Host

Hello? I don’t know where I am. If you’re watching this, I need help. I don’t remember where I am. The last I recall was Saturday, but it seems so long ago. You have to help me. Please. I suppose I should start at the beginning.

My name is Sloane Matheson. I’m 17 years old. Everyone I know is dead.

It started like any normal Saturday. I had woken up around noon, barely finding the energy to leave my bed. I suppose this was the pivotal moment in the series of events that was about to unfold. If I hadn’t answered that phone call, none of this would have happened.

It wasn’t even the phone call that was special, not really. It was just my best friend, calling to invite me to a party around Nine O’clock. I was reluctant at first, but she always did manage to convince me.

I showed up at the party at about 9:30, hoping to see someone that I knew. My flaky best friend hadn’t arrived yet. I remember that, at least. Although, now that I think about it, I can’t recall her name. I can’t recall whose party it was either. But I suppose the details aren’t important. What happened at that party is all that matters. It was like a normal party at first, loud, slutty, and downright obnoxious. It was the host, whose name I still can’t recall, had the idea to explore the thick woods behind his house. I objected of course, worried that we might run into a bear, or slender man, or something worse. I remember being ignored, scoffed at. They obviously didn’t believe me. I suppose you wont believe me either. But everything that happened was real. It was all real. There were only about twenty kids at the party, so we all easily followed the unnamed host into the woods. At first, it was a bit boring, the quiet, muggy night lulling us into a sense of safety. When we heard it, we just assumed it was s0ome sort of animal, or possibly a small tremor in the tectonic plates. It was a low, vibrating noise, buzzing in our minds, tickling our skin as we walked.

The vibrating became more prominent as we kept going, shaking what felt like our very souls. The nameless host went onwards, a curious expression on his handsome features. As I am telling you this, I sense a faint echo of what I used to feel for the nameless host. Admiration, and something close to unrequited love. Now I cannot even remember what that feels like. The nameless host pressed his palm against the ground, feeling the very Earth shake with this ominous vibration. “Wait here.” He instructed, looking at me especially. I recall that I had a bit of an adventurous side, always breaking the rules. Right now, I can’t see the point. The Nameless Host parted the branches of the trees in front of us, and delved into the shrouded part of the forest. The vibrating had picked up in speed and strength by now; we were barely able to balance. As this was going on, we began to hear a small, barely noticeable noise, high pitched and oddly calming. I’m not sure how long the Host was gone. To me it felt like years, although I assume it was only a few minutes. When he came back, something seemed…off.

He was smiling, which I didn’t remember him doing before, and he was rubbing his right thumb in circles on his left palm, like a nervous tick. He didn’t have nervous ticks. “What’s up with the vibrating?” I remember asking. He cocked his head to the side, as if he didn’t understand what I had said. “What do you mean?” he asked. That’s when we realized that the vibrating had stopped. Now, most of the people there were drunk, and therefor easily fooled. They shrugged their shoulders, forgetting what we’d been talking about in the first place. It was only me who seemed to remember. I replayed the events in my head, wondering is I had made it all up, but no. I know what I saw. That was the only thing I can remember clearly now, as I review the horrific events of that night.

I glared at him suspiciously. “We should go back to the house.” I suggested nervously. He smirked, and nodded. The smallish group of teenagers trailed after us, all the way back to the house. Thankfully, we didn’t lose anyone. Sometime during the walk, the Nameless Host ended up at the very back of our little mob, pushing us forward. When we got to the house, he slammed the doors, locking it tight like a prison cell. When he shut the door, it sounded like someone dropping a heavy object onto a carpet. I whorled around horrified by what I saw. The Host had become, well… a host. At least that’s what I assumed, because the creature standing in the doorway definitely wasn’t him. We all sobered up immediately. The thing had sickly yellow eyes, and the maniac grin of a serial killer. He walked towards us very, painfully slowly. He pulled something from his belt, which I registered too late was a gun. “Duck!” I yelled. Everyone hit the ground, and his first bullet missed us all. We all slowly picked ourselves off the floor. I glared at him, putting my shaky fists up attempting to fight back, but I was too late. One of the guys behind me, who of course, I cannot remember in the slightest, attacked him instead, kicking gun out of his hand, and beating the Nameless Host across the head with it, eventually knocking him out cold. I watched in horror as two of the guy’s grabbed rope from the garage, tying down the Nameless Host, or whatever he had become anyway.

