samuelpalmeira Samuel A. Palmeira

"The Bunker" is a psychological horror story where Leonardo lives in isolation in an underground bunker, protected from the devastated post-apocalyptic world surrounding him. Amid surveillance cameras, patrol robots, and survival equipment, he struggles daily to find resources and stay alive. The extreme loneliness weighs heavily on his shoulders, and each day feels like an endless battle against despair. One day, everything changes when he spots a human figure on the cameras – the first in months. Upon investigating, Leonardo finds Carla, a desperate woman seeking shelter. Together, they try to survive and find some meaning in a destroyed world. However, as they explore the ruins and face new challenges, Leonardo begins to notice something strange about his reality. As the bond between them grows, Leonardo is confronted by inexplicable events and disturbing visions that challenge his understanding of what is real. Amid the desolation, he must confront his own demons and uncover the truth about what is truly happening around him.


Ужасы Всех возростов.

#thepostapocalypticworld #psycologicalhorror
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The One That the Abyss Saw


"If you gaze long into the abyss,

The abyss gazes also into you."


Leonardo woke up with a start, the familiar noise of industrial fans echoing around him. He blinked, adjusting his vision to the faint glow of the emergency lights in the bunker. He sat up on the narrow bed, the rough blanket sliding off his shoulders.


The shelter was a tangle of cables, monitors, and equipment. Leonardo noticed a tool that seemed out of place but dismissed it as part of the usual mess. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the roughness of his unshaven beard.


"Another day," he murmured.


Getting up, he went to the control center that occupied most of the opposite wall. The screens displayed images of the city outside, with its desolate streets and ruined buildings. He watched the familiar scenes: abandoned cars, collapsed structures, and an eerie stillness.


Adjusting his headset, Leonardo activated the surveillance robot controls. These robots, his eyes and ears in the outside world, were equipped to face the dangers of the place, collecting information and resources he needed to survive.


"Begin search in sector 4," he commanded, his fingers deftly moving over the keyboard.


The robot obeyed, changing direction and advancing with mechanical precision. Leonardo watched as the automaton explored the remains of a convenience store, its claws rummaging through empty shelves and debris. The robot's vision captured every detail, transmitting high-definition images of a devastated world. For a moment, the robot's camera showed static, but it soon returned to normal. Leonardo frowned but continued observing.


"Nothing here either," Leonardo sighed, leaning back in his chair. He squinted, feeling the weight of exhaustion and hunger. It was difficult to stay nourished and alert with limited supplies and the exhausting monitoring routine.


Suddenly, movement on the screen caught his attention. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the flickering image of a human figure, dimly lit and partially hidden by debris. For a second, the figure seemed to flicker like a glitch in the camera, but it soon returned to normal.


"What is that?" he whispered, his heart racing. He hadn't seen signs of human life in months.


The figure moved slowly, with hesitant and stumbling steps. Leonardo adjusted the zoom, trying to get a clearer view. It was a man, or what was left of one. Pale skin marked by scars, eyes opaque and vacant.


"Survivor or threat?" he pondered, his hand hovering over the control of the armed robots.


Opting for caution, Leonardo sent one of the armed robots to investigate. The automaton advanced, weapons ready. The robot approached the man, who seemed not to notice its presence until it was almost beside him. There was a moment of tension, and then the man collapsed to the ground, lifeless.


"Another lost one," Leonardo murmured, turning off the camera. He couldn't afford to feel compassion. Here, survival was the only priority.


He turned his attention back to the main monitor. Each point of interest, each zone marked in red on the digital map, represented a potential source of resources or danger. He needed to find something useful, something that justified his effort.


As his robots patrolled, Leonardo allowed himself a moment of introspection. He had come this far, overcoming unimaginable challenges, but at what cost? His sanity was at stake, and the line between reality and illusion was becoming increasingly blurred.


The day passed in a blur of commands, monitoring, and brief breaks for hurried meals. He barely noticed the passage of time, each minute filled with the urgency of his self-imposed mission. Night came, bringing an even more oppressive silence.


"Time to rest," he said to himself, though he knew true rest was something he hadn't experienced in a long time.


He lay on the bed, eyes fixed on the bunker's ceiling. Thoughts of the past and what he had lost haunted his mind. He remembered a time before all this, when his life was different. But these thoughts were dangerous, distractions that could weaken his resolve.


He closed his eyes, trying to push away the memories and focus on the present. The mission would continue tomorrow, and he needed to be prepared.


