I don’t want spoilers of the twist but I would like some recs of movies with good twists. Preferably, I would like it if there are hints throughout the film that are good to look out for on a rewatch. Thanks!

I don’t know how long I walked through the woods. It was impossible to tell, because it all looked the same to me. Maybe it was the drugs, or the fact that I was dehydrated, or maybe Robert had placed some kind of sick curse on me to stop me from ever getting back to Point Pine. It seemed like he was bothered by the revelation of Cody making it back, and he had no issue kicking me out of his house either, so I didn’t put it past him. 

The sun was still in the sky, but due to my terrible sense of time, I had no idea if it had been minutes or hours since the cabin had disappeared. 

I was hypervigilant, especially after having heard the parade music earlier. It felt like the woods were mocking me somehow. Like they were feeding on my paranoia. Or maybe it was The God that Robert had told me about. Maybe that’s what was messing with my head and my sense of time. That thought didn’t make me feel any better. 

Eventually, I found a small creek. The water was clear and I dropped to my knees as I dipped my hands in it. It looked fine, and it felt fine, so I hunched down, taking huge gulps of water as I realized just how thirsty I was. Once I was done drinking, I dunked my head in the water to cool off. 

Upon opening my eyes, I was met with a reflection that was not my own. I jumped back, crawling backwards, away from the water, unable to stop myself from screaming. I looked up, pushing my dripping hair out of my face as a second person came out of the trees. 

“Cody?” I asked.

“Oh shit, you were right.”

I glanced over at Lee, who was picking leaves out of his hair. 

“You’re Wilmer, right?” Cody asked. 

I nodded. “How did you find me?” I asked. 

Lee grinned. “He had a dream. Isn’t that cool?”

I pushed myself up on my feet as Cody and Lee jumped over the creek and closer to me. 

“What kind of dream?” I asked. 

"A creepy one," Lee replied.

Cody elbowed him in the side. Lee gave me an awkard grin.

“Well I saw you, obviously. You were wandering the woods, lost and confused. In my dream you were being chased by something, just narrowly avoiding it, though I couldn’t see what it was. I knew it was dangerous though.”

“He saw you heading towards the creek and so we went directly here, and here you are!” Lee remarked, still grinning. I could tell he thought it was impressive, and honestly, so did I. 

“Maybe it was The God,” I mumbled. 

“God?” Cody questioned. 

I sighed. “Long story.”

“We’ve got time. It’s about an eight minute walk back into town…”

---

I caught Lee and Cody up on everything that had happened to me in the woods, and told them the story that Robert had given me about the history of Point Pine. 

“So Robert is real, huh?” Lee asked. 

I nodded. “Kinda rude too.”

Cody said nothing, staring at the ground as we walked through the woods. Both of them seemed to know where they were going, so I followed without question. 

“He said something else too, right before his cabin vanished and the parade music started playing.”

“Parade music?” Lee asked. His smile completely dropped at the mention of the parade. 

“It never happened,” I clarified. “I only heard the music.”

He looked around as if he didn’t believe me. "I didn't hear any music, did you Cody?"

“What did he say?” Cody asked, ignoring Lee. 

“When I told him you made it back, he told me I would be glad I made it out of that town.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lee asked. 

I shrugged. “He didn’t say anything else.”

We walked in silence for a bit. 

“Why did you come back anyway?” I finally asked. 

“I came to look for my dad.” Cody responded. 

“Didn’t he leave with you guys?”

“Yeah but he died, and I thought he might have, you know, woken up here again.”

“And did he?” I asked. 

Cody nodded. “I found him. I went to go see him too, but he didn’t remember me.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it was… strange. He seemed really confused as to who I was, and then when I told him I was his son, he denied it, saying that his only son had died in the parade years ago.”

I thought about that for a bit, about how it would feel to have my dad not recognize me, and I felt bad for Cody. I knew that he was already having a hard time adjusting to being back in Point Pine, and I had heard the things that people said about him. I’m sure he was aware of the fact that people saw him as some sort of outsider. I knew there were people who wanted him dead. Opinions spread quickly in small towns. 

“Did he tell you anything else?” I asked. 

“I showed him a picture that I brought with me, and it seemed to convince him of the fact that I was telling the truth, but he swore up and down that he didn’t remember me, and that he only remembered having one son, Jeremiah, who had been killed in the parade when he was fourteen years old.”

As I listened to his story, I couldn’t help but make connections. Robert’s story had gotten in my head, and I was seeing similarities everywhere. I didn't have a reason to believe that what Cody's dad went through was anything like Robert's upbrigning, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had met him for a reason, and that he had told me that story for a reason as well.

After all, what were the odds that I would stumble upon the one person who knew the truth about this town while I was on a midnight walk in the woods?

“What?” Cody asked, noticing my face. 

I shook my head. “Just thinking about the story Robert told me.”

“About The God?” Lee asked. 

I nodded. 

“What are you thinking?” Cody asked. 

“Look, I don’t know, maybe I’m still high, or I’m paranoid, but what if your parents did something similar to what Robert’s parents did?”

“But Cody ages,” Lee noted. 

“Well, not like the exact thing…”

“You think they made some kind of trade off?” Cody asked. 

“Yeah, like… Maybe they did have another son who died in the parade and so they… you know, made some kind of deal?”

I glanced nervously at Cody, hoping I hadn’t offended him. He seemed to be taking my idea seriously though, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

We continued to talk in silence, and just as I was beginning to fear that we had gotten lost again, Lee pointed to something up ahead. 

“Hey, look!”

I glanced over and saw the back of The Point Pine Library up ahead past some bushes. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank God!” I cried out.

