Rattenkönig

----12/07/2016
Gregory Horror Show. God, that name takes me back.
To those uninitiated, Gregory Horror Show (or GHS) was a horror-comedy anime created by Naomi Iwata in 1999. It is about a mysterious hotel at the edge of reality occupied by Gregory, a soul-stealing mouse bent on taking over the world, and the myriad of guests that call the place home. If you’re unfamiliar with the show, you may be familiar with the 2003 game for the PS2. There’s still GHS-related media being made til this day, with an upcoming video game getting announced a few months ago.
I loved it when I was younger, and I still do, but one thing about it frightened me, and it wasn’t even from the show itself.
I was scouring the web in October 2011, still a newbie to the internet. I had found a playlist containing every episode of GHS, but one video stuck out to me. Right in the middle of season one was a video that seemed out of place. It was entitled “GREGORY HORROR SHOW SECRET EPISODE (RATTENKÖNIG)”, with the thumbnail showing a picture of a bunch of rats tied by their tails. I’ve attached what I think could be the image I saw, but I’m still unsure… 
Curious, I clicked the video to see what it was.
It started off a Windows Movie Maker title sequence saying “yo guys! Just found a new episode of GHS! You all should watch it!” It felt like it was gonna be some stupid screamer video at first, but then I thought about how it seemed weird to put it in the middle of a show archive, especially for something relatively obscure. 
The episode finally began with a shot of a hallway. Interestingly, the episode appeared to be from Gregory’s perspective. You could hear the room keys he carries jingling and you could see his gray hands when he looked down. He sounded out of breath, exhausted. The hallway was extremely saturated with orange and red, which was strange, the walls were usually brown or a bit grayish. Another odd thing was it looked like the model of the hallway was using more realistic textures than normal, like they were photos taken of someone’s house. The longer he searched, the more he appeared to be looking for something, or, more likely, someone. Soon, he finally spoke.
“This can’t be right…” he said under his breath, “James should’ve been in his room by nine, he’s never disobeyed the curfew”. Gregory’s voice was nothing more than just an anxious whisper. He wasn’t like his normal self in the show, which was overconfident and nefarious. Now, he was concerned, almost terrified. He peeked through numerous doors, trying to find his grandson, before something else caught his attention.
The horrific squeak of chains, something approached from the darkness.
Whistling soon followed, reminiscent of the song Judgment Boy would periodically sing as he traveled through the hotel. Gregory froze in his tracks, and the viewer could see the familiar glow of something pink and something gold. Held in cages, suspended by chains, carried by a so-called seer of truth.
“What are you doing here?” Gregory asked, frustrated.
“You know why I’m here, Gregory. Your currently wondering whether to search for your kin or to sleep until dawn. A split decision, my specialty!”
“Well, obviously to sea-”
Before Gregory could finish, Judgment Boy was suddenly staring at him with an expression of almost… satisfaction. “I know why the rats’ tails bind… easy to see, unless you’re blind,” he sung to the tune of his theme, “I know what they done with James, and there’s only one to blame.” He smiles, seeming to mock Gregory’s plight.
“Where is he?! Please… tell me!”
“Look behind you.”
As he spun around, the hallways changed to a black void, and we could see what had happened. Numerous corpses, some bones, some still with skin, were all bound together by the tips of their tails. Gregory’s breathing got heavier as the squeaking of chains returned yet again. Here, we can finally make out James’s body, weak and laying on the ground right by Gregory’s feet. “All owners who fall in Gregory House, whether past, present, or future, end up here. Just another part of the rattenkönig.” Judgment Boy could be heard scoffing and laughing as the episode faded to black.
“What?” I mouthed after watching the episode. The whole thing was off, this had to have been some sort of fan animation, right? But later that night, I had a bizarre dream that told me that the video wasn’t ordinary, perhaps even supernatural. 
I was in my bedroom, lying awake, unable to close my eyes. It felt like I was paralyzed from the neck down, unable to speak. I could hear someone whistling outside, approaching the door (which was closed). It creaked open and I could see a floating figure slink in like a shadow. “Do you know who I am?” its voice sounded familiar, but at the time I couldn’t remember when I heard it. It was echoey, almost ethereal, but clearly not benevolent in nature. I tried to respond, but again, my lips were sealed shut. “How does it feel to be an heir to the rat king’s throne?”
