Ölü Beden Çiftliği - Türkçe Creepypasta

 


Ölü Beden Çiftliği - Türkçe Creepypasta

Bölüm 1

Ben kolayca korkan bir adam değilim, ama ne demek istediğimi biliyorsanız, kafasını kumda tutan tür de değilim. Bir şey doğru hissetmediğinde, doğru hissetmez, nokta. Hayatta meydana gelen kötü şeylerin çoğunun insanlara veya etrafımızdaki dünyaya suçlanabileceğini kabul ediyorum, ama aynı zamanda en azından aksini ispatlayana kadar bu iki kategorinin dışında kalan şeyler olduğuna inanıyorum.

Vücut çiftliğinde olanlar gibi.

Çocukluğumdan beri yazar olmak istedim, bu yüzden bazen çok çiçekli olursam beni affet, bu bir yazarın alışkanlıklarıdır. Bildiğinizden eminim ki, yazmak faturaları ödemiyor ve yazarak geçimini sağlama hayalime rağmen, beni halletmek için her zaman günlük bir işe ihtiyacım vardı. Bir arkadaşımın babası aracılığıyla, liseden dışarı çıkarak silahsız bir güvenlik görevlisi olarak eğitildim ve sertifika aldım, bu da üniversiteye kadar devam ettim. Kolaydı ve para bir süre yeterince iyiydi, ama sonunda içinde bir gelecek olan bir şey aradım. Yazılarım başlamadığı sürece bir kariyer yapabileceğimi düşündüm. Uzun bir aramadan sonra büyük bankalardan birinde bir iş buldum - ki bunu söylememeyi tercih ederim.

Altı yıl, kıçımı çalışarak, rütbeleri tırmanarak geçirdim. Bu, beş hafta öncesine kadar doğu kıyısında çok fazla şubesi ve bu şubelerde çalışan çok fazla çalışanı olduğuna karar verdiler. Bu yüzden botu aldım. Kıdem yok, hayranlık yok, özür yok, sokaktaydım ve kısa süre sonra öğrendiğim gibi kimse işe almadı.

İşler ümitsizleşmeye başladığında evimdeki bloğu bu iş bulma kurumuna ziyaret ettim. Onu yöneten adamı hiç sevmedim, ama dediğim gibi, zamanlar umutsuz. Ben de içeri girdim ve kaydoldum. Diğer banka işlerini sorduğumda çok umutlu görünmüyorlardı, ancak özgeçmişimdeki güvenlik görevlisi deneyimini gördüklerinde 'canlandılar. Anlaşıldığı gibi, bir gecede geçici koruma pozisyonu vardı, doldurmada sorun yaşıyorlardı. Tabii ki geriye doğru bir adım olduğuna inandığım şeyi almakta tereddüt ettim. Koruyucuyu hiçbir şekilde altüst etmemek ya da itibarsızlaştırmamak, şu anda girmeye çalıştığım yöne uymuyor. Bir gecede bekçi olmanın bana yazmak için çok zaman kazandıracağını düşünürsünüz, ama gerçek şu ki, tamamen yalnızken yazarken her zaman zorlandım. Nedense beni tedirgin ediyor ve sonunda hiçbir şey yapmıyorum.

Mesele şu ki, konseri almak istemedim, ama bir adam yemek zorunda. Seçimime, nöbetçiler genellikle ne yapmak daha yüksek sonunda ödeme oranı yardımcı oldu. Daha iyi bir yargıya karşı kabul ettim. Birkaç telefon ettiler, bir adres yazdılar ve beni yoluma gönderdiler. “Su üstünde,” verdikleri tek ayrıntı. Benim eski üniforma biraz rahat ama yine de uygun. Aslında bu gerçeği biraz hayal kırıklığı yarattı.

Saat beş civarında kartta yazdıkları adrese vardım, ki bu gerçek bir konser olan bir adaya gitmek için bir tekne lansmanı oldu. Buna Twain Island diyeceğim, çünkü gerçek adı, yakınlaşmaya rağmen hiç duymadığım bir isim olsa da, ilk etapta bu konuda konuşmamam gerektiğinden eminim. Rıhtımı çalıştıran yaşlı adamla kafa karıştırıcı bir değişimden sonra, bana neredeyse dönüp arabama geri dönmemi sağlayan bir şey söyledi.

