It all started last year, more specifically summer time. Being a college student at the time, I was desperately in need of money, so I went to look for a job. I searched online and in my local paper for an easier job, I didn’t have much ambition to take on anything too difficult. Eventually, I found a simple job in my town’s paper. I gave the number they had listed a call and set up an interview for the following day.

The job required me to partake in a psychological experiment. The scientists told me that all I would have to do is stay in a room, alone, with a variety of sensors around my head to measure my brain activity. The point of being there was to visualize a double of myself, a thoughtform. They called it my “tulpa”. "Easy enough." I thought.

The pay was right, so I agreed to do it. The next day, I began. The room they took to me was dull, the walls were a simple white, and a lone bed was placed in the corner. It seemed eerie. After I was seated in the bed, they attached sensors to my head put the leads into a strange looking box on the nightstand. I was confused about how to conjure up my double, so I asked if they could talk me through it again. They said that the main thing they wanted was for me to keep my double with me as much as I possibly could while in the room.

The first few days were not as easy as I anticipated. It was much harder than any sort of thinking I had done before, as I had to control what thoughts would come. I had anticipated an easy walk-in, walk-out type of thing, but to my dismay it wasn’t. As time progressed, I got better at finding my tulpa. He would stay for a few minutes at a time, but a couple days later he started staying around for hours at a time. It helped to use my tulpa as a sort of distraction. For example, when I was bored I’d imagine him doing things like dancing or talking to keep me busy. Five days had passed when I finally was able to keep my double in the room for a full six hours. According to the scientists I was making good progress, but I really didn’t see what was so hard about just thinking.

{C} The scientists had mentioned that I would be exposed to different things to test how well I could keep my tulpa with me. I was placed in a different room around a month later it had the same spatial layout, but speakers were mounted in the ceiling. The walls also had a variety of colours, much different than my previous room. They told me they wanted to see if I could still keep the tulpa with me with the presence of distracting sounds and other distractions. The music was horrid. The ugly and unsettling music made the process a little more difficult, but I managed nonetheless. I had been practicing outside of the center, so calling up my double wasn’t such a hard thing to do anymore. The next week they played even more wretched music, filled with static, screams, and what sounded like an old dial tone. Also, sprinkled throughout the track were voices mumbling something I couldn’t make out. The distractions didn’t get to me too much though, I was able to keep my tulpa with me the entire time.

Each day I went into the center, following the same layout. My tulpa would come and go, but that was getting boring to me. I began to play games with my tulpa. We would talk about how our days were going, play charades or id watch him dance. I wondered what effect this would have on the results of the experiment, so I asked the scientists what they thought. To my surprise they encouraged it, so I kept on. I really started to enjoy my time there. It was nice to have a friend with me.

The days went by and my tulpa and I would play games or talk, and that was fun for a while. But then it got a bit strange. I was thinking back to my first day in high school, and he corrected me. I’d said that I wore a blue top, but to my surprise he said it was black. I thought back to that day and realized he was right. I was scared that he knew that. Even I couldn’t even remember that. I let it go for the first few days, but soon he began correcting me on lots of stuff, I had to know what was going on. I went to the scientists a few days later with a few questions.

“Your thoughtform is really a figment of your imagination, yes, but it also is part of your subconscious. It can remember things that you can’t. It’s up to you how you use it, we encourage it nevertheless. ” They explained. “Somewhere deep down your mind knew that memory was wrong. All it took was a little reminder from your tulpa to correct it.”

My fear of my tulpa soon became amazement. I felt empowered by the fact I could recall things that happened way in the past, there is few in the world that can do that. Talking to my tulpa was like talking to an inner part of me. After lots of practice I discovered that I could ask my tulpa questions about anything; he seemed to remember all of my memories better than I could. He knew things about my childhood I don’t think I could ever recall. After this discovery, I decided to test my tulpa’s skills. I found that I could make it talk about my past movies I’ve watched, even though I saw them many years ago. It was simply amazing. I also found that he could tell me about things I was taught in high school, and other things I picked up along the way. It was awesome. Then, it all made sense to me, I was accessing my subconscious mind. It could holster and record 10 times more information than my conscious mind. It was like having a walking and talking encyclopedia with me wherever I went.

Having my tulpa with me soon became part of my daily ritual, I felt like I needed to have him with me. I eventually started doing it practically all the time. It was fun to take him along like an invisible friend. I imagined him when I was hanging out with friends, or driving, seeing my family or just when I was plain bored. It was easy to talk to him. I didn't have to talk out loud to him, and it kept me busy. I know that sounds strange, but it was fun. He was a walking book of everything I knew and everything I had forgotten.

