The Thing At The Window

Chapter 8

I don't think I can hide it any longer. For the first time, I feel as though I'm in real danger. I guess I should start from the beginning...
Before I wrote my entry yesterday, I got an email from the address darceto.children@hotmail.com. The text, copied verbatim, is below:

Stop what you're doing. You are putting all of Darceto in danger. You cannot fathom the immensity of what you've started. End it now or we will have to intervene.

I replied to them with an email asking who they were and what authority they thought they had over me, but I haven't yet recieved another email from them.
I didn't say anything about this in the last entry because I was frankly too creeped out by this. I don't know where to go from here. The easy solution would be to just leave Darceto as soon as possible, and never speak of this to anybody again. But my curiosity is drowning out my reason.
I either have to get out of here now or not at all.

Chapter 9

I tried to catch a flight out of Darceto today, but the airport was completely deserted. The parking lot was full, but all of the doors were locked, and looking through them yielded not a sign of anybody there. All of the planes were gone, too.
I'm beginning to think- No, I'm sure of it- somebody is tampering with this now. Somebody opened the window that night and scared Buster, somebody sent me that foreboding email, and somebody is keeping me from leaving.
I'm not entirely sure what they're trying to accomplish. I mean, telling me to leave and then trying to stop me from doing so seems pretty hypocritical. The only logical explanation I can think of is that there are two different people/organizations doing this. Maybe they're in competition?
Having read a lot of creepypastas, I don't scare easily, but I'm really beginning to fear for my life. Michael can win the damn bet, all I want is to get back home and forget all of this ever happened. But I doubt whoever's behind this wants that as well.
I'm going to try to convince my uncle to let me use his truck to drive back home. It's a long shot, knowing how much he loves that old rust bucket, but with the airport rendered useless, I'm out of options.

I do rather like this. Has a bit of an unpredictable creepiness to it. And it doesn't seem to fall into any of the typical cliches of creepypastas like suddenly blood everywhere or the narrator is the monster. Not bad!

Chapter 10

The 'Darceto Children' responded to my email today. Here's what they said;

You know who we are. You know what we represent. You know what you will become. This is your final warning. Get out of Darceto.

I'm currently scared out of my mind. What they meant by "You know who we are. You know what we represent. You know what you will become.", I have no idea. I do feel a vague familiarity with the name, though. Darceto Children...
I asked my uncle about his truck and he said I could drive it back home as soon as pigs fly. I guess I'm out of luck.
What other choice do I have now then to find out what's going on? Maybe if I can figure out who's doing this, I'll be able to protect myself from them.
Assuming, of course, that it's just one faction.
Next on the schedule is visiting the House of Asphodel. My cousin agreed to come with me, and he has access to a handgun or two for protection. We're headed there tomorrow, and I'll try to bring a video camera to get some recordings of our discoveries.

Chapter 11

Oh god, oh god, oh god... My cousin James is dead. We went to the House of Asphodel like we had planned early in the morning... maybe three or four o' clock. It was an old church, and it looked like it hadn't been used in years.
We went inside and James started taping on his video camera. After about five minutes of searching, we found nothing interesting, and I was about ready to leave, but James, for some reason, wanted to stay.
Eventually he called me from another room and told me he'd found something really cool. I was about to open the door when I heard a couple shots fire from his handgun. All I could think was, "What the hell is he shooting at?"
I opened the door and I saw him lying, dead on the floor with three bullet wounds in his chest.
I didn't stay to find out what he had seen. Immediately I ran out of that damned church and didn't stop sprinting till I was back at my uncle's house.
I'm too scared to think straight. All that's running through my head is that my cousin just got killed. By who, I'm not sure. I've just got this sickening feeling I'll soon find out...

Chapter 12

My uncle thinks I was the one who killed James. I can see why he would, but I've already told him I was innocent. Needless to say, the fact that I was the only when around when James was shot is more than enough to make him suspicious.
Word got around fast that my cousin had died, but luckily not many people are aware I was with him when he was shot. I wouldn't want anybody else calling me a murderer.
I just caught my uncle on the phone. He was talking to the police, no doubt about me. He's ridden with grief, with his son dead and all. He stayed in his bedroom for three hours, wide awake, just staring at the wall.
The police will probably be here soon. I guess arrest or escape are my only two options. I'm going for the latter. It'll be a bitch getting out without the airport running, but my uncle has a truck.
Maybe it could be of some use.

Chapter 13

Darceto is much less cheery when you're suspected of murder. When uncle talks, I can tell he's scared that I'll hurt him. To be honest, if I didn't have the knowledge I did, I'd think I was James' killer as well.
But I'm not. I can say with absolute certainty that I did not murder my cousin. The facts are mixed up, and I'm the victim. I'm on the road out of Darceto right now. The truck is cramped and stinks of some unidentifiable substance, but it should be sufficient in getting me out of the town.
This drive is boring- there's nothing at all to see; just miles and miles of grass, maybe the occasional tree or hill. It seems like I've been driving for hours already. The monotony is killing me.
I don't even have to hold the steering wheel anymore, the road is so straight. God, I never realized this road was so damn long. I checked the time on my phone; I've been driving for six hours.
It's so boring.
Six hours.

Chapter 14

8 hours.

Chapter 15
10 hours.

I'm nearly falling asleep now.
The road's so straight, I doubt it would matter.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MAN DONT FALL ASLEEP PLOT DEVICES WILL HAPPEN

I would have liked to see where you are going with this. I ended up looking up some of the names of stuff to see if there was any mythology inspiration that I could use to suss the direction, but nothing that seemed significant/related enough tickled my brain.

Is the pasta alive?