Chapter Text
The tape recorder is clicked on.
Statement of Tim Stoker, regarding the abrupt change in his brother's behavior. Original Statement given 6th December, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.
I'm sorry.
I know it's... weird, far from standard practice, to apologize at the beginning of one of these things, especially because, technically speaking, I'm doing you a favor. I am giving you my story, and it is entirely true. I'm not lying, I'm not stretching the truth, even, I'm just... I'm sorry.
This isn't- I just think that this might not exactly fit your parameters. I'm not even entirely sure if it's real. I- it might be paranoia? I think- it's just... it's weird. It's weird, and impossible, and I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't. I'm not- I'm going absolutely, completely, utterly fucking mental and maybe just writing it out in full, to you guys, will help me see just how truly, truly ridiculous and stupid and insane I sound.
I haven't told anyone else this. I'm not that stupid, I don't want to be locked up in some kind of- of inpatient facility, for a- a complete break from reality. That's what this is: a complete break from reality. It's impossible.
I have a brother. Always have, ever since I was two years old. His name is Danny- Danny Stoker. That's normal, that's not the- you know. Not exactly what you guys are interested in.
See, my brother, he's- he's great! Love him to pieces! He's smart, he's handsome, he's fun, he can do anything he wants in life- he's got the whole world in the palm of his hand. I'm proud of him, for that. You'd think I'd be jealous, or something, but- but no! I'm just... I'm proud of him. Honestly. He's... I mean, since we were kids, he's always had a bit of a rough time of it, you know? Spectacularly awful ADHD, parents refused to do anything about it or even pursue an actual diagnosis, despite a dozen meetings with his teachers where I swear they had to have brought it up.
He finally got that diagnosis, and started medication, and he's just... he's happy. He is. He's not struggling nearly as much, and he's really putting in an effort to make something enjoyable of his life, instead of just an endless chase of dead-end interests that only last just long enough for him to wrench as much serotonin out of it as possible. 'Course, he still jumps around interests and hobbies a lot, he wouldn't be Danny if he didn't, but it's... it's settled. He's not as aimless. Not as desperate.
So I'm happy for him. I'm proud of him. He's done a lot, he's gotten a lot better in general, and I can't ever bring myself to even think of myself as jealous.
That's... I need you to know that. I'm not here because of resentment, and I don't want you to write it off as that. That's not it. I promise, I swear up and down that I'm not- I'm not out to get him. This is... I'm concerned. Legitimately. I don't know if something is wrong, if he saw something, or if something happened to him, or- or my deepest and nastiest fears have come true.
He hasn't been acting himself. It's- it started in... around July or August, I think? He was really into urban exploring. It was his latest and greatest hobby, the newest in a long line of them, and he'd already made new friends and bought new equipment and torches and even dusted off a nice old camera he'd had, when he was into photography. He'd had this list of places, online, that people liked going into and getting pictures of, just to see what was inside of these abandoned buildings. What had become of them, I guess? Dunno. Never really saw the appeal.
The last time he was... the last time, Before. Before he started acting... off. He'd been ready to go on a new urbex trip, some... Royal Opera House? Something was built on top of some old architecture, or something, he said it would make some really cool pictures, and that was that. I remember the architect, if that helps? Robert Smirke, he'd said- Danny really liked exploring things made by him. He'd liked the aesthetics of it, he'd said, and the pictures always did come out cool. I only really remember the name because it came up pretty often.
He was gone for... a while. I mean, a concerning while. I, er- I nearly went myself, too, after a week with no word from him. If he hadn't had his phone on him, I really would have, I'd scoped out the address and everything by time he texted me.
Sorry I've been gone so long, He'd said. The camera corrupted, and it was just too interesting to leave empty-handed.
What's your opinion on clowns?
From there, it was a complete heel-faced turn. A total shift, just completely out of the blue, and that- that's weird, for him. See, I've known this man for my whole life, nearly thirty years, and I know how he is when he's about to switch interests. He gets- he slows down whatever had held his attention last, if it's a hobby, he'll do it slower, his conversations will focus on it less and less, and then he'll set out on something new. He doesn't- in the middle of something he'd liked before? No, he doesn't do that. Not when he's already excited about something completely different.
But he- he came back, and he seemed... manic, almost. Wouldn't stop talking about clowns, and- and circuses, and someone called Joseph Grimaldi. Some- some early 20th century clown, apparently, though why that's even relevant a hundred years later is- is- it's beyond me. I'd get it, maybe, if he was looking into their history, or- or something, but he wasn't. It was just... Grimaldi, and the art of the circus.
He dove deep, back into his old magic set. He did close-up magic, once upon a time, did some pretty neat bar tricks and won a few bets on it, but that's as far as it went. Nothing really, you know, Houdini about it, nothing that would land him any kind of fame or notoriety.
He didn't keep with that style of tricks, not for long. He did the old sleight-of-hand things again, but he quickly became bored of them, and started ramping up, almost- started learning to pick locks, which doesn't seem related, except he also started teaching himself how to escape precarious situations, and do a bunch of other things I can only really describe as stage magic.
