Isaiah (Host - likely Wendigoon)
speaker
1,018 appearances
1 recordings
1 series
first heard Aug 2026
last heard 2 Aug
Isaiah (Host - likely Wendigoon)’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
Trend
recordings per month · last 12 monthsRecordings per month over the last 12 months — 1 in all, peaking in Aug 2026 with 1.
Appearances
I can hear a low roar.
A disjointed buzzing chorus all around me begins to start up.
The world is drowned out by them.
Thousands, millions of flies, buzzing, woken up, careening madly into each other and me, peppering my face, loud beating of insect wings in my ears, sharp and curious, tickling my arms, crawling down my shirt.
I keep my mouth closed with some effort, even as the little insects try to push past my lips and the lump forms in my throat.
I'm sweating.
The flies can't get enough.
My tongue feels swollen.
I slowly try to move, to regain control over my body.
My arms slowly slide and fold across my chest as I breathe hard through my nose.
My legs sluggishly curl inward like a dying cockroach, and I lean forward through the cloud of flies, struggling to move.
There's a small rubbing texture against my calves and feet.
I open my eyes to see that the gnarled wood of the floorboards is slowly, near-imperceptibly moving, shifting under me.
Gnarled bumps and knots turning over like thousands of tiny worms moving under skin.
I stare hazily through the cloud of flies as the wood writhes and curls, even as the boards themselves retain their shape.
I breathe heavily through my nose, trying not to hyperventilate.
I'm drugged.
This is a hallucination, and I witness many more as the hours begin to pass by.
Slowly, like dim yellow sparks, the flies begin to glow, softening, shifting into little fireflies that light up the room in their dizzying, spiraling dance.
They align on my hands when I reach out to them, tickling, whispering little things.
Showing 841–860 of 1,018 · page 43 of 51
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