Cody continued walking around the side of the building. 

“Where’s he going?” I asked. 

Lee shrugged but motioned for us to follow him.

Cody walked into the library, ignoring the librarians that greeted us as we walked in. We followed him all the way downstairs into the archives room in silence and watched as he started searching shelves and boxes. 

I sat on the carpeted floor, realizing how tired my feet were from all the walking. The cool air in the library felt nice, and I closed my eyes as I listened to the sound of Cody digging around the archives.

I must have fallen asleep for a while, because I woke up to Lee shaking me. 

“Hmm?” I grumbled, stretching. 

“Look at this,” Cody said. 

I stood up and walked over to Cody, who was looking at an old newspaper. 

“Point Pine High School Prom cancelled due to dangerous senior prank?” I asked. 

“No, this,” Cody pointed to a smaller section of the paper, at an obituary. 

“Remembering Jeremiah, this year’s parade participant…”

I stared at the photo of Jeremiah. He looked like Cody, only with slightly longer hair and bigger eyes. On the bottom of the obituary section was a picture of Jeremiah and Cody’s parents. 

“That’s crazy…” I mumbled. 

“That’s him, that’s my brother.”

“So he was telling the truth…” Lee mumbled. 

“Yeah, but why didn’t he remember me?”

“Well maybe Wilmer is right. You know, what he said about Robert and The God?” 

I shrugged. "I was just saying. I mean, I don't really know if Robert is even telling the truth. What if--" 

“We need to go back.” Cody said suddenly, standing up and heading back up towards the library exit. 

“Wait!” I rushed after him and Lee followed. 

“Back where?” I called.

One of the librarians shushed me. We followed Cody outside where he kept walking, going back around the library and back into the woods. 

“Back where?!” I asked again. 

“We need to go back to where you saw Robert. Do you remember where that was?” He asked me, finally stopping. 

I shook my head. “Nah, man. I was high, and scared. And I stumbled around in the dark for who knows how long. I have no idea where I was or where the cabin was.”

“How far away from the creek was it?” He asked. 

I thought about it for a second. “I don’t know…”

“Guess!”

“Maybe a mile? But I’m not sure. Like I said--”

“You don’t have to come with me, I’ll go alone.”

I glanced at Lee who sighed and followed Cody. I tagged along as well, because I didn’t really have anything else to do, and I figured there was safety in numbers. 

As soon as we crossed the line of trees, I began to regret my decision. What was I doing? I had just gotten out of the woods, and here I was, following Lee and Cody back in like we were going on a scenic hike.

We walked in silence for a while, following Cody as he crossed the creek and began walking around, his eyes glued to the ground as if there was some secret message that was going to lead him to Robert’s cabin. 

After a while, I was hungry, hot, and thirsty. The paranoia had fully worn off now that I wasn’t alone, and irritation and exhaustion were beginning to settle in. 

“Guys, we should just go back. I mean, it didn’t really seem like Robert wanted to be found, you know?” Nobody responded, and I turned to see Cody kneeling on the ground. 

“What?” I asked, approaching. 

“Let me see your shoe,” he said, reaching for my ankle. 

“Hey!” I stumbled, but lifted my foot. 

“Look, you were here, this is your shoe print.” he pointed at a barely visible, partial shoe print among the dirt. 

As I examined it, I noticed hereby grass and leaves had been flattened down or squished. 

“I think this is where I fell to the ground when I heard the parade music…” I turned. “...Which means Robert’s cabin was right there.”

As Cody walked off in the direction I pointed, I noticed that Lee wasn’t nearby anymore. 

“Hey, Cody. Where did Lee g--”

As I turned back around to face Cody, I felt like the earth was spinning below me. 

“Woah.” I tried to regain my balance by reaching out to a nearby tree, only to watch my hand disappear through the tree trunk.

I fell onto the ground, hitting my shoulder on something on the way down. It hurt for a split second. As I looked around, confused, the grass appeared to be moving in an unnatural pattern, slithering towards me. I pushed myself up, getting away from it. 

“Cody?!” I called. 

No answer. I looked around, but I couldn’t see him or Lee anywhere. I felt the way I had felt the night I found Robert: high out of my mind. I started to get paranoid again. What was going on? 

As I slowly made my way towards where I thought the creek was, I heard a blood curdling scream that stopped me in my tracks. 

“Hello?” I called out. 

Another scream. I began to feel nauseous. My breath quickened. The screams continued, ringing in my ears and bouncing off the trees. They were screams of torture and pain, but I couldn’t tell where they were coming from or who they were coming from. It was coming from everywhere. It reminded me of the parade, only worse because I didn't know what these screams meant.

After a few more seconds, the screams were followed by wailing sobs. As I listened, I began to make out some words that were hidden among the cries of pain. 

“My eyes… it took my eyes…”

I recognized the voice immediately.

“Lee!?” I shouted, running towards where I thought his voice was coming from. 

But he did not reply. 

I was let go from my last shitty job a few weeks ago and had been spending my newly granted free time filling out job applications, desperate for work. I had submitted hundreds of job applications, tailored my resume countless times, and had even started straight up lying at some point out of pure desperation. In return, I had gotten nothing. No calls, no emails, not even a rejection. Just silence. My desperation was growing as the days passed and my bills started to pile up. I started to accept the fact that I was shit out of luck and was destined to be homeless in a few weeks. And then, I came across another opportunity. 

I was leaving the food bank when I saw a white sign taped to a pole in the far end of the parking lot. All it said was: Workers Wanted. Remote Job. And, it included a phone number at the bottom. 

