Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Eye Of The Star

It is true that the lush rays of the sun reach into the farthest recesses of the land, seeping into rocky crevices and filling murky caves. Over the waters of the oceans the radiant rays dance gracefully, decorating the smooth face of the water with a hazy shade of a million brilliant colors and illuminating the neat underwater scenery. But there are queer depths beneath that sunlight fails to get into. In those gloomy expanses shadowy beings dwell. In complete blackness they prosper, only venturing out of their unspoken lairs to predate an unfortunate fish that trespasses into their forbidden territory.

The task of discerning the demented nature of those beings is nigh unattainable. Ever since man was introduced to the vastness of the oceans, his quest for unraveling their depths proved unavailing. There always seemed to be a persistent obstacle that thwarted his quest, devastating all his means and methods. Every submarine deployed to unveil the profound waters never came back; only rubble was found on the bed of the ocean. Beneath that rubble lied the mutilated corpses of what was the crew.

However, one crew member at least was able to come back alive after each futile operation, but the task of questioning him was difficult, as his sanity was ravaged by the sinister beings he had faced. In his wake he would whimsically murmur: "Starfish! My vow is unbroken.", and in his deepest slumber, unending shrieks of terror would incessantly reiterate from his dry mouth. After long pondering, scientists would then take those survivors to the analysis facilities, where they are forever bound in the chains of both madness and captivity.

Concerning what ensued, I recall what one of my friends once apprehensively told: "Johan Black, the one and only. The mightiest, wittiest man to ever delve into the depths of the ocean. He was mad. I could hear his shrill screams as they brutally dragged him into that dark room. They set him on the platform and then attached a manifold of tangled cords to his shaved head. After that, they hypnotized him and his voice was no more."

As he opened his mouth to continue, a series of thin, dark lines outlined his forehead. A grim expression appeared on his face. He muttered in a low voice: "The scientist whose assignment was to study Johan went into the control room. A few minutes after the analysis commenced, a horrifying shriek emanated from the control room. I rushed to his aid, but to no avail; he has become another victim like Johan. Searching for any evidence, I quickly scanned the room, but everything in it had begun to malfunction. The screen was blank. I gazed at the scientist. As I studied his forehead, a star appeared on it. It was a starfish, but with an eye at its center. I knew it back then; it was the Eye of the Star, the Herovex. The terrible entity that recurred in many mythologies around the wide world. The theory that most scientists used to refuse, including me. To see the Herovex is a pain unlike any other. I was indeed fortunate to not behold its true form. However, that incident tormented my dreams for days to come." He then forced a fake smile, and continued,"But the morphine saved my mind."

Thursday, 18 October 2012

Mental Funeral Part II

As the malign reptilian commenced to disclose its utter disgust, the putrid stench intensified, thus smothering me and bringing tears to my sullen eyes. However, I could clearly behold the creature marching to my proximity. A painstaking wince numbed my frail arms as they ludicrously trembled, but it wasn't until I saw the queer silhouette of the approaching menace that when my fear became intoxicating, for the sight I beheld was of a repulsive nature.

A pale, dark green painted it's scaly visage, tinting it with a color identical to that of its tendril-like hands. Atop it's hairless, bulging head surged two antenna-like horns, adding to its foreboding queerness, while its eyes, pupil-less and sterile, stared at me horrendously. Below them, a pair of slits resembled the creature's nose, but they were as static and cold as the creature's grim look and its inwards-furling colorless lips. Besides that, the creature was of a small stature, yet it was lethal nevertheless.

Its terrible grimace lingered for a long time, chilling my bones to the marrow. My mental pain was intolerable, and it seemed that I was going to be subdued soon. I felt my rocketing heart ram my ribs as the creature kept its fixed gaze on me. "What if it meant no harm?", I thought for a moment, but in the next I pondered, "No, that can't be. If so, then why am I constrained?".