There was a time where his expertise came in very handily. My tulpa was able to pick up on the little quirks in peoples’ behaviors. For example, I had thought that the date I brought him along on was going south pretty quickly, but he pointed out how she was listening really closely to everything I said and how she was locked on my eyes during our conversation. These and a bunch of other subtle clues I wasn’t consciously picking up on helped me finish that date with great success. I was becoming reliant on him.

About five months or so had passed and I was always with my tulpa. I didn’t find it weird whatsoever; it was nice having him around. The scientists would keep doing there tests with me, and life went on.

I started to notice that I had started to seclude myself from the rest of the world. People didn't have the same appeal to me anymore. I didn’t feel like talking to them anymore. They all seemed caught up in their own messes and were never sure of their actions. It was a sense of superiority for me. I had my motives and beliefs with me all the time, and stayed true to them. My tulpa was like a helping hand, these other people didn’t have that.

One night a friend of mine showed up at my door step. I had blown him off a few times the previous few weeks, so I knew what was coming.

"You haven’t answered when I called you in blasted weeks! Not even reply to a lousy text!” He yelled. “What in the hell is your problem?” he was furious.

I was going to apologize; I was going to tell him that I didn't intentionally ignore him, that I had just been busy. I really didn’t want him mad at me, but my tulpa became angry at him “Don’t let hum talk down to you like that. You’re fine with me, show him his place,” my tulpa said. Before I knew what I was doing, I hit him. Hard. I felt his bones break beneath my fist. He fell to the floor and came up furious. We duked it out in the living room for a while, but I soon I overtook him. I was more furious than I had ever been in my entire life and I was not merciful. I shoved him to the ground and gave him two shattering kicks to the ribs. That was when he fled my house, cradling his ribs and heaving. Strangely, I didn't feel bad.

Later that night the police came by, my friend had told them I had assaulted him I claimed self- defense and they let me off with a warning spent the night in my room, thinking about what had just happened. I was worried about my tulpa, and why he suddenly had turned mean. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel bad about beating my friend, it was odd.

The next morning came quickly, and I was sore. I went to the mirror and checked the damage. "Just a black eye, you're fine." I thought. I couldn’t remember why I was fighting, but then I realized what had actually happened. I had no reason to be mad at my friend; it was my double that had urged me to do it. What was that about? I felt bad about beating my friend, but didn’t call him in fear of what he my say. I was even more scared of my tulpa, he heard all of my thoughts and I was afraid of what he might say. “You don’t need him anymore. You don’t need anyone else but me,” he whispered. I felt my skin crawl.

I explained the previous night’s events to my scientists. I also told them I was afraid of what was becoming of my tulpa. They thought nothing of what was happening, so I tried my best to go along with what they were saying.

My life became a game of avoiding my tulpa at that point. He was changing. He looked taller, and more menacing. His eyes were bright with mischief, almost as if he were planning something that I had no idea about. He never stopped smiling, and it scared me. This job, no job, was worth what I was going through. I needed to get the tulpa out of my life. I had to try to get him out of my head, but he would never leave for good. When he returned he seemed in rougher shape each time, and a bit more frightening each time. His skin seemed dull and pale, his teeth had become yellowed and vampire like, and the harsh music surrounded me. He never talked the same either; he would only hiss and glubber. The times I could understand him it was threatening and filled with profanity. I couldn't escape his torment.

Even though my tulpa was changing for the worse, I still visited the research center and spent my six hours there. I needed the money. I thought they weren’t aware that I was now actively not visualizing my tulpa. I was dead wrong. After my shift one day, about six and a half months in, a group of men grabbed and held me down. I began to squirm; I knew that they had found out. Then someone in a lab coat jab me. A large needle filled with some shadowy liquid went into my arm. I could feel my muscles tighten in pain as darkness took over my eyes.

{C} The next thing I remember is being back in the same musical room. My tulpa stood there towering over me. He wasn’t anything like I remember him. His eyes had changed; they were sullen and looked empty. They were glazed over; no pupil was evident that I could see just pure white. His hands were twisted; his fingers elongated and thinned out with sharp nails at the end of them. Oh how I wanted him gone, but I just couldn’t seem to concentrate. He laughed at me, like I was helpless. He started messing with the medical equipment at my bedside and tapped the IV in my arm sending a wave of pain through my body. I squirmed and started screaming for help. I needed to get out as soon as possible.

