Video begins, followed by several seconds of static before the image becomes solid. The videotape shows a Caucasian male, between the ages of 19-25, roughly 6’ ft in height with dark hair; black or possibly a dark brown. The man appears to be in the cellar or basement of a medium sized property; most likely the same basement room in which the tape was originally found.

 

“My name is James Aaron Smith,” the introductory dialogue is interrupted by a series of loud scratches and bangs coming from off camera. The male (who will be hereon referred to by either his given name, or the qualifier ‘he’) swings his head violently to the side; the position the camera was found in relation to the layout of the cellar, we can assume that he is turning towards the door. (Let it be noted that, although the video does not clearly show James’ face at this point, it is my personal opinion that the noises at the door seem to terrify him)

 

“I have no family,” He says, returning his gaze to the camera, still visibly conscious of the noises now dying away from the door. He hangs his head before continuing “No friends, not any more…” He looks up once again, back into the camera

 

“The camera you found is all I have left now.” He reaches into his pocket, removing a packet of cigarettes (brand unknown) and a lighter, putting one into his mouth and lighting it before chuckling sardonically and continuing “I suppose these warnings,” he flashes the back of the packet of cigarettes, featuring the surgeon generals warning “Don’t mean a lot now…” he pauses for a moment, taking a drag from the lit cigarette “I’m going to die, and before I do I want to leave a message, just in case anyone finds it, anyone comes up here and stumbles across what happened. I don’t know what happened, really. I mean, I know, but I can’t explain it…”

 

He removes the cigarette from his mouth, taps the end of it, and replaces it in his mouth. (At this point, the light shifts in the room and it becomes apparent that James is sweating profusely. Judging from the time-stamp on the tape (29/11/05) this is unlikely to be due to the temperature. This further supports my theory that James found whatever made the noises at the door extremely distressing)

 

“I want to explain it all,” he continues “but I don’t think I’d have time. I’ve seen what these things- no, this thing, really- does to people. I got some of that stuff on me, on my skin, and I could feel it trying to get in me, trying to find a weak spot so it could take control of me like it did everyone else.” (At this point in the tape, we can begin to see James starting to shake. This is consistent with the effects of withdrawal on the body, and from this (combined with further analysis by specialists) we can confirm that James seems to be under the effect of one or another drug. It has also been suggested that the shaking (and indeed the other signs that have been picked up by the specialists consulted during the course of the tapes investigation) may have been caused by a large adrenaline surge.)

 

His eyes turn off the camera, looking into the middle distance. (He looks pained, as if by recent loss. We can assume that the events leading up to the production of the tape have affected him badly.) If we look closely at this point in the tape, we can see that James’ face is covered in a number of black and red stains. We assume that the red is blood, although we can find no way of confirming this. It has also been suggested that the black marks may be linked to evidence item 114-68A, a sample of an unknown black substance found in multiple instances throughout the basement and its surrounding areas.

 

“It all started four days ago, when Jim, a farmer who lives a bit of a way out of the village, called up the local vet Simon Jennings.” James stops for a moment, apparently lost in thought “Simon said that something was seriously wrong up at Jims. He told us all that night that we might be in for another round of something like foot and mouth in the area; said that one of jims sheep had taken a serious wound to the side and was dripping black shit all over the inside of Jims house.” James gives another sardonic laugh “We were all crapping ourselves at that. Foot and mouth was a big deal over here; BSC never hit us real hard, but boy was F&M ever a bastard.” He pauses to take another drag from his cigarette.

 

“We never saw Jim again, after that day.” Another pause “Not alive, anyway…” At this point, the heavy banging on the door resumes, causing James to once again spin to look off-camera, towards the door. From this point on, James appears more manic and animated. It has become clear that he knows he is going to die.

 

“Shit,” He swore, throwing his cigarette onto the floor and rising from the wooden box he was seated on. He walked off in the direction of the door, and we can hear clearer hammering followed by a loud yell, voice-print analysis confirms that this comes from James, of “Fuck off!” He returns to the wooden box, looking visibly distressed from his encounter with whatever lay beyond the door.

 

“Ok, ok. I don’t have much time…” James is considerably more agitated now, twitching more and frequently stealing glances towards the door. From this point onward, not everything that is said can be clearly understood. Passages that cannot be transcribed will be marked as [inaudible].

