Chapter Text
*sound of tape starting*
Emery: That thing’s a little archaic, isn’t it? Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sure it’s comforting, having something from your teens.
Jon: I- How old do you think I am?
Emery: Psshhh, if I had to guess like fifty.
Jon: I’m not even thirty.
Emery: Oh my gosh I’m so sorry so so sorry I didn’t mean to insult you and-
Jon: It’s fine. Let’s just get on with this. Statement of Emery Salter regarding a strange dagger they found in Appalachia. Statement recorded direct from subject, May fourth, two thousand and sixteen. You may begin.
Emery: Right well, I guess I should first mention that I’m quite obviously American, if the accent wasn’t clear of that. I was born and raised maybe a half hour from Lake Erie actually. Though it wasn’t our home state, me and my family would often visit New York.
You see, we’re all very into skiing, and while it wasn’t exactly the Rocky Mountains, or the alps you have out here, it can still be pretty fun. This was maybe three hours from where we lived. A small town called Ellicottville. We went constantly since I was only two years old. It’s like a second home to me, which I guess is helped by the fact that we have a house up there.
I’m not sure quaint is the best word for it. But it was on some nowhere road that only shows up on half the maps. There are a few houses on that road, but they’re only for renters, so it was rare we’d see anyone actually stay at them. It was on a steep hillside, half way up, maybe 70 feet from the forest. So not quaint, just lonely I guess.
In the winters we’d try to go every weekend. School ends on Friday, maybe wait an hour or two, get in my parent’s car that I had sensory issues about with the smell, and just get there. Weekend of skiing up in front of us. Then sometime Sunday we’d head back. And it was just like that for well over a decade.
But time’s a funny thing I guess. It started with my brother, he’s the oldest by three years. As laughable as theater is to many people it was his passion, and a time heavy one at that. Add in the fact most school musicals were in the spring, so rehearsals in the winter, and we started seeing him up there less and less.
Next was my sister, only younger than my brother by just over a year. As if being the smartest person any of us knew wasn’t enough, she was a driven athlete. By middle school she found her vice of choice, lacrosse, and damn was she good at it. Practiced harder than anyone. But with indoor tournaments and “spring” practice, we saw her less and less.
At some point, it was pretty much just me and my dad. Still almost every weekend in the winter, but my siblings were busy with that, and my mom was the one looking after them. I love my siblings, but my mom is absolutely right to never trust them with the house for a weekend. And of course our dog, she’s the best, she would always come with us so we could pet her up at the ski cabin.
It was a pretty picturesque scene. Typically after we went to dinner at the great restaurant we loved. Me in my pajamas, same with my dad, but a dark cocktail in his hand, the dog walking between us for pets, and a fire going in the fireplace. I still cherish those memories. I lasted longer than my siblings cause I’m just not as committed I guess.
Still, life caught up. Junior, senior year of high school I stopped going. Looking at colleges, Eagle Scout project, work in general. It takes it out of you. Hardly leaves enough time to ski every weekend. So the house kind of went untouched for a couple years. We’d go occasionally, of course, and it was still me and my dad who managed to get up there most consistently.
But then, yeah, looking for colleges actually turned into getting into one and going. It was by Rochester, so pretty similar to my hometown in terms of weather. That was nice cause the only other place I got into was in Savanah and I hate the heat. Sorry, getting off topic. Anyway I was there my freshman year. First half, no issues. But second semester I start getting kind of down.
My parents were the ones who had the bright idea to have me and my friends take a trip to the ski house. It had been a while, and I’ve always had a strange connection to the cold and snow, probably cause I was born on the winter solstice, so I figured what’s the worst that could happen.
So me and a few of my buddies headed up- or I guess down from Rochester- to Ellicottville for a fun weekend of skiing. We got to the house at dark, but it was nice and lit up thanks to my dad having installed remote control lights and heating a few years back. He’s obsessed with that kind of stuff.
Everything was fine for that first night. And into the next day we all had a great Saturday skiing, and I took them all out to that restaurant I mentioned earlier, and when we got back to the house, one by one we all started to head to bed. I guess now’s a good time to mention that the room I slept in every time I stayed there had a direct view to the hill and forest. It scared the shit out of me sometimes, but it was more comfortable than just about anywhere else I could sleep so.
I can’t lie, even as an adult now, god almost twenty, it still freaked me out a little at night. Only at night. Still nights were the worst of it. The ones where there was no movement. Those were the nights with the most movement, if that makes sense. So when it was snowing, I guess I felt something of a safety net. Falling asleep was easy.
When I woke up in the middle of the night, I had been woken up by a noise. It was a clear noise I guess in a way I can’t describe. I mean I don’t know how I knew it was something being dropped on the porch, I just did.
There’s a rule about Appalachia, you know? It’s a very simple one you use to stay right. If you saw something or heard something, no you didn’t. So when I tell you I wasn’t the one who made me go out there and look, you can believe me. I don’t know what made me do it, but I never would’ve if I had the option not to.
I put on my boots and a coat, and I walked outside. There, pretty much just at my doorstep was a dagger in a sheath. It looked nice. I had no idea where it came from, but there it was. I know I said I wouldn’t have gone out there if I had a choice, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. Picking the thing up was unfortunately all my own fault.
When I unsheathed it and took it out of the blade it was just dull. The metal was cold to the touch, believe it or not. Shocking I know. Metal being cold in the middle of a snowstorm. But it’s relevant. I was kind of up now, so I figured I’d just enjoy myself for a few minutes. When you look out from that porch, the light really doesn’t go as far as it should. It’s completely cut off at only about halfway to the tree line.