When he woke up, we were all standing over him, glaring suspiciously. The guy who had beaten him up was pointing a gun at him. The Host simply stared at us, malicious sneer on his pretty face. I remember feeling nauseous, like I needed to throw up and never stop. For the life of me, I can’t remember why, now. “Who are you?” the man demanded, shoving the gun closer to the Host’s face. It laughed. “Who are you?” it mocked. The man gave the Host a filthy glare, containing a small amount of fear. The Host grinned back. “What are you?” the man asked. The Host looked as if it was seriously pondering the question. “I’m you. I’m you, at your best. I’m in you, I feel you, and I know everything inside your head. I am in all of you. I am the human race in its most primitive days; I am the urge inside of you. I am you.” It said, eyes over each of us individually. We all exchanged apprehensive looks, what did it mean by it was in all of us? The man shoved the gun up against the temple of the Host. It grinned and stood up, ropes falling away limply. We all got back, staring wide-eyed and fearful at the thing that used to be our friend. It grinned at us, tilting its head to the side like a confused puppy. I felt a pang of loss and sympathy, for I remembered the original Host doing that when he was confused in class. It made my heart ache, to think about my friend, possibly more, trapped in a body controlled by this monster that was playing on our sympathies. The Host grinned at us. Something seemed different. His jaw shifted, and we realized he was growing long fangs, roughly the size of my pinky finger. “Get back!” yelled the man with the gun. I’m not sure why, but they sounded faded and distant. I recall stepping closer to the Host, like he was drawing me in with an invisible rope. I heard yells and warnings to stay away from him, that he was dangerous and a possibly genocidal unknown creature. I knew all this, I was aware of the danger. In that moment, it seemed worth it. I’m not sure what was going through my head; I just needed to be close to him. I walked over slowly at first, but my pace quickened, and soon I was wrapped in his embrace. Everyone simply stood there, stunned. The Host seemed so calm, we wondered if maybe the original owner of the body had come back to us. But no, the yellow eyes and fangs were still present, and yet somehow, I only saw the Host as benevolent in that moment. I didn’t even register that he was licking my neck, grazing his teeth against my veins. I did, however, register the man with the gun shooting the Host in the head.

The spell was broken. I looked around, dazed, and wiping the Host’s lifeblood off of my shirt. Right now, I can’t even remember what we did with the body, although I might have been too out of it to notice if they disposed of it in anyway. We examined the body, checking his eyes and mouth for signs of the creature, but no, he was completely clean. The being was gone from his body. So where was it?

We spent the next hour or so searching the room, looking for signs of this creature. Eventually, we gave up, and sat on the couch, defeated. We figured if The Creature was gone now we could leave, but the doors and windows were still bound shut. We were trapped there.

Sometime around Midnight, one of the men began acting…oddly. He wouldn’t stop smiling, and his eyes were shifting around the room rapidly. I nervously rubbed my right thumb in circles on my left palm, which I have never done before, but it was a time of stress and crisis. The oddly acting man began to twitch, as if having a seizure. We all looked at each other, the Host’s words about being in all of us playing in our minds. The man with the gun grabbed the oddly acting man by the shirt, inspecting his eyes for a hint of that disgusting yellow color. When he saw none, he let the man down. “He’s clean.” Reported the gunman. “Wait, don’t be so sure. The Host didn’t have yellow eyes until we got back to the house, but he was acting weird before that.” I told him. “This man could still be infected, and just in the first stage or something.” I explained. Simultaneously, all the eyes in the room turned to the weird acting man.

Before I could register what had happened, the weird acting man was dead, on the floor. Someone screamed. I think it might have been me. We all turned towards the man with the gun, incredulous looks on our faces. “Why did you do that?” I demanded, trying my hardest not to look at the dead body. “We can’t take any chances.” The man said.

After that, I don’t remember much. I think we were at the house for more than three days, but I’m not sure. I don’t know how many of us survived, but I have a feeling the number wasn’t high. The whole time, all I could register was pain and the slow draining of my memory. I think I blacked out at some point. I must have, because I woke up here. I need clues. I need to know where I am. I need help.

I am now inspecting my surroundings, and they seem familiar. I am positive that I am in a house, just outside of-oh god. What city do I live in? I suppose that you readers would have no way of knowing. But I do know that I haven’t left my home city. That is something. It seems there was a family living here. Emphasis on was. The walls are covered in blood, and I have already found one body, a mother by the looks of it. There is a photo on the mantel, depicting what looks like a Christmas card. It reads “Merry Christmas from the Matheson’s.” on the bottom in red lettering. I don’t know who these people are, but on some subconscious level I do. I still can’t find it in me to grieve them. As I inspect, I nervously rub my right thumb in circles on my left palm. This movement triggers something in me, something close to dread, but I cannot imagine why. It’s just a nervous tick. I am now going upstairs, to see if I can find an address somewhere, so you can find me easily.

There are two bedrooms upstairs, one master, and a smaller room. I am inexplicably drawn towards the smaller room. It looks as though it belongs to a teen girl, posters covering the walls, and pictures all over the dresser. I barely recognize The Nameless Host in one of the pictures. He is with a girl; the one who I assume owns the room. Her happiness causes unexplainable remorse within me, though I believe that I have no true emotions at the moment. Maybe I never did. Maybe this is why I do not react when I find a man’s body in the hallway.

He also looks familiar. I drag the body into the bathroom, inspecting his wounds. The bloody handprint on the man’s chest matches mine exactly. At this moment, I register that I am covered in blood. Perhaps I did this. Oh well. I hope you will still find it in yourself to rescue me. I catch a small glimpse of myself in the mirror when I go to wash the blood off my hands. I cannot help being shocked by what I see. I look very much like the girl in the picture, although that is not the shocking part. My eyes are the sickly yellow of sulfur, wide, pupils dilated. My mouth is covered in blood. My mind finally recognizes the nervous tick I have developed. It is from the Nameless Host, just before he made the final shift into that being, the one that tried to kill us. That rabid, animalistic killer.

The oddly acting man never had the Host inside of him. Neither did those who were accused and murdered after him. I did. I killed those people. I am unaware of who I am because I am not a person anymore, there is only The Host.

Do not come for me. If you see me, shoot me. I am dangerous, and if I black out again, anything could happen.



I am The Host.