“I see that they got the good stuff for you. Remember anything? How’s the head, want out yet? ”He was right on top of me, an inch from my face. I gagged, and puke began to rise up my throat. His breath was rancid. I saw what I believed to be flesh stuck his teeth. I tried to focus, but couldn’t banish him. This went on for a few days; all I wanted to do was dying at that point. It would be an escape.

For about a month I was trapped like that. The scientists would keep me buzzed on one drug or another; it all seemed like a blur. My tulpa was still there, of course. I started to think that maybe this was where I was going to die. I hallucinated on multiple occasions that my mother was there, scolding me for giving in, for doing this experiment, but her motive always changed. The tulpa would then cut her throat and let the blood drip and pour all over me. There is nothing that haunts me more than that memory. "You don't need her anymore; you don't need anyone but me. I know you so well," he whispered, breath hot and steamy into my ear. The sinister half smile that he then gave me still haunts me today.

I had no idea what was happening or what was to become of me. I begged at times, screamed at the top of my lungs for help, or an explanation. That's all I wanted. An explanation to this madness. I demanded answers, but the doctors never spoke to me, just cracked an occasional smile. I was so doped up and confused that it may have just been more delusion than reality, but I specifically remember them talking with the monster. They’d look down at me and smirk, as if they were planning something. I hoped that they were talking about killing me; it would be an end to this. I soon grew convinced that he was the real one, and I was the created one. A role reversal. The tulpa never gave me a definite answer to anything I asked him. I didn't know who I was, or if I were the monster.


The scariest and most scarring thing he did was touch me. More than that, he hurt me. I always had to look at him, love him or he would poke or prod me. He was sure to make sure I knew he was there. Once, he grabbed my throat and squeezed until I told him I loved him. Once, he decided I wasn’t paying enough attention to him, so he cut a massive gash in my leg with one of his long sharp nails. I felt his nail cut through my skin like a razor; I could even feel the blood gush out. The resulting gash was deep. I have a mark on my leg from it. I try my best to convince myself that I somehow had injured myself, but it’s hard to believe some days. Then one day, while he was telling me a story about how he was going to skin everyone I loved, starting with family, he paused. He had never done this before. An unsettling look crossed his face, and reached out and touched my head; it was more of a caress, like one would do to comfort a child. I could feel a chill down my spine. He smiled and said “the human mind is intriguing, isn’t it?”

In a few days things began to change, for the better this time. I was given an injection, but it was different, I started seeing black and passed out, just like the one I had taken before, I awoke back in the original room. “What in the hell is going on?" Shaking, I slowly made my way to the door. My legs were so weak from laying there for I don’t know how long. I grabbed the door handle- it was unlocked. I walked out into the empty hallway; there was no one in my sight. "This is my chance to finally leave this hell,” I thought. I bolted out the doorway, stumbling most of the way. I worked my way through the corridors and ran out through the main gate. I can’t remember much after that point.

The journey back to my house is fuzzy other than the parking lot. I was so paranoid about what was happening. I locked my door and went to bed. It took me forever to fall asleep, but at that point I wouldn’t have cared if I never woke up. Nobody ever showed up. Not one of my friends or family, and thankfully my tulpa ever showed up to check on me. I could’ve been gone for months and no one would know, or even care for that matter. I felt like it was over. I felt as if I had spent eternity in that hellacious room

I contacted authorities about my captivity. I wanted the monsters in charge of the heinous experiment brought to justice; or better yet, dead. The police didn’t find anything, not a single scrap of evidence. The research center was completely empty when they searched it aside from one bed neatly made with an envelope with cash in it placed on top. It was my last paycheck. There was no paper trail to follow; the police couldn’t even find the ad I had responded to.

I’m still recovering from it all. I’m in constant paranoia and am afraid to leave my house. I keep having mental breakdowns due to the constant fear of my tulpa’s return. I cry a lot, over everything. Sleep is foreign to me, and if I manage to rest a while, I’m tormented by nightmares. I try to focus on other things. My nightmare is slowly coming back full swing, I fear the worst. About a week ago I got a call from my social worked. My family had been attacked by a murderer who skins their victims. The police have little information about the killer, but tell me to watch myself. They also offered me counseling-yeah, like that would help.

I went to the funeral, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and even with the support of my friends I was emotionally destroyed. There was one small issue though. I was distracted at the funeral. I swear I could make out eyes about the caskets. They weren’t normal, but pure white. I swear I could hear some wretched music accompanying them. It was the sound of static, and an old phone dialing. I still am disturbed by it today – it keeps getting louder.age here.

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