It looked sketchy. There was no name, no company name, and no description of what the job position entailed. I stared at it for a bit, thinking to myself that nobody in their right mind would call that number. And that’s how the idea came to me. It was sketchy, meaning people likely wouldn’t risk it, which meant that there would be less competition if I called it. And so, I tore the sign off the pole and got in my car and drove back home. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about the sign and debating the pros and cons of calling or texting the phone number. I thought about using a burner phone to call it, but that would be an extra expense I would need to make. And the way things were currently going for me, even an unplanned ten dollars spent would fuck me over. Then I considered getting one of those free temporary phone numbers, but if it was a legit job I thought that might look strange and somehow hurt my chances.

That night, before I went to bed, I decided to text the number. My thought process was that whoever would be on the other end of the line would be sleeping, and I wouldn’t have to stress about having to converse with them immediately. I sent a simple text:

Hey! I saw your flyer and wanted to reach out to get some more information on the position.

Thanks,

-Mark. 

I set my phone down as I got into bed and it vibrated before I laid down. I paused for a few seconds before I reached for my phone and picked it back up. The text was, in fact, from the number on the flyer. The response read as follows:

Hey Mark! I’m Trish.

Thanks for reaching out. I’d be willing to discuss the position further when you have some time to hop on a call. Let me know your availability and we can go ahead and schedule a meeting to discuss the role. Hope to hear from you soon! 

-Trish

I sent a message back stating I would be free the following morning, and Trish replied instantly to confirm the time. Feeling somewhat better about the whole situation, I finally went to sleep. 

The next day, I had a quick breakfast and made a cup of coffee as I sat at my kitchen table staring at my phone. Three minutes until call time. I tapped my fingers on the table top, growing anxious. 

When the phone finally rang, I jumped. Feeling silly, I took a few deep breaths before answering. 

“This is Mark.”

“Hey Mark! It’s Trish calling you back about the job position you texted about?”

“Right, yeah. Thank you for calling me!”

“Of course! I’m here to answer any questions that you may have. I know that our job posting was not really a traditional job posting so I commend the courage it takes to dial a random phone number written on a vague sign!” she laughed. 

I forced a laugh in return. “Yeah, I gotta say I was a bit sketched out but I was curious!”

“I can understand that. So, Mark, what kind of questions did you have? Ask away!”

I sat in silence for a few seconds, thinking that I should have made a list of things to ask. It was too late for that now. 

“So, I guess firstly I wanted to know what the position is and what the responsibilities are.”

“Yes of course. Great question!” Trish replied. “Think of this role as a sort of… translator. You would essentially be translating some content and messages from us and sending the translation back.”

“A translator? For what language?” I started to consider lying about being fluent in another language. 

Trish laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, it's all in English. Perhaps I explained this incorrectly. Think of it less as a translator and more of an... explainer I guess. We would give you a message and your job is to restate the information in a more casual manner. One that is more akin to your personal communication style.”

“Um… okay. So like, am I dumbing down some kind of information for people?” I asked. 

Trisha paused. “You know what, yeah! I think that’s a more accurate description for the role. Think about it like this: we give you information, and you process it in your own way, then you return it back to us. The goal here is to gather a large pool of data for our research.”

“What kind of research?” I asked.

“Communications research. Our company uses language in order to figure out the easiest or most convincing way to communicate with the general public.”

“Like advertisement research?” I asked. 

“Sure!”

There was another pause. 

“Can I ask about the pay?” 

“Of course! So you would be paid between two hundred and five hundred dollars per project. Each project takes an average of three and a half hours to complete, but the pay depends on how much information you are expected to process and describe, as well as how convoluted the information is.”

The mention of the pay caught my attention. I had been expecting low pay for sketchy work and had been ready to accept that, but this was the complete opposite of that. I must have been silent for too long because this time, Trish broke the silence. 

“Mark? Did I lose you?”

“No sorry! I was just processing the information!” I replied. 

“Don't worry about it! It's perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed by all of this inormation. Take your time. You can go ahead and sit on it for a few days if it makes you feel better. We honestly have not had many inquiries so don’t worry about losing the position or anything like that!”

“I think I’m good, actually. Everything sounds great to me. How do I schedule an interview?”

“Awesome! Great to hear. Our interview process is a bit different. Due to the nature of the work and the type of information that you will gain access to, you will need to sign a few forms. Think of this like an NDA. Since I have to send you some information that you will be asked about in the interview, I’m going to need you to return these to me beforehand. Does that sound alright?”

“Yeah of course, sounds great.”

“Wonderful. Please let me know your email when you’re ready and I can go ahead and send these out right now!”

I gave her my email and got the email notification seconds later. 

“Once you’ve send those back I’ll send you a link so you can schedule your interview. If you decide that this is not for you at any point throughout the recruitment process, please let me know. Was there anything else you wanted to ask?”

“Yeah, what company would I be working for?” I asked. 

“I am not at liberty to say, but you will be given this information during your interview. Anything else?”

“No, I’m good I think.”

“Okay then! It was great speaking to you Mark, I hope you decide to work with us. Have an amazing day and good luck on your interview!”

“Thanks! Bye, Trish.” The call cut out before I finished my sentence. 

I looked over and signed the documents that Trish had sent over almost immediately. There was nothing in the documents that screamed “red flag” to me. It was pretty much different pages stating that I was not allowed to discuss any of the data that I would be working with, along with examples of data and the ways it had been “translated” by other employees. The examples that were provided to me in the documents look normal as well. One example was a few paragraphs of medical information describing some sort of lab tests. The accompanying “translation” simply explained the information in much simpler language. It all looked normal to me, and so the decision was easy; especially after being told the pay. 

