We’re in the middle of a pretty major winter storm, the wind is really howling and driving the snow in swirling icy funnels, and we’re stuck in the house for the foreseeable future – at least until tomorrow afternoon by the current forecast. As much as the storm rages outside, though, there is also a tangible unease in the house, a negativity that has been creeping back in over the last few days, growing out of the darkest corners of the house.
The howling of the wind outside barely masks the strange creaks and whispers we’re hearing, or the bizarre flute-like piping noises that seem to come from nowhere. We don’t say anything to each other, but the way we both glance in the same direction, or the way our eyes flick up to a sound coming from upstairs, says enough. Things don’t seem to be as bad as they were before the spell, and we’re not seeing any weird movements or opening doors, but there’s a darkness, a coldness that doesn’t have anything to do with the temperature, and this storm tonight is making it worse.
We heard a creaking board, and then another, and to me it sounded like someone coming down the stairs. I had a weird instinct to grab my phone and take a few pictures – this was the result. It’s a shadow of some sort, and I think you can almost make out a face. I didn’t see it with my naked eye this time, it was only captured by the camera, but there’s clearly something there.
I took five pictures, but this was the only one that showed anything unusual. I think we may sleep in the living room tonight, maybe with all the lights on.
The storm is getting stronger, too…
I’ve been doing more research on ‘Azathoth’. There isn’t much out there, at least not in the ‘normal’ places, but I found one passage in an old book, one of the few I could actually read. The description brings a terrible clarity to a few things. The mentioning of flutes is especially disturbing, as I can hear what sounds like discordant flutes as I write this.
“[O]utside the ordered universe [is] that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes”