Yerin’s Saturday night odd encounter(Yerin)
Date: 2025-11-22 22:49
(Yerin’s Saturday night odd encounter(Yerin):Yerin)
[Sat Nov 22 2025]
In Mirror Maze
The mirror maze occupies a darkened pavilion structure, its entrance marked
by a narrow doorway draped with heavy black curtains. Inside, the space
consists of a labyrinth of floor-to-ceiling mirrors set at precise angles,
creating an endless multiplication of reflections that disorient visitors
attempting to navigate the passages. The mirrors themselves show signs of age
– some bearing hairline cracks or spots where the silvering has begun to
oxidize, creating dark patches that seem to absorb rather than reflect light.
The floor is painted matte black, worn smooth in the center of the pathways
from countless footsteps, while the ceiling remains lost in shadow above the
reach of the dim colored bulbs strung along the mirror frames. The air inside
carries the musty scent of old canvas and the faint metallic tang that clings
to aging glass. Smudged handprints at various heights mark where visitors
have felt their way through the maze, and in certain corners where the
mirrors meet at acute angles, the reflections create peculiar distortions
that stretch and compress images into unrecognizable forms.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Carnation and Washington
(Your target discovers a vintage radio that only picks up broadcasts from 1947 – including desperate warnings about events that are happening in the present day. They must decode the temporal paradox before the static-filled prophecies come true.)
Some strange chatter intersped with static and buzzing starts to sound out of the blue. Some muffled voice that almost sounds like gibberish comes crackling out.
“-repeat, the event begins tonight. If anyone can hear this…” The voice dissolves, replaced by frantic Morse code beeping and the faint hum of an air-raid siren.
Busy exploring the mirror maze, Ashely’s heels clack softly against the concrete beneath before the sound of static assaults Ashely’s ears, then a voice. She perks up “Event huh?” She murmurs to herself, creeping towards the sound. A radio? Definetely not a person making those noises.
Odd thing to be finding in a mirror maze, Or perhaps finding this radio is exactly the sort of thing planted here for someone curious like Ashely to find. The noise guides those curious right where it has been apparently abandoned. A squat, boxy ham unit from a handful of decades ago, at a glance. Heavy enough to dent a desk and built from dark, oil-stained metal. The warbling voice is soft-spoken, but grows clearer amidst the static, growing hopeful all of a sudden as if on cue for Ashely’s arrival.
“-repeat, the creature is in the air- large, squat…”
“-summoned by the…”
“-no time- if you can hear us. Do not ignore this-” The transmission sputters, the signal wobbling as if being shaken by unseen hands. Then one of the dials starts to turn of its own accord, the static intensifying.
Ashely picks up the radio, but without much clue how to use it. She was raised on cell phones, so she just sort of tries all the buttons “Okay, I bet you can’t text on this.” she says idly as she just by incident presses the transmit button. “So like, are we in the middle of a call?” her voice goes in and out as she doesn’t realize she needs to hold anything down to talk.
Idly she pulls out her cell phone to look up how to use the device, eventually perhaps figuring out how it works. “Uh, hello?”
The ham radio is no doubt way before Ashely’s time. It’s large, boxy, and downright barbaric and primitive compared to Ashely’s phone. When she picks it up, the bulky microphone plugged into it works loose from its socket, a red indicator over its mouthpiece – like it’s on. “…me base?” The voice is instantly filled with relief. “…ade it inside. Not a lot of time. Bleeding. But I’m in.” Some static makes whatever else the soft-spoken voice says for a brief moment. “…hour before it starts. Plenty of time, right?” Also on that desk, right where the ham radio was posted is a set of instructions labeled: ‘Toying With a Life’
Ashely perks up at seeing the instructions “Oh cool, this is way better than whatever reddit post is babbling about this thing.” She says, sliding away her phone and starting to go over the instructions “Yeah yeah, you’ve got plenty of time, don’t worry babe.” She chirps cheerfully into the radio. “Oh, if you’re bleeding you should probably call like a medic or something? Uhm, hello? How do I get to you? I can probably like, help you out for a little bit of cash, fo-sho.”