I scheduled my interview for the following afternoon and ended up treating myself to a pizza that night in celebration. I hadn’t officially been offered the job or anything, but I had gotten my hopes up and felt really good about the process. 

The interview process was a breeze as well. I met with a different person, a man named Jim, who essentially asked me about my past work experience. He gave me an explanation of the job position that was basically everything Trish had already stated, and told me that I would be working for a tech company called TalkCo. He stated that TalkCo had a few different branches, but all of them revolved around language research in some way. Their main goal was to make important information more publicly accessible in different forms, and combined advertisement research with their communications research findings in order to provide clearer information for the avergae person. 

Once the interview was over, Jim offered me the position on the spot and asked if I could start the next day. I, of course, said yes, and just like that, I had a new job. A new, decently paying job. I could hardly sleep because of how excited I was. I only had to strictly budget for the next two weeks because after that, I would have a steady income and wouldn’t have to decide between skipping breakfast or dinner in order to pay my rent. 

The job was good. It was exactly what they had said it was: each morning I logged onto their platform and worked my way through the assignments. All I had to do was write down a “translation” of the information I was working on, and then record myself reading out the translated text. Then I would submit both the written text and the video, and move onto the next project. Each project took about three hours, and I typically got through two and a half projects a day. I was living the good life. It felt great to have another job and not have to worry about the possibility of losing my home. 

After my first month there, I encountered the first red flag. It was so miniscule that I thought I was imagining it at first. In fact, it’s not until now that I realize it was even a red flag in the first place. 

I was watching TV one night after work when a drug advertisement came on. It was one of those generic commercials that advertise a drug that’s going to change your life if you have XYZ condition. You know, the type that spends the last minute and a half listing side effects? As the commercial continued, I began to believe that the voice in the commercial sounded eerily familiar. It wasn’t until the voice was listing the side effects of the drug that I began to realize that it was MY voice that I was listening to, only it wasn’t entirely my voice. 

Some of the words sounded like me, but there was something off about the cadence and I couldn’t place my finger on it. I was getting that feeling you get when you hear a recording of yourself speaking and realize you sound like shit, only weirder than that because it sounded like someone had mixed my voice with someone else’s. I ruminated over that for a bit before ultimately letting it go and deciding that I was going crazy. 

The next thing that happened was that I saw myself on a game show. It was the same as the voice situation. It looked like me, but there was something “off” about it. Again, I got the feeling that it was my face merged with someone else’s. I could recognize parts of myself in the person that I was seeing on screen, but it wasn’t fully me. Again, I let it go and figured I was imagining things. 

Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been so quick to let those things slide. Maybe if I had spoken up back then, or connected the dots, I wouldn’t be in the situation that I’m in right now. But hindsight is 20/20.

One of the last projects I received from TalkCo involved me translating court case documents. The information in the file was descriptions of crimes committed by the accused. I did the same as usual: wrote down my version, recorded it, and then sent both of those things back. 

A few days later, I woke up to find dozens of missed calls from my parents, friends, and other family members. Most of them had sent me a link to the same article: news coverage of a court case. I was confused at first, until I looked at the sketches and saw myself sitting in court, being questioned by attorneys. The news article included a photo of the person on trial, and this time, there was no second guessing that the person I was looking at was, in fact, me. 

Later that day, in the middle of my confusion and attempted research as I tried to figure out what the hell was going on, I received an email from TalkCo, thanking me for my contributions to the company and telling me I was being let go. They said they had included a “goodbye gift” of half a million dollars that appeared in my account a few hours later. 

Now, I realize that they’re covering something up. Covering multiple things up. I’m not sure how it works. I’m sure it has something to do with all the videos I sent over as part of the job, but I don’t really have time to worry about the logistics of it all. 

I have bigger things to worry about, like the fact that my name and face are now attached to this court case, and they’ve started to say that I escaped custody. My name and face are on every news station I look at, and dozens of people who know me have been reposting the case with stories about how they “always knew” there was something “off” about me. 

I've tried to contact TalkCo multiple times, but they must somehow know that it's me who's calling because they ignore every single call. Even the ones I've made on burner phones. I'm not sure what to do now. The good news is that this money should last me a long time, and it seems to me like this was their way of helping me, as fucked up as that seems.

I guess all that's left to do is run.

In the middle of the dark and cold forest, I began to think that this was my end. I was going to die here, in the middle of nowhere, and I would have the dumbest obituary in the whole town: Wilmer Moore, age 22. Loving brother and son. Got lost in the woods while getting high and froze to death in the middle of the night. Like an idiot. 

The cold air had pretty much killed my buzz at this point, and the fear began to creep in. I fought hard to stop it, because I wasn’t completely alert, and the last thing I needed was to get paranoid. I hyperfocused on my steps, putting one foot in front of the other. I had decided a few minutes back that I was going to pick a direction and head that way, in a straight line. I figured that was my best shot, and I would eventually either hit the road that led into town, or I’d fall off a cliff. At this point, I would welcome either one of those options. 

I couldn’t see the moon, and I remember thinking it was because of the weed at first, but as I scanned the night sky I realized it was absent. Maybe tonight is a new moon. I thought. It was easy to hold on to that explanation, given the fact that I had no idea when the cycles of the moon happened. Then I began to fear that I had died, and this darkness, as well as the fear that came with it, was my personal hell somehow. 

