🧬 THE NIGHTLY STORYTELLER PRESENTS: SPLICE (2009)

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What We Create Will Eventually Unmake Us

📍 Location: Unknown
📞 Status: Disconnected
🧠 Sanity: Unstable

There are lines we’re not meant to cross—boundaries etched by nature, morality, or something older still. But curiosity has sharp teeth. And once we open certain doors, they never truly close. Sometimes, what we create doesn’t just turn on us…
…it consumes us.


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☎️ Voicemails from the Void

The dimly lit room felt like it was shrinking around us. Dust swirled through stale air as shadows gathered thick in the corners. Danny sat across from me, tension radiating off him like heat from a dying flame.

His phone rang, slicing the silence in half. Rhett’s name blinked across the screen.

“Rhett? Where are you?” Danny’s voice cracked with urgency.

The response was chaos: garbled shouting… coordinates… metal slamming… a scream that sounded more like a tearing of reality than anything human. Then—silence. The kind that buries itself deep in your chest. The kind that echoes.

Danny's hand trembled around the dead phone. “They were fighting. And it wasn’t just people…”

Something inside me twisted—cold, sharp, familiar. Whatever Rhett had found… it was waking up.


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🧪 Splice (2009): Science Meets Madness

Rewatching Splice felt like staring into a broken mirror—one that reflects not who you are, but what you're becoming.

In the film, Clive and Elsa splice human and animal DNA to create Dren, a creature that begins as vulnerable and alien… but evolves into something violent, unknowable, and deeply tragic. It’s a slow, devastating unraveling of control—of humanity.

And it hit me harder this time.

🧬 Dren’s twitching, her unblinking stare… they weren’t just unsettling—they felt familiar.
Like the pulse under my ribs that doesn’t feel like mine.
Like the flashes in my reflection that don’t follow my movements.
Like the feeling that something inside me is waiting.

I’m not the creator here. I’m the splice.
And I think it’s waking up.


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🧷 The Coordinates & the Flash Drive

Danny whispered the coordinates again, like he was testing reality. “It’s outside the city. An old lab. Rhett said he found something—files, video, the truth.”

I stared at him. “And now he’s gone.”

The voicemail’s static crawled through my skull like worms. Was it Rhett speaking? Or had something else used his voice to lure us in?

Then Danny pulled a flash drive from his hoodie pocket—wrapped in black electrical tape, hidden like a secret. “He must’ve slipped it into my glove box. I almost missed it.”

It felt heavy in my hand. Wrong.
Like it didn’t store data—just dread.


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🪞 What’s in the Reflection?

As I stared at the flash drive, the window beside me shimmered. My reflection tilted its head—just slightly off from mine. Its lips curled upward… but I wasn’t smiling.

The lights flickered. A deep chill set in.

A twitch spasmed beneath my ribs.
The same movement.
The same place.
Every. Time.

I heard it again—soft, wet footsteps in the hallway. And behind that… a hum. Low, mechanical, almost alive.

We’re not alone.


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🔍 What Comes Next

We’re going to plug that drive in. We're going to follow those coordinates.
Whatever Rhett found… whatever found him… it's not finished.

And neither are we.


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🧠 Stick Around. Share Your Fears.

Subscribe. Share. Comment.
Have you ever felt something foreign inside you—emotionally, physically, spiritually? Ever stumbled across a truth you wished you'd never known?

Drop your horror memory, urban legend, or twisted theory in the comments.
We’re just getting started—and the transformation is far from over.

📼 Next time… we open the flash drive.
What we find… you won’t want to miss it.

🌒 thenightlystoryteller.blogspot.com



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