“…what?” The static makes the confusion utterly palpable. “Er…” There’s a clearing of a throat, and just like that, all the static interference seems to dissiapate. The connection is crystal clear. “Reported sightings at Terminus Boulevard. Local Authorities advise all residents to remain indoors. Repeat, remain indoors.” Then the microphone buzzes again, with the static returning with a vengeance. “…what do we do? If you can hear me, please advise.”
The Instructions that Ashely has reads: TOYING WITH A LIFE – ‘If you are reading this, the connection has already begun. Someone on the other end of the radio believes you are their only hope. Whether thats true is entirely up to you. Help them out by aligning the base frequency with the main tuning dial to 147.3 kHz. Setting it to something else will have dire consequences. Either for them, or you.’
Ashely blinks at the instructions “Oh my gawd, are you threatening me?” she interrogates the inanimate instruction. “I’ve half a mind to totally set this to like a kazillion, then we’ll see who’s suffering dire consequences.” she says in a threatening tone to the, again, inanimate instructions. Muttering under her breath she relents under its relentless silence and sets the dial to 147.3 “Hey, babes, gonna come help. Hope you have cash.” she chirps into the radio.
Terminus Blvd? She’s pretty sure that’s not a street in Haven. Oh well.
“…no!” The voice on the other end exclaims, exasperated crackling ringing around their voice. Whenever the dial is turned, it has a satisfying click. Once the frequency is set, the crackling interference fades again, and the discordant hum evens out, like a quiet heartbeat. Suddenly all social media within New Haven is abuzz. Some news that a Windermere student has made wild claims and is fighting for her life to escape from the sewer tunnels system. Reactions are dismissive to outright laughing at her expense.
“…I don’t know where I am!” This one belongs to a a woman. “I just woke up in the dark! I think I’m in the sewer system. I got… eighteen bucks.” That’s pretty loaded for a broke college kid, to be fair.
The second set of instructions in Ashely’s possession now reads: Match the Harmonic Pair Set the upper side frequency to +12.5 and the lower side frequency to -12.7. This will give your partner ‘Clarity’.
Ashely beams happily, that’s two dollars more than the last person she robbed. “Oh, huh, I wonder what Clarity is? Maybe it’ll stop like cutting out then.” she says as she looks at the radio. Upper, +12.5, lower -12.7. That like almost cancels out doesn’t it? All right, she adjusts the knobs. “This is kinda cool, reminds me of those puzzles the psychiatrists would give me.” she says to no one in particular. “Hello, can you hear me now, you’re in the sewers? Like gross. Why don’t you climb out? Aren’t there like access ladders and stuff?” She asks in a bewildered tone.
*Static pops, a static, dragging hiss returns*
A newscaster’s dry nasal tone comes speaking back at Ashely. “-we’re getting new information from the North End. Residents are reporting seeing the creature descending into a manhole. Multiple callers described a… a squat, stocky thing with arms too long-”
Once the frequencies have been paired, or mirrored, the girl’s frantic voice comes shrieking from the radio. “…broke my arm! There was this thing that was chasing me on my way to class! I hate this place so much. Come get me!” she wails. The second set of instructions is mysteriously crossed out, and a third line appears, glowing briefly: ‘Stabilize the Drift. Flip the Drift Switch to Position B, then to A, then B again. You must then nudge the Fine-Tune Wheel until the satic briefly sounds like a rushing wind. Keep it there, and broadcast should reveal your partner’s location.’
Ashely frowns “This is super sus.” she says to the instructions. This piece of paper has raised her hackles and drawn her ire. With malice she rakes a single, sharp nail down the side of it “Why can’t I do these instructions, huh?” he demands of it, pointing to the crossed out part. “I bet I could read it if I tried hard enough.” She tries to focus on the crossed out instructions to see if she can make them out. Maybe she was bluffing, maybe there’s no way, but the piece of paper probably doesn’t know that!