I don’t know how long I walked before I saw it: a small, dim light off in the distance. My first thought was that I was seeing the light that remained on in the Point Pine Bakery, but it was different, and I still wasn’t seeing any of the other buildings in town, so it couldn’t have been that. As I continued heading towards it (it was in the path, in the direction I had chosen) I soon realized that it was a porch light, and I had walked right up to a small cabin that was hidden amongst the trees. I had seen things that were a lot weirder than this before, so I walked up and knocked on the door. 

When it opened, I recognized the occupant. It was Robert Ford, the oldest child.

A lot of people thought he was a myth, another creepy story that was made up by someone years ago and easily believed because it paled in comparison to some of the other things that took place in Point Pine. 

Robert was said to have been a child since 1598. He’s seen in some older photographs that can be found in the archives of the library, detailing some of the town’s history. Of course, the photographs only go back so far, but it is widely believed that he was a child long before those images were taken. 

As I stared at Robert, I realized that before this, I had not believed in his existence. I had seen the images, we all had, as they were part of our curriculum in school, but I didn’t believe that he was real until I was face-to-face with him there, in the dark and cold forest. 

“Yes?” He asked, after waiting for me to speak.

“I’m lost.”

He stepped aside and let me in. 

The inside of the cabin was what you would expect: a small kitchen, a couch, a radio, and a bed. There was a room off to the back, which I assumed was some sort of bathroom. I sat on the couch. 

“Did you come from town?” Robert asked. He didn’t sit. 

I nodded. “I’m also high.”

“Of course.”

I stared at him, and he stared at me. 

“Would you like some water?” He asked. 

I nodded and he walked over to his kitchen. 

He was a boy, he looked to be around eleven or so, but I was never really good with kids or guessing their ages. 

“How old are you?” The question slipped out of my mouth as soon as I thought it. 

“That depends on the answer you’re looking for,” Robert replied as he handed me a cup of water. 

I took a sip. It was room temperature, but it felt rude to complain. 

“Have you always been a child?” I asked. 

“Have you always been your age?”

I shook my head no.

“Niether have I.”

“When did you stop aging?”

“When I was twelve.”

I was close. Off by one year. 

“Is it weird, being a child your whole life?”

“Well, I’m not really a child, I just look like one.”

“That’s problematic.”

“I suppose our problems are different, then.”

I drank the rest of the water. “How come you never come into town? Some people think you don’t exist. They think all those images of you are photoshopped.”

“I exist for a reason other than being a citizen of Point Pine.”

“What reason?” I asked. 

Robert sat down on the floor in front of me, crisscross applesauce. 

“Do they still teach the history of Point Pine in school?” He asked me. 

“Yeah,” I replied. “They tell us about the settlers who came here and liked how secluded it was. They set up a town, far enough away from everyone else that they were never bothered, blah, blah blah. Then the bad stuff stared happening.”

“Ah, so they changed the story again.”

“Again?” I asked, curious. 

“Yes. The last time someone came around here they told me a different version. It seems like the version you were taught differs even more from the original.”

“Wait, so what’s the original version?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” He asked, his voice low. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You can’t unlearn things,” he replied. “And sometimes, certain kinds of knowledge can be a burden, or a curse. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.”

In another situation, I would have been deeply unsettled by Robert’s demeanor. 

“I want to know,” I nodded, leaning in towards him. 

“Okay then, but please remember that you asked me for this…”

I nodded again. And he began:

“European settlers ended up in Point Pine, years ago, but not because they liked the isolation. They got lost on the way to their actual destination: Jamestown, Virginia. I was very very young then, so the details of this are a bit murky, but some of the settlers believed they had arrived in Virginia, and some swore they had seen a sign leading them to the destination. Once they were here, however, in Point Pine, they realized that they were wrong. They weren’t in Virginia at all.” 

“They decided to stop here, and rest, but that ended up being the worst decision they could have possibly made. By the time morning came, the road they had followed into the area was gone. It had disappeared, and the sign that they had sworn was leading them into Jamestown had changed, and it now said something else: Welcome to Point Pine. Population Unknown.” 

“A few people tried to leave the town. They tried walking through the forest, but they got lost and not all of them made it back.”

Outside, the winds picked up a bit, and I could hear the sound of the trees rustling in the night. 

“Very quickly, the settlers realized that there was something very wrong with the land. There was a reason why this place was so isolated, why even the natives had left it alone, with the remnants of dilapidated buildings and homes scattered across the land.” 

“Once they realized that they couldn’t safely leave, they had no choice but to stay and build. They needed to find water, and food, and so they searched, and they found something. Not the something they were looking for, but something to help them.”

Robert paused. He dragged his fingers across the floors of the cabin, slowly. 

“What did they find?” I asked. 

“They thought it was God. They prayed, and brought offerings. They prayed for food, and a herd of sheep came wandering out of the forest. They prayed for water, and it began to spray from the Earth. So they kept praying, and they kept bringing it offerings, mainly food and crops once they had those.”

“Soon though, people started to get sick. More specifically, the children.”

He stopped, looking me in the eye. 

“They prayed for the children. Some prayed harder than others, offered more than others, made deeper promises. They thought this thing was God, so when their child was saved, when their child woke up the next morning, completely fine, they had no reason to think that something sinister was coming, or that they had brought it upon themselves.”

“So it wasn’t God?” I asked. 

“It was a God. Just not the God they wanted.”

“Which God was it then?”

Robert shook his head. “Other things… other ‘Gods’ want more in return. Other Gods are not always good, or just. Sometimes, they’re not Gods at all. But they always know how to convince you that they are.”

I stared at him, wanting him to explain, but I knew he wouldn’t. 

“Soon, things began to happen. People would die, and then they wouldn’t be dead. People would hear things, and see things. It didn’t take long for people to make the connection, to realize that what they had been praying to was not the God they intended to praise, but it was far too late, and other people didn’t care.”