“Telefonunu görmem gerek,” dedi. Kafam karıştı, ama cebimden çıkardım ve ona gösterdim. Sonra, “Eğer bu bir kameraysa, almam gerek.” Dedi. Şaka yaptım, “O adada ne var, İngiltere Kraliçesi?” ama eğlendirilmedi. Bir dakika onunla tartıştım ama sonunda teslim ettim. Dediğim gibi, bir adam yemek zorunda. Birkaç dakika sonra daha yaşlı bir adam geldi ve beni tekneye aldı. Sadece ikimiz olduğumuz için ve kendime ne kazandığım hakkında hiçbir fikrim olmadığı için küçük bir konuşma yapmaya çalıştım. Adam çok konuşkan değildi, ama adaya yaklaştıkça günün ikinci kabataslak yorumunu yaptı, bu bir soru şeklinde.

"Hiç bu çiftliklerden birine gittin mi?" Ona, “Daha önce yapmadığın gibi değil” dediği birçok çiftlikte olduğumu söyledim. Ne hakkında konuştuğuna dair hiçbir fikrim yoktu, ama o zamana kadar zaten kayalık kıyıdan dışarı çıkan rıhtıma çekiyorduk. Yerleştirdik. Nereye gideceğimi sormadan önce zaten çekiyordu. Uzun süre kalmak istemiyor gibiydi. Biraz eski bir rec center gibi görünen bir bina vardı. Başka gidecek yerim olmadığı için binaya yöneldim. Çimlerin karşısında, “[Twain] Ada Adli Antropoloji Tesisi” yazan bir işaret vardı. Onlar ayrı ayrı tanıdığım kelimelerdi, ama birlikte anlamlarını yitirdiler. Tam olarak ne kastettiklerini düşündüğüm gibi, bir muhafız üniforması giyen genç bir adam binanın yanına geldi ve beni salladı.

“Tekneyi duydum,” dedi. Kendisini Eric olarak tanıttı ve bana bir telsiz verdi. o

We walked not into but around the decent-sized building, past a second, smaller building and into the woods beyond. Eric said something about the island being the alleged site of buried pirate treasure, but to be honest I wasn’t paying much attention at that point. There was a strong smell in the air, pungent and sweet and downright awful which I found impossible to ignore. Eric noticed my face and said, “Ever smell a dead body before?” I shook my head no. He said, “You’ll never forget it now.”
At that point we came into a clearing in the woods where the foul odor really ramped up. I’ve always had a strong stomach, but even this was excessive. I felt a ball form at the back of my throat. There were two people, one male, one female, both roughly college-aged and wearing similar, gray coats standing over what looked like long, low cages made of chicken wire. As we walked closer I could see dark forms in the cages like piles of trash. The girl looked over at us and nodded politely but the guy didn’t bother. She was pretty and he looked like a bug. It wasn’t until we were right on top of the cages that I realized what they held.
The first body I saw, in fact have ever seen, was a woman’s. Her skin was impossibly waxy with large patches of discoloration, as if the wax had been burned. She looked like someone had sprinkled rice across her, like a new bride. Unfortunately, it wasn’t rice. The maggots crawled on her legs and pooled in the crevices of her neck. Her surprisingly white teeth grinned up at me, exposed, and her belly was inflated like a birthday balloon. My mouth watered from the rising feel of vomit but I managed to keep it in check. It helped to not look at her creeping skin.
He introduced the two as Bernard and Terri, interns from the [name removed] Institute, and said there were two more wandering around somewhere, as well as the man in charge, a scientist by the name of Doctor Christianson. Terri could see I was bothered, so she was nice enough to finally explain what was going on. “We study human decomposition,” she said. The goal was to better understand the process in order to help, among other things, police determine more accurate times of death in a variety of settings.
I looked at the five or six other cages, which she explained were to keep birds away, and asked how many there were on the island. “It varies,” she said, “but it usually hovers somewhere around fifty.”
Fifty dead bodies. One island. No boats.
They said some see-you-laters and then Eric led me around the rest of the island, first to point out some of the other body sites- more corpses, some caged, some not- and then to perform a perimeter around the shore. He said I’d have to do at least two such rounds during my shift, which I was already thinking about skipping. It took about forty-five minutes for us to circle back around to the dock, which I noticed was the only way onto or off of the island short of risking the waves crashing onto the sharp rocks and the ring of slimy garbage. By then the sun was starting to set. Then he took me inside the main research building which as I’d guessed had been converted from a sports center dating back some fifty years. We took a quick look around at the operation and I saw the back of someone’s head inside one of the rooms, but other than that not much registered. I think by that time my head was spinning too fast for anymore information to get in.
We left the main building and went to the second building which served as the guard’s office. Eric pointed out the bathroom, the lockers, the eating area with stocked fridge, the flashlights, the desk with the two-way radio, which he showed me how to use, though by then he was eyeing his watch. He gave me a grin and asked if I was all set. I shrugged, which was the most sincere answer I could give.
“I’ll be honest,” he told me, “most guys don’t last long here. Especially the night shifters.”
“Thanks.”
“If you take out the mental part it’s the easiest job in the world. But that mental part…” His voice trailed off, and I knew exactly what he meant. What could be easier than making sure a bunch of stiffs stayed dead? And yet with the sun going down I was filled completely with dread, the kind where you want to run and scream in no particular direction. Before I could articulate the thought, the sound of a docking boat rose up, and with a nod and a few more last-minute instructions about filling out the log book, he was gone.

“Next boat’s at three a.m.,” he shouted from across the lawn, which seemed like a pretty important detail to be leaving for the last second. Ahead of him were the two interns I’d met, Bernard and Terri, along with two others. Terri waved and I waved back, pretending to be unphased. On the boat already, aside from the old man operating it, was a man whose face I couldn’t make out from a distance other than a beard. I assumed it was Doctor Christianson, though I had no way of knowing for sure.
After the boat chugged away and made a line for land, I looked around at the dimming island, inhabited by me and fifty rotting corpses, give or take, with the wind kicking up off the ocean, and wondered how I’d ended up that way. Just a month earlier I’d been sitting comfortably behind a desk in a warm bank. It was incredible how quickly life could shift beneath your feet.
I retreated back inside the guard’s office and immediately decided to stay in it until the boat came to get me at three. I locked the door. Screw the promises, screw the temp agency, screw the Twain Island Forensic Anthropology Facility, I wasn’t about to go stumbling around in the dark on an island full of dead people, caged or otherwise. There was no way anyone would know one way or the other whether I’d done my rounds or not, and I had a hard time believing that anyone would want to get onto the island, let alone be able to pull up to the dock and get past me without being heard.
To pass the time I had the internet, thankfully, and that got me past the first few mindless hours. Before I knew it the clock over the door read twenty past nine o’clock. Outside it was pitch black, while inside it was way too quiet, so I pulled up some music videos and let them play in the background, a huge playlist of classic rock songs, as I opened a text file and thought of some story ideas I’d like to explore. Not surprisingly, most of them had to do with zombies coming to life and attacking the living. Nothing really stuck, though, and I began to have that familiar uneasy feeling that comes whenever I try to write alone. After a few minutes I stopped trying to fight it. I closed the file and then my eyes.
I’m not sure how long I was asleep. What I do know is what woke me up. With my eyes still closed I started to become aware of a sound under the music, the playlist still coming out of the computer’s speaker, which was faint but getting louder. It was far off in the island, but I could make it out as clear as anything.
And I know it sounds crazy. I really know it does. But it was a woman crying.
When I realized this, my eyes shot open. I jumped out of the chair, grabbed my walkie-talkie and flashlight and ran out of the office, turning on the flashlight as I came around the building. I stopped for a second and shone the light into the forest, catching nothing but the trunks and leaves. For a second I wondered if I’d actually heard the cries or if I’d been half in a dream, the way light sleep messes with you, but then I heard a shout, definitely a woman’s pitch, and I bolted into the woods. All I could think was some idiot had found their way onto the island, maybe even a group of idiots, thrill-seeking kids, and hurt themselves on my watch. I would have to carefully forge the log book to cover my ass on this one.
That already familiar stench came to my nose as I came into the first clearing. My flashlight picked up the metal of the cages. I stopped running. I remembered myself, where I was and why I had locked myself in the office. Those cages, just sitting there in the dark. Corpses staring up. Maggots and flies. The cries had stopped, which had me thinking either I was being pranked or much worse: I was too late to help whoever it had been.
I did what I swore I wouldn’t, which was the job they’d hired me to do. With a major amount of hesitation I did my rounds. Either I would find the woman, I figured, or I could honestly tell the Doctor that I’d secured the island when they found a body in the morning. Another body, that is. A new one. As I walked the edge of the island I formed a joke in my head about how they could leave the dead woman where they found her and just add her to the guest list. The joke always ended with me saying, “You’re welcome.”
I’ll be honest, I didn’t do a full perimeter, but I did do most of one. Other than half of a hollowed out horseshoe crab I didn’t find anything, so I cut back toward the first clearing where I’d sworn the woman’s cries had came from. I walked slowly in case I came across any more body sites, especially the uncaged kind, which I didn’t want to stumble over in the dark despite the little yellow flags that marked them. The smell would probably warn me first, except for the really long-gone ones, the piles of bones which still stunk but not nearly as much. Needless to say, I was relieved when I reached the clearing.
The beam of my flashlight caught the top of the cages as I walked between them, using them as a guide back to the office without really focusing on them. For some reason I still don’t understand, maybe because my eyes picked up something different in the dark, or maybe I felt a change in the air, I shone the light into the last cage, the first I’d seen a few hours earlier, where the bloated woman had grinned up at me.
My feet stopped. So did my heart. What my flashlight saw, what I saw, changed me forever. And I know it sounds crazy. I really know it does. But the cage was empty.

