redacted] clearance level [Redacted].
I know I'm on hiatus and all, but I think I may have been exposed to an anomaly that may be a cognitohazard that I think may be memetic in nature.
I have confirmed several other people having had the same experience that raised all of the warning signs we're supposed to be looking out for.
I wanted to report it in case it could be useful to the Society.
I also thought that since it had to do with my creative block it might just be a side effect of my testing for possible inclusion in the R6-B program.
Anyway, there are 5 confirmed cases of the occurrence and 1 non-confirmed instance that involves aggression and violence.
Here's what I know: It always starts with the dream, the dream of the Man in the Long Coat.
The dream generally begins in a room or area that the dreamer connects to their creativity.
The dreamer who has been suffering from writer's block in real life is similarly struggling to connect with their creative side.
After feeling a strong sense of being watched they turn and find an old wooden [redacted] where previously there had been no such [redacted].
In 80% of the dreams the [redacted] is closed. In one the [redacted] is ajar, but there is a bureau in front of the [redacted] stopping it from fully opening.
The dreamers then all open the [redacted] and walk into what appears to be a long dark [redacted].
All dreamers report a feeling of being chased, hunted or followed.
The [redacted] leads to a room in which there is a figure.
The Man in the Long Coat.
He has his back turned to the [redacted] and is exploring what appears to be a massive black [redacted] in the [redacted] with a [redacted].
The dreamer steps into the room causing the Man in the Long Coat to turn at the sound of the dreamer's step on the floor of the [redacted].
The Man in the Long Coat's face is bruised and beaten as if he has just been in a fight.
The Man in the Long Coat's face is dirty.
There is fear in his eyes.
At this point in the dream the [redacted] in the [redacted] opens like a giant mouth and swallows him whole.
The dreamer then wakes.
After waking each dreamer is compelled to create the type of art that they are passionate about.
The dreamer then is compelled to share both the dream and the art often through an internet blog.
Several such Blogs are found at the following web addresses:
[Further voicemail redacted]
(Report by Tesseract Agent Judas [Redacted])*
(Submitted to vociemail at Tesseract Society Facitity 417-B. )
(Transcribed by Tesseract Agent [Redacted])**
(Redacted by SignalSam)***
**Since deceased. Death deemed a neccesity to get further information from the Man in the Long Coat.
***To prevent second-hand transmission of the dream.
0 LIKES SHARE
Hey, I am Judas. Well, that's not my real name, but it will do for this blog.
Before the dream, I hadn’t really been able to create art for a while, years in fact, though I still considered my self an artist.
In trying to restart my muse I returned to a creative workshop group I used to go to years ago.
The new guy running it, "Crow", has changed the rules a bit, and the attendance has dropped considerably. I was a little suspect.
GROUP HAD HELPED ME BACK THEN, SO I THOUGHT I’D GIVE IT ANOTHER SHOT ANYWAY.
Crow insists we use nicknames for each other, hence "Judas." The only other guy in Group goes by Psyco Ra.
I've been going to Group for a couple weeks now and I guess it's helping because in the middle of the night I woke from a strange dream and went straight to my desk and drew with no hesitation.
I will try to get a scanner but for now, my phone’s camera will have to do.
I'll try to describe the dream as best as I can:
I'm on the train that I used to take to work at the factory. I am trying to draw, but the marks don't appear on the pages. I look over and across the aisle from my seat, where normally there would be another seat and a window, and instead against the wall, clear as day, is an old wooden [redacted]. I get a sense that it may disappear or become locked if I don't act fast.
SUDDENLY AND WITHOUT THINKING I AM OUT OF MY SEAT AND THROUGH THE [REDACTED].
Leaving the train behind me I walk down an endless [redacted], an uneasy feeling at my back. My pace quickens.
I SEE AN END TO THE [REDACTED], SHIFTING SHADOWS AT ITS MAW.
In the [redacted] I see a giant [redacted] being inspected by a man.
THE MAN IN THE LONG COAT.
The man spears the [redacted] with a small [redacted] as he inspects the splintered [redacted], making an effort to keep his distance. Not wanting to remain with the unease at my back, my step makes a hollow sound on the floor of the [redacted].
The Man in the Long Coat turns to look at me, his face bruised and terrified. The moment his glance wanders, the [redacted] splits and opens a deep inky maw.
BEFORE I CAN WARN HIM THE [REDACTED] SWALLOWS HIM WHOLE.
I woke and drew for the first time in 4 years.