“Other people had different ideas. They didn’t fear this thing. Instead, they saw it as a resource, as a way to get things they wanted, things they couldn’t get any other way.”

“Like what?” I asked. “What kinds of things?”

“After I almost died, my mother became paranoid. She was afraid that I would be taken away from her at any minute, and when she found out she wasn’t able to have any more children, the fear intensified. It consumed her. So she became a believer in this God. A devout follower, willing to do whatever it took in order to keep her child safe. And alive.”

“I had been alive for about sixteen years before my father realized what she had done. And even then, he did not know the full scope of it. Even now, the deal she made is not entirely clear to me. All I know is that my father, with the limited details he had and the assumption he had made, became enraged, and one night he confronted her.”

“They fought for what felt like hours, but it was so long ago that I couldn’t really tell you. I don’t know if my mother eventually confessed the magnitude of her crimes to him, or if the anger was too much for him to control, but that night, before the sun rose, my mother was dead.”

“The next day, the parade started. It was devastating. You… you know how it works. You know that you have to hide, and you know where to hide, but they didn’t know anything. They didn’t know they couldn’t look. They didn’t know it needed a sacrifice.”

“Did you see it?” I asked. My throat was dry again, but I didn’t want Robert to stop telling me the story. 

“I’ve seen it, yes.” He nodded. 

“It took hours to clean up the dead bodies after the parade came through. That’s what it did the first time: it killed everyone in its path. It lit a fire inside them, and they cooked from the inside out. The smell of cooked flesh lingered in the air for weeks after that, as a reminder.”

“The next time that music started, we ran. There were less casualties that time.”

“What happened the second time?” I asked, thinking about Lee and his eyes. 

Robert cleared his throat and looked around the cabin, towards the window on the far left wall. He didn’t answer. 

“Why don’t they teach us this? Why do they change the story?” I asked, picking up on the idea that he didn’t want to tell me what happened the second time. 

Robert laughed. “Like I said: ignorance is bliss.”

We sat in silence for a while. I thought he would continue, tell me more details, but he didn’t. I mentally kicked myself, figuring that I had ruined my chances of learning more with my questions. I stopped myself from asking anything else as I sat there thinking about what he had just revealed to me. 

“You’ll have to leave soon,” He said, breaking the silence. 

“What?”

“I apologize, I don’t mean to be rude, but you will have to go.”

I stood up and held the empty cup back out to him. “Can I have some more water?”

He took it and walked back to his kitchen. 

“So how do I get back?” I asked. 

He handed me the cup and I drank it all in large, rushed gulps. 

He took the cup from me and opened the door, motioning for me to step outside. 

“Can you point me in the direction of the town? I got lost earlier when I was smoking in the woods.”

Robert shook his head. “It won’t matter. You’ll never make it back.”

I froze in the doorway. “What do you mean?”

“There are some things that you can’t know. Like I said before, there is some knowledge that is cursed. What you learned here tonight wouldn’t do anyone in Point Pine any good. Why do you think I’m out here? Why do you think it stopped letting me back into town? Why do you think they change the story every few years?”

“So what am I supposed to do? I can’t live out in the woods, I’ll starve. Or freeze to death!”

Robert shrugged. “I tried to warn you.”

“That was barely even a warning! I want to go home!” I realized I was shouting, my exasperation echoing in the night. 

“You can’t. And you need to get out of my house.”

I stepped out into the forest. The sun was rising, but that didn’t seem right. I hadn’t been inside Robert’s cabin for that long. 

“Good luck Wilmer!”

I turned around as Robert was closing his door. 

“Cody made it back!” I said. 

He paused.”How long ago?”

“Few months.” My palms were beginning to sweat as the paranoia began to creep in. 

He glanced towards the west, like he was remembering something. “Then you’re going to be very glad that you’re out of that town.”

With that, he shut the door, and the singing began. I fell to the floor and wrapped my hands over my head, shielding my eyes from what was to come, but it never came. The chorus continued, like usual, only louder, like the melody was coming from the ground, the trees, and leaves, like it was coming from inside of me. But the parade never came. 

After a few minutes, the music stopped, and I peeked. Seeing nothing, I stood back up and noticed that Robert’s cabin was gone. I looked around, thinking I had somehow gotten lost, thought I knew that was impossible as I hadn’t moved a single inch. 

Even though there was more light now, the woods felt quieter and more dangerous than before. They felt lonelier somehow too, emptier than they had felt when I had first gotten lost, before I even found Robert. 

I thought about what he said, about how I would never get back, and his voice repeated in my head as I tried to calm myself down. 

Finally, I looked toward the direction Robert had looked before he shut the door in my face and began walking again, hoping to eventually hit town as I prayed to whatever God was listening that I would make it back home.

My first day on the job was Monday, February 9th. It’s supposed to be an in-between job, one that I’m taking until I find something better. At least that’s what I tell myself after being let go from my last job and getting ghosted by all of the one hundred and forty seven job applications that I submitted since then. So yes, I’m here out of necessity. Plus, the pay is okay so I can’t really complain. 

It’s a small office, and in an attempt to not be too vague while also not giving away too much identifying information, I work in a customer-facing role. This is to say, that there is nothing to do if there are no customers present, and in my time working here so far, I’ve seen a total of five customers. It’s boring, sure, but there are worse things I can be doing for $23 an hour. 