 

“People began disap[inaudible]r that, Mary first, then Jenny, A[inaudible], Adam and his sister Gwen. Soon enough, there was barely anyone left.” He coughs, causing an amount of audio distortion. “We tried to leave, the rest of us. I mean, there wasn’t many left to leave, but we thought we could get out. Everyone was terrified, crying and screaming. Kids there lost their parents, parents their children. It was fucking awful.

 

“So Simon and I both decided we’d go and see if we could get any help. We loaded into Simons old car and headed up the North roads, towards Barstow. We got about a kilometre before we reali[inaudible]ointless. Through the mist and the glare we could barely see the makeshift barricade, Simon almost crashed into it, stacked head height with the carcasses of dead animals…” He paused for a moment “I – I think I might have seen a hand in there…But I didn’t say anything to Simon. I didn’t want him to worry.

 

“We couldn’t go any further, Simon wanted to have a go at climbing over the top of it, but I couldn’t bear the smell...” His face hardens, and his voice takes on a warning tone “If it ever comes for you, you’ll know it by the smell. That’s how you’ll know it’s there, my god that smell. It was sickening, vile. Worse than rotting flesh and sour milk. When you smell that, you run. Far, far away; you hea[inaudible]round to investigate. You just go...

 

“Everyone took that hard, we sent out more to check the rest of the roads but there was nothing there, just more barricades.” The banging doubles at this point, becoming more furious, almost frenzied “…It doesn’t want me to tell you, it doesn’t want anyone to know,” His face is now a mask of terror and he’s staring at the door, eyes wide “They’re coming. Oh god, this is it…” light floods the room, and the camera is knocked to the floor. At this point, the video cuts out, but the audio continues recording for a few more moments. Although most of what it records is inaudible screaming, the following words can be made out: “It’s the Ooze! It’s all in the Ooze!”

 

 

The case investigation is ongoing, and the evidence is continuing to be analyzed for any indication as to what happened to James or the people whom he mentioned in the tape.

 

Very few conclusions can be drawn from this evidence; we can do nothing but speculate on what really occurred before and, indeed after the tapes recording.

 

Additional;

 

In regards to evidence serial number 114-68A, the black substance or ‘Ooze’ that was found at the scene; spectroscopic analysis of the sample has everyone stumped. It appears to have the structure and content of a living organism, but it seems to contain high residual traces of Thallium, a particularly dangerous and toxic element. No one on the team has ever seen anything like it. The government had us send it away to a private institute for a more thorough analysis; despite some unpleasantness from my more…egotistical colleagues, it has been an altogether welcome arrangement. The presence of the ooze was beginning to cause waves amongst those who had seen the tape…

 

 

 

 

Janettes lungs were beginning to fail her, her breathing was coming short and fast, and she’d long since lost the feeling in her legs. She had to stop, she just had to, how long had she been running now? Half an hour, forty-five minutes? To her, it felt like forever…She’d lost Tom what seemed like an age ago, and his shouts had died out shortly after…She didn’t want to think about Tom, she didn’t want to be distracted, but she couldn’t push him out of her mind; she’d loved him since she first met him, back when they were both at Oxford; they’d had so much fun in all those years since, she couldn’t bear to lose him now, not here in some unnamed forest to a pack of foul looking, evil beasts, he meant to much to h- Her mind reeled as she felt her legs fly out from under her, an intense pain shooting through the toes on her right foot and up through her leg as she smashed it into a rock that was hidden behind a soft fern. She saw the ground coming up to meet her, but she was going too fast to bring her arms up to protect her fragile face. She felt her nose crack as she hurtled face first onto the forest floor, blood gushing down and into her mouth, the tangy metallic taste causing her to wince involuntarily and spit onto the ground. She tried to raise herself, and fell to the floor with a stifled cry of pain as she felt her shattered wrist throb under the pressure. She felt sick, a combination of pain and fear filling her with an unbearable nausea, as she listened intently to the forest around her, trying to pick up the tell-tale signs of approach. She’d hear them before they came for her, she knew that much about basic survival; all she could hope for now, she shuddered to think, was that they’d given up the chase on her in favour of Toms bigger, meatier frame. Janette was wrong; she never heard them come for her, their pads stalking silently towards the bloodstained patch of dirt where she lay, immobile; arm shattered, leg broken, muscles tired and atrophied from the long run there was nothing she could do but scream bloody agony as the animals tore into her, ripping at her bloody carcass in a rabid frenzy.

