The Kilaran Files: Henry's Account

“Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”
– J.K. Rowling
When people mention the acronym KT, you could think of quite a few things. You could think of the knight from a chessboard, a girl named Katie, the purity unit of gold. However, a lot of people will shiver when they hear that name now. You see, KT is a very feared acronym due to who most people attribute it with: Kilaran Ticker. Why are people so scared of this entity? Why do they refuse to say his name normally? I have been assigned by the FBI to investigate, answer these questions, and present my results to the public.
My name is Daniel Hawtheman, FBI agent, currently investigating the mysterious disappearances following an unknown entity known as Kilaran Ticker. Through my investigation so far, I have collected a set number of accounts from several people. This is Henry Konan’s account of his encounter with this unknown entity.
I…I don’t know where to begin. You said KT, right? I don’t know why everyone calls him that, but I certainly don't want to know!
My name is Henry Konan, I went to Wallace High School in Wallace Idaho during the time. I was around 16 years old then, but I’m 31 years old now.
Well, I guess I should just start at the beginning.
It all started with school. I don’t quite remember when this happened, but it was just after winter break. I got up that morning, did the usual thing to get ready for school, and I would take my daily trip to the library. I remember very clearly what I checked a few days prior; it was The Wizard of Oz. Then, after my little detour I headed to school and got myself set up for homeroom.
The rest of the day was kind of boring, but everyone seemed on edge about something, talking about what was in the newspaper today. I don’t really read the news, so I just kinda stayed out of it.
No, I believe it was around band class that things got really strange. I was heading down the hallway to the band room when I thought I saw a weird cloaked figure enter the band room. I don’t know what came over me, but curiosity got the better of me.
As I walked down the hallway, I felt like the entire building was looming over me. I was getting this incredibly unsettling feeling bubbling from deep within my stomach, and I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. Just when I was about to turn around, I heard a loud crash come from the band room, like the sound of several metal objects grinding together in unison. That snapped me out of my panicked trance, and I jolted in, hoping no one was hurt.
Instead, I saw something different.
When I jumped into the band room, there was no one in sight. The stands were perfectly set up, the music all stacked in neat and orderly piles on top of the rostrum, and the instruments were all put neatly in their cases. No one was there, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Was I just going crazy? Was I losing it? I quickly shrugged off those thoughts. And then it hit me. There was no one there. This was during school hours, so where was everybody? I started to get anxious. I needed to tell an adult about this. I rushed out of the band room looking through every classroom. Each one of them was empty. With the feeling of existential dread kicking in, I picked up the pace. As I was heading to the principal’s office, I thought I saw more of those weird cloaked figures running outside of the school, heading to a van labeled “Plumbing”. However, this encouraged me to focus even harder to get help as fast as I fucking could! Just as I went to open the principal’s office, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I jumped with a shock, and turned around to see a familiar face.
She wasn’t a very…popular kid here. She was the introvert of the school. Her name was Amy.
“Gah! Don’t scare me like that, Amy!” I said, not exactly meaning to snap but proceeding to do so anyways.
“Henry. Whatever you do, don’t play your instrument today,” she said, fear and panic in her eyes.
“W-what?” I asked, rather confused, “What do you mean, ‘don’t play your instrument’?”
She grabbed my shirt collar hastily. “Please!” she pleaded, “KT will,” suddenly the desperation left her eyes, "Oh, never mind."
“Who’s KT?” I asked, slightly confused.
“It’s nothing,” Amy replied, looking incredibly eager to change the subject. Frankly, I wanted to as well.
“Do you know where everybody is?” I asked, hoping she would say yes.
Amy pointed in the direction of the auditorium. “Right there. Did you even read the newspaper?” she asked, confusion clearly evident on her face.
I shook my head, and said a quick “Thanks, see ya!” to her as I went on my way.
The school was as mute as a graveyard in the dead of night. As I walked down the halls, I could hear the vibration of my heavy breathing in my skull.
