Cursed Blog Part 1 (work in progress)

I was finally independent... -ish. I got a job I liked. I finally got my own place— a small apartment in the city. I had achieved the independence I wanted since I was a little girl.

I always had trouble talking with people. I would often zone out into my own world. I always hated being yelled at, whether it was by my parents or schoolteachers or bosses.

When I worked in food service I would constantly struggle to remember orders and when customers or management would yell at me, I would freeze and want to curl up somewhere. My career there didn’t last long.

Now, I got an office job I can handle... I think. There are times when I need help and don’t feel comfortable asking for it. It took me a long time to get this job and it would likely take me a long time to get another one, if it all. My treasured independence was hanging on by a thread.

Then came the scissors.

At 3AM, I was wide awake with worry about losing my job and how being wide awake with worry could hurt my job performance tomorrow when my phone buzzed. There was a text message. It just said to go to a web address. Since sleep didn’t look like an option I went there. The website looked like a crudely thrown together blog. There was one entry that I could see. It read as follows:

“The mission goes well. The magnetic implants are impressing the locals. They are coming over to our side.

Not all them are so easily fooled and will require more impressive tricks to bring over. A miniature Project Blue Beam may be necessary to convince them.”

I thought it was a dumb joke. But then more messages kept coming...


I popped into work early as I usually do. People like it when you show up early, right? My boss arrived about a half-hour after I did.

“Good morning.” He said in a friendly tone of voice. “One quick thing: when you email me your reports, please remember to CC the department heads. You didn’t last time. It’s really no big deal. Just try to remember.”

I could feel the blood in my body shift. “He said it’s no big deal.” I muttered to myself repeatedly.

I put a note on my computer reminding me to do that and noticed I received another message which simply said “Check again.” I went to that website again and found a new entry that read:

“The prehensile tail implants are better than they were before, but still require much more work. They are prone to erratic movements when first turned on. I believe this problem will be fixed soon.“

I couldn’t help but giggle. The thought of people with mechanical tails attached to their asses amused me. My laughing abruptly stopped, however, when I realized some of my co-workers were looking at me like I was crazy. That happened a lot.

After work, I couldn’t help but think about the messages I was getting. Who sent them? Why? What were they really about?

I went to an online mystery forum I sometimes visit to ask for help figuring this out. I posted about how I received the messages and the content of the messages themselves. I used my online handle. I didn’t include my real name. Afterwards, I went to bed.

The next morning, when I checked the forum I was shocked by the number of replies. The forum was ablaze with theories.

“It’s probably just a joke.” One user wrote. “I think it’s a plot to take over the world! Someone’s reaching out to you to help stop it!” said another.

“Project Blue Beam is real! The government is going to try to manipulate people with a supposed projection of God!”

It was overwhelming. I had trouble believing it could get so much attention. I wrote back thanking them for their interest and told them I would post again if I got any more messages.

Later that day, I got another message. But it wasn’t from the same number as this previous ones. It was someone from the forum.

“Did you get any more messages?”

“How did you get my number?”

“I have my ways. I could trace that number for you.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with this.”

I blocked their number.

It frightened me that people could find me. What had I gotten myself into?