As those musings brushed against the underside of my dying mind, I beheld the fatal scene; the gruesome creature snatched a drill from its pale white robes, and closed in on me. I was dumbstruck with sheer horror. As the creature delicately switched on the electric drill, I wished that I could drown again in my esoteric dreams, that I could vanish from existence. I even wanted to listen to that buzzing sound intently.

But my desperation was interrupted by the racketing noise of the sonic drill. As it spiraled endlessly, the creature agaped its toothless mouth and chuckled hysterically, laughing with manic at my ultimate failure. I was shocked when it growled, "We are the Severed Survivors! IT'S NOW TIME TO SHOW YOU WHAT A MENTAL FUNERAL IS!"

As the riveting drill neared my sweating forehead, meteors of old memories barraged my consciousness. My induction into NASA, my trespassing into the restricted facility and my lunatic idiocy when I summoned the dreadful Severed Survivors. For the honest purpose of science I was going to face a pain a man rarely beheld. Again the creature shrieked, "Like countless ancestors of yours, you shall undergo the Mental Funeral. How do you like every negative thought, memory and emotion in the world ending up in your puny mind? Would you like hell unleashed inside your lame excuse for a brain?"

Its dissonant voice began to fade away as the drill closed in on my head. Its droning sound created a trance that evoked whimsical discordance in my conscience. An excruciating pain burnt my forehead as the drill contacted, but it was so short that I barely felt it. Next all light withdrew. I was floating amidst pitch-black darkness. For a while no emotions disrupted my esoteric reverie, but then I witnessed a speck of light amidst the engulfing blackness. "No!" I panicked, dismal consternation coercing me. Like the creature I abhorred said, it was my fate to receive the agony of the entire universe. It was my fate, my endless fate, for I couldn't die. No one could die in the void.

Thursday, 4 October 2012

Mental Funeral Part I

That uncanny buzzing sound. It kept resonating incessantly in my hazy consciousness. My mind was as blank as the void, and a veil of black stretched before my confounded eyes. In this vortex of confusion, my senses were oblivious to the world. I floated in a wavy sea of absolute darkness, with obscure memories from a distant past seeping into my thoughts frequently. Of those memories I recalled not a single word, but they evoked a state of fearful consternation in my heart.

All of a sudden, an abrupt change altered my esoteric reverie. It was that buzzing sound again, but this time, it awoke me and I regained my consciousness. My blurry vision adapted to the light, and I scrutinized the scenery around me. I didn't really remember where I had been before fainting, but I was sure I had never been in that queer room before. A dim, radiating blue light came from above while the walls, the ceiling and the ground were assembled of a shining titanium-like substance. All over the place there were advanced appliances I have never beheld before. Most of them resembled medical equipment, but scattered across the table were also electrical chainsaws, drills and metallic shock paddles. I felt a sudden lurch in my stomach at the sight of those tools; having been a doctor for more than twenty years, the sight of a chainsaw in a clinic - if it were a clinic - was deeply disturbing. Besides these tools, hundreds of thick cables extended and overlapped all over the ground. Whatever this place was, it simply was a great paragon of advanced technology.

While my interest was intensely directed at my surroundings, I hadn't noticed I was bound to a platform with a rigid, upright stony surface that stood against one wall in the room. A searing pain blazed through my frail limbs, which were firmly held in place by radiating halos that tightly encircled them. This realization, as horrific as it was, failed to provoke any memories in my mind. The recent past was as mysterious and cryptic as the place I was held captive in. The only thing I was absolutely aware of was my maniacal fear. Horror slid its twisted fingers around my heart, and my mind was totally debilitated. In my current miserable state, I couldn't even think of a way to flee.

The reverberating buzz came again, but this time, it repeated monotonously, slowly turning from a distant noise to a maddening racket. Sweat seeped from my forehead, because the mental pain was intolerable. I bellowed a terrific shriek in retaliation to my desperation, but the buzzing noise refused to stop. Like a wailing siren it blurted vehemently, thus crushing my ears. Confusion blended with fear, and their hideous mixture conjured an aberrant hysteria in me. Again, I shrieked deafeningly and felt a tremendous surge of energy blast through my veins.