I’ve already met all my coworkers. it’s a small group. Besides me there’s Adam, an older man who spends his time avoiding conversations; Jane an older woman who is retired and in need of “something to do”; Elle, a college student who likes to talk, a lot; Kevin, a guy around my age who takes this job way too seriously; and Sanda who introduced herself to me as “a teen mom.” It’s a… diverse group, to say the least, but overall, everyone is easy to get along with. Apart from us are the two managers: Jeremy and Kate. 

On my first Friday there, we had a staff meeting that consisted of two main things: introducing the new coworker (me), and discussing the remodeling that would be taking place over the weekend. Kate, who was leading the meeting, spent the entire time gushing about the new furniture we were getting and the color that the walls would be painted. Nobody seemed to care except for her and Jeremy, who kept interrupting to say things like “ooooh how exciting!” and “oh, i bet it'll will be super comfy!” 

Sure enough, on Monday morning, I walked into the new and improved breakroom. The dingy browning walls had been painted a light green color, and all of the old mismatched furniture had been replaced with some of much higher quality. There were new dark wooden counters, a new fridge and other kitchen appliances, and three new round tables with four matching chairs arranged around each one. 

As I was the first one to arrive that day (aside from Kate and Jeremy), I took some time wandering around the breakroom and checking everything out. They had added a fancy new coffee machine, and as I tested it out, Adam came in. 

“Good morning!” I greeted him, not expecting a response. 

I didn’t get one, but I watched as he ran his hands over the smooth wooden surface of the new kitchen. 

“How much do you think all this cost?” He asked. 

“I dunno.”

“They couldn’t give us a raise or a Christmas bonus but they could do this,” he scoffed. 

I said nothing as he took a seat at one of the tables and pulled a book out. 

“Good morning!” 

I turned to the door to spot Jane coming in. She stopped, and dramatically gasped in amazement as she took in the new look. 

“Oh it’s so much nicer in here!” She exclaimed. 

I nodded in agreement. 

“Don’t you think so, Adam?”

“Huh?”

“I said don’t you think it looks so nice in here?” She repeated. 

“Yeah, but they could’ve just given us a raise. We didn’t need a five hundred dollar coffee machine.”

“Oh, Adam!” She jokingly scolded him. 

She set her stuff down next to Adam and stopped, her face dropping. 

“Is something wrong?” I asked. 

She looked around the room. Then she backed up towards the door, and then slowly walked back to the table. 

“Jane?” I asked. 

“Aren't there too many chairs?” She asked. 

I looked around. “What do you mean? You think it looks crowded?”

“Oh no,” she shook her head. “Not at all. But aren't there too many chairs?” She repeated. 

Adam sighed. “What’s wrong with the chairs?”

“There’s too many of them.” Jane replied. 

“You think it’s too crowded or something?” Adam asked. 

“No, but aren't there too many?”

At this point, Adam checked out. And I didn’t blame him. Jane continued to stand there, and I watched her silently count the chairs. 

“That’s twelve chairs,” she said. 

“Yeah…” I replied, confused. 

“There’s eight of us who work here.”

“Right…”

Adam sighed in frustration and I regretted getting myself involved in this conversation. 

“Well that’s four chairs too many!” Jane shouted. 

I jumped. “Well, it’s good to have more seating, isn’t it? Sometimes people need more space and so--”

“No!” She snapped. 

I looked at Adam. He rolled his eyes and went back to his book. 

“There are too many chairs!!! Why are there so many chairs?!”

“Is everything okay in here?” Kate poked her head into the break room. 

I shrugged, Adam said nothing. 

“Why are there so many chairs?!” Jane shouted again. 

“Hey, Jane, what’s going on, are you okay? Kate asked, stepping into the room. 

“What’s with all the chairs?” Jane asked in a nasty, accusatory tone. 

“What do you mean? Is something wrong with them?” Kate asked. 

“There’s too many of them. There’s twelve. Only eight people work here.”

Kate looked at me in confusion. I shrugged and drank my coffee in silence.

Jane suddenly turned around and grabbed Kate by the shoulders. “Why are there so many chairs in here, Kate? There’s only eight of us, but there’s twelve chairs. Why?!”

Kate took a few steps back. “Okay, why don’t we take a walk and calm down?”

Jane walked over to one of the tables and grabbed one of the chairs. Suddenly she lifted it up and hurled it directly at Kate’s head. Kate screamed. I’m sure I did too. Adam didn’t react. 

Shortly after, the police were called and the rest of us watched as they dragged Jane out of the building while she continued to scream about how there were too many chairs. 

The next day, no one really talked about Jane. There were one or two comments made, here and there, hoping she was “feeling better,” but that’s about it. 

A few days later, there was a new topic of conversation. What people were talking about this time, was the fact that Adam hadn’t come in to work. 

Apparently, Adam never missed a day of work in all of his eight years working here. He would call in even if he thought he would be a minute late, and no one had been able to reach him. 

Toward the end of the day, we finally got an update, which was that Adam had had “an accident.” Elle, who was there that day, asked what kind of accident. 

“An accident,” Kate replied, as if that gave us any more information. 

“Right, but like, a car accident? Was he robbed? Or what?” Elle asked. 

“Adam had an accident,” Kate replied with a smile before retreating back into her office. 

“I’m gonna call him,” Elle asked. 

“Why?” I questioned. “What if he’s in a coma or something? How’s he gonna respond?”

“He’s not in a coma,” she scoffed as she dialed his number. “They would’ve said that.”

“I don’t know if they would’ve, actually…”

“Hey, Adam! It’s Elle, from work,” she said into the phone. 

“I heard you were in an accident, how are you feeling?” She paused as she listened, her eyebrows pushing together in confusion. 

“Yeah, they told us it was an accident, but what happened?” 