---


Leonardo woke up early, and as usual, he began his routine for another day of surveillance. As he reviewed the camera data, an alert flashed on the monitor, signaling movement at the bunker's entrance.


His heart raced. It could be a threat.


"Intrusion," he murmured, activating the controls for the armed robots.


The robots moved into defensive positions, their weapons pointed at the entrance. The bunker door shook with the impact of someone or something trying to get in.


Suddenly, the door burst open with a crash. The camera's view was obscured by a cloud of dust. Leonardo held his breath, expecting the worst. But as the dust settled, he saw a figure entering the bunker.


It was a woman, dressed in tattered clothes with a look of desperation. Leonardo felt a strange familiarity in her face but attributed it to his own desperation and loneliness. She raised her hands, trying to show she was not a threat.


"Please, don't shoot!" she yelled.


Leonardo hesitated for a moment, his hand still on the robot controls. He quickly assessed the situation, deciding she posed no immediate danger.


"Identify yourself," he ordered, his voice firm.


"My name is Carla," the woman replied. "I... I was looking for shelter. I saw the cameras and thought this place might be safe."


Leonardo lowered his hand, turning off the robots' weapons. He approached the entrance, keeping a safe distance.


"How did you get here?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on her.


"I've been wandering the city," Carla explained, her voice a bit calmer. "I haven't seen another human being for months. Please, I need help."


Leonardo observed her for a moment. There was something in her eyes that seemed sincere, a vulnerability he recognized.


"Come in," he finally said. "But be warned, if you try anything, my robots won't hesitate to shoot."


Carla nodded, entering cautiously. Leonardo guided her to a chair, where she sat down. He grabbed some water and a cereal bar from his limited supplies, handing them to her.


"Thank you," Carla said, accepting them gratefully. "I haven't eaten in days."


As she ate, Leonardo continued to watch her, still cautious. He knew trusting someone in this world could be dangerous, but something about her made him lower his guard a bit.


"What happened to you?" he asked, curious.


Carla sighed, looking at her dirty hands.


"I lost my family when all this started," she said, her voice breaking. "Since then, I've been surviving alone. I thought I wouldn't find anyone else... until now."


Leonardo felt a pang in his heart. Her story mirrored his own. He remembered the lonely nights, the constant struggle to stay sane.


"You can stay here, for now," he said, trying not to show emotion. "But we need to be careful. There are dangers out there you can't even imagine."


Carla nodded, gratitude evident in her eyes.


"I understand. Thank you, Leonardo."


The following days brought a change to Leonardo's routine. Having another person in the bunker helped. Carla proved useful, helping monitor the cameras and maintain the bunker's systems.


"Here, adjust this antenna," Leonardo said one day, handing her a tool.


"Sure," Carla responded, focusing on the task.


As they worked together, Leonardo began to feel a bond forming. Once, Carla adjusted a piece of equipment without Leonardo instructing her. He found it strange but was grateful for her help. It was something he hadn't experienced in a long time: the feeling of not being completely alone.


One night, as they rested after a long day of work, Carla looked at him with a serious expression.


"Leonardo, can I ask you something?"


"Sure," he replied, curious.


"How do you stay sane in here? With all the desolation out there, how do you cope?"


Leonardo was silent for a moment, reflecting on the question.


"I don't know if I am really sane," he admitted, finally. "But having a mission, something to focus on, helps keep my mind occupied. And now... having you here makes a difference."


Carla smiled, a sad but sincere smile.


"Thank you, Leonardo. You make a difference to me too."


But Carla's presence also brought new complications. Sometimes, objects in the bunker seemed to transform into things that didn't make sense. He found things out of place, like a remote control among the tools or canned food where it shouldn't be.


One night, he woke up in a cold sweat, feeling that something was terribly wrong.


"Carla?" he called, his voice trembling.


She appeared, concerned.


"What is it, Leonardo?"


"I..." he hesitated, feeling lost. "I don't know what's real."


Carla came closer, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.


"We're in this together," she said softly. "We'll figure out the truth, together."


In the following days, Carla's presence brought some comfort but also intensified Leonardo's doubts. He noticed small things that didn't make sense. A soda can he didn't remember seeing before. Tools that seemed to move on their own. He tried to rationalize, but the unease grew. The cameras showed scenes that didn't make sense, and the robots found things that defied logic.


One afternoon, while monitoring the robots, Carla pointed to one of the cameras.


"Look, Leonardo. That looks like... a playground?"


He frowned, looking at the screen. The image showed a ruined playground, something that shouldn't be in the area where the robot was patrolling.


