Pale Luna | The Hidden Video Game (And For Good Reason)

 PALE LUNA

Warning: This is not based off of a made-up story. Play this game at your own risk. This is a false story, but the news report contained in it is very real. Please do not play this game.

These events happened to me about two years ago.

“Pale Luna, huh?” I said to myself. “Sounds cool.” I opened the App Store on my desktop and searched it up.

The description was pretty straightforward. Use text commands on your keyboard to move your sprite to find the treasure.

Nothing too suspicious. I had a friend recommend the game to me. Plus, I was bored out of my mind. It sounded like a pretty fun game.

I waited for it to download. While it loaded, I went on my phone and got a news notification. I opened it and found myself reading:

“Karen Paulsen, 11, was found in a forest near California. Her decaying head was found at a location which was given up in a video game known as Pale Luna, a text adventure with commands that may have led to Paulsen’s death. Police and essential workers advise the youth to stay away from the game to prevent further accidents that could result in deaths like Paulsen’s. The rest of Paulsen’s body has not yet been found.”

Great, I thought to myself. So now the FBI is probably tracking me because of this stupid game. Speaking of which, I headed downstairs.

Pale Luna was already opened up, which I found odd. The screen was blank, except for the words, “You are in a dark room. Moonlight shines through the window.”

I kept playing and found that only five commands worked: Go EAST, Pick up ROPE, Pick up SHOVEL, Pick up GOLD, and Open DOOR. Anything else didn’t work. One text especially creeped me out, though. PALE LUNA smiles at you.

Also, the commands sometimes would malfunction and I’d have to reboot the whole system. Like, I would put Pick up SHOVEL, and it would say, Not now. Or, even worse, I’d say, Use ROPE, and it’d say, You’ve already used this.

After about three hours of getting nowhere, I decided to offload the game, but keep it, just in case a friend came over and we were especially bored. However, when I tried to exit the game, it took away all of my commands and displayed a black screen. Then, the text popped up.

Congratulations! Points: 40.24248 & -121.4434

At first, I was confused. Then I did some research on what the points meant. It mentioned that they were actually latitude and longitude points to a very real treasure and fortune. Since I lived in Vermont, it seemed that I had to travel to California. So, me being the idiot that I was, did exactly that.

California for the first week was pretty uneventful, to say the least. The next week started my trek. I brought everything with me: a shovel, a rope, and a compass for me to go East, since that was the only direction that I could go in the game. I also bought a rucksack with food, water, and a map.

My phone led me to that exact point in the game. A step or two front or back changed the location, so I started digging at the very point where it told me to stop.

I didn’t expect to find anything, and I was just about to give up when my shovel hit something hard. Desperate for a fortune, I got on the forest floor and started digging with my bare hands. After my hand grabbed at something, I pulled it out, hoping to see a chest or a briefcase overflowing with cash.

I screamed.

In my hands sat the head of a child, it looked like a young boy. It was deteriorating and rotten and grey. I threw the head as far as I could reach and grabbed at my pockets for my phone. Just as I picked it up, I got a voicemail from my friend, Michael. The guy who recommended this damn game to me.

Hey dude, I tried reaching you about an hour ago. I found out that the game is linked to a series of murders across the globe. The commands are supposed to mean something, like every time you enter a command, it’s like telling the killer what to do to the victim. Don’t play it, man. So sorry.

I threw my phone on the ground. So me playing this game had something to do with the death of a child. As to how, all the commands came rushing back to me. They were right. They knew I’d come after the treasure. I had already used the rope to strangle this poor boy. I couldn’t use the shovel just yet; I could only do it to dig up the head that I found.

A serial killer didn’t kill this child…

I did.

Song Rewrites

I took some of my favorite songs and dug deeper into their meanings. Then I thought, "How would the song be different if it were from an opposing perspective?" I thought the whole meaning of the song would change. So I commenced with my experiment and did what any mediocre writer would do: I re-wrote 4 songs by various artists from an opposite perspective and looked at the results. If you haven't listened to these songs, you should. They spark lots of ideas for books, short stories, poems, and even intense, if not explicit fan fictions. So, according to my hypothesis, did the song change? Well, yes, but actually, no. I'll go ahead and let you see for yourself.

