You turn your collar up and head up the wide stone steps to the small red farmhouse. The air is thick and heavy with the late summer's humidity. Bloated clouds hang above waiting to open up and pour down on you. You'd rather be inside with a book on a day like today but a phone call had brought you out in this near storm. Your friend had called you, frantic, because they didn't know anyone else in the city. Their baby sister Molly had gotten real strange lately and now wasn't answering her phone, could you, maybe, swing by and check up on her? Your friend didn't want to call the police, she knew her sister lived out in the country and maybe her phone line just got knocked out or something? There had been a lot of storms lately... So now you stand in front of the modest old farm house, key that was express mailed to you in hand. You knock, hoping that this was all a mistake and your friends sister will answer the door and explain that her phone's been out and apologize for the trouble. There's no answer. You try the bell, if it makes a sound, you don't hear it. After a few minutes you give up and try the key. It clicks open and you knock as you enter, hoping to alert whoever lives there.
"Hello?" your voice echoes off of the walls which all seem dusty. At your feet is a pile of mail. Out of habit, you scoop it up and take it to the kitchen. The house seems to be well maintained, although it looks far over due for a good scrub. Once you reach the kitchen (to the left, they always seem to be to the left) you do a lap of the main floor. There's a thin layer of dust over everything, but if this place was abandoned, it wasn't done intentionally. There's still food in the fridge, a shopping list scribbled to the front, an empty tea mug with a moldy bag sitting at the table...
You give up on the main floor and go up the narrow staircase. The stairs creak loudly as you mount them, a sense of dread growing in your stomach as you do. The rain has started and you notice the hall window is open. Out of habit you close it before you begin to search the upstairs for signs of Molly. The bed was made, not an object out of place, but a thick layer of dust covered everything up here, too. The bathroom and second bedroom were in the same shape. Just the office left. Shelves lined the walls, heavy leather bound books that look older than you. This room is less dusty than the others, and you try the light switch by the door. It seems the power was cut some time ago. There isn't even the sound of the electrical discharge that you're used to from trying a dead light. You fumble to pull your phone out of your pocket and flip the flashlight on it on. The room isn't so dark you can't see, but you want to see if you can find some scraps of paper that point to where Molly went.
On the desk you find more clutter than you had in other parts of the house. Books scattered about, and a sturdy, plastic covered notebook. You can see through the clear cover some writing, and you idly flip it open, shining your light onto the page of cramped red inked hand writing. The page is filled top to bottom, corner to corner with text.
If you find this book it is too late for me. I am gone from this world past the land of dreams and sleep. I am somewhere where there is no smell of life of flicker of light. All that remains is the deafening silence. Silence screaming as you frantically try to scream back to banish it but no sound comes out. Only silence. I am gone from this world and can not save it now. But you can. Heed what you find in these pages no matter how impossible or fantastical the words seem. Heed these words. I have left for you they are this worlds only hope. Oh brave and lonely soul! You must stop them! Let this book guide you where I failed. You must stop them. They are coming. They will come and they will consume all. They will consume the earth and the stars from the sky and the vast cold emptiness of space. They will consume all until not even nothingness remains. Only silence. Screaming, deafening silence. Time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming time is short they are coming they are coming they are coming they are coming they are coming for you next
You stare in horror as you drop the book down to the desk you found it on and without a second glance behind you leave the house into the downpour outside, barely remembering to lock the door behind you. You don't think about what you'll tell your friend about Molly, or where you're going. You're just filled with the overwhelming urge to get away from this place right now. Hoping that space will protect you from what you just read, but the sick twisting feeling in your gut tells you that doesn't matter. You know it with more certainty than you've ever known something before. It's too late. The sky is now a dull, empty grey, the rain gone, and everything is quiet. So quiet.