EotWI Interactive Pilot: Knock Knock [Start Here]
The stream dies, the power cuts out, and something knocks from inside the closet. Your first choice in the End of the World Influencer interactive pilot.
Alright, Creatures of the Night, buckle up. Your Narrator is trying something... different. My very first attempt at an interactive story right here on Substack!
Think of it as a quick Choose Your Own Apocalypse™: Closet Edition.
If you haven’t already began reading End of the World Influencer, you absolutely should…in fact you need to in order to follow along. But, hey, who am I to tell you how to live your life?
This is definitely a test run—feeling out the format, seeing how reality bends when you pull the levers. It might be a little rough around the edges while I learn the controls for this thing...
Dive in, make your choices (wisely... or not), and absolutely let me know your thoughts and any format suggestions in the comments. Let's see what kind of trouble you get into...
“Average…..?”
The stream crashes mid-sentence. Not like buffering. Just—off. A hard stop.
The kind of stop that makes your stomach drop like your body knows something your brain hasn’t caught up to yet.
You sit there for a second, staring at your reflection in the black screen. Backlit by nothing. Lit by… less than nothing.
Then the power goes. Full blackout.
Your apartment suddenly feels cold around the edges. The kind of cold that creeps in places it shouldn’t. Your scalp. Your wrists. The hinges of your jaw.
And just when your brain starts putting together enough function to say “that’s weird”—
Knock.
From the closet.
Knock.
It’s the kind of knock that wasn’t asking for permission. It already knows where you are.
You can’t hear breathing. But you can feel it. Slow. Deep. In time with your heartbeat. Which is rude, honestly.
So.
There’s something in the closet.
And you have two options.
The same two everyone always has when the universe decides to get weird.
What do you do?
Say something. Like an idiot. (Continue)
Grab something. Like someone who watches their horror movies to the end. (Scroll down)
You Chose: Grab something heavy and approach silently
Fight or flight is cute. You picked “blunt object.”
You don’t say anything. You don’t call out. You just move.
Your apartment isn’t big, and you’ve lived here long enough to know exactly where the weighty stuff is. The broken mic stand? Metal base. Good grip. Right behind the curtain where you toss all the junk you mean to “organize later.”
You wrap your fingers around it. Just in time to hear the next sound:
Not a knock.
A click.
Like a latch. Like a lock turning. From the inside.
Then—scraping. Something dragging across the floor in there. Something with more than two limbs. Maybe six. Eight?
Or maybe one long one that bends wrong.
Whatever it is, it isn’t trying to hide.
The air shifts. It smells like wet pennies.
You step toward the closet. The knob doesn’t rattle. The door doesn’t creak. It’s just… waiting.
Whatever’s in there wants you to open it.
Maybe it’s daring you.
You tighten your grip on the mic stand.
And yeah. Now you’re hearing breathing.
What do you do?
Kick the door open and swing.
Channeling your inner Alex. Nice. (Scroll)
Step back and Prepare Yourself.
You vibe more with Adam. Let it make the first move. You’re not here for bait duty. (Continue)
Kick the Door Open and Swing
Sometimes violence is the answer. Pissed beats scared, every time.
You kick the door open hard and swing the mic stand without thinking.
The impact is solid. Wet. Crunchy. Something squeals.
You don’t wait to identify it. You just keep swinging. You’re running on instinct, adrenaline, and spite. It helps.
The thing in the closet thrashes, all legs and gleaming wet angles. A mess of human hair and teeth. You ignore that.
You land one final blow. The thing jerks, then slumps. It hisses once more, then disintegrates into the kind of dust that smells like burnt sugar and drywall rot.
Silence returns, punctuated only by your own harsh breathing as you stand there, weapon raised, covered in whatever fluid the creature was made of.
Then, footsteps behind you. You turn.
Adam and Alex are standing there, observing the scene. Neither looks particularly surprised, maybe just... appraising. Adam leans against the doorframe, while Alex has her arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly raised.
“Well,” Adam says dryly, nodding towards the dissipating dust. “Aggressive. Messy. But effective. Points for initiative, I guess.”
Alex adds, her voice coolly analytical, “Interesting stress response. Your reaction time was adequate, though cleanup protocols will need adjusting.”
You stare at them, still trying to process the creature, their calm demeanor, and Alex’s detached analysis. You’re holding the weapon, trying to figure out what’s real.
Adam pushes off the doorframe. “Look, don’t worry about the existential stuff yet. You passed the practical application portion. That’s what matters right now.” He gives you a nod. “You’ll do.”
I’m invested 😬😶 what happens next?!? I have to know. I need to know! 😬