I’ve been wanting to post more, to keep up this blog as a document to the things that happen here, but it has been so difficult as the shadows grow longer and the nights grow darker…
Autumn in New England is a spectacular thing – it’s probably one of the most amazing places in the world at this time of year. The trees explode with color and the air has a particular crispness that I don’t think anywhere else can match. People come from all over the US, I’m told, to see the foliage and take day-trips through the forested areas looking at the changing colors. It has a different affect on me, however – and not just because of the things I’ve seen, the madness that has become my life, but because I feel such an overwhelming sense of melancholy, a sense of impending doom as the trees shed their leaves and the bare fingers of branches scrape the grey sky. Continue reading
Terrible dreams last night. I followed all my rituals too – the wards, the herbs, the stones, all there, all in place – but my dreams were dark, heavy, screams and shadows and pain. I remember noise – not the mad piping I am used to, but a rhythmic banging, something very heavy against something dull, like thick wood; definitely not metal. The banging seemed to go on… for a long time, I don’t know, time gets so confusing in dreams, then it stopped. The silence was more terrifying than the banging – it seemed more sinister somehow. More things happened; I ether can’t or won’t remember them directly, but I woke up drenched in sweat, my legs cramped, my chest tight… I was shaking.
I sat in my kitchen drinking tea when I heard something in the front of the house. I grabbed my phone – it’s just habit now, I suppose – and started to record. I called out, hearing what clearly sounded like footsteps creaking on the hardwood floors, and then I just froze… I saw it, something.. some ‘thing’, hunched, black, totally inhuman. It was fully transparent, but it somehow had weight to it… it seemed like it was physically there, but somehow not. The temperature dropped sharply and I felt that sickly black malevolence as it made its way across the hallway, and then it just left… Things suddenly returned to ‘normal’ and all was quiet…
Things are happening again, more escalations. I wonder – do things get worse and escalate because I am adding more relics and spells and strange objects to my ‘collection’? Or do I add these things to my collection because of the escalations?
The city from a distance. Even in the bright October sun, there is a darkness there, a cold energy that permeates every brick, every window. Most people can’t see it, or won’t see it, but it weighs on me. Every day I feel it and it drains me, it fills my head with its malevolence. Every night it fills my dreams with twisted piping and burning winds and things… things I don’t want to recall in daylight but that press upon my eyelids just the same.
I am not unhappy though – that’s the thing the doctors could never understand, could never accept. With all that I see and all that I know, I am not unhappy. I feel the weight of this black knowledge pressing upon me, I know what horrors lurk in the shadows and what rancid, pestilent things crawl through our world, and I fear; oh yes, I fear. I know terrors that most men would scarce imagine. But I am not unhappy.
I was unhappy for so long – I was depressed, I couldn’t understand what was happening, my world view was shattered into a million kaleidoscopic pieces. Dark beings, dream portals, mad piping, bizarre spells and dark rituals; these were not things of my world, of the rational world, and so my rational mind could not cope. It was only after… events, terrible events that I dare not mention here, that I came to a new understanding, a new rationale. That is when I realized that the dark chaos that surrounds us all was not some ‘family curse’ handed down for generations. No, this darkness had been there since time immemorial, and my knowledge of it was not undoing my world, but re-focusing it as it truly is.
So that is the truth of it. I see things as they are, I know about the darkness that lurks beneath the thin veneer of the ‘normal world’, I know of Yog Sothoth who is the gate, I know of the mad piping of the cosmos, and I now know I am better for it… better even though it may kill me, as it has done so many others.
Secrets should stay hidden.
Beware the shadows.
Sometimes I truly wonder, with all that I have witnessed, with all the things that I know lurk beneath the gentle exteriors of the world we think we live in, if I am truly mad, or if it is everyone else who suffers and it is only I and those like me who are free?
I am fast on the path to delving once again into the unknowable. I have a black Morchem candle and I’ve recently procured Miralin Oil, a foul substance with a vileness difficult to describe. I have also located an iron fetish, though at some cost, and should have access to it soon. I have been studying the incantation for banishing the hungim and I believe it is truth – I can feel the power vibrating from the words as I study them. These are old words, to be sure. I hope they will do what I need them to, with a minimum of negative consequence. Continue reading
This is why I keep this blog – or try to keep it up, at least. I do have readers, people who follow my rantings and know the truth, who see the things that are out there in the shadows, between the cracks in the ‘normal’ world…
I got an email from someone who knows what the thing – or things – in my walls are. He says it is a Hungim, and that his grandfather had dealt with them back in Czechoslovakia. He sent an incantation, which I will research more, and said that it requires a few items. I do not know what miralin oil is, but it might be in one of the books. I do know what a telchik fetish is, I believe I know someone who can access one. Black morchem candles… I wish I did not know what those are, or how they are made. I have one stored safely in a metal box, covered in sea salt upstairs.
This may help me resolve the issue of the scratching, but I know that any spell is dangerous – an incantation requiring a black morchem candle doubly so.
We put so much significance on the phase of the moon and the position of the stars. Even in our enlightened, scientific time, we recognize that there are things so infinite out there that learning just one of the secrets of the universe could elevate our species as a whole.
Last night was one of those times, with all eyes upon the ‘blood moon eclipse’, and I must admit I was apprehensive about the event myself. With so many strange things happening around me, I feared that this lunar occurrance would somehow trigger an escalation of events. I began imagining portals being opened, dark shadows encroaching upon my home, shrieks of terror and that horrible, discordant piping filling the air. I imagined terrible answers to all my unspoken questions; answers that would surely drive any sane man to madness.