 

One of the last things Janette saw in the world was the glint of a rare beam of dying sunlight streaking through the leafy treetops, reflected off a thick, studded leather collar.

 

 

Tom’s muscles ached, his legs were on fire and his tendons were beginning to seize up under the strain of the pursuit. He wanted to glance behind him, he couldn’t hear the beasts anymore, just the furious pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears but he couldn’t risk it. He knew how dangerous putting a foot wrong would be in a forest this big, in a situation this dire. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake now, if he did it’d only be a matter of time before the creatures caught up with him and…He cut that train of thought off when the image of those muzzles, encrusted with the deep crimson-black of blood and ringed by that hideous, dripping black ooze came to his mind. He focused himself on running, the rhythmic pounding of foot on earth sounding so distant beyond the deafening sound of his own, living body. That helped, calmed him down and made him able to fight the pain harder. He began thinking about Janette, about how much he loved and admired her, how much he respected her and how much he wished he hadn’t convinced her to come up to fucking Scotland with him.

 

A scream cut through his reverie, breaking the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the ground and causing him to falter, his feet frozen on the ground, momentum carrying his body forward as he twisted hitting the earth with a dull thud. More screams pierced the dusk, as tears began to well in Toms eyes. He’d knew those screams, he’d heard them before but never so pained, so terrifying…; the animals had caught up with Janette, and she’d not been able to get away. Tom was conflicted, he was torn between self-preservation and a need to help his wife, he felt ill when he thought of those teeth tearing through her, pulling her apart and then, when they’d had their fill, coming straight after him like a bullet from a gun. After a time, the screams faded and stopped, and Tom knew that he had no choice now. With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the pain in his legs, testing his muscles briefly to assess the damage the run had done to him.

 

He’d come back for her; he had to get out now, but he’d come back for her. And when he did, he’d bring the police, the army, the special fucking forces and he’d make sure they put down every single one of those mongrel animals, as slowly and painfully as possible. With that thought, he began to run again, falling once more into the hypnotic rhythm of his footfalls…

 

It was dark before he reached the edge of the forest, the dusk had descended into deepest black and the beauty of the stars in the sky was a sight that Tom admitted he thought he would never see again. He could hardly breathe, his legs were in more pain than he could’ve possibly imagined and his mind still reeled from the loss of his wife but he knew that it wasn’t over yet, he could see in the distance the ambient glow of electric lighting and he began to jog towards it. The fields around him were sodden and deceptively steep; descending into a valley that cupped what looked to be a small village, quaint and homely. Tom had to stop several times on his way down into the valley, each time he did turning to scan the tree line for any sign of the pursuing beasts but eventually made it into the glow of the old fashioned, Victorian era streetlamps. Tom quickly got his bearings; he remembered this village from the local ordinance survey map, it was Hornsley or Halsley, something with an H. He saw, in the centre of the village a pub, with an old style country sign hanging over the door swinging slightly in the mild breeze that blew through the cold night air. Tom lifted his watch to check it, and found the screen cracked and broken; taking his fall on the side must’ve caught it on a rock and destroyed the mechanism because on closer inspection he could no longer hear its tick.

 

The village was quiet, nothing sounded but the wind rifling the leaves in the nearby trees and the distant sound of muted chatter coming from the pub. Tom looked around, up and down was served as a main street for the incredibly small settlement. There were no public phone boxes, not even the nostalgic tall red ones that seem to be the staple of quaint country hamlets all over England, so he decided that his best bet would be to go into the bar, get near some people, that might perhaps soothe away the feeling of unease that had crept over him since his arrival in the village.

 

The pub had a large door, made of a hardy, battered oak and painted a peeling green colour, the sign above it was too old and weathered to read clearly, but Tom could see that, around the edges it bore the same mottled green hue that covered most of the door. Tom hesitated; he knew it was foolish, but he’d heard too many stories and seen to many TV shows to not be unnerved by the situation. Maybe it was just shock, maybe he was still thinking like a caveman, but he couldn’t help but feel that he wouldn’t be welcome here, in this picturesque, alien environment. He brushed his feelings away, remembering his wife’s last sounds as his face hardened into a grimace and he pushed at the door.