Obviously then standing there was out of the question. So I walked around. The porch goes all the way around the house, but thanks to the steep hill at the backside it’s more of a balcony. I felt the metal in my hand, turning it over and over. It was so strange, but it was cool I couldn’t lie. That’s when it slowly got hotter, and then without warning I had to take my hand away from the blade. It had burnt me.
I didn’t understand why it had suddenly gotten so hot until I looked up. There was a deer on the balcony porch with me. It was maybe two yards away, at most. Strange, but definitely nothing supernatural. Except after blinking a few times I saw the deer was covered in gun wounds and arrows. It should by dead, so I asked myself why wasn’t it.
The thing stood on it’s hind legs and let out this screech like an elk but far more distorted.
Jon: Don’t tell me you’re saying you saw a Wend-
Emery: Don’t say it out loud, idiot! And no, I don’t believe that was that particular creature. From what I know, you’re thinking of a fictionalized version of that, this was something else. It almost felt like, it’s strange to say, but it was like the manifestation of hunting, or at least, of it’s consequences.
I thought it was all in my head, but then I dropped the dagger, and the snow was instantly melting around the blade. I quickly scrambled to pick it up again. I didn’t exactly bet on myself or the dagger, but it was better than nothing. I looked at the thing when every one of my limbs trembling. I guess I had done something wrong because then it spoke, and when it did I heard my own voice.
Hunting ends at sunrise, it said, and before I could even scream in horror a bullet whipped next to me. I’ve never been shot before. I guess technically I still haven’t really felt it, what it is to have metal burrow in the flesh at impossible speeds and shred my insides. Still it hurt like hell. It’s not exactly great, having your arm bleeding, but I guess instinct took over and I ran.
I caught my reflection in the window, and for a second I could’ve sworn I had antlers. Maybe that’s why I ran up the steep hill and into the forest. I’ve never been in them before, not even during the day, which is why I’m confused as to why I was moving through the trees like an expert.
I heard a few more gunshots, and I even saw a few trunks splinter with fresh, smoking holes. I kept haphazardly covering my head anytime I’d hear it. As if that’d do anything. I mean, they say you never hear the bullet that gets you. I wouldn’t know.
One almost got me, a bullet I mean. Instead of hitting me, though, it got the dagger. I don’t know when I had unsheathed it, but the bullet hit the blade itself. I expected the thing to shatter, but instead it was the bullet that broke into a million tiny partials of dust. Whatever the dagger is, it can’t be destroyed through regular means. I tried a few different ways myself.
I wish I could say that I outran the hunters until sunrise. No, truth be told I just managed to run into the actual town. That made the hunter back off, but then I saw that weird zombie deer again. You cheated, it yelled at me. I thought I was rather clever shouting back, I survived! In hindsight it kind of feels cringe thinking about it.
The dagger was hot again, by the way. I was trembling, holding the dagger out and slowly backing up. My back hit a brick wall, which I guess is why I turned around when I felt a door knob. Sure enough, attached to the knob, was a full wooden door. It had never been there before, and it stuck out against the wall like a sore thumb.
I accidentally pressed the dagger to the door, and the entire blade glowed red hot, not just the tip. I could feel the heat radiating off of it. I mean it was practically burning my hand from proximity alone. I guess the deer thought I was desperate, and made that door as a trap. I ran to get away from the thing. It wasn’t long before I realized I couldn’t outrun the deer.
So I just sat. My back against a wall with no doors and I stayed awake. The deer staring me down, and me holding a dagger out at it. The closer it got, the hotter the blade got. And when it backed off, so too did the heat. It just walked at me and backed off progressively for the whole night. One time it got so close the metal actually caught on fire and wouldn’t go out until the deer backed off.
I’m guessing- do you know lord of the rings? Yeah I think it’s like that sword Frodo has, the one that glows near orcs or something. I’m guessing it’s like that. Whenever something freaky gets closer, the dagger gets hotter. Anyway, it was sunrise soon, and the deer was gone. The instant I dropped the dagger I sat up in my bed.
I wasn’t wet from the snow, I wasn’t cold, I wasn’t even outside my room. I thought I had dreamed the whole thing up. But when I looked at my dresser, there was the dagger. And when I looked at my arm, there was a scar where the bullet had grazed me.
I didn’t mention a thing to my friends. I just did some digging and found this place. So I thought I’d give my statement. Of course, according to anyone else I’m here to see the sights my parents most recommend from their long stay in England.
Jon: Well, thank you. I do have to ask though, you never gave a description of the dagger. Can you?
Emery: Sorry about that! But no need
*thud of something being placed on the table*
Emery: Here it is. It’s yours now I don’t want it. Anyway, have a good day!
*sound of tape stopping and starting*
Jon: A zombie deer forcing hunters to chase after a person. It’s hard to believe, much harder to believe than an American college student with friends having something that might impair one’s sense of reality.
Believe it or not, follow up across an ocean is rather difficult. CJ confirmed a few things for me. First off, there’s a house at the given address with proper ownership to Mx. Salter’s parents. Ellicottville is an Appalachian ski town as told to us, and the geography matches the descriptions.
The dagger was warm when I took it out of it’s sheath, I’ll say. It could just be the absorb body heat from our statement giver, but it’s worth noting that it’s still warm, despite Mx. Salter having left it four hours ago. If what they say is true, then I’ll have to give our resident quartermaster a warning about putting it in storage. End recording.
*sound of tape stoping*