P.S. - I think songwriting has become my new hobby.

When The Party’s Over - Billie Eilish

The song is written from the perspective of a girl who’s felt heartbreak too many times and “can’t afford” to lose another lover. Here’s the perspective of a girl who has never felt heartbreak before and doesn’t know how to handle it.

Don’t you know I’m too good for you?

You’ve told me to be free, haven’t you?

Tore your shirt when you said you were leaving

But you tore my soul and now I’m grieving

Deafening a silent dove

Am I still your love?

Oh, I can’t lie, you said you’d never leave me, but now I’m bleeding

Believed your lies, and all that did was hurt me, now I’m bleeding

The air was damp, the sink was running

Showed you my dress, you said it looked stunning

Your emerald eyes, they looked like clovers

But they turned to stone when the party was over

Deafening a silent dove

Am I still your love?

Oh, I can’t lie, you said you’d never leave me, but now I’m bleeding

Believed your lies, and all that did was hurt me, now I’m bleeding

Deafening a silent dove

Am I still your love?

Oh, I can’t lie, you said you’d never leave me, but now I’m bleeding

Believed your lies, and all that did was hurt me, now I’m bleeding

Lovely - Billie Eilish ft. Khalid

This song is from the perspective of someone who feels like the walls are closing in on them, which could be a metaphor for depression. Here’s the perspective of someone who feels like their world is too big and they need a place to call home, and the only way to find home is giving up their extreme sanity to become vulnerable.

I thought I knew a way

Thought I knew a way out

But I never can escape

The darkness and the rainclouds

Oh, it seems to me that you can’t save me from here

The walls, they’re engulfing, and I cannot see you clear

Need a place to call my own in this barren fear

But the night won’t fade, and the walls seem to disappear

Isn’t it lovely? I’m alone

My mind is my crown, my heart’s its throne

They burned it away, my only hope

But I still can’t find my home!

The void I’ve fallen in

It’s inescapable, I know

And the dusk isn’t swaying

I have nowhere to go

Oh, it seems to me that you can’t save me from here

The walls, they’re engulfing, and I cannot see you clear

Need a place to call my own in this barren fear

But the night won’t fade, and the walls seem to disappear

Isn’t it lovely? I’m alone

My mind is my crown, my heart’s its throne

They burned it away, my only hope

But I still can’t find my home!

Driver’s License - Olivia Rodrigo

This song is from the perspective of the singer herself, who can’t believe her lover left her for someone who embodies all of her insecurities. This is from the perspective of the lover who left Olivia (aka Joshua Bassett).

Heard you got your driver’s license last week

Isn’t that a miracle?
I was so excited for you

But you forgot ‘bout that, so typical

Yeah, today I saw you cruise the suburbs

I think I saw a tear in those eyes

I know you think I’m with that blonde girl

Mmm… you think she’s relevant?

To make her smile, to make you cry,

That was never my intent

But today I saw you cruise the suburbs

And I thought you’d forgotten me again

Yeah, I was never perfect

But this love, it scarred me so damn much

And I think you can imagine

How it felt to feel your touch, but now you’re gone

Oh, I heard what you said in that song that you wrote about me

Thought we were forever but I guess that was just a good dream

Did I ever mention to you
On that day, how gorgeous you were?

And now you’re probably thinking

That now I say the same exact thing to her

Yeah, today I saw you cruise the suburbs

And wished that I could cry along with you

Yeah, I was never perfect

But this love, it scarred me so damn much

And I think you can imagine

How it felt to feel your touch, but now you’re gone

Oh, I heard what you said in that song that you wrote about me

Thought we were forever but I guess that was just a good dream

Green lights, road signs

I really think you should let me go now

And trust me, I know how it hurts

Please, dry those tears, do you hear

When I call your name in the rain?

Sirens wailing

The way I hear your whispers in the background

But they drowned under all the noise

Love, dry those tears, can you hear

When I scream your name in the rain?

