B.O.B – A Narrative (Part 3)

Ayla Wize

As my investigations into B.O.B continue, I find that the rabbit hole goes deeper than I originally thought. I mean- I knew that there was going to be a rabbit hole, I just didn’t think that the rabbit hole was going to turn into a sinkhole. 

To give an update on what happened with that book I purchased, Callback est ‘Quam ad fac Citera.’, it turns out that I was not scammed by Amazon. It showed up at my house last week, and instead of being wrapped in Amazon packaging, it was instead encased in brown parcel paper and has been sealed with wax. Curiously enough, the wax seal was of an Azalea, and the package itself smelled sickly sweet. I decided not to open it at my house, and instead kept it sitting in my school locker, keeping it there until the end of the last B.O.B meeting. Strangely enough, after I removed the book from my locker, I haven’t been able to open it. Weird. 

I continued to do research on each of the original B.O.B members but fell short of finding any relevant information that didn’t include addresses, social security numbers, or family members. The most information I was able to find only concerned Aaron, and it was just more photos of himself posing with “Callback est ‘Quam ad fac Citera.’”, which did not help my research at all.

As I continued to do research on B.O.B, I found that the analog-horror scenarios continued. Last week I saw the silhouette of a man following me around in school and a thing that looked like both an alligator and a child that ran through the library. I’ve been locked in rooms that I never entered (nor did the rooms even exist in the first place), only to show up in the school library minutes later, in the middle of reading a book that I’ve never seen before that moment. A few days ago, I saw Aaron throw a match at a pile of books in the school library, starting a fire that consumed everything in its path. I’ve taken to noting when this happens, trying to find any similarities between the events. So far, I’ve found nothing.


As my research progressed, B.O.B had several meetings, but nothing came from them until the most recent one.

It started off as a normal meeting- with no scenarios occurring. I turned on my recorder (bought specifically for my investigations and blackmail), and hoped that I would get any information relevant to my investigations. As I looked around the room, I realized that there were only eleven people there including myself- and eight of which consisted of the original B.O.B members. The club’s sponsor, Ms. Gallagher was nowhere to be found. Aaron started the meeting.

“Hello, B.O.B members! And the Student Press guy.”

I waved. 

Aaron went into detail about what to expect for the upcoming “Book-Battle” (unfortunately, it did not involve a fight to the death, as I was previously led to believe.), and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary for B.O.B. In fact, everything seemed to be operating as an average club would- to the point where I was even wondering if my brain had been making up all the events concerning B.O.B, perhaps done in a maladapted attempt to make my writing more entertaining. Maybe all my narratives were just the product of my burned-out creative subconscious, trying to retain a sense of pride I no longer possess. Maybe all those scenarios that I’ve been describing are actually just hallucinations brought on by a lack of sleep and overactive imagination. 

The B.O.B meeting ended, and I was left with no new information. As I grabbed my bag and turned off my recorder (and continued my slight crisis), something caught my eye. Karina (who I have described in a previous article), having turned around, accidentally knocked their bag over, its contents had spilled out onto the floor, including several books. One of the books was Callback est ‘Quam ad fac Citera.’.

I picked up the book and handed it to Karina. “I think you dropped this.”

They turned around and took it quickly. “Oh, thanks.”

“No problem. Hey, what’s that book about-”

“Aaron was wanting to talk to you. About some of the articles.” They said, their voice deadpan.

“Cool,” I looked around for Aaron, but nobody else was in the room. My first thought was: How did I not notice anybody leaving? My second thought was: I should probably run right now. Unfortunately, I did not act on the second thought. “Uh, where is he?”

“Waiting for you.” Karina snapped their fingers, and I was out of the B.O.B meeting room and in another room, one which has a similar design to the room in Blank Room Soup.

“What the”

Aaron cleared his throat. I turned around, to see him standing with his arms behind his back and sunglasses on his face. 

“Oh. Hey Aaron. Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?”

“Hello, Student Press guy.”

“I have a name.”

“No, you don’t.” That’s hurtful. He began walking around the room. “Y’know, I’ve noticed quite a drop in attendance at B.O.B.”

“Yeah. Me too. So, do you like, not know my name or something? Or are you just-”

“And quite an increase in reception to your articles. Specifically, I’ve noticed an increase in reception to your B.O.B articles.” He jerked off his sunglasses only to reveal his normal glasses beneath them. As much as I hate to admit it, that was cool. “In fact, it seems like there’s quite the correlation between your articles and the drop in attendance.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool. So, where are we?”


Keep in mind he still hasn’t stopped walking around. “I can’t imagine why you would publish such slander-”


“SLANDER on us, and much less why anyone would believe such lies.” He shoved a newspaper into my hands, the front page showing my latest article. He didn’t have a newspaper before he started walking around, and our department doesn’t use printed newspapers due to budgeting reasons. Weird. “I mean, you’re claiming that we are a cult. A supernatural cult. An occult, if you will.”

“I will not.”

“Obviously these, erm, ‘articles’,” He air-quoted “articles”. “Hold absolutely no truth. How could a Book Club be a supernatural cult? Could you explain that?”

“Well, that’s kind of what the narratives are about. Figuring out just what y’all are.”

His eyes twitched. “You yourself have admitted to having hallucinations- in the writing itself. Those so-called memoirs are based on nothing more than hearsay and malicious intent.”

“No, they aren’t”

“How so?”

“ ‘Cause just based on the circumstances of what’s going on now, I’m right.” I gestured around to the blank room we were in, the newspaper in my hands, and Aaron himself. “You’re just giving me more evidence with every word you speak.”

He blinked. It was at that moment I realized he did not blink during that entire interaction. “I read your last few articles.”

“I think I knew that already.”

“I want you to stop slandering us.”

“Nope. It’s not slander, sorry, libel, if it’s true. Now, if you’re done trying to act like an eldritch abomination, I would really like to be back in the library or something. I’ve got some work to do.”

Something flashed in his eyes- a look of either anger or annoyance. “Nope.”

“C’mon Aaron. The Journalism guys are just worried about y’all. I’m just covering a story.”

“You can get out of here when you promise to stop slandering us.”

With that, he blinked out of existence, and I was left standing alone in a room that I didn’t recognize. With nothing else to do, I threw my bag on the floor and sat down, looking through apps on my phone. I’d been in quite a few weird rooms at that point, and I already had a feeling that I’d be out in a little over an hour.

After like, four hours (I was grossly inaccurate on the timing), I snapped back into our plane of existence, sitting in my bed with a book in my lap. I looked at the book cover- it was Callback est ‘Quam ad fac Citera’, and it was open to page two-hundred-and-sixty-seven. I looked at the page (which was just covered in the same page number it had) and threw it onto the floor. I then pulled my phone from my pocket and logged the room incident.

I am getting, very, very, annoyed with B.O.B’s antics. I don’t mind the whole supernatural bit, but I do mind people trying to make me go crazy. I’ll be back in a few weeks with an update on B.O.B if I don’t get bribed to stop the articles or anything (I’m just saying, if Aaron gave me like, two dollars, I would definitely stop writing these.). For now, though, I think I’m gonna have to log Karina in with Aaron on the “I-need-to-investigate-you” scale. Something tells me that it isn’t just Aaron who’s the source of B.O.B’s behavior.


Thank you to B.O.B for their contributions to this article. All photos are the property of the Journalism department.

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