 

The light from the pub flooded over him, temporarily blinding him as his eyes became accustomed to this dramatic change in illumination. He raised an arm to shield himself from the glare as he stepped into the warm building and shut the door behind him. The chatter in the bar began to peter away into silence as the locals turned to look at the stranger who had entered the bar, Tom thought that he must’ve been a sight, covered in sweat and dirt, face lined with pain, limping slowing into the bar must have been one hell of an entrance but he didn’t stop moving until he reached the head of the bar.

 

“I – I need to use your Telephone.” He said, startled by the weakness and strain in his own cracked voice, he leaned on the bar, letting it support his full weight and breathing a sigh at the temporary respite it offered his legs “I can pay you…”

 

“Here,” The barman, who must have been working down in the cellar before Tom came in, as his hands were covered in grimy oil, lifted an ancient rotary telephone up from underneath the bar “And don’t worry, it’s free. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

 

Tom tried to make his call, pushing 999 into the old style, spinning mechanism but the phone wouldn’t respond, all he could hear through the ear-piece was the shrill dial tone and the harsh racks that were sent through the machine when the numbered dial was spun. The barman set down a glass of clear water on the bar in front of Tom, who was still trying in vein to get a call through to the police.

 

“Not working?” Said the barkeep, tentatively

 

“No…No it’s just getting the dial tone…” Tom picked the glass of water up and raised it to his parched lips. He hadn’t realised just how thirsty he was until now, and he gulped down the water as if it was his first drink in weeks, it had a strange tinge to it, the kind you get when you drink the water in a country that you’re not used to.

 

“It…Well, it does that from time to time, I’m afraid.” He raised his greasy hands as if to say ‘Sorry, but there’s nothing I can do’

 

“I have to make a call,” Tom said urgently, his words beginning to slur dangerously “My wife…in the forest...” Tom’s vision was swimming, his sight blurred and his arms felt like lead. He couldn’t keep his eyes open as, with a thump, he fell to the boarded wooden floor unconscious.

 

 

Tom awoke slowly, the sun peeking into his vision every time he dared to open his eyelids. He felt the pull of gravity on his body, and the tight feel of thick ropes that bound his wrists and arms around a large pole. His grogginess was replaced instantly by the pang of fear, and his eyes sprung open to reveal a canopy of earthen browns tinged by the heavy glare of the overhead sun, he saw soil, leaves and trees as far as his burning eyes could see. He couldn’t think, he was overcome by the sight of the forest he’d tried so hard to escape. He tested his restraints automatically, finding himself to be bound tightly to the trunk of a large old tree, bigger than any he’d seen whilst running through the densely packed countryside. He groaned audibly, and as if it were a signal the forest began to move around him, the shadows of the trees falling apart, detaching, becoming a horde of cats, dogs, squirrels, mice a variety of birds and deer all with one thing in common: a ring of thick, sickening black ooze around their mouths dripping down, soaking their fur and clinging to their feathers. Tom noticed the smell of them, the smell of death, of decay, of fetid flesh and rotten skin. It was all he could do not to vomit as wave after wave of nauseating stench washed over him.

 

Tom expected to be jumped on, ravaged, and ripped to pieces by the deformed army of normally calm, passive creatures but rather they just stood there, watching him intently, their beady eyes brimming over with the viscous black substance, making them look like they were crying evil tears.

 

“Hello Tom,” Came a sweet voice from the shadows of a tree bough, directly opposite the large oak to which Tom had been bound “I’m so glad you came back for me…”

 

“Janette! JANETTE!” Tom tore at his restraints, ripping the flesh on his wrists and ankles in his futile struggle to free himself “JANETTE!”

“Shhh baby, don’t worry,” She said, as she stepped forward out of the shadows and into the light of the clearing. Tom felt hot tears burning down his cheeks, as vomit rose from the pit of his stomach. His Janette was gone, her flesh stripped away, organs hanging from vicious open wounds, coated in that evil, cancerous black filth that ebbed from her body like lifeblood “Don’t worry, honey. It’ll all be over soon.” She cooed, advancing towards him her arms outstretched.

 

“No,” Tom cried, sobs wracking his chest “Please god no, not you Janette, please no.”

 

“Shhh Tom, shhh” She reached out her hand to him, stroking the side of his face with her greasy, blackened palm. Tom felt the grime she’d rubbed on his him, move over his face, sliming its way to his mouth and nose, seeping in through every pore and infecting him with a disease that nothing but death could cure; he was part of it now, part of the creature, part of the forest, part of the earth…part of everything... “It’s all over now, Love…”