He got back into his yoga phase, too, sort of. As a, er, I think an auxiliary interest? Like the magic, I think- it's not like he'd stopped being focused on the clowns, so much as the yoga was somehow, in his mind, related to it? He got... weirdly flexible, after he dug his old mats out. I once walked in on him with both his feet behind his head, his body all twisted up like a pretzel, it was- it made my joints sore just looking at it, honestly.
So that's all... it's- it's fine. Weird, definitely, and certainly out of character for him, but on its own? It's fine. He's a grown adult, he can do what he likes with his life, it's- it's not something I'd personally go for, but, you know, to each his own. A bit outdated, I think- going to the circus is something you find in yellowed old paperbacks and stories told by grandmothers smoking in their armchairs- but he's had weirder hobbies.
I wouldn't be here if it was just about him being weird, though- no. No, something else is going on, and I don't know if he's possessed, or- or if you guys can do an exorcism, or something? Anything. Anything at all, because he's not- he isn't himself anymore.
He's picked up... habits, along with the new hobby, the new interests. Habits that are downright creepy. On their own, in isolation, they're all innocuous, all completely innocent if you take it all at face value, and I need- no. I know I'm crazy, for asking, but I want you to just bear with me on this, okay? Just until I actually paint you the fuller picture, then you can make your own conclusions about it, about what sort of situation this is, or make all kinds of snap judgements about what sort of person I really am, what sort of person I must be to be looking at all of this and coming to these conclusions- fine. Whatever, you do your academic thing, I'm not going to- just- just listen to what I have to say.
Please.
He dresses different. Carries himself different. It's like- like he's an actor, playing the role of himself. He does it well, well enough that he's almost- almost- exactly normal. It's so close to what he's normally like, I wouldn't- it's not- you'd think, looking at him, that he's just changed a bit. Met someone new, maybe, got a new job, or else decided to put more effort in for no reason at all. You'd think that, and I'd think that, except- I don't know.
Something is off, and I don't know what, and I feel crazy just writing it down, but it's not- it isn't just that. He way he talks, the way he smiles, those haven't changed for his whole life until now, until whatever it is that happened and whatever it is that changed him.
He's made new friends, too. That in itself isn't the problem, he's always done that easily, anybody'll exchange two words with him and come out his new best friend. I'm not trying to police him or anything, either, he's not a kid and I'm not going to pull out some bullshit on how he's "fallen in with the wrong crowd." That's a load of crap, I'm not so far gone as to start pulling that sort of talk out of my ass.
He's just- he always used to be frothing at the mouth, to introduce his friends to me. Always dragging me out to meet them, or them out to meet me. He's always loved showing people that are important to him to each other- that's how he phrased it, anyway. He hasn't done that yet, though- no sign of any of them, not from him, not even any questions about if I have plans or a free afternoon one day, nothing.
He doesn't even talk about them, except in vague terms. No names, even, nothing identifiable at all. Just the most mild descriptions you've ever heard, and it's like pulling teeth to even get that. This- I can't describe how much this isn't normal, for him to suddenly be so cagey like this, to hide his new friends from me and from everyone else the both of us knows.
He disappears, too. Wanders off, going for days without texting or answering calls or even posting anything online. He's- me and him, we've got our phones hooked up to one of those tracker apps, Life360, because I did freak out on him after he disappeared and I won't deny that, so we downloaded it in case something like that happened again.
Whenever he vanishes, his phone stops sharing its location. It goes offline completely. Anything I text him won't pop up as 'delivered' for several days, none of our mutual friends say anything about having heard from him, he drops off the face of the planet and I don't have the slightest idea of how to even begin searching for him when he's like this.
He's a grown adult, though. He's entitled to his privacy, he's entitled to the right to not have his brother looking over his shoulder at every turn, and he doesn't have to tell me a damn thing about where he's going or who he's with, if he's with anyone at all. For all I know, he's picked up hiking again, and that's where the lack of signal comes from. For all I know, I'm just overbearing and paranoid.
I just... I'm worried about him. He's acting weird, meeting weird people, at weird times, not to mention he doesn't even like pictures anymore? Won't have a photo taken of him if he can help it. Especially not on anything physical- practically knocked the shitty little film camera out of my hand, the one time I tried it as a joke. He apologized, of course, but gave no reasoning for it.
He took down all the mirrors in his house. Every single one. I'm- that's a sign of something, isn't it? It has to be.
I'm going to follow him, the next time he goes on one of his walks. That's what happens when he disappears- he says he's going on a walk, reappears a few days later like nothing happened.
I'm going to follow him. I'm going to find out where he's going, what he's doing. Maybe that's invasive, maybe that's out of line, but I've reached a point where I don't care anymore. I'm too scared for him to be worried about things like that anymore.
Statement ends.
This Statement was found in a file folder, containing this and only one other paper- a small pink slip of paper, with a note that only said 'Part 1.' I wasn't sure what to make of this when I found it- the case seemed fairly complete to me, in terms of every other Statement we receive in this place- but, when peering into the file folder that was next to it, inside was another Statement from the same Tim Stoker, dated several months later.
Follow-up will be performed on both cases after committing the second Statement to tape. Despite the fact that the second Statement has been given its own case number, since they are presumably referring to the same incident and the same person of interest, I am condensing them under the number of the earlier Statement, Case #0130612. This Statement will be labeled 0130612-A, while the next will be labeled 0130612-B.
End recording.
The tape recorder is clicked off.