At sundown I began my preparations, re-enforcing certain sigils and symbols at my threshholds, burning certain herbs and lighting candles of specific colors. I then retreated to my bedroom and, after drawing all the shades and re-checking my protective wards, I sat waiting. I would not sleep, no – so certain was I that something would happen, that this eclipse would trigger some sequence of terrible events, I refused to sleep.
I watched the small red digital clock slowly chonicling the passage of time, one minute after the next. My ears were sharp, listeing for anything out of the ordinary, ready. As I sat and listened, though, I realized that maybe it was the quiet that was the true threat – there was no sound, no scratching, no creaking floorboards. Everything was just silent, barring my breathing and the occasional car passing by outside.
At midnight I felt that the danger had passed – the eclipse was complete and the moon returned to normal, after all, but then my mind begin to play tricks. What if that’s what they are waiting for? What if the eclipse was a catalyst to set things in motion, but those things would take more time to unfold? What if the things were there, in the dark, watching me with red-rimmed eyes, waiting anxiously for me to finally let down my guard and sleep.
My eyes were burning from the effort of staying awake as I saw the first rays of morning sun begin to lighten the drawn shades. Still I sat, listening to my breathing, feeling eyes on me, feeling an unnatural chill that probably wasn’t there. My mind was in overdrive, all the shadows and shades and sounds and terrors of the past years all latching on and dragging down my rational thoughts like a drowning man lashing out and pulling down his rescuer.
My head is more clear now and it is obvious that nothing happened last night. The moon was just a rock floating through space, orbiting our somewhat larger rock as a shadow passed across it’s glowing face. This action was merely common astrophysics and, in the light of a new day, it is clear to me that the eclipse had no greater significance to whatever malevolence is out there in the darkness than any other night, than any other moon. Our comings and goings matter not to these beings – I have felt the terrible indifference myself, carried on black leathery wings through eons of dream.
I will try to sleep now, for a short time at least. I hope that I do not dream.
The dream came suddenly and my senses were jarred by the switch from black nothingness to waves of heat and a rancid smell. I was barefoot on hot, rocky ground, and the sky was full of ash – I felt hot cinders bounce off my skin. There were hints of high, discordant piping noises carried on the wind as it blew across my face, the sound making my skin crawl.
I walked towards a shadow, wavering in the heat, just at the edge of my vision. I kept walking closer, but the shadow didn’t seem to be getting closer, it kept wavering just at the edge. I walked and walked, the piping making my head hurt, the hot wind drying and stinging my eyes… Continue reading
It was early morning and I awoke from a dark, swirling dream of half-formed figures and terrifying sounds. I awoke to a shrieking in the real world, a horrible, shrill sound that split the quiet of the pre-dawn morning. My neighbor heard it – he was out getting the paper, I think – and was knocking on my door, asking if everything was all right. I told him it was the tea kettle, but I could tell he didn’t believe me. It didn’t sound anything like a tea kettle, but what else could I say?
Once I got rid of him I ran down to the basement where the shriek came from; I saw the camera first – it was smashed, in several pieces. It looked like it was stepped on somehow, but by what I have no idea. The rat trap was sprung and there was that horrible smelling green slime all over the place, there were boxes knocked over – something had happened, clearly, but I wasn’t sure what. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know – I’m still not.
I thought the video chip in the camera was broken, but I was finally able to get it out of the camera and with a little fiddling, I got the video imported to my computer. It breaks up at the end, but you can see something when it falls… something hairy and possibly covered with that slime, it’s hard to make out. It isn’t a rat though – I’ve long given up on the idea that it’s rats in my walls…
Things have been quiet, mostly – calm before the storm, perhaps. I think it tries to convince me that I’m crazy, that I’m losing my mind – enough days without an… incident, and I start to think maybe it’s all in my head, maybe I’m making it all up. I know it isn’t true, though – I know it’s all there. I have the pictures, and the videos, and this blog… it catalogs everything, that’s why I do it. There are things here, in the blog, that I don’t really remember now -that is troubling, that I wrote things, took video of things and don’t remember them. So much has happened though – it’s easy to understand why my memory would be a little off in places, right?
Something did happen, in the basement. There was a shrieking, like a terrible shrieking sound early in the morning. My neighbor heard it, came to knock on my door to see what was wrong – see, it isn’t just me. I had to lie, I told him it was my old tea-kettle, but he wasn’t convinced – he was looking around my house, I could see his eyes, his judgement. We used to be friends, Dave and I. He always used to borrow my long ladder when he was putting up his Christmas lights. He doesn’t look at me the same way now, though – not since it all started. I can see it in his eyes, the fear of me. He probably thinks it’s drugs – isn’t that what they always think?
Once he was gone I raced to the basement, but whatever happened was long over. The big trap was sprung, but not damaged. The trap cam on the other hand – that was damaged pretty heavily, it looks like maybe someone stepped on it? And there was more of that green slime around the place. I’m trying to recover the memory card from the camera now, but it’s jammed in there. I’ll post whatever I find once I get it out, assuming the chip isn’t damaged and the video data is still intact.
The nights are getting longer, darkness encroaching into the realm of day, and I feel things in the shadows growing stronger. I hear them whisper, hear the discordant piping.