Cosmetics from the Dawn of Mankind
Yeah, I'm clueless about broadcasting, but even I know you can't let the sound drop dead. Streamers never shut up online, and TV celebs or comedians are always yapping at full throttle. Sure, for a horror concept like this, too much chatter might backfire, but if I were a viewer, I'd at least want to know what's going down right now.
I'm no expert with encyclopedic knowledge or pro skills to school anyone, but I can sprinkle in a little MSG when needed.
"Like I said earlier, in human society, 'old things' carry massive weight. Primitive idol worship paved the way for 'religion,' and religion gave birth to the clearly defined 'gods' we know. In that sense, some things that have stuck with humanity since ancient times inherently pack occult meaning."
I pointed to a dusty crate left abandoned in the corner. It was stuffed with plain cosmetic containers—no brand logos—likely trashed when the factory shut down.
"Cosmetics go back as far as idol worship culture. Historical records show even Neanderthals, whose line died out tens of thousands of years ago, stored and used makeup-like stuff in seashells. Long before proper religions or nations, cosmetics were already humanity's companions. Back then, men built strength and sacrificed to protect the tribe, while women handled gathering, childcare, and homemaking to stay safe. Even those women knew why to adorn their bodies and what tools worked best."
Sure, there were all sorts of jewelry, but that leans more toward flash and symbolism over raw beauty. Cosmetics, though? They straight-up transform your look, and unlike fixed-shape accessories, technique and product variety let you mix it up endlessly. Of course, asking if they were just for women's primping? Nah. Warriors used them to flaunt bravery, ancient shamans to hide their human form and get closer to idols. Despite not being survival essentials like eating or sleeping, ancient humans treated 'makeup' as that crucial.
"Not every modern cosmetic screams occult, but depending on time and place, they sure can. Like how a cute pet dog everyone loves suddenly barking at thin air makes folks whisper, 'It's seeing ghosts!' Interpretation and perspective change the outcome."
One person sees cosmetics as simple beautifiers; another as curse vectors.
"This factory got twisted because 'something' views cosmetics that way."
Otherwise, why would a humming cosmetics plant suddenly tank, or containers made for human use start killing them?
"We're in a plague zone now. Uh, weird to compare supernatural shit to a disease? But it's not wrong."
I beckoned the cameraman and led him to the cosmetic container production machine.
"Supernatural phenomena get that name because humans—who can't fully accept them as 'natural'—spot them. Once observed, they spread like contagion. Spiritual entities crave human attention. Some humbly just want to spook you; others boldly possess. Before we showed up, this was just a dead factory... but..."
I flung open the machine's cover where containers popped out.
"The second we arrive, it reactivates. Like a virus past incubation."
Rumble-rumble-rumble!
The cameraman gasped in shock as containers jammed inside poured out. Inside those we'd never noticed? Corpses of small wild animals and bugs, packed tight.
"Freaky, right? No sane human did this—it reeks of effort to scare us."
Narrow-necked cosmetic jars? No way field mice or bugs fill 'em to bursting naturally. The decay was too fresh for midwinter—like they'd just died.
Production would edit the gore down, but the staging was key. The grudge tied to cosmetics, the factory's malice, the makeup's magic—show viewers that, and the horror amps up.
Of course, I'd just flipped their ace early, so they wouldn't sit idle.
I nodded; the cameraman frantically unwrapped a salt candy and popped it in.
From his viewer-like POV, he'd feel the chill even without my cue.
"Gulp! Ptoo!"
"Tastes super off, huh?"
"Y-yeah! It's like..."
"Puke-inducing?"
"H-how'd you know?"
"'Cause tricking you into spitting it out is the goal. Spirits can't directly mess with the living much, so they hack senses first: fake sights, phantom sounds, gross smells or tastes. Once you're spooked and deflated... weird breaths or touches start. So don't spit."
"W-wait, am I tricked now?"
"If you know, you're not tricked anymore."
"...Ah!"
The cameraman's grimace melted into relief. Human senses are dumb yet honest—unaware feelings hit different from aware ones. The moment he clocked 'ghost trick!' on that vomit-flavored salt candy, it tasted normal. Brains flip to 'I'm right!' once they admit error.
That's why spirits struggle direct interference. Possession victims lose reason or fade 'cause cognition tanks.
"Feel the gap between knowing and not?"
"Hits hard."
"That's where 'knowledge is power' comes from."
"Huh? That's a bit..."
"Kidding."
I smirked, grabbing a cosmetic jar crammed with bug and mouse corpses, hurling them one by one into the lightless dark.
"Wh-what? Why toss 'em?"
"Gotta return before claiming ours. Think advanced gosure counter."
Gosure: Hikers tossing snacks to beasts or wandering spirits, politely begging no harm. Fun fact? 'Food' is loose—fresh-ish bug/mouse corpses count, so the darkness gobbled 'em eagerly.
"No clink or shatter when glass hits something. Why?"
"......!"
"World's stingy with good; no need for bad. So return it."
The 'curse dolls' made to hex humans? Hurled back, darkness dwellers slurped the innards, cackling. Spirits eat anything—unclean curse vessels vanished like mist.
Prep guy must be pissed. Sure enough, clanking erupted from the conveyor beyond.
Hiss... hiss.
Rough breaths carried perfume-thick cosmetic stench on the chill air.
Or was it 'body odor'?