I got in closer to get a better look, because there was no way what I was seeing was real, but I was horrified to find it was. The body was gone, the only thing left of it a long patch of dead grass, a puddle of half-dried fluids, and strips of what looked like leather but I knew wasn’t leather. The cage around it was left exactly where I’d seen it. Only the body had disappeared.
As I stared down at the empty cage, my walkie-talkie crackled in my pocket. It made me jump a bit, the sudden noise in the night, and I fished it out of my pocket where I’d forgotten I put it during the perimeter sweep. But if the first sound made me jump, the second made my skin crawl worse than one of the corpses behind me.
A woman was whispering on the other end. I turned the volume up and pressed the speaker to my ear to hear better. The words were too low to make out, only the distinctly female tone, the same as the one who had called out from somewhere in the woods. Nervous, I brought the walkie-talkie to my mouth and pressed the button on the side.
“Hello? Who’s there?” I tried to sound like I was in charge but it wasn’t convincing. I let go of the button and brought the speaker back to my ear, straining to hear the whispers.
A laugh. A woman’s laugh, high-pitched and delirious, came through the speaker.
Instinct took over and I ran. I ran away from the cages and out of the clearing, into the woods and out of them again until I was running between the two buildings and back into the office, slammed the door shut and locked it. My pulse throbbed in my neck and I tried to catch myself with my hands on the desk, taking great, big breaths of air in.
Breaths of air. Stale air. Not just stale, but wretched. Sickly sweet and pungent, the smell of those bodies had somehow moved into the guard’s office, even though none of the sites were anywhere near it, even with a strong wind to push the air around the island.
It was then, as I pushed myself up off the desk, that I thought again of the missing body. The woman’s body. The woman’s voice on the radio, the whispers and the laugh. It was then that I realized not just the air had gotten into the building.
I looked at my hand- a smudge of something black was on my palm. There was a matching one on the table.