The Thaw

[The following report contains notes collected from the body of an unidentified male discovered in a snowbank outside the uninhabited town of Sunder.]

Day 1:

I’ve arrived in the town of Sunder. Moody people drift about the wide, straight roads, cars mostly left to rust in their snow-packed driveways. No one’s talked to me except the receptionist at this greasy hotel, and, with a cigarette drooping from the corner of his sneer, he didn’t seem happy to have a guest.

“You staying?” he said.

“For a few days.”

I’m here for the Thaw, but that’s a guarded secret. From what little I’ve uncovered about Sunder, they keep this town’s ugly secret close. Most sources say this place is deserted – might as well be.

“Picked a bad time for it,” he said, sliding me a room key.

Strange. And all the more reason for me to believe the man who showed up at the office ranting about people who come from the pond. The Thaw they call it. And the way they talk about it… as if living with blizzards and hungry polar bears is trivial by comparison.

But they don’t talk about it to me. Not yet. I’ll do some sniffing.

Day 2:

Another failure.

I decided to try my luck in the bar across the street from my hotel. Well, earlier I wandered Sunder. The whole town takes about three hours to circle by foot and looks like nothing’s changed here since the fifties. Most of the people avoided me, wouldn’t even look at me.

Anyway, at the bar, I tried to pry some lips open. Bought some drinks for the locals, seal hunters by the look. They just glared and didn’t touch my drinks. One thing I hate more than ungrateful bastards: wasting money.

I moved to the bartender. He took my money with a grimace. I wouldn’t be surprised if this dingy little town has its own currency. Either way, when I asked about the enormous pond (looks like it formed in an asteroid crater, if that counts for anything) at the edge of Sunder, he just shrugged.

“Not much for an outsider to do round here,” he opined.

Day 4:

Spent yesterday in bed, crippled by a ruthless hangover. Didn’t even drink too much. Mouth tastes like old socks.

Still, I dragged my carcass to the crater today. The sheen of ice covering it is definitely thinning. As I was inching out towards the edge of the pond, one of the locals shouted after me.

“Don’t be walking there,” he said. “Thin ice.”

I’ll take the veiled threat. It’s something you get used to after seventeen years digging into the world’s secrets.

Day 5:

Woke up with another abomible abominable headache, except I didn’t touch a drop of booze yesterday. Also, I found some wrinkles and smudges in these pages I definitely didn’t put there. Not to get paranoid, but I’ll keep this notebook under my pillow.

When I asked the man at the reception if there were any other keys to my room, he shrugged. I traipsed through Sunder again, checking the rusting cars, the old houses with their snow-crusted, sagging rooves.

According to my research, there was a big oil company looking to start operations here, bringing lots more money into Sunder. Without warning, the company pulled out of the deal, leaving behind the ghost-town I find now.

It’s telling that all the people here seem so aimless, just waiting for death.

Also, I haven’t seen, let alone heard, a single child.

Day 7:

Headache’s come back fer fierce. I’ll wait another week. The guy who showed up at the office claimed the Thaw happened within two weeks usually. This time of year too. How’d he know? Maybe he lived here. Should’ve written his name down.

Day 8:

Christ, the boredom must be making me act weird. I didn’t even remember writing what I wrote yesterday, and I missed day 6 completely. Not that there’s much to remember.

I took another wander, saw the ice on the pond had thawed a bit more. Literally watching ice melt for a job. HAHA!

More strange smudges on the pages. Worrying.

Day 9:

OK, ASSHOLE. YOU WANT TO KEEP GOING THROUGH THIS NOTEBOOK, HERE’S YOUR SPECIAL DEDICATION. DID YOU THINK I WOULDN’T NOTICE.

I think the Thaw is well underway now. Also, I’m no longer sure if it’s a pond or a lake. I think it may have got bigger. These things happen, I suppose, when there’s snow everywhere.

Day 10:

No fresh smudges in my notebook, so I guess I got my point across.