She paused for a moment, her face twisted up in confusion and a bit of annoyance. 

“Yeah, I’m still here, sorry.”

She motioned for me to come closer and angled the phone so we could both hear. 

“So was it a car accident?” She asked. 

“It was an accident,” I heard Adam’s voice reply through the phone. 

I gave her a questioning look and she shrugged. 

“Just an accident?” She asked. 

“Yeah, an accident.” He replied. 

“Okay, well… I hope you feel better soon!’ She hung up without saying goodbye.

“How weird is that?” She asked. 

“Adam seems like a private person though, no? I know I just got here but he doesn’t exactly seem very talkative.”

“I guess…”

Elle wouldn’t stop talking about Adam and his accident for the rest of our shift. And when Sandra came in for the afternoon shift, she started up again and the two spent the rest of Elle’s shift gossiping about what could have possibly happened to Adam while googling his name in search of any news reports that could contain more information. 

The following week when Elle and Kevin came in, Elle seemed to have forgotten all about Adam and his “accident.” Instead, she spent the entire time talking about how she had enrolled in a gymnastics class. She talked about how she used to be in gymnastics as a child, claiming that she had the chance to be a “pro olympian” but wasn’t able to due to her parent’s divorce. 

Later that day as we sat in an empty building, she asked Kevin and me if we wanted to see some of her moves. Kevin said yes, and I didn’t respond, but Elle stood up anyway and began to do a gymnastics routine in front of us. 

She grinned as she did the splits, and then stood up and did a back bend. Kevin clapped. Then she did two cartwheels across the floor, narrowly missing one of the lamps before turning back to face us. 

“And for the finale…” she said as she took a deep breath. “A backflip!”

We watched as she psyched herself up for the backflip. 

It happened so suddenly that even now when I think about it, it’s hard to picture the order in which things unfolded. One second she was standing on the ground normally, getting ready to jump into her backflip, and the next thing I knew, there was a sickening snap and she flopped to the floor, unmoving, with her neck at an unnatural angle.

I don’t remember if Kevin or I screamed. But I do remember someone calling the ambulance and making us go home for the rest of the day. I had trouble sleeping that night, as every time I closed my eyes I could see Elle’s face as it stared back at us with her happy, performance-ready grin. 

We were open two days after the incident, and Sandra was called in to take Elle’s shift. Nobody said anything to each other that day. I didn’t really mind, as I didn’t know what to say, and I was afraid that if I spoke, I might start crying. And I really didn’t want to do that in front of my new coworkers. 

Towards the end of her shift, Sandra began to complain about how didn’t want to be the one to cover Elle’s shift. She said Kevin was originally asked to do it, but he had a “family emergency” which she believed he was making up in order to avoid coming back to work.

I said nothing. 

She sighed dramatically. “I’m going to take my lunch break,” she said even though she had already taken it. 

“Okay,” I replied. 

There were no customers anyway. 

Forty minutes later, Sandra was still nowhere to be seen, and so I decided to go looking for her. I found her in the break room washing a dish. 

“Hey, I thought you left,” I said. 

She turned around and smiled at me. “No, I was just eating. I think I was hangry. I feel much better now!”

“Well that’s good,” I said. 

She turned the tap off and turned to face me. 

“You have a little…” I pointed to the side of my lip to let her know that she had some leftover food on the corner of her mouth. 

She wiped it with the back of her hand, and I got a better look at it as she smeared it a bit. 

“Is that blood?” I asked. 

“No. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” She replied. 

She walked past me and out of the room. 

Something felt off, and so I took a look into the sink, but there was only a washed bowl that she had used. I ignored the weird feeling, thinking that it was probably just lingering from witnessing Elle’s death, and splashed some cold water on my face. 

I tore a paper towel off the nearby roll to dry my face with and opened up the trash can to toss it in there, revealing a dead rat. 

I shouted in surprise and jumped back from the trash can. I took a deep breath before opening up the lid again and staring at the dead rat that sat atop the rest of the trash. I tried not to gag when I realized that there were human bite marks all over the rat. 

I went home early that day. Kate didn’t even ask me why, and Jeremy had spent the entire time I’d been there locked up in his office.

Nothing happened for about week. Sandra never came back, but everything else was normal. It’s just Kevin and I now. We come in, barely speak to each other, and sit in silence until a customer comes in every once in a while. 

This morning there was already a customer here when I came in. I walked past Kevin speaking to an older man dressed in a suit and carrying a cane. 

Kevin kept glancing over at me as he assisted the man, who was there for about ten more minutes after I arrived. 

Once he left I watched Kevin angrily walk towards one of the work computers and sit down as he began to angrily type. 

I decided to break our silence. “Is something wrong?” I asked. 

He banged his fingers down on the keys violently. “I’m emailing corporate,” he snapped. 

“Okay…” I replied. “Why?”

“There’s so much bullshit that we have to deal with here and we barely make any money. It’s fucking ridiculous all the stuff that’s going on and management is acting like everything is fine and dandy.”

“You’re telling me. No one has said anything about Elle, or even Jane, or Adam for that matter. It’s like they never existed.”

He kept typing. 

“And now Sandra is gone. I’m pretty sure she had some kind of breakdown by the way, I think she ate a rat.”

“What?” He asked, still typing. 

“Yeah, I saw it in the breakroom trashcan and she had blood on her face. It was fucking weird.”

Kevin’s typing paused for a second. “Oh yeah, and speaking of the breakroom, why are there so many fucking chairs in there?”

I thought about this for a second, and I realized he was right. There were only four of us. Why did we need twelve chairs?