You see, the Netherlands is an old country. Whereas in the America’s everything is brand new, you can’t flick a stone here without hitting something that’s six centuries old. People have been living in the same stone houses for ages here. Good news for me, because it means there’s lots of monumental stuff that can’t be torn down and has to be fixed up.

The thing is, to fix up a building that old you have to become part of it, at least for a time. It requires nothing but total dedication – you must live, breathe, be the building. You have to crawl into places dark and putrid that no living soul has seen for a long time, disturb things that have gone untouched for centuries. A house that old has seen so many things, witnessed so much happiness, sorrow, emotions -life-, that it has almost become an entity in its own right. And what do I do for a living? I come in, rip its guts out, knock down walls and stairs and entire rooms and expect the place to just sit there and take it. Mostly, it does.

Sometimes it doesn’t.

Let me tell you about the house in Noordwijk that I was working on almost forty years ago. A stately, lonely, three-story villa caught somewhere between the dunes and the nearby village, it had been abandoned after lightning struck the roof and caused a fire on the top floor. I had bought it from another renovator after an accident claimed a member of his crew a few years before. It had taken me and my crew but a few months to finish with the restoration, and I was ready to put the house on sale the next monday.

After a friday night of drinking with friends on the beach (god, to be young!), I headed for my home in Leiden. I decided to swing by the place and see if the electrician I hired to finish the wiring had done a good job. I’m meticulous that way.

After entering the house, unlocking both the front gate and front door and relocking them behind me, I noticed, to my annoyance, that none of the lights were working yet. Cursing, I headed upstairs to the attic, where the electricity closet (proper english word?) was located. Again, unlocking a door to get there. After stumbling up the stairs in pitch-black darkness, I reached the attic floor. This was a large top floor, covering the entire footprint of the house. I knew the elecric closet to be about a dozen meters straight ahead, so started walking in that direction while attempting to light a match with my, admittedly drunken, hands.

I was about halfway across the floor when I thought I heard a rustling behind me. I turned around. At first, I thought it was a pigeon, or a bat – a whole flock of the winged vermin had taken up residence there in the years after the fire. But no, the roof had been restored, the attic cleaned and completely emptied. Couldn’t be a bat. Maybe a draft moving some of the plastic sheets still lying around? Or maybe I was just drunk and imagining things. In the darkness, I smirked to myself. Turning back around again, I finally managed to light a few matches. They lit up the room like a torch.

There was a man standing inches away from me. His eyes deadlocked on mine. In a room of hundreds of square meters, this guy somehow managed to appear exactly in front of me, his face so close to mine my matches must’ve almost burned off his eyelashes. He was pale, dirty, and wearing an old construction overall. To this day, i cannot comprehend the calmness of my reaction. Perhaps it was the booze. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t make a sound. Didn’t even punch the guy out of reflex.

I asked him: “What are you doing here? This is my house.” The man didn’t respond for a few seconds. He seemed older than me by about twenty years, as tall as I, and I’m a large guy. Skinny, though, and tired-looking. Without blinking, without taking his eyes off me, he slowly replied: “Just finishing up work, boss”. I did not recognize the man. He had scorch marks on his hands and overall. I told him to go home, too surprised to be angry, too dumbfounded to be scared. He stepped past me and i could see his silhouette heading down the stairs. I quickly checked the electric closet, which was an unfinished mess, then hurried downstairs to unlock the doors for the man and give him a piece of my mind, locking the attic behind me again.

He wasn’t downstairs. I couldn’t find him anywhere. After calling out for a few minutes, I decided to go. I locked the door and gate behind me again, looked once more over my shoulder and headed home.

The next morning i was called by the electrician. He was sorry he hadn’t finished the work the day before, but would be happy to work through the weekend to get the job finished – he’d just need me to come unlock the house for him, as I was the only one with keys.

He looked nothing like the man I met the night before.

It’s not my fault I like a little gore.

It’s not my fault I like killing.

It’s not my fault I like killing innocent citizens.

It’s not my fault I kill the families of children so they can never realise what it is to have a family.

It’s not my fault I want to gut everyone or anyone who looks me straight in the eye.

It’s not my fault I have strange obsessions over any sort of murder or massacres that has happend on this human world of Earth.

It’s not my fault I cut myself, drinking the blood out of my own veins and drawing the pentagram on the mirror in the liquid that apparently keeps me alive.

It’s not my fault I sliced my testicles and fed it to my own flesh and blood.