Yeah, I was never perfect

But this love, it scarred me so damn much

And I think you can imagine

How it felt to feel your touch, but now you’re gone

Oh, I heard what you said in that song that you wrote about me

Thought we were forever but I guess that was just a good dream

Thought we were forever but I guess that was just a good dream

Heather - Conan Gray

This song is from the perspective of a girl who’s jealousy over her crush’s girlfriend causes her to doubt her own self. This is from the perspective of “Heather”, or the girlfriend of said crush.

She still remembers, third of December

You gave her your sweater

I thought it looked better on her than it did me

Only if you’d see

How much she hates me

I can’t help but hate you when you

Walk by

And stare right through her sore eyes

Wilting like a rain sky

You think I’d criticize?

I’d rather die

Why do you always kiss me

Whenever you think she’s looking?

You gave me your sweater

I hate polyester

But she likes it better

So go call her “Heather”

Watch as she waits for you

Hoping you’ll come

You know inside she’s hurting

She thinks you’re the one

On her chair made of leather

You still like me better

But look at the way that she shines in the rain

When she walks by

You stare right through her sore eyes

Wilting like a rain sky

You think I’d criticize?

I’d rather die

Why do you always kiss me

Whenever you think she’s looking?

You gave me your sweater

I hate polyester

But she likes it better

So go call her “Heather”

(So don’t call me “Heather”)

Why do you always kiss me

Whenever you think she’s looking?

You gave me your sweater

I hate polyester

But she likes it better

So go call her

Short Horror Stories

 Yeah, I know... it's a little early for Halloween. But it's never a bad time for some scary stories. I've put a few down here, and some are inspired by legends and stuff I've read. So go grab your blankets, grab your pillows, grab a friend or two, and grab your snacks—you're about to read some scary stuff. Or maybe you're scared of nothing and you find these funny. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Vampires
Have you ever walked into a room and seen a vampire? No, not the ones from The Vampire Diaries or Twilight. I’m talking about a horrendous, hideous, wiry, rattling, hissing creature, with crooked, yellow fangs and glowing red eyes. Their long, hooked claws perched on a desk or chair, their noses twitching at the scent of human flesh. Have they ever leaped into the air like bats and dug their nails into your scalp, tearing it in half and cracking your skull wide open? Have they stuck their faces into your brain, but have they done it without allowing you to feel the pain of it? Have you then realized that not all vampires feed off of flesh, but that some, a rare kind, will feed off of memories? You most likely haven’t. But let me rephrase the question. Have you ever walked into a room and forgotten why you came in?

Your Demons
Hello, dear. You probably don’t know who I am. But my brothers and I, we are your demons. Just like everyone has angels, everyone has demons, too. There has to be a balance. My younger brother, Shame, sits on your left shoulder. He tells you that you’re a freak, that you’ll never fit in, that you’ll never have real friends because you’re too stupid and weird. Fear is my older brother, who sits on your right shoulder. He outlines the silhouettes of the monsters that devour your feelings. He is the one keeping you from trying new things, because he tells you that no one should see you fail because then, you’ll be a failure. And I'm the worst one, but you see me as a friend. I make you turn to me when you have nothing else, when you’re just about to give up. And then I prolong your torture and make you feel every bit of it until at some point, your angels take you away. I force you to endure your pain and suffering. And I’ll never stop, because even after reading this, you’ll still see me as your friend.

Sincerely, Hope.

They Say Insanity…
They say insanity is when you do the same thing over and over and expect different results. I see why they came up with that definition, but they got it all wrong. Just ask me. I originally entered the building because my friends dared me to. Plus, my brother told me he’d give me a hundred dollars if I succeeded, and I needed the money. The building was old and creepy, but all I had to do was climb the stairs to the 45th floor. Seemed fairly normal. Sure, the building was old and rickety and was pretty much just termites holding hands, but stairs wasn’t a big problem. So I went inside, and the first thing I smelled was this horrible stench… something like rotting flesh. But even once I heaved my way to the 30th floor, I felt relieved that there were no ghosts, no demons, no cannibals or anything of that sort. My phone didn’t work up there, the network must’ve been bad. Finally, after hours of huffing and puffing, I read the numbers engraved on the plaque. 43. Just two more flights of stairs and my bet would be complete, my hundred dollars in my pockets. 44. Just one more. 44. Wait, what? I went up yet another flight of stairs. 44. I went down 10 flights of stairs. Still 44. I went down 15 flights. Still 44. And it’s been like that ever since. So no, insanity isn’t doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same results. Insanity is knowing that no matter what you do, your results will be the same. Insanity is knowing that you’ll never wake up again. It's when the sobbing slowly turns into laughter.

