Harbingers of the Ark

by RookFeatherRambles

Summary:

11 years have passed since the events of Marble Hornets, and Tim has tried his best to move on. But his mental health is at an all-time low. He hates his job as a gas station attendant and is incredibly suicidal. After a failed attempt to end his life, he wakes up to find a dead man, a dead friend that he killed, standing in his living room, asking him for help.
Brian, Jay, and Alex have come back from the grave, and they've come back wrong. Their souls degrade the longer they remain in the living world, their fate to become twisted into unspeakable horrors. Each of them has their own motives, finding their way back into Tim's life from the Ark, but only he, as their anchor, can restore their humanity and save their souls.

The question is, will he? Because not all of them want to be saved...

Notes:

Reuploaded this fic from my alt account. It's based on vibes and is dark as hell, so be advised! Take care of yourselves out there.

Chapter 1: The Drowned

The heady scent of oak, aftershave and winding tobacco smoke. The soft sound of rustling fabric, a murmured name. The taste of spearmint gum and morning breath. Brown eyes, knowing and warm, full of secrets shared between friends and between lovers. Warm, gentle hands touching skin.

The water was dark, muddy and cold. His numb fingers clawed at the silty bottom, trying to determine which way was up. His lungs burned with fire, his chest tight and cramping, and he knew he was drowning.

Bubbles rose around him like silver coins, catching the light from somewhere above him. He tried to right himself, but his body was slow, sluggish. Still, he persevered. There was something he still had to do.

He kicked the ground beneath him, and swam up, up, up towards the light.  His vision pulsed and darkened at the edges as he struggled through the frigid water. He wasn’t rising fast enough. He wasn’t going to make it.

No! I can’t go back!

Escape was so close and yet so far. Something wild clawed at his chest and up his throat, something that made an animal of him. With one last instinctual thrash, he smashed through the ice covering the surface of the river, and Brian Thomas’ corpse took its first breath in years.