It’s not my fault I love the smell of flesh burning.

It’s not my fault that the sounds of screams and terrified yells are music to my ears.

I know what you are thinking, I’m pretty much insane. No, you got it all wrong.

Mad, they call me.

June 24, 2010

I\’m trying to find out more about \”Candle Cove\”. I know it exists, because I watched the first like three episodes, but got bored after the fifth one. I heard that it was getting a new season, and I remembered the show. I remember it as \”The Pirate Show\” and my parents thought it was weird that I would stay up until 5:00 in the morning, waiting for nothing but static to come on. I didn\’t know if they were messing with me or not, because Candle Cove is definitely NOT static. It\’s something more than that. Something terrible. June 25, 2010

After writing that first entry, I decided to dig up some news about Candle Cove, possibly even find episodes. I was on the internet at about 12:00 midnight when I received a text message from someone with a name like this \”0100110101100101011001010111010001101101011001010000110100001010\”. The message said, when decoded from binary to text, \”Meetme\”. Meetme? What did he mean, Meetme? Was I supposed to meet whoever that was somewhere? I don\’t know.

June 26, 2010

I found an episode of Candle Cove. It was from season one, and it was at least the 5th episode. It\’s funny because I don\’t remember ever seeing something like this. The episode I saw depicted it being Janice\’s birthday, and the Pirates and the Skin Taker and the rest of the characters sang happy birthday, and then Skin Taker broke off into a weird song which I assume to be called \”One Year Closer\”. When he finished the song, all the puppets kind of stared at the camera, their eyes glassy. Then out of nowhere skeletons came out. Yes, you 4chan fans, you can literally say skeletons popped out. The scary thing about it was that the skeletons kept grabbing near Janice\’s breast area, and touching her butt.

June 27, 2010

I contacted someone I met over the internet who apparently watched Candle Cove when it was on TV. He told me to come to his house and interview him. At first I was wary, but then I realized this was Candle Cove we were going to talk about. When I got there, I noticed his house was immaculate. But that was mostly because he had nothing but a TV and a bed in his house. It looked like he didn\’t have any food in his house, either. When I was asking him questions, he kept staring off into space, and it took me seconds, sometimes even minutes, to get him to come back to Earth and keep talking to me. When I brought up the Skin Taker, he just screamed and fell over, unconscious. I tapped him, but it seemed as if he wouldn\’t wake up for hours. After that, (This might sound creepy but I\’m doing anything to find anything about Candle Cove) I went upstairs and searched his room for anything that has absolutely anything to do with that damn show. I found concept art, but it was singed. I could barely even tell what it was. There was also a note that I will read that\’s from the guy who lived across the street from me when I was younger, who I will describe better in the next Entry, but for now I need some rest.

June 30, 2010

Wow. I slept for nearly four days. I don\’t ever remember doing that, ever. I remember some dreams that I had during the four day sleep period thingy thing. Skin Taker was chasing me down a long dark hallway, as other villains from the show came around corners. First there was Horace Horrible, then Milo, and then something terrible I thought I\’d never see again. He was tall, and he was dressed like a normal man. But he was also decaying terrible, and I could literally smell his terrible, burning flesh as he stumbled around the corner. The man was some strange old guy who lived on my street when I was about 10, who would sometimes go onto my lawn when my parents weren\’t home, and stare in through my window. I remember his house burning down about two years later when I was home alone. Apparently it was suicide. I don\’t want to know what made him burn his house down. But I feel I must. I\’m going to his house tomorrow to look for clues. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Here is that note I found at the man\’s house. \”Dear Lucille, I don\’t know how much longer I can take this. The nightmares are becoming more frequent, more… disturbing. Most of them are of him… but all of them have the same picture of that kid who lives across from me with his eyes gouged out. If only there was a way I could warn him about that damned Candle Cove show before it\’s too late… Sincerely, Bill\”

June 31, 2010

What I saw in that house will most likely make me not able to sleep for days, maybe even years. The house was… nothing but a patch of dirt, now. But, knowing better, I dug into the dirt, and soon I hit something. The material scraped against my fingernails as I took the packed dirt off the top of it. It was a note. It reads \”Percy was a pirate, he was the greatest one around, Percy was a Pirate, he never wore a frown, Until one day Mr. Skin Taker came to town, and took all the other children down to his workshop, where he would chop and sew skin to his new cape, always looking for new children to rape.\” This is getting disturbing.

July 1, 2010

I\’m regretting getting involved in this. Everytime I get home from school, I swear I can hear the screams of those poor children, their skin ripping and their flesh being taken off their bones and stuck onto the skeleton man\’s cape. I am ending this for now, and I thank everyone who helped me for the help. I don\’t know what I\’ll do after this. Maybe I\’ll even destroy the notebook, but one thing\’s for sure, I\’ll never search for that damn show at all, ever again.

My parents always told me I was special, and I knew that. In fact I can remember every single moment they told me I was special. You see, I have a photographic memory. Seems normal right? The only thing different about my photographic memory is that it is, shall we say, enhanced. I can remember almost every aspect of my life, and on rare occasions I can recall past events within another persons life. My photographic memory never bothered me, until my mind started doing weird things to me.

About eight years ago, I began to have lucid dreams, I knew this because I can remember being awake while having this particular dream. The weirdest part about this was the fact that the dream focused on my very first memory, the day I was born. I can remember it vaguely, but it confused me, because these lucid dreams brought me back in time, and under no circumstance could I ever get that to happen, no matter what i tried.

Anyways, my birthday is in ten minutes, and I’m not too excited about it. I’ve tried telling my parents about my problem, but they just tell me its mindless lucid dreaming, as if it’s no big deal. They just don’t understand. I’ve been to several psychologists as well, and they all told me that I should listen to loud music while I sleep, so the brain stays stimulated, to prevent lucid dreaming. But it really doesn’t work. I just dream the same dream, only I can hear the music blasting in the background. I’ve tried other ways to stop this dream, but nothing works. Absolutely nothing.

The worst part about my lucid dreaming was the fact that it can happen at any time now. I noticed that I’m affected by this dream as my sixteenth birthday comes closer and closer. In fact, today I was sitting at my desk at school and I went into one of my lucid trances. It has become a regular thing, everyone knows it happens, so no one worries about it. But I was worried…

I only have two minutes left. I think it’s just time to accept my fate no matter how absurd it sounds. I’m taking a minute to say goodbye to all the people I’ve met in my life, and I had to reassure myself that I will see them again.

Time is running short, as the clock nears twelve o’clock. Its funny how I was born on that exact time. As I fall asleep, I can already hear my mother screaming in pain, the doctors hard at work, and the hospital equipment producing various noises.

I’ll be back, and I’ll have a new story about the next sixteen years of my life. I sometimes sit and ask myself over and over, what is it like to live beyond the age of sixteen?

I guess I’ll never know…..

I go into the hallway very carefully, doing my best not to make any noises, in hope to locate a window. Trying to get acquainted to the hospital I’m in, I recognize the ward numbers, but dare not look into them. This was my workplace once. Young and restless as I had been, my days were spent idling around in random buildings trying to draw them inside out. Most of them I was satisfied with, others were thrown into the fire to get some warmth. I had never returned to any of the structures, never had I needed to.

I remembered the plan of the building room by room and soon knew where I was going. Locating a window with great ease I was at last able to look outside.

What I saw is nothing short of horror – everything was stranded, not a soul in sight and no signs of life what-so-ever. For a moment I got scared and my heart skipped a beat at all the vastness, but I quickly recovered and managed to think up a plan. Whatever had happened I could not be the only living soul remaining and whoever also remained must have gathered at a place where there was something all life needed sooner or later – a place that had some stored food.

I made my way into the closest locker-room and searched for some clean clothes and some snacks. The vending machine stood close-by unbroken. I took care of that… I made my way out the dreaded building and found my way on the forsaken streets. Everything lifeless stood there as it had always been, but because there was nothing living to make it look real, I felt as if I was walking in a dream.

I finally found the supermarket and with it some life forms… at first animals. Closing in on the store I saw a rat scrabbling around the gutter and a few paces on I saw a cat. Having walked another twenty-or-so meters I spotted a dog sniffing around some garbage – I must’ve been heading in the right direction, wherever there was animals, humans must’ve been close by. And I was not mistaken – I saw a human caravan and some smoke rising from behind the building I just passed. The humans weren’t surprised by my appearance, but they did try to avoid me and kept looking in my eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We were walking down the hallway. Sten was mumbling something but since he was walking ahead of me I didn’t quite understand him. We finally reached the end and he showed me a very interesting door – it had a lock that was only unlockable by humans, true humans, one’s without the touch of the infection. He opened the door and inside I saw a little girl and an older-looking man that seemed to be her father. They greeted Sten and tried to get acquainted with me. I introduced myself and the little girl (I think she was 13 or 14 years old) smiled at me. It seemed as if she hadn’t seen someone in a long time.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” she asked attentively.

