Happy to say that I've made it to a safer spot to write you all a bit of a longer explanation as to what's going on. She's still following me, but if everything I've learned so far is correct, I should be alright here for the time being. For clarity's sake, I'll try to take things from the beginning.
A few years ago, while on a road trip with my family, I noticed something strange. We had stopped at a small gas station in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and upon entering the place, I had a series of strange experiences. Now, they were experiences that, by themselves, were all easily dismissed as standard weirdness, but together they made for a suspicious picture.
The first thing was the bees. In the small airway between the outer and inner doors of the place, there bees. Everywhere. There was no visible hive, and this particular station was well into the desert, yet they seemed perfectly content buzzing around the place. They didn't bother us as we walked in, nor did they seem to pay any attention to any of the few other patrons there. Not only this, but they did not ever enter the gas station proper - they seemed confined exclusively to this small airway.
Certainly a little odd. Upon entering the gas station, though, a few other things presented themselves. Besides the other family that walked in during the time we were there, the handful of other customers in the station seemedā¦ off, somehow. They wandered up and down the aisles, but never really seemed to stop and look at anything. None of them had any items, nor did they ever approach the lone cashier. The cashier himself was also a strange character. He barely moved, paying no attention to the customers, and spoke in whispered monosyllables when we came to check out.
The final detail was the cowboy. In the small men's restroom in the back of the place, there was an older man in a weather-beaten, clearly authentic, and wholly stereotypical cowboy getup. He was washing his hands when I walked in, and continued to do so for the several minutes I spent in the bathroom. As I washed my own hands, he finished, wiping the water on his jeans and giving me what felt like a knowing tip of the hat. This might've been fairly mundane, except for the fact spent almost ten more minutes looking around for snacks and stretching my legs after leaving the bathroom, but never saw him exit.
When we got back on the road, I couldn't stop thinking about that gas station. Something about the sheer oddity of the place lodged itself into my head, refusing to go away. That night, in the hotel we stopped at, I dreamed of the cowboy, locked in a loop - washing his hands, drying them on his pants, tipping his hat to a new customer, then starting all over again.
I might've eventually been able to wave away this experience, as the human mind is wont to do, had it not been for the events of the next day.
We'd almost reached our destination, my grandparents' house, when we had to stop again. This time, we made our way to a recognizable chain gas station (which I'm not yet comfortable sharing with you all, at least until I've said enough that you might keep yourself safe). It was poorly maintained, but a far more familiar experience. No bees, no bathroom cowboy, no robotic cashier. But this time, I could *feel* something was off.
This feeling was confirmed when I exited the restroom. Milling about the shelves, I was met with the *same handful of customers* that had been at the small station the day before. Again, they wandered up and down the aisles, not really looking at any items, not making any attempt to seem like they were actually there for any reason. Not only this, but they all seemedā¦ featureless, in a way I hadn't really noticed the previous day. Their clothes had no logos, were all in drab colors that seemed perfectly suited for the aging fluorescent lights overhead, and their edges were oddly formless. In fact, they had no distinguishing features whatsoever.
But this time, as I watched them move around, they stopped their pattern. With motions that sent alarms bells ringing from somewhere deep within me, their heads tilted in unison. Slowly, they all turned to look at me.
There was nothing behind their eyes. No hint of emotion on their featureless faces. Nothing but a cold and hollow sensation that sent matching chills down my spine.
Knowing what I know now, it was by almost sheer luck that I ever made it out of that gas station. I was there with my family, who were fortunately unaware of what was happening, and it was still light outside. Had either of these not been the case, I have no idea whether I would be here to write this.
These events began my research, set the wheels in my head spinning, igniting that so human of desires to know and understand things that bring us fear without apparent cause.
I'll leave you with these accounts for now, while I work more on my more recent findings. I'll try to give you all a summary of my current working theory soon, but there's a lot of ground to cover. Iām aware this doesnāt clarify as much as Iād like, but I felt these important to record publicly so as to have a complete record of my work, from the very beginning.
Until next time, stay safe.