I walked the town again. Saw more folks flitting around Sunder than I’ve seen since I got here, people running around all over the place. I tried to chat with an old man lugging planks of wood in a sledge. His eyes were solemn under wild eyebrows.

“You shouldn’t hang around much longer.”

Seems like the locals are starting to warm to me. Maybe this is the Thaw.

HAHAHA!

Day 12:

Woke up to find someone in my room. I watched them pull my notebook out before I jumped up. I tried grabbing at them, but they slipped away, quick as grease. Considering I’ve only seen old coots pottering around Sunder, this guy’s speed frightened me.

Still, takes more than a night-time threat to put me off the trail.

Day 10:

HAHAHAHAHA!

Day 13:

Now, they’re writing in my notebook again, whoever the fuck they are. Today I didn’t leave the room, waiting to see if the asshole comes back.

Day 14:

I stayed up all night, waiting. Whoever it is didn’t show. Whatever. A day wasted.

Day 15:

IS THIS ALL SOME HOAX. WAS I SENT HERE TO BE LAUGHED AT????

Day 14:

Head feels like it was knocked with a sledgehammer. I’ll sit this one out. I tried approaching another local at the bar, but didn’t have the patience to try talking.

Day 13:

Can barely hold a pen. Need sleep.

HAHAHAHA

Day 7:

Went out to pond/lake. Last of ice melting. Head throbs like a second heartbeat.

Houses are all boarded up. Not a soul out in the streets. Odd. I keep thinking about that half-mad bastard who told me about this place. Shop’s closed. Can’t get any food for the day. Guess go hungry. Forget

Day 19:

Christ, I woke up and looked at the last few days. I don’t remember writing any of that. It scares me. I’m fairly sure I’m on day 19 though, and my head feels clearer than it has in weeks, so I’m hoping it was something temporary.

Anyway, went out to see the town. Ice is almost entirely gone.

It’s strange though, I thought I saw footprints coming out of the pond or lake or whatever it is. But then, they were all scuffed up, like the people walking out of the pond were dragging both feet.

As I was walking back to the hotel, I caught an old couple peering through their boarded-up window. They looked terrified.

When I got back to the hotel, there was a sign on the door telling me it was closed. Stunned, I hammered at the door and yelled for the owner. He never showed. I was only gone about an hour.

After some time sat in front of the hotel, I decided I’d have to get my stuff. Wrapping my hand in my coat, I punched through one of the reception windows. After sweeping the last shards away, I climbed through, landing in a sprawl on the lobby floor.

The hotel was deserted and silent. I didn’t bother looking for the owner, and went straight to my room.

My belongings were scattered in the hallway, clothes littered around the carpet. It took me a while to gather everything into my rucksack, and, when I did, I decided I HATE THIS TOWN. I’m getting out tomorrow.

But, tonight, I’ll camp out in my car and watch the pond, see if this Thaw is real. I’ve been thinking about the stranger who set me on the path here.

He told me they’d come from the pond. I’d been intrigued, arrogant that I could expose some real supernatural shit this time. Either that or, as the case usually has been, end up with another story to tell in the office.

I sit in my car, blasting the heat and waiting. This is futile anyway. I should just go now, get home, crash out, pump out some sarcastic article about how exciting the forgotten town of Sunder is.

I knew that stranger was mad. They always send the mad ones to me. I suppose they think it’s funny, because I have a reputation as the weirdo who investigates the paranormal shit.

My head’s start to hurt bad god help me can hardly hold a pen

People coming saw them by the pond oh godohgodohgod they’re not people ohgodohgod

They come from the pond so many of them I know what happens here now HAHA ohgodohgod

The windows are smashed. They’re reaching for me, a brief respite in my head. I twist as they pull at me, running, running, running.

Now, I’ve stopped, exhausted. In the dark. Cold. Snow everywhere and can’t see. Writing it all down, can’t even look back at what came before because I know it’ll scare me how mad I sound. I sound like him. Well, if I’d listened, I wouldn’t have come here.

Footsteps in the snow. They’re coming for me. But I’m so tired.