u/AdPersonal4335

"Flickering Consciousness"

November 1 2012 3:50AM

Act I - Incipio

When I was going on a walk in the forest during a camping trip with my friends, I noticed a weird bunker that looked like it hadn't been touched in decades, it was covered in moss and had bugs swarming around it. There were mushrooms by it and

It had a sign on it that said something like "Non iterum videberis.". When I opened the door, there was a horrific smell, It smelled like blood and smoke, and when I went deeper in the bunker, the smell got stronger. And there was this room that had blood smears, 6 candles surrounding a burnt spot, and when I got closer, it smelt so strong I fainted.

Act II - Crescendo 4:22AM .

When I gained consciousness, I looked behind me and saw 2 doors. I opened the first one and I saw something no human should ever see. It was a slim, tall creature with thick pulsing blue and red veins. When I tried to walk into the second room. It heard my footsteps and ran towards me me and I sprinted into the second door, the walls were painted green, it smelled like expired chocolate milk, the door locked by itself, there was a table, when I opened the drawer table, there was rat feces in it. It smelled mettalic. The floor was fragile, and the lightswitch was flickering, when I tried to turn the light off, I got shocked and jumped backwards and fell and hit my head on the floor.

Act III - Heartrace 4:56AM

Then I heard knocking on the door, and when I put my back on the door, I could hear the vibrations from the pounding. I noticed there was a vent on he ceiling but it was on the other side of the room so I couldn't go on the table and jump up there. Then I managed to climb up the vent and got stuck, after dozens of squeezes I managed to go back to the room with the candles. I walked out of the bunker to see if there were any other entrances. Then I noticed a hole behind the bunker and avoided it at first but I accidentally skipped a step and jumped into the hole, there was a long hallway that had a marble floor and paintings of famous figures with 3 eyes I don't know why though, then I ran as fast as I could for hours to find an exit. But then the truth hit.

Act IV - Gnawed Asleep 8:11AM

I realized that I was stuck there forever and started going insane. I started screaming knowing I wouldn't be heard, then I started banging my head on the wall until I fell unconscious again, when I regained consciousness, I saw the same creature from the first door. It had managed to run all the way and found me, but suddenly, it began screeching and I became paralyzed from the shock, I thought I was hallucinating, until it started eating my right arm, but I didn't scream because I knew if I screamt the creature would chew deeper and stronger, then it began eating my face, and that's when I began screaming out of primal instinct.

Act V - Aftermath

I am not sure what happened after that. But the only thing I know is that I can't even eat because I get reminded of when my face was being gnawed on. And to top it all off, I haven't ate for 4 and a half days, and to make it worse, I can see my bones inside my skin because of severe starvation. I feel my organs digesting themselves. I feel it, it hurts. Though I can't help it because I can't move at all.

Fin.

Visit part one here https://www.reddit.com/r/copypasta/s/hfgvgMbOmy

A week later, the house is quiet. Too quiet. My son still won’t look me in the eye during dinner. He pushes his dino nuggets around the plate like they’re radioactive. Every time I reach for the apple juice, he flinches. The wife keeps side-eyeing me like I’m one missed therapy session away from a Dateline episode.

But the craving… it’s not gone. If anything, it’s gotten worse.

Last night I caught myself hovering outside the bathroom door while he was in there, listening like some kind of deranged coprophagic predator. Heart pounding. Palms sweaty. When I heard the telltale plop, something animal took over again.

I waited until he went to bed. Then I crept in.

The new one was even more impressive. A true masterpiece—thicker, longer, with that perfect glossy sheen that only comes from three straight days of processed chicken and high-fructose corn syrup. It smelled hideous to top it all off.

I told myself I’d just look. Maybe smell it for old times’ sake. But we both know how that goes.

Knees on the cold tile. Sleeve up. Hand in the bowl. This time I didn’t even hesitate. First bite was pure bliss. Richer than the last one. Deeper umami. A hint of that artificial grape from the Flintstones vitamins he’d been sneaking. I was moaning softly, eyes half-closed, when the door slammed open.

This time it wasn’t just my son.

My wife stood there in her bathrobe, phone already in her hand, flash on, recording.

Behind her, my 7-year-old peeked out, clutching his stuffed T-Rex like a trauma blanket.

“Daddy’s doing it again,” he said in the smallest voice I’ve ever heard.

My wife’s face went through about seven stages of grief in two seconds. Then she just sighed, long and exhausted, like she’d been expecting this.

“Jesus Christ, Mark. Again?”

I froze mid-chew, brown flecks on my lips, half a log still gripped in my right hand like a sad, shitty cigar.

I tried to play it cool. Swallowed. Wiped my mouth with the back of my clean hand.

“Babe… it’s not what it looks like.”

She stared at the toilet. Then at me. Then at the toilet again.

“It looks exactly like what it looks like.”

There was a long, horrible silence.

My son finally spoke up.

“Mommy, is Daddy gonna get sick?”

My wife pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Buddy, go to your room. Daddy and I need to have a very long talk about boundaries… and maybe calling a doctor.”

As he scampered off, she turned back to me, voice low and dangerous.

“You have thirty seconds to explain why you’re eating our child’s feces like it’s a goddamn charcuterie board before I Google the nearest inpatient psych facility.”

I looked down at the remaining masterpiece in my hand. Then back up at her.

"It tastes like the nuggets, but better.”

She didn’t even blink.

“Mark. We’re done. Pack a bag.”

I’m currently typing this from a Motel 6 on the edge of town. My wife changed the locks. My son drew a picture of me with brown scribbles around my mouth and labeled it “Poop Daddy” in big red crayon.

I keep replaying that last perfect bite in my head.

God help me… I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Send help. Or more dino nuggets.

Don’t have kids.

Or if you do… maybe diversify the diet.