Suddenly, it clicked in my mind, and I could speak.
But as soon as I did, I sat up awake, in a cold sweat. I tried to find the video, but it was gone. In fact, no one else online has brought it up. It was like it was tailor-made to me. Was it all a dream I had?
No, no, no, it can’t be…
I can still hear the chains squeaking at night, right outside the bedroom door.
----3/22/2017 update
"I feel dumb, I feel numb. I can't see, I can't hear, I can't feel anything. All I can feel is the small notion of someone staring at me from the darkness. It got in, and it must feed. J.B. demands it from me. He wants me!"
This line was written in Frankie's dream diary roughly two hours before she disappeared. At the bottom of the page was a sketch of a human face, with obvious abnormalities. Visibly sharper teeth, a nose of a slightly different shade, v-shaped brows, and "glasses" that appeared more like markings. Underneath the sketch was Japanese kanji, 判定, or "hantei", meaning judgment. This was very confusing to us, since no one else knew it as a second language. We soon came to a conclusion that someone else had drawn and written what appeared in her journal. This thing was whatever my sister saw. He took her, now he shall pay. 
I'm going in. This is my choice, and I'm willing to live with the consequences.
----4/11/2017 update
It's happening again.
I saw her standing in my yard. Frankie, with her eyes wide in terror and face gaunt. She stumbled around the backyard like a baby deer just learning to walk. She stared up at me through the window, where I could see her bloodshot eyes. She was out of breath, crying, and just in bad shape. Instantly, I ran down the stairs and unlocked the back door, which leads to the patio. 
But when I opened the door to welcome her in, there was nothing outside besides one of those old-fashioned birdcages on the doorstep. Inside that cage was a dead rodent. It was nothing but a skeleton at that point, but I decided it was one of three things. A squirrel, a chipmunk, or a rat. Probably a rat, though, given the context. Another thing I knew was that it was gross, so I threw it in the garbage.
Like the idiot I am, though, I left the door open. Y'know how they say that vampires need to be invited into a home, that also applies to whatever in the name of God took my sister.
I'm also finding more and more dead stuff here. Flies, spiders, rats. I found at least ten hidden under the sink, all tied by their tails. Whatever it is, it keeps putting them here, I have no clue what to do. Maybe I should do the same as them.
Later that night, I was lying in bed, texting my girlfriend when, suddenly, there was a rapid banging on the window. I crept towards the blinds and raised them, tense and anxious. My breathing slowed, I was ready to go for a punch. I could see someone perched upon the roof, naked. Long, blonde hair, thin body, I could see her eyes. They were sympathetic, but insincere. Like a feral beast, she turned towards me and ran, banging against the window and seeming to disintegrate into the night like mist.
Soon, I lied back in bed, absolutely exhausted. I rolled around, trying to get comfortable. It was hot, then cold. It was impossible to sleep. At one point, I faced the old Windows 7 in my room that I hardly used anymore. This was the first time in years that it was turned on. As soon as it booted on, a short video started to play in full-screen.
----The Video
It started with the sound of a rat trap snapping shut, as if activated by accident. "Soon enough, they'll come looking for you. Soon enough, they'll ask me where you are. This is the only time they care about you, it seems, when you may or may not be in mortal danger. They just let you wander around this seedy place unsupervised. Easy pickings for someone with ulterior motives."
James could be seen cowering in a corner, visibly bruised by various traps. "Why... why are you doing this to me."
"I have no choice, James, I must do this. In the name of finding the truth."
"B-but, but I didn't do anything, right, I'm innocent?"
"Well, there is one thing. You're related to the owners of this retched place. That's enough to get the electric chair. You're lucky you're not dead," another snap, "already." Suddenly, a clap of thunder lights up the room, showing an uncomfortably humanoid Judgment Boy. James was human, too, I thought I recognized him from something, but I may be misremembering. "No one will come looking for you until I speak your name. It's like you're the middle child, but there's only one of you, not three. They never listen to my truth, they ignore my order. It was their choice, now they must live with it." There was then a loud, sickening crunch as the video ceased playing.
This was followed by my computer hitting the BSOD. Great.
The more and more this goes on, the more and more I begin to think that Frankie's spirit may be living through me.
----4/31/2017 update
I'm getting tired of this, I wanna just move at this point. Unfortunately, I'm stuck here due to my economic situation.