Murderer
Watching TV, a news headline catches your ear. A murderer just broke out of prison and is on the loose. A picture of her is pasted right next to the two news anchors, who look about as equally terrified as you. Suddenly, you jerk your head to your window. Shut closed, but blinds drawn widely open. A woman is standing directly on the opposite side of your window in the snow, smiling wide. She fits the profile of the murderer on the TV screen. Nerves frozen, you pick up your phone and dial 911. Pressing your phone to your ear, you feel a shiver down your spine. Your gaping mouth struggles to breathe. There are no footprints in the snow. You look back at the smiling face, appearing a little closer now. The face isn’t her face at all. It’s her reflection.

I’m A 911 Operator
I’m a 911 operator. I make more money than most of my colleagues, but it’s not because I do my job well. It’s because I work for someone else, too, besides my grumpy boss. But this job pays well, and I recently got a promotion, so I quit the other job. It was tiring and risky. I never wanted to go back. Until recently, when the situation demanded it and I was in a tight financial place.
I got a call from a frantic young man, who sounded to be about 20 or 25 years of age. It sounded like he was pacing back and forth in his house, breathing heavily. I heard another pair of footsteps in the house, but had no idea where they were coming from. I assumed it was his girlfriend or mother or someone like that.
“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?” I said robotically.
“Hi, um, there’s someone in my house,” he responded quietly. “I think he’s trying to kill me.”
I thought for a while, the heat of the situation growing on me. “Okay, sir, you need to do exactly as I say. The police will be there soon.”
“Okay… but please hurry, I think he’s insane…”
“Sir, I need you to go into the nearest room with a lock on the door.”
He paused for a moment. “Okay, I’m in. Should I turn on the lights to let the police know I’m in here?”
“No, sir, leave the lights off.” It was now my turn to let out a long pause. The silence was unnerving.
The man continued. “So what should I do now?”
I sighed, but seeing that I needed the extra money, I had no choice. “When he tears you limb from limb and crushes your skull under his foot, try not to make a sound. I’ve pleaded with him to make it quick.”
I placed the phone back down, thankful that we each had our own soundproof rooms. It would’ve been hard to block out his screams if my jealous colleagues had heard them.
I love being a 911 operator.

The Hanging Tree

I was told my mother would return home within a few minutes’ time. I was told the same about my father. And my brother. I do not know what happened to my sister. But none of them returned home. So I spend my days swinging from a branch on the tall banyan tree, calling for them to return home. The villagers walk past me and whisper things to each other. I reckon they talk about my parents. My siblings. The rest of my family. Recently a young boy joined me in my play by the banyan tree. He swings the same way I do. He tells me that his family left him, too, right here. He points oddly to the branch he swings on. I continue to swing on mine, my dainty feet hovering just barely above the ground below me. The villagers still whisper. The boy, he continues to swing. The villagers scream at us while we play. Still we hang and sway, our limp, lifeless bodies dancing like blades of grass in the winds.

Patient

I enjoyed working at my town's local hospital, even though I was told it was haunted. Sure, there were a few unnerving occurrences sometimes, but all hospitals are scary in their own way. I stopped working there yesterday. All because of Cassandra.

She got on the elevator with me about three weeks ago, and we hit it off instantly. We had a lot of the same interests, and I wasn't usually up for making new friends here. Apparently she was new and wanted to work here until she got a medical doctorate and could move abroad. We started to hang out with each other in the break room, but never outside of work. She said she didn't get out much.

Two days ago, we got on the elevator at the 13th floor, as usual. The elevator descended as we talked about what we were going to do for Christmas. Just then, the elevator stopped at the 7th floor, opening the doors to reveal an old man, limping to the elevator. He was yelling the words "HELP ME!" very loudly as he walked as fast as he could to the elevator. As he got closer, I noticed the crazed eyes, the pale skin, the cut on his forehead... and the shiny red band around his left wrist.

