This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/benjamin4463 on 2026-05-26 14:46:34+00:00.

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Hello everyone! I found this note in a cabin I stayed at this past weekend. I was told you guys might find it interesting.

Not gonna lie, it freaked me out a little when I first read it. Maybe you guys will have an idea of what this person is talking about?

I tried to bold the words the original letter had underlined. I wanted to preserve the emphasis the author felt was necessary.

Anyways, here it is. Let me know what you guys make of it.

. . .

To this day I do not know whether to refer to the body as a “**he**” or a “**her**”. Those features had rotten away long before I had made my acquaintance, and I have not the medical knowledge to make the distinction with what still remained. Hence, I will use “**they**” when speaking of my… well not exactly friend… not any longer… but not a stranger either.

**They** are still out there. That is why I am setting my account to pen and paper, in hopes that those who may encounter **them** will have some measure of understanding of what they are conversing with. **They** are more, far more, than what **they** appear.

I spent every evening of the last ten years in **their** company. Perhaps you may think that it was against my will. This was not the case. **They** are enchanting. And **they** will only stay in your company as long as you allow **them**. **They** are quite respectful, in that sense. Not so much in others.

I think **they** are attracted to lonely people. Perhaps **they** are lonely too. I do not know. There is so much I do not know about **them**. What I can tell you is that I was quite lonely when **they** found me.

The first hint of **their** arrival was a low, pulsing instinct of panic. It felt as though I was being studied. That lasted a few weeks. It felt especially strong whenever I walked through the woods alone, as I often did in those days.

(I miss those walks. The woods completely engulf the humble cabin in which I live. I had so many sleepless nights in that cabin, then feeling… now knowing… that I was not alone.)

One day, as I walked through a clearing a little past sunset, I looked behind me. There, at the edge of the tree line, I saw a shape following me. **They** were pretty far away, so I did not then have a good look at what I was staring at. But knowing what I do now (**they** told me years later), it would have been a floating, rotting, nervous system. Brain stem swaying this way and that. A gelatinous, fluid-leaking, grey-matter, blob bobbing up and down. The hundreds of thousands of nerve endings swirling like frills on a dress.

But like I said. I did not get a good look back then. I thought it was perhaps a curious animal (perhaps I was not wrong after all). So, I kept my distance and minded my own business.

**They** are not subtle. Not in the least. **They** were not trying to hide from me. Nor do I expect that **they** will try to hide from you. But I must emphasize that this does not mean that **they** are dull. **They** are of a far sharper mind than either you or I.

Later that night, I spotted a skeleton strolling through my garden. **They** picked up a flower, a red carnation, and chewed its head off.

(Much later, when I asked **them** about this incident, **they** explained that:

“You had several such flowers. I did not think you would mind. I meant no offense. They were quite beautiful.”

As I said, in some ways **they** are quite respectful. In others, not so.)

And just like that **they** were gone. Blinked out of existence.

I thought to myself: “Surely I am mad.”

If only.

The next night, as I ate my supper (buttery mashed potatoes, caramelized carrots, and roasted mutton so tender it fell of the bone. All downed with a cup of Cabernet Sauvignon. But no dessert. As I mentioned before, the cabin was quite humble) **they** sat **themselves** next to me. One moment an empty chair, the next occupied.

The naked, rotting corpse asked if it may have dinner with me, and I agreed. I should have screamed, I should have ran, but **they** were so charming. It was intoxicating. All the airs of gentry put into display. I do not remember exactly what **they** said, but I remember how **they** made me feel.

In a word; special.

**They** ate **their** dinner. Bones and all. **They** did so most eloquently. Back straight, elbows off, each move with the utensils so smooth and refined it seemed almost like a dance. All the while **they** introduced **themselves** in between bites.

**They** are a traveller. **They** are looking for a place to rest. **They** love conversation. **They** hope to stay with me, if it is not inconvenient. **They** are in search of beauty. **They** love my garden.

**They** then asked about me, and I told **them** then what I will tell you now.

I am retired. I used to be a teacher. I do not have a family anymore. I am also in search of beauty. I plan to die here.

**They** smiled at that. Flesh hanging loosely from bleeding lips. I remember quite clearly **them** saying:

“It is a wonderful choice for such an important moment.”

Then **they** told me of an ancient mausoleum, now long destroyed: So tall was the structure that one could scarcely see the statues that adorned its roof. It looked across the Mediterranean, clear blue waters lapping at its feet. It was built for a great king, now long forgotten. **They** said it could not compare with the beauty of these log walls.

When the grandfather clock rang, marking the hour, **they** bid farewell and exited via the front door. **Their** worm infested legs did not look as though they had enough muscle to support **them**, but **they** did not stumble nor did **they** even wobble. I saw **them** walk into the trees, graceful as ever.

It was only as I slept that night, that the shock of what had happened dawned on me. I awoke, clammy flesh sticking to my shirt as I bolted upright. I explored around my house, clearing each room with a kitchen knife in one hand. Once satisfied that I was alone, I looked out every window of my cabin. Nothing but moonlit forest and creeping mists. Could it have been a dream?

It had not been, for I found two dirty plates in my sink.

I did not sleep that night. I spent it in hiding in my closet, knife held close to my chest.

When morning came, I found the courage to emerge. I spent the day barricading the cabin as best I could. Tables sawn apart to make planks to secure the windows. Closet propped against the front door, antique cabinet blocking the back one.

I could not leave. I had planned to die here in peace and solitude. No car. No phone. No computer. Merely a grocer who came out once a month to deliver a pre-arranged order. Nearest town was six miles away. Nearest neighbour two. Were I younger it would not have been a challenge, but I feared I could not cover such a distance before nightfall.

As you probably imagined, my preparations were for naught. Later that evening **they** appeared again, sat in my now tableless dining room. This time **their** top half was flayed, the skin hanging loose around **their** waist. This provided the only modicum of decency for the naked cadaver.

**They** looked around confused. I explained that the barricades were to keep **them** out. **They** apologized, got up and began to make **their** way out when I stopped **them**. I asked if **they** would not rather stay for a cup of tea. **They** agreed on one condition: that **they** help put my cabin back to its previous state.

So, we spent the night laughing and joking about schizophrenic paranoids while we repaired my humble home. **They** even put the table back together, I do not remember how. Sometimes **they** could just make things happen. **They** liked my Earl Grey; I remember that part quite clearly however.

(It is so surreal to write it all down now. All the signs I ignored because I wanted to believe that the monster before me was something better than what I could see with my own eyes. Even now, I feel disturbingly calm knowing that my death has been appointed to an hour not far. Is this **their** doing also? If so, I thank **them**, for I would not be able to hold a pen straight otherwise.)

As was the case before, **they** departed without fuss once it grew late enough. Happy as you please, **they** walked into the mists. Again, I woke up in a cold sweat. Yet now I was a little less frightened than the night previous.

This repeated. Night after Night. Week after week. Year after year until today. Less than six months later I no longer hid in the closet waiting for morning to come. A year went by and I no longer awoke in terror. Five and I found myself missing **their** company in the daytime. Each night **they** came in the form of a different cadaver, unique in its morbidity.

We spoke of poetry, literature, and film. Lines that made me cry and passages that struck at **their** heartstrings. **They** made me see the works I loved in a new light. Brought life back to books which I had read cover to cover countless times. I cannot express how wonderful our conversations were.

**They** introduced me to so many beautiful things. Things that I had never heard of before like the s...

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