"That wasn't on the map," he murmured, confused. "Sector 4 is an industrial zone. There are no parks there."


Carla looked at him, worried.


"Maybe we should investigate in person," she suggested.


Against his instinct to stay in the bunker, Leonardo agreed. They equipped themselves and left for the first time in weeks. The walk through the desolate streets was surreal, the constant debris and dust a reminder of how dangerous the outside world was.


When they reached the location, what they saw left them even more perplexed. The playground seemed too clean, as if it had been preserved by a charm. Leonardo felt a chill.


"This doesn't make sense," he said. "How can this be here?"


Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his head. He fell to his knees, holding his head as flashes of memories and distorted images flooded his mind. Carla ran to him, holding his shoulders.


"Leonardo, what's happening?"


He looked at her, his eyes filled with terror.


"I don't know, Carla. Help me!"


She helped him to his feet, and they returned to the bunker. The headache persisted, and Leonardo began seeing things he had previously ignored. The monitors seemed to flicker, showing inconsistent images. Sometimes, he saw his own figure, dirty and exhausted, reflected in the screens.


At night, he woke up from a nightmare and went to the monitoring area. Carla was there, staring intently at one of the screens.


"What are you looking at?" he asked.


"I don't know how to tell you this, Leonardo," she said slowly. "But... look."


He looked at the screen, where one of the robots was patrolling a house. He recognized the house. It was the house he grew up in. His heart raced.


"This can't be real," he whispered.


Carla turned to him, her eyes full of sadness.


"Leonardo, I think something is very wrong. None of this seems right."


The pain in his head returned with full force, and Leonardo fell to the floor, screaming. Images of his life before the bunker flashed before his eyes: his messy room, the long hours playing Fallout 3, one of his favorite games on the PlayStation 3, the isolation, the loss of contact with the outside world.


When the pain finally subsided, he opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of the bunker, but something seemed different. He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.


"Carla?" There was no response.


With difficulty, Leonardo got up and went to the monitoring area. What he saw left him speechless. The bunker, once a high-tech center, was now a dirty and disorganized basement. Rusty tools were scattered around, and the walls were covered with insane scribbles: the bunker was not the safe, technological place he thought it was. It was a filthy, disorganized, and foul-smelling basement.


Leonardo felt the ground open up beneath his feet. Everything had been an illusion, a product of his disturbed mind. But before he could process the shock, something else caught his attention. Amid the disorder, there was a large mirror. When he approached, he saw his reflection. But as he looked closer, he noticed something that paralyzed him.


In the reflection, behind him, was Carla, but she looked different. Her image was distorted, like a shadow of someone he knew very well. He turned quickly, but the space behind him was empty.


"Carla?" he called, his voice trembling.


No response. He looked back at the mirror, and Carla's figure was still there, now with an enigmatic smile.


"No... this can't be real," he murmured, feeling panic rise up his spine.


Suddenly, the figure in the mirror began to transform. Carla's features melded and changed, revealing a familiar figure. It was himself, but with a look of pure madness. The mocking image began to laugh.


Leonardo fell to his knees, holding his head as flashes of memories and distorted images flooded his mind. He realized, with horror, that Carla never existed. She was a projection of his mind, a desperate creation to combat loneliness and fear. Everything he experienced, every interaction and every moment, had been an illusion.


"No... this can't be true," he whispered, tears streaming down his face.


He looked around again, seeing the true state of his environment. The walls were covered with scribbles and formulas, meaningless words written in a frantic attempt to find order in the chaos.


With the crushing revelation, Leonardo began to scream. It was in this state of absolute despair that his neighbor, drawn by the noise, found him. Shocked by the scene, the neighbor called for emergency services.


Taken to a clinic, Leonardo was diagnosed with a psychotic break induced by isolation and an obsession with post-apocalyptic games. In the hospital, under medical care, the fog of his mind slowly began to clear.


As he recovered, Leonardo reflected on the abyss he had fallen into. The struggle for sanity would be long, but for the first time in a long time, he felt a spark of hope.



22 мая 2024 г. 3:32 1 Отчет Добавить Подписаться
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Samuel A. Palmeira Observar la realidad y describirla creativamente es como mirar las sombras en la caverna de Platón, buscando capturar la esencia última de las formas ideales a través de la lente de nuestra existencia terrenal, uniendo así lo divino con lo humano en un acto de creación que refleja la luz inmutable de la verdad eterna. (Samuel Palmeira)

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