I immediately began jamming the button in the elevator that closed the doors. Cassandra protested all the while, and the man began screaming louder and louder. Finally, just before he put his hands in the gap, the door closed. He pounded on the doors, but we were already descending.

"What was that for?" Cassandra asked. "We have to help him!"

"We can't help him," I replied. "Didn't you see the red wristband he had on? We only put those on patients who have died."

Cassandra's mouth opened wide as she stepped back in the elevator. She sunk to the floor.

"What's wrong?" I asked. She didn't respond, but I saw her eyes go down to my arms, crossed in front of my chest.

I looked down. On my left wrist was a shiny red band with my name on it.

"I..." Cassandra mumbled. "I was going to ask you what that was."

Sleep well, my dears.

Powerless | A Sonnet

What Is A Sonnet?

A sonnet is a piece of poetry with exactly 14 lines and 10 syllables in each line. There are also 5 iambs per line, but the use of iambic pentameters are a bit more advanced. There are three verses, and in each verse, there are four lines. Every other line in a verse has to rhyme (ABAB format), and at the end of the poem, an indented couplet is inserted. An example of a sonnet is Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare, more commonly known as "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" Here's a short, love-based sonnet that I wrote for my English Honors class assignment.

Words are portrayed as they are powerless;

Like dust or dirt on the smallest of birds.

Desire or want has not been my prowess,

But dear, you know I’ve had a way with words.

The harsh, cruel winds, to blow, may never cease,

Thick clouds may forevermore block the sun.

Booming thunder may never be at ease,

Rough rains won’t refrain from my beloved one.

So allow me, dearest, to hide your heart

For all words may be powerless indeed.

But the warmth of your smile, that work of art

In this life, is all I will ever need.

  So, beloved dear, this is hardly the end;

  For in time, Death shall unite us again.

Gone | A Short Piece Of Poetry

Gone - by Aashritha Kilambi

The dew of dawn drips from the black of night,

The Western moon still shining bright.

The sun rises in the East and brightens the gray,

With the beautiful first break of day.

Green flowers glow in the dampened grass,

Their petals soft, their honey glass,

Water runs loudly not far from here,

Scampers from his corner, a lonely deer,

But all too suddenly, everything is lost,

The delicate petals covered by frost,

The deer runs back into his lair,

The water, to move, it does not dare.

Sweet honey turns bitter, a poisonous drink,

Tall trees, into the dirt they do sink.

And just as soon as Nature bloomed,

The chill of winter had it gloomed.

Just as soon as she glowed in her might,

The freeze covered her in a blanket of fright.
As quickly as she came, and the bliss she put upon,

She wasn’t loved until she was gone.

No Justice, No Peace

    This is a bit different than what I've been doing with my other posts. I'm bringing awareness to BLM. I'm just going to keep it short and simple. This is a piece of poetry that I think people should read and comment on because it's a very real issue that's happening right under our noses and we've been ignoring it this whole time. Black. Lives. Matter. Period. Even as a person of color, I will never understand what you go through. But I stand with you.

You think you aren't privileged?

Imagine being black

You're shopping at a corner store

And a cop puts his weight on your back

That's the story of George Floyd

Suffocated by police

He was crying for his mother

And screaming "I can't breathe!"

Now consider Breonna Taylor

Sleeping in her house

When cops broke in through her front door

And lit a flame no one can douse

They first shot her scared boyfriend

Who fell dead to the floor

Then they shot Taylor over eight times

And just waltzed out her door

And what about Atatiana Jefferson?

Who was at home with a child

Her eight-year old nephew had to see

On his aunt bullets being piled

Or think about Stephon Clark!

Who was just in his grandma's backyard

No more gruesome death can compare

To what Clark's grandmother saw

These are just four people of thousands

Who are recently deceased

Help make a difference by protesting

No justice, no peace

By writing this poem I'm not degrading any specific race. I'm exercising my right to speech, my right to post anything as long as it's not making someone feel bad, and my right to protest. If you don't like something I post, you don't need to tell me. It's not exactly important. But this is something I believe in, so I'm posting about it. Just a reminder that Black lives matter and that we were made equal. ✊🏻✊🏼✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