Silence. The sinister sound had finally receded. I felt weird compulsions of fatigue, which overcame my extreme dismay. My consciousness was again saturated with delusions of darkened emptiness, and my senses failed to successfully perceive the real world. I was waning, slowly getting embraced by the void. No fear, fatigue or pleasure disturbed my feeling-less trance. I was vanishing.

A thunderous clank of metal grasped my drowsy attention. It had come into earshot from the far side of the room. As I gazed at its source, I discovered something I had overlooked before; in the metal wall there was a little hatch-like door. I watched it keenly as it slowly yet steadily creaked on its glowing hinges. A sudden surge of anxiety disheartened my sullen heart as the door became ajar. A rancid stench streamed into the room, nauseating me within an instant. After that, a vile, reptilian hand with a greenish color and claw-like, black fingernails came over the the side of the hatch. Beholding the hand was enough to devastate any hope I had, for I recalled everything that had happened. Everything made sense then, and the shards of shattered memories were put back into their right place in my mind. Again terror commenced to engulf me, as desperation was at its highest. The sight of the hand made me wish the buzzing noise had never stopped. In a state of agitated hopelessness, I tried choking myself, but I had forgotten that my hands were thoroughly constrained.


Saturday, 8 September 2012

The Hare And The Tiger

Out there over the towering high mountains, the starless sky was shrouded in somber darkness, and the moon was nowhere to be seen. Underneath, the berserk western winds blew mightily, bearing the smothering smell of newly-burnt ashes. Together the smell blended with the sweet aroma of the beautiful juniper trees, and evoked a foreboding atmosphere in the murky forest. It was a deceiving place; the trees would lull wandering travelers in with their fresh scents, but they then would enchain them in their limb-like branches. The trees then used to voraciously infest upon their victims flesh; this seemed to explain the popular fascination that the green of this forest prevailed all year long.

Silence lingered over the grim scenery, but it was soon obliterated by the subtle trot of a little hare. The hare bolted across the clearing and rushed into the dark woods. It seemed that it was being stalked by a ferocious predator, because no living creature would enter the forest if it were unneeded. Following the hare's escape, a deafening roar reverberated intensely. A striped tiger lunged into the clearing, and scanned the area for a trace of the hare. It then stroke the grassy turf with its paw and sounded another vicious roar, for its delicious meal had cunningly fled. The tiger didn't penetrate the grassy hedge that encircled the forest, for the place terrified it and quaked its utter existence. However, it patiently waited for the hare to return.

Again silence reigned, and for the tiger moments drifted away like long hours as it anticipated the success of its trap. It stood its ground, keeping watch for the return of the feeble hare. As it waited, a shriek erupted fiercely, and the tiger winced, turned around hastily and set off into a brisk run. The horrendous shriek exploded again as the hare, or what became of it, emerged from the twisted forest. Its head was swollen and gigantic, but its body was more drastically altered, for it was that of a horse, coated in ensanguined reddish white fur. It had no mane, and from its rear end extended the thin tail of a writhing python. However, the pinnacle of ugliness was the hoofs; the hare-horse had massive, nail-less human feet that produced a loud thud as they continuously slammed the bare turf.

The tiger was already several leagues away, but the hare abomination didn't follow it at all. Its eyes opened wide as it agaped its mouth. From it rushed a fleshy hook reeking filth. The hook covered leagues in seconds as it soared across the clearing, and then it groped the unlucky tiger. With its vile red eyes, the hare beckoned for the hook to return. Again it agaped its mouth and swallowed the trapped tiger as the hook swiftly retreated into the hare's deep bowels. Using its sharp jaws, the hare gnawed and lustfully devoