After withdrawing my flashlight I pointed it to the door and grabbed the handle in a tight clasp and opened it - letting go with a little bit of a push to allow it to squeak open soundly. I froze, I had heard the sound of static moments before; but I had assumed it to be the radio signal getting disrupted when the generator was switched on. The dimly lit room was filled with it, a sharp sound of a mostly inactive radio - but.. there was no radio. Instead there was.. a person, or what had once been a person - it no longer looked to be alive. I heard the sounds of my own, heavy steps upon the floorboards before I had even realized I had moved closer to an adjacent lamp and turned it on - all so I could close up to the creature that laid before me.
It was settled bare, sickly thin.. only a shell of what you may consider a person to look like in life. It.. looked like a corpse, someone that had long since left this world with their mortal husk ready to decay and become sustenance for maggots six feet deep. But instead he was here, spread-out like a piece of morbid decoration, twitching and lurching in what is supposed to be eternal slumber. From the sockets in the walls was he connected by parts of his body, as if the power of the sound machinery the generator provided this undead existence. His face was twisted into something of a grotesque, horrifying cry for help; yet, I wasn't convinced he wanted to be helped. Most alarmingly.. he had no eyes, the empty space in his sockets had been filled with.. dials, as if that was the way to tune the endless static that filled the room. From his throat came sounds, barely distinguishable from the static surrounding us - distorted due to what I could only assume was parched, deteriorated vocal cords from months of atrophy. Beads of sweat tickling my cheeks tuned me back to reality, I felt my body trembling uncomfortably at the horrifying view I had taken in; a living nightmare.
I wasn’t ashamed to admit to myself that it scared me, fuck that - that thing shouldn’t be alive. I hugged the wall while I gave the creature a wide berth to get myself out of there - sneaking out through the door another tingle ran down my spine; the thing was fucking speaking to me. That ghastly, chilling voice spoke out with the same distorted, rotten vocal cords; “Four-eight-nine-two,” a moment of silence followed, I had frozen in my steps by the time it spoke again, dragging it’s words as if reassuring me. “”Four-eight-nine-two.” It was only when I felt my lungs coming near collapsing I noticed that I had been holding my breath, the discomfort of ice cold beads of sweat rolling down my back reminded me of how my shirt was sticking to me and the moisture. What did it mean? I couldn’t be sure - still, I closed the door behind me; if only to save me from that gruesome view once more, still, that haunting static continued to resound through the room on the other side; a constant reminder