Greetings. If you're reading this note, then you must be the new occupant of my room, or I guess it's your room now. I'm assuming that this is your room, because I can't imagine anyone spending more than 5 minutes in this dark, dreary little hovel unless their going to be forced to live here, and you'd basically have to spend that kind of time in here to be looking inside the lose wall panel behind a radiator to find this note. They said the new owners had a daughter about my age, so that must be you. I guess you cold be some workman or something. Someone who was payed a lot of money to come in here and maybe make this room a little better, and if thats the case, well, all I have to say is I hope you got A LOT of money. Do me a favor and put this note back where you found it so the next poor unfortunate soul who has to live here can find it. I'd ask you not to read it, but I know that would just make me want to read anyway, so we'll skip over that part. Really though, whatever they're paying you ask for more. My name is Scott by the way. Scott Nichols, and I'm, or at least when I wrote this note I was 14 years old. My parents own this house, but my father's company, he works for Stagg and Sons the cracker company, anyway it was bought out by another company and we're moving to the North. The town is not important, frankly I'd rather not leave any trail behind, but suffice it to say it's a good far way away from this pace, and that suits me just fine. For a while it looked like our house wasn't going to sell, it being way out here in the middle of nowhere and everything. When we move in almost 6 years ago I was pretty bummed out that there weren't a lot of neighbors. Well as bummed out as you can get when your 8 years old but you get my point. We came from one of those planned communities will all the houses lined up on the street next to each other. Apparently the schools around here aren't that great either, though they seem just like all the other schools I've been to. My guess is your parents got suckered by the same thing mine did. Adults have some weird unhealthy attachment to living in the country. Country living, right, they never consider that there's no one around for their kids to play with. They just look at the big yard and the long driveway and think about all the character their kids will be building spending hours mowing the law, raking the leaves, and shoveling snow. Maybe your parents aren't like that. I guess they don't usually make girls do all that manual labor. Lucky devils. But take my advice, it's better than spending your time in this room.
Ok, look. I guess I've been dancing around the subject here, but it has to be said. I'm writing this note for a reason, so I'll just spread it all out on the table. There's just no other way to say it, you are in deep trouble. Your parent's picked the wrong house to move into. The wrong house in the wrong neighborhood, and you got stuck with the worst room in the place. You've got a zombie problem. Go ahead, laugh, roll your eyes, I can't say I'd blame you. You probably think this whole note is a joke. 'What a sap,' your thinking, 'that loser kid who used to live here must have been some kind of cynical friendless practical joker.' Sure, fine, don't believe me. I know I wouldn't. I know I didn't. I got a note just like this one when I moved in. The girl before me was named Lisa, Lisa something. She stuck a note just like this, well her paper was all pink and had little baby chicks all over it but you know what I mean, she stuck it in the wall just like this one. I read through the first page, laughed my head off, and then ripped it up into tiny confetti. You're probably thinking the same thing. Look, just grant me this one favor. Think of it as honoring the last occupant of your room, or heck, just do it so you can show all those friends your going to make what kind of crazy person lived here before you, just don't throw away this note like I did. You don't have to read it, just put it back in the wall, or some other safe place, and for god sakes hang on to it, because the day is going to come when you'll know I was right, and when it does, what I've written down here may save you a great deal of grief. Welcome back. That is, if you left then welcome back. I guess at this point I've either peaked your interest or you've been out into the woods behind the house. That's how things started for me anyway. You may have noticed that the window in my room, or that is your room, is the only window in the house facing out into the back towards the woods. In fact, with the way the hedges line up along the sides of the house, it's basically impossible to see into the woods back there from anywhere else on the property without actually walking back there. I don't have any proof of it, but I think that may be by design. About two summers ago I rode my bike down to the hall of records in town to look up the original plans for the house, but the old crone who works there said the old hall of records burned down in 1970-something and all the records were lost. Even if it wasn't the original intent, I think maybe thats why zombies chose this place. They're a pretty private group on the whole. Anyway, the first time I saw them was about 3 months after we moved in. Everyone in all those crime shows on TV always seem to know the exact dates when they do everything, and you'd think that for something this important I could remember but I can't. I know it was some time after school started. Must have been in September or October because the leaves were starting to fall and guess who was enlisted to rake them up. The yards not very big, but there's a load of trees back there so the whole things about a 2 or 3 hour job. Plus as soon as your done, the wind picks up and blows a whole new load of leaves off the trees or out from around the creek and you have to start all over again. It must have been late in the afternoon because it was starting to get dark, and as the sun went down I started seeing these flashes of light way back in the woods. I don't know if you've had a chance to go back there yet, but the woods around here go back pretty far. If you stand at the back of the house and start walking strait back there's that path that goes for about 20 minutes, but even when you get to the end you’re only about a 6th of the way to the property line, and then after that its all state forest land. At the time I'd never been back further than the end of the path. From the end I could still see the light was some distance away and looked like it was coming from above the trees. The lights only lasted a few minutes. It was late and I was hot on finishing the raking so I could go into town and see some other human beings for a change, so I basically forgot about the whole thing. Later on I mentioned it to my dad, but he put on his 'let me teach my boy about the wilderness' routine and said it was probably just lightening. I told him there're weren't any clouds and I don't remember hearing any thunder but then he launched into thing whole speech about heat lighting, and some Indian medicine man, and boy scout camping trips from when he was a kid back in the stone age. After that I basically forgot about the whole thing, but then a few weeks later I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and as I passed the window I could see the lights again. I sat up for almost 4 hours watching them until the sun came up. I don't know if they stopped or it just got too bright to see them anymore. The same thing happened the next night, and the next, and by the weekend I was staying up to see when they started. Almost every night the lights would start up at about 2:30 or 3 o'clock, always in the same place, and usually go until dawn. Once in a while I would see them during the day, but only for a few minutes. The real shows were at night. For some reason they seemed to take every Tuesday off, and then after about 2 weeks of this the lights completely stopped. This was probably a good thing because by that point I wasn't getting any sleep outside of math class. By then it was starting to get really cold at night so maybe it had something to do with the temperature. Anyway, I finally got up enough nerve to go out there and see what was going on. I figured I had missed my chance to see the light in action, OK I couldn't muster the courage to go out there when they were going on, but I figured now that they had stopped, I could start out in the morning, hopefully reach the place where they seemed to appear by 10 or 11 o'clock, and that would give me a good hour or two of snooping around time before heading back so I wouldn't have to be out there in the dark. Hey, can you blame me? That weekend I stumbled through the woods on Saturday and Sunday but I couldn't find a thing, but the next week on Sunday I struck gold. I had been walking about 30 minutes past the end of the path, right about where the land begins to slope up hill and a little West of where all those big boulders are. I guess I wasn't watching my step and I tripped over something.