History generally ignores the common, but quite often, a few less-than-common incidents fall through the cracks as well. As the nineteenth century neared an end, the remnants of the confederacy brooded over the not so distant civil war. Not surprisingly, a family living in the middle of nowhere was not something anyone had, or still has much of a reason to notice. There are no historical records of a pair of sisters going out for a picnic on an otherwise summer day. Even the sisters themselves gave second thought about what they thought was a bottle of vintage absinthe.
From the information a few would later gather, there was also a leisurely boat ride at a nearby lake at some point during the day.
The sisters never quite “returned”. Or, atleast, they were not the same women that went out for a picnic that morning. Both of them would live out the rest of their lives in a state of paranoia. Both of them also developed phobias of otherwise everyday occurrences & objects. Both of them religiously avoided silver. Both of them avoided seafood. Neither of the sisters were ever seen in or during the brightest time of the day. Not one of them would ever look at anything remotely resembling a bottle containing absinthe. And even though it took a significant portion of their lives to display acceptably “normal” behavior, people around could not help but notice the struggle & effort it took to force such displays of normalcy.
Whether for better or for worse, the sisters would succumb to the passage of time with little fanfare. They, along with their story, lost to the flow of time. None the less, the world continues. Like it’s predecessor, the twentieth century gave way to the twenty first. And as the years rolled by in the new century, a new group of people would find themselves spending a few days in a town in the middle of nowhere.
There were three of them. Long time friends. Out on an impromptu road trip. Two guys, a girl, and a pick-up truck. Someone, who knew someone, knew someone who had just finished renovating a civil-war-era house. All the amenities of modern day life, in a nineteenth century atmosphere. As it turned out, they were old college buddies as well. Needless to say, there were reminiscences of “good ol’ days”. There was a party, though not the kind they threw during college days. There was a grand dinner. There was a bit of social drinking. There was, what they thought a bottle of vintage absinthe.
At a quarter past one, when they mutually agreed to get some sleep, they thought they could detect something or another, barely within the range of their peripheral vision. By a quarter to two, everyone tried to convince themselves, they were experiencing hallucinations to some extent. When a grandfather clock struck two, everyone in the house could swear they heard a few additional “things”. At ten past two, the household had reassembled in the living room, trying to convince each other, and themselves, that there must have been something in the drinks. They laughed at themselves, more out of desperation than out of amusement. There were a few more rounds of various drinks, to supposedly “drown out the hallucinations”. Though no one would agree, it was, in reality more of a semi-desperate attempt to drown out an increasing sense of dread as well.
Every single person in the room would question their own sanity around eight past two, when an assortment fish violently jumped from the aquarium. Gasping, but trying to make their way towards the nearest person none the less. Up until the incident, the people in the house could attribute what they saw as otherwise hallucinations, which would hopefully be gone in the coming day. But as the fish flopped around the floor, everyone clearly saw the fish enveloped in forms not quite solid.
Their collective expressions clearly told of an experience that was neither unique nor limited to an individual.
In the hours that followed, there would be more and more incidents. More and more attacks. Insects. Birds. Rodents. Pets. And when the group finally decided to seek help, they learned that humans were not immune to the influences of these shadowy forms either. The trio of friends only managed to escape their neighbors, a family of five because they busy, unceremoniously feasting on the remains of what had once been the home owner.
By noon, the came to agree on a few observations. The shadowy forms, which were a lot less visible in daylight, were intangible, and for the most part, harmless. They were also impervious to harm through physical means, seeing as how they moved through matter, and matter moved through them with apparently no resistance. Movement was the key to their survival. Other people and animals around usually started “noticing” them around the two hour mark, and casually driving away seemed to keep them free of any further incidents they had dubbed “the munchies”.
After two days of travel, they came upon a most remarkable individual attending a rather unremarkable gas station. He seemed aware of their predicament from the beginning, and offered safe refuge in his town. Much to the surprise of the trio, the town was immune to the munchies. And free of the shadowy forms they had seen everywhere else. They nervously watched their watches continue past the two hour mark, awaiting signs of trouble in their pickup truck.. They nervously watched their watches continue past the three hour mark, awaiting signs of trouble in their pickup truck. They nervously watched their watches continue past the four hour mark, awaiting signs of trouble in their pickup truck.
Twenty three minutes later, the man from the unremarkable gas station approached them and offered them lodging at his house, across the street. Ignoring a nagging sense of uncertainty at the back of their heads, the trio of friends accepted the offer. Over the night, they would learn of the cause of their current predicament, a bit of back story, and a possible salvation. Time. The cause of their problems would be out of their system within a few more days. The trio was offered a place to stay to wait out their unfortunate circumstance.
The morning that followed was one that was welcomed by the trio of friends like none before it. Two of them decided to go the local store to buy supplies. One decided to go out for a stroll around the neighborhood. After a much needed bath, and breakfast, of course.
The small town seemed a nice enough place. The people were nice, though something definitely felt “off” about the residents. None the less, no one was trying to eat the trio of friends. After lunch, the friends had gained enough confidence to go about exploring the town on their own.
One went to the book store. The storekeeper was an elderly man. They struck up a conversation, and it was quickly revealed that the old man was quite knowledgeable regarding the occult. During a discussion over coffee, it also became apparent that the town itself had a history that was deeply entwined with occult practices, partially explaining their immunity to the munchies. Before parting, they shook hands. The old man’s skin had the texture of dried paper. Parts of it came off in flakes. His expression changed. All over his body, his skin cracked, flaked, and dissipated into the air. His exposed the flesh crawled, practically ripped itself out of the body in thin strings and flew off towards some unknown destination. The stench of rotting flesh filled the air.
In the middle of the deserted town stood a figure roughly three stories tall. Its body continued to gain more and more mass, which it drew from the townsfolk. The trio were unaffected by its appearance, mainly due to the ordeal they lived through in the preceding few days. The overwhelming smell made them vomit where they stood none the less…
…and at that exact moment, I was awoken by a conversation between my mother & sister regarding breakfast. Admittedly, the whole experience might have been somewhat nightmarish had the main three characters not resembled Gohan, Krillin and Bulma from Dragon Ball Z. Also I think Gohan may have turned super saiyan right before I woke up.
That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it. 
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