goodnightlisteners: (welcome to night vale)
Cecil Gershwin Palmer ([personal profile] goodnightlisteners) wrote in [community profile] entrancelogs 2013-10-06 02:25 am (UTC)

All of this is very strange, except that "strange" is the wrong word. Strange in Night Vale is normal, familiar--neighbors chanting eldritch verses next door, your bread turning into venomous snakes, all of that is pretty run of the mill. All of this is somehow different. More oppressive. It reminds Cecil a bit of his time spent in that other radio station, something that still haunts his nightmares.

He feels different too. He's not sure how to describe it.

He's resting when he hears a voice from nearby, and bolts upright from behind a barricade of crates. He listens hard and hears it again--someone speaking from nearby. An adjacent tunnel, maybe?

He grabs up his radio and the wooden beam he's been using as a weapon and slinks out into the tunnel proper, looking around for monsters. He tried to reason with them at first, he really did, but he's pretty sure the dogs at least are dead to begin with. The spiders just make him sad. Poor things. Probably never got the education they deserved and resorted to stalking people in abandoned mines. That's the problem with America these days...

...Anyway.

He follows the voice down a branching path and spots a figure from behind.

"Hello?"

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