Dunwich: A Creepypasta Panfandom Game

I'm starting school on Monday and I don't really know what to do. I've never gone to school with normies.

Like what do I wear?!?! We always had uniforms at home.

Right. Since there's no sign that people are going to stop showing up here anytime soon, and since we're in various states of acceptance of that fact, it might not be a bad idea if we had some place to talk about it.

Like a support group. So if anyone knows of a place we could meet up, talk, have snacks and coffee or whatever you have at these things, let me know? Preferably not a bar.

And let me know if you think you might make use of it, either as someone who could use the group or someone who's willing to show up so no one has to feel awkward about going. You don't have to specify which group you fall into and you can filter it if you want.

Cause I don't know about all of you, but this wasn't anything I expected.

Okay, so I've been here for over a week now, cool, cool, it's fine. I did get a letter saying that I'm officially enrolled at the high school. Apparently, all of my paperwork checks out and they have my class schedule ready for me.

That's weird, right? I figured since I'm 17 I would need some kind of guardian to get all of that worked out.

Is anyone else a Junior? Anyone in AP classes?

I'm going to need supplies, and I just bought a new set of highlighters back home, and they're the fancy kind! They don't bleed through the paper!

For those of you that are still studying the ghost line, or really all the other anomalies, I have thoughts or some things that might help. My suit came with me through the fog, and it has a tracking device as well as a communicator. I might have to fiddle with it to get the right frequency here, but I thought it might be useful.

I just have to say -- this is definitely the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me. And I go to a school full of werewolves, sirens, and gorgons. Among other categories.

ARRIVAL

The thick, ghastly haze of the mist, once practically opaque to the naked eye, fades and opens up to a nostalgic homegrown New England town. A friendly gazebo, freshly painted white sits on a neatly mown lawn at the center of the town square. Vehicles stop at the redlight while locals cross the street, birds chirp in the trees, and a school bus stops to pick up a few children in oversized backpacks. Pedestrians walk by you without a second glance. Did they not see you suddenly appearing out of nowhere? How could they not have noticed that all encompassing fog? And why doesn’t your obviously otherworldly attire catch their attention? This appears to be a small, close knit community. And it’s clear you’re not from around these parts.

But these are simply the first of many mysteries you’re about to discover.

The further you investigate your new surroundings, the more ominous this seemingly quaint and colloquial town becomes. There’s something dark beneath its pleasant guise. You can’t shake the chill at the back of your neck and the sense that someone—or something—is watching you. Then there’s the odd graffiti on the alleyway walls and the way the locals talk about certain locations. And while the mist is gone, there are places in town that make you reminisce about the mist. Places that feel supernaturally thin. Thin enough to let in whispers from the other side. Or maybe even screams.

And don’t worry if you hear laughter or the jingling chimes of carnival coming from the rain gutters in the street. That’s just your imagination. There’s nothing down there.

Nothing that floats.