As I walked up to the auditorium doors, they shot open and a mob of high school children poured out to get to their classes. I pulled aside my friend Gary that I sat next to in class and asked what the assembly was about. He looked at me like a teacher stares at a kid who just got the answer horribly wrong.
“Henry, whatever you do, don’t read the newspaper,” was all he had to say. With that, he kept running.
Things were too strange. Who were those strange hooded figures? Why was everyone so upset about the newspaper? Why did Amy tell me that it would be dangerous to play my instrument that day?
I decided to keep the hooded figure problem to myself now that the school was finally brimming with life again. I had a great time playing tuba in band class, and I was just about to head home when our section leader Gary said, “Mr. Koran needs us to stay after school real quick so we can pack up.” So Gary handled paper organizing and stacking, the rest of us handled putting away the music stands and chairs.
Just then, someone screamed and pointed at the wall. Everyone gathered around to see what it was, but I couldn’t see through my colleague’s bodies. They were talking worriedly about this ‘KT’ person and how he’s here. Gary pulled me aside and told me to get out of there, saying that ‘he is here’ and ‘he will kill you if you don’t get away’. Just then, one by one, all of my friends started attacking each other, saying things in different languages. Gary soon joined the fray, tearing skin and muscle off of my friends bit by bit. As I watched the carnage before me, I felt the urge to run away, but it was like I had sleep paralysis. I couldn’t move! As what used to be my friends were now meaty insides showing from the outside, I felt the urge to puke, but I couldn’t do anything. I then heard a voice from behind: “What a good show! I loved that part where this Gary guy tore apart Soran’s face, but wow! I can’t say I hated the rest of it.” I turned around to see a man leaning against the wall right in front of the doorway.
He looked like he was in his 30s or 40s, with dark slicked hair and a charming smile on his face. He was wearing a dark suit with a red tie. He looked like your average gentleman, but something about him felt…wrong. Unnatural.
Nonhuman.
“However,” he said, looking at me and getting up from the wall, “there is one thing I don’t like.”
He started walking towards me. I looked around for a way to escape; this guy felt like bad news! I found an open window, and managed to snap out of my immovable state and lunge for the window. Just then, the man snapped his finger and I was frozen in place again. He pulled his finger in as if beckoning for someone to come, and with a jolt I was two inches away from his face.
“The thing I don’t like…” he started, his breath unusually scentless, “is how you are still alive.” With that, I was thrown against the wall with an invisible force.
“Well, I guess some things just have to be done by yourself,” he said, shrugging as his fingers turned into claws. He threw himself at me, about to skewer me like a shish-kabob from Mazzah, when he stopped in mid-air. His eyes widened.
“You aren’t marked. You haven’t seen it,” he said with a tinge of surprise in his voice. With that, I dropped to the ground, gasping for air.
“Tell me, boy. What’s my name?” he asked me with a truly inquisitive look on his face.
“I-I…don’t know…I’ve…never seen you before in my life…” I said, struggling to breathe.
“Well, little boy, let me tell you something: I am KT. I murder people for fun. I break people’s spirits and drive them to the brink of insanity because I am amused by it. I don’t leave behind witnesses. However, I guess I’ll have to make an exception for you.
You’re lucky to be alive,” he said, with a sneer on his face.
With that, he walked out of the room. After I took a few seconds to regain my bearings, I gave chase, but when I went around the corner he was nowhere to be seen.
I guess I really am lucky to be alive.
(Henry then shooed us away from his house, saying that he didn’t want KT to get in. After this interview occurred, I took the liberty of rummaging through the archives of the Wallace Police Station. After around a few hours, I came across the evidence file for the Wallace High School Massacre, and found a few interesting factors:
# The boys were staring at Kilaran’s name carved into the wall,
# The instrument that Henry was playing had Kilaran’s name carved into it,
and 3) The school went out of business due to a tragic accident involving the mass murder of several students and faculty. No killer was found during the investigation.
Henry, to this day, still remains hiding inside of his house alive and refuses to say anymore on the topic of KT.
This is the end of Henry’s account of his encounter with Kilaran Ticker.)
Category:Beings