The Book Of Horror

12:19

I often like to view creepy things on the internet. I don't totally know why, I've just always been intrigued by things that are just...off. Any media is fine to take in the content. Stories, movies, videos, audio clips, video games, whatever. I just want to be unnerved. I work third shift, so my sleep schedule is all messed up. I sleep during the day and work at night. I get two days off a week, though, and always in a row. I could use this time to have some semblance of a normal life, but I'd rather not have to readjust my sleep schedule once work starts again, so I just stay up all night and sleep during the day.

So, browsing the internet on one of those days off I came to a thread which had a bunch of links on it. Each comment was just a link. Some of them led to websites about unexplained mysteries, some were streams of horror movies, and others were of accounts of paranormal events which were supposedly true. Then I saw one that was none of the above. I don't remember what the link was; it was just random letters and numbers. It was nonsense. I clicked on it, and it took me to a single page with a single picture, and nothing to click on. It auto fullscreened, and refreshed at random intervals anywhere between, roughly, two and ten seconds. There was text on the top of the picture which read, "Xan Iou waI:t X to dIe/?X "

Creepy. I liked this site already. The picture showed a painting on the wall of a nondescript forest scene. There was a small TV screen centered at the bottom of the picture. An old CRT. On top of the TV was an older-looking analog clock with a wood frame and fancy hands. The site continued to refresh but the picture never changed. Out of sheer curiosity, I didn't leave the page. I kept the tab open, and checked back every minute or two. Still no change.

After about ten minutes I got tired of missing the refreshes. Maybe it was changing drastically, but only once every minute or something, and I was completely missing it. So, I closed all other tabs to make sure I wouldn't be tempted to leave. I was staring at that picture for what seemed to be an hour. I checked my phone. It had been twenty-six minutes. I guess time goes slowly when you're just staring at a still image online.

I can't say what it was, or when it was, but at some point I noticed that it wasn't just a still image. Well, it was, but the image was changing. The clock, when I first pulled up the page, read something close to 4:15. Now it was showing 4:56. The clock had been changing the entire time. I watched it for a full minute, and somewhere among the refreshes I saw the minute hand change to 57. The time on the clock didn't reflect the real time.

Still, though, this was dedication. Someone had to take a picture once per minute for an hour, or at least 45 minutes, and then have it change every minute. I kept watching it until it showed 5:00. I expected it to shift back to 4:00, but it just went to 5:01. That's even more impressive. Maybe it went for a full twelve hours. Someone needs a job.

Anyway, now I was hooked. I had to see if it had the full range of times. Now that I knew I didn't have to intently stare at the picture anymore, I was able to shift my focus to the text. It definitely seemed strange. I realized quickly that it was a code of sorts, and it said XIIXIX. I thought about it for a while, but then realized the colon in the phrase. XII:XIX. 12:19. I guessed I had to wait til 12:19 to see what was going to happen; what was so worth all this work.

The next few hours were boring. I'd check it every so often and see no change. Once I thought I saw something in the painting, but I'm pretty sure that was just my imagination, and my mind wanting to see something. I set all of my clocks in my house to the time on this site so I'd know where it was even when I wasn't at the computer.

12 o'clock came and I was glued to my computer. No getting up. No other tabs. I was just staring intently, watching the hands on the clock refresh, minute after minute. 12:18. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. I was certain that this minute had actually taken four or five minutes to transpire. Finally, 12:19. Nothing. No change in the image. No change to the site.