- Name: Trent Moore
- Pronouns: He/him
- Date: April 10, 2020
- Occupation: Security guard at St. Cedd Cemetery
- City of residence: Atkins, Michigan
- Date(s) of account: 2020
- Subject of account: The journal of Erika Thorne
My name is Trent Moore. I'm a security guard working the night shift at St. Cedd Cemetery.
Now, my job can be pretty boring. You don't get a lot of folks trying to steal from the graveyard after dark, you know? Maybe the occasional kid trying to vandalize things, but that's about it. So I tend to bring books to entertain myself. My favorites are spy thrillers, the kinds that popped up a lot in the 80s, when everyone was terrified of getting nuked by Russia. Trashy, I'll admit, but fun.
I'm rambling. The point is, the other night, I brought a book with me, but when I took it out to start reading, it wasn't the book I'd taken. Instead, it looked like a small journal with a black cover. Confused as I was, I opened it up and started reading.
The words are hard to read- look like they were written really quickly- so I'm going to write it down here myself instead of just attaching a picture.
"Trent Moore-
It's me, your partner. Erika Thorne.
"Today, I saw someone pacing around the graveyard. I hadn't seen them enter, but there they were, placing a poppy on one of the graves. I moved towards them to explain that they could come again tomorrow during business hours, but they just turned to stare at me. At least, it looked like they were staring at me, and it certainly felt like they could see me clearly, but they were wearing a blindfold. They stood up slowly, revealing that they were much taller than I'd realized, though it was hard to make out their frame below the overcoat they wore.
"I turned to you, Trent, but you didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. So I turned back to the person in the blindfold.
"'Who are you?' I asked.
"They sighed. 'Nobody at all.'
"I woke up and realized I'd dreamed it. I went about my day as normal, though for some reason I half-expected to see the person in the blindfold. When the time came to head over to the graveyard, I made absolutely certain that nobody came in. I must've gotten caught-up trying to tear you away from whatever goofy book you'd brought with you today, because I turned around, and there was the person in the blindfold, sitting on the same grave as in the dream the night before.
"The person in the blindfold looked up at me as soon as I registered who they were, and they shook their head.
"'Soon you'll be nobody too.'
"And with that, I woke up again. I was starting to feel a little shaken by this point. As soon as I got to the graveyard, I just stood by the gates and stared, ignoring everything you asked me.
"I heard a cough from behind me. When I turned around, it was exactly who you think it was. They were standing right behind me. There was something in their hand.
"'Here. I have something for you,' they said, handing me a poppy. It was the same sickly color as the poppy they'd placed on the grave. 'A housewarming gift, of sorts.'
"'What do you mean?' I asked as I turned it around in my hand. For some reason, I got more convinced the more I looked at it that it was the same exact poppy as I'd seen earlier.
"'I mean nothing at all.' They shook their head. 'No, all I mean is that I believe you will find yourself spending quite a bit of time here in the foreseeable future.'
"'Here?' I asked, pointing at the ground.
"They nodded.
"There was silence as the person in the blindfold regarded me. Then, without warning, they placed their hands behind their head and loosened it.
"What I saw behind that blindfold is... difficult to explain. It's hard to even think about. It was like my life flashing before my eyes, but it wasn't just my life, it was the entire universe, and my life barely lasted for a fraction of a second. But the things I saw behind that blindfold seemed to last forever.
"It's hard to say when I realized it was over. It must have been several seconds, because when I once again entered my own head, the stranger had already put the blindfold back over whatever was behind them, and they were staring at me expectantly.
"I started to sob. Maybe I'd been crying the whole time, but that was the part where you finally noticed what was going on. You placed a hand on my shoulder and asked what was wrong, and when I turned to the person in the blindfold, they weren't there.
"I turned back to you, and you were gone too. The only thing left was the feeling of your hand on my shoulder.
"And then, finally, I wasn't there either."
I can only assume my roommate Jon Chilcott got into my bag and swapped out my book for this journal. It would be just like him to pull a stupid prank like that, though this is a lot more literate than he usually is. After all, I don't have a partner named Erika Thorne. I've always worked alone.
Analysis
Naturally, I haven't been able to find any conclusive records involving this Erika Thorne. Another dead end, just like with Account 03. Speaking of which, the description given here of the stranger in the blindfold is eerily reminiscent of the old man in that account- not in terms of physical description, but in terms of how they work. Still, the lack of sources for either of these accounts makes me doubt that will help much going forward.
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