J.B.'s also started sending me emails, I think. I have no clue who they're from, but it's him, beyond a reasonable doubt. There's at least five accounts that just keep sending me the same message. I've tried blocking all of them, but every time I do, a new one pops up and fills in for the others. It's always Gmail accounts, too, with actual names. Aubrey Davenport, Quincy Johnson, and Linda Moore. He's even emailed me under Frankie's name before, piece of- oh my God, I'm gonna respond to him, and tell him exactly how I feel. This is what he sends every time, it never fails. There are some word differences, of course, but he always mentions "habeas corpus" and being my lawyer.
"Habeas corpus, Austin, habeas corpus. You don't have her body, so you can't prove anything. Even if she is still alive somewhere, you won't find her. You can't find her, I guarantee it.
-Signed, your lawyer."
I'm tired, that's all I can say. Every time I step foot in this house, it's like the energy is sucked from me. Like I'm being drained by thousands of mosquitoes every evening. If you don't hear from me again, don't be shocked. The police can't do anything, they won't believe me. I can't just call a ghost hunter, because this stopped qualifying as a ghost when the video played. I might call a priest, but they might not listen either. And of course I'm not calling Naomi Iwata himself, what would he do, anyways?
As I write this, I can hear chains squeaking. It's like I'm reliving my sister's peril. I'm leaving. He can have the house, I just don't care anymore. I'm done with this paranormal stuff. The rats tails can bind in this house, I just don't wanna be here. I don't need answers, I just need peace. It was my choice, yes, but I'm not living with this. I'm not living with this anymore, you hear me!
Habeas corpus doesn't apply, this is all the proof I need.
----Epilogue (written 12/07/2017)
It's been exactly a year since my sister wrote about Rattenkonig. She's gone, I know it, I feel it in my bones. I'll never forget her smile, her laugh, the way her hair flowed like a waterfall in the sun, her baby blue eyes as clear as the skies above. She was only 17 when I lost her to that retched thing that takes the form of the scales of balance. I have a new place in northern Wisconsin, up in the snow, right at the Rust Belt. I have set up a little memorial to Frankie up in my room, which I sometimes catch myself looking.
Just today I received something in the mail. I had no clue what it was until I got home. It was in a huge, unmarked cardboard box. Inside it was a physical copy of the whole of GHS, with a sticky note right in front of Gregory's face. "You have grieved properly, you've lived with your choices. You may accept this as a token of my peace towards you, sir. Someone will arrive soon."
I placed the Blu-ray down on my TV stand when the doorbell rang again. I ran back over and saw a high-school-aged boy standing before me. He had short, black hair, and a wide, flat face. He was quite ordinary looking, but a bit strange all at once.
"Hey, are you Mr. Magnussen?"
"Yeah, uh, I am, who are you? Or more importantly, how do you know my name?"
"I'm doing a school project."
"What's it for?"
"I'm writing an essay about grief and how people cope with a loved one's death, and see, I heard of your sister Frankie's suicide in the newspaper. We weren't allowed to do anything within the year, so I dug up one of my grandpa's Hurricane Gazettes."
"Wait... what." I sputtered, trying to wrap my mind around what I heard. 
The boy handed me the local paper from late 2016, and I saw it in the obituary section. Frankie Magnussen, artist, writer, lover. Beside her picture was a poem.
"Rats, by Frankie
Rats are tricky little creatures, mind running mile-minute
Sometimes we are like that too, only we know when to quit it.
I'd hate to compare them to us men, but here, I always find
That like the infamous rattenkonigs, our mental tails will bind.
We get caught up in the whirlwind of other's plights
And then we get so absorbed in it, we fight.
Like city rats over a mere crumb, or a plethora of other things,
We can choose to not be heirs to the deathly vermin kings.
Sometimes though, we succumb. And we just have to live with it.
It's our choice, but sometimes we just... get tired of it."
I've never read these words, but they resonated on a deeper level. My sister, she was pushed to the brink by stress at school. Every time she came home, it seemed that another so-called friend had insulted her. Another boy had posted pictures of her, saying she was his girlfriend. Another man, messaging her on social media, asking her to record videos of her doing obscene things. Her judgement day came that day in 2016.
She tried her best to escape the rattenkonig, but cracked under pressure.
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