“Yeah… Yeah I am. Just woke up yesterday in a hospital nearby. Sten hasn’t told me anything about what has happened recently. I asked him and he just brought me here. I wonder if you could tell me anything about it.”

“Umm…” she smiled sweetly and shot a glance at Sten. “Better yet, we can show you what has happened.” She pointed at herself and her father.

“If you’re patient and courageous enough you’ll survive our grisly fate and learn something new about the wondrous world of ours,” She said sarcastically.

It didn’t take long until it was dark outside and as the darkness settled in, Sten and the girl grew more cautious. We had been walking up and down the hallway; they did not dare go any further. The father had stayed inside the room; because he did not feel very well he had lain down to take a nap.

Midway of the hall she screeched, and both Sten and I turned to look at her. The irises in her eyes had turned ice blue and the pupils were blood red. Her face was twitching and she managed a painful whisper of “help me” through her lips that were turning purple.

Sten shouted that I take her back to the room and to hurry up, because we had little time. I hauled her into my arms and started running towards the end of the hallway. She seemed to be in and out of consciousness and I heard Sten running behind us. I reached the chamber and rushed into the back room, where the beds were.

As I stepped into the room, I saw the father also twisting, his eyes like his daughter’s. I lay her on the bed and heard Sten shout “Hurry now! We don’t have much time left! Get out of there or I’m forced to lock you in with them!”

I made my way out the room and saw Sten locking the door from the outside. I had studied the lock before and managed to understand that it was made to be opened only from the outside. On the inside there was no handle or any kind of edge to grab the door and snatch it open. It wasn’t the only door like this in the hallway. They were intermittent with smooth walls that looked like they were once doors.

It had been less than a minute after I heard scratching and wheezy breathing from the other side.

“Let us out please, there is nothing wrong with us” came a sweetly begging but hoarse voice from the other side of the barricade. I could tell there was something wrong and looked at Sten for some answers. He just looked back at me with fear in his eyes and did not speak a word. He even signalled me to be quiet by putting his finger on his mouth. I followed his lead and we sneaked towards one of the smooth panels in the wall. He opened it with a special trick he didn’t let me see and urged me inside.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I woke up sore all over my body, seeing the light from the windows over a long time and having difficulty remembering where I was. Memories from last night came rushing back and I searched the room for Sten.

He was sitting by the window, looking out, his fingers moving nervously. I stood still for a while not knowing what to do, but after I had woken completely I sat up and asked him what was the meaning of last night.

“What you wanted to know.” He replied, not taking a single glance at me. “This is the world of today. This is the disease of today. There has not yet been any cure, just some people who are not affected by it and some who are partly affected. Chris and her father are semi-affected and are kept inside this building with others their kind.”

He took a deep breath, folded his fingers and turned to face me.

“So far we have come to understand that the disease affects those who are partly affected only in the night-time, when the moon is shining. That is also one of the reasons you had to wake up in that derelict hospital; we had our cameras watching you overnight. Those who are fully affected are always like Chris was in the night. You saw her eyes, didn’t you? That is one of the symptoms we diagnose the disease with. Another is pale skin that does not endure the touch of healthy humans. We also know that the disease is transferred via bodily fluids. Whenever someone is bitten or gets some blood spilt on them they are taken into observation. That is how we learn about our enemy.”

He gave me some time to filter all this and take it in. For some time I didn’t hear anything but our breathing and the unusual sounds coming from behind the walls. After a while he continued.

“This building that we are in at the moment is one of many we have altered to withstand their strength, contain them and protect the remaining. This is merely the beginning point of all that the survivors have done so far. Moving further southeast you would find better equipment and buildings that are of better protection. I was appointed here and cannot leave until told otherwise. You, on the other hand, can do whatever you wish and I would urge you to put yourself in better use and go help them. I can provide you with some equipment to get there and knowledge you need until you reach them.” He talked with fatherly care in his eyes and concern in his voice; he had respect for me and seemed as if he thought I was different in some weird way.

I agreed with the plan, but asked for a training session. I had to get accustomed to the changed world and the new rules. Nothing was the same any more and I knew that. But there was still so much I didn’t know and so much I had to learn in order to survive.