As she works at deciphering them, her she starts fiddling around with the radio “I wonder what a drift switch is? Well there’s only so many knobs on here. Oh, this one has an A and a B, it’s gotta be the right one.” She does what the legible instructions tell her, but she’ll work out the missing instructions later. “Okay, this’ll tell me where you are, then I’m coming to get you, and you’re gonna give me the eighteen dollars, kay?” she chirps cheerfully.
“-Found strangled and bloated with… under these unfortunate circumstances. Her name was Kimberly Miller.” That dry nasal tone comes back again, without an ounce of sympathy for the deceased. As if on cue, everyone’s discussing a Kimberly Miller on Windermere’s situation if Ashely cared at all about the going-ons back in Haven, apparently having been dumped into the sewers by someone she had no good reason messing with.
Whatever Ashely did, it seemed to have done the trick. The broadcast is suddenly aligned with a shift in Ashely’s surroundings as a soft whistling like wind caresses her ears. “Miller was found under in the sewage system under a manhole at 103 Market Street. Her family will be hosting a vigil in her honour on December 1st.”
Then this supposed Kimberly’s voice wails out, directed right at Ashely. “Get me out of here! Please! EIGHTEEN BIG ONES! WITH YOUR NAME ON- ow my arm…” The instructions all fade out, and some funky influence takes over Ashely’s phone, opening a GPS app to none other than Market Street Electronics in New Haven.
Ashely frowns a bit “This is super sus, the people on the news are saying you already had a funeral.” She mutters into the radio. She shrugs a bit “Oh whatevs. I hope I get sewage on my dress.” she says spitefully as she glances down with raw malice in her eyes at the dress she wears. “All right, now to just… Get out of the mirror maze.” she smirks a bit as she starts to follow her phone. Eventually realizing she’s kinda trapped, she moves to just rundown one of the mirrors, having walked through a busted on on the way in. She figures whoever busted it knew what’s up.
“Eighteen dollars!” The frantic buzzing long behind Ashely stresses. “…all yours!” But by then Ashely’s busting through the mirrors, solving the maze her own way. If she can keep doing that with every mirrored wall she meets, she’ll be out of there in no time. A strange influence works itself around her, perhaps part of whatever was involved with the strange radio, but she soon finds herself fully out in the open, with the exit to the maze well within her sights.
Ashely breaks into a sprint as she spots the edge “Don’t worry, I’m coming, just like don’t get sewage on the money.” she pants into the radio as she makes a dash for her motorbike outside. Uhhh, market street. That’s downtown. Not far probably. “God, my boss is gonna chew me out for this, but whatevs.”
After she’s escaped that maze of mirrors and finds her bike just where she left it, what might stop her is an odd little giftbox. It’s neatly wrapped and rudely taking up space on the seat to her bike, waiting for someone to open it. There’s even a tag which reads: To the Hero of New Haven.
Ashely doesn’t hesitate “Oh I hope it’s like some sneaky trap.” she says as she plucks up the gift box. She pauses, looking to the radio “Hello?” She asks softly. It went silent did it? That’s, uh not good… Her gaze shifts to the box longingly. “I really shouldn’t spring a trap on myself before I save Kimberly.” she says outloud. “I guess I’ll just like disarm this one?”
Ashely checks out the box with a quick search, barely even a glance really, but maybe she’s experience at this?
… And then, Ashely opens it.
That radio is dead silent now. No buzz, no crackle, no desperate pleas. It’s not even there anymore, like it was replaced by the innocuous gift box in the same colour scheme as her dress. The bow holding the lid down is easily done away with it, and for Ashely’s trouble she finds a nice wad of cash waiting inside, tucked and folded. Eighteen crisp one dollar bills, sans the name of this mysterious, would-be hero. A light breeze tickles at the nape of Ashely’s head, and flutters at the hem of her dress before fading. It almost sounds like a whisper, but any message to be gleaned from such is hard to decipher.
Ashely squeals with delight as she takes the money “Oh my gawd, I should be a hero more often. Maybe I’ll quit my job as like a criminal and…”
Ashely yipes “Nope, still a criminal.”