C-CUTC-031
Barista: Jenny Wells
Date: Dec-18-2019
Receipt: C-CUTC-031
Subject: Corpses
I don’t know if I can actually help—but I had to try.
Katherine’s been hearing whispers. ████, she calls them. It. Him? Her? Them? Whatever. Soft, persistent whispers—like a song stuck in her head, only worse. Darker. Hungrier. Katherine says the voice is the one compelling her to ███—██ █████—██ ███████—██… ████, ███, ████. All the things we really don’t want her doing if she’s ever going to leave our fantastic new basement bunker.
I know a thing or two about voices that won’t leave you alone, so I sat with her today.
We lit some candles. █ ██████ ██████ ██ ██ ███ ██████ ██ █████ ██ ███ ████ █████. Nothing fancy. Just old tricks to calm the mind. She sat across from me, knees pulled to her chest, looking like she wished she could disappear. I can’t exactly take someone from zero to fully fledged ██████████ in one sitting—but maybe I could help her █████ ████████ █ ████████ ██████ ████. One that could keep this “████” out—assuming it’s some sort of ███-█████ ██████ giving her trouble. If it’s something actually ██████ ███… that might be harder to lock out.
███ ████ █████████—████-███ ███████ ███ █████—but she stayed with me. I think. I hummed softly, an old song my grandmother used to sing to me:
█████’█ █ ████ ██ ███ ██████ ██ ███ ██████, ███ ███████ ████ ████ ███ ████ ███ ███, ███ ███ ████ ███ ██ ███ ██████, ███ ███ █████ █████ ████ ███ ██████, ███ ██████, ███ ███ █████ █████ ████ ███ ██████.
Good droning song for tuning things out.
Katherine’s breath slowed—she said the whispers had gone quiet. Just a feeling now. A pull. ██████.
…So. Still got some work to do. But it’s a start.
Would love to ███ ████ ███ ██████ █████ to see if there’s actually █████████ “████████” ██ ███ ██████…
Decaffeinate Receipt
“Soft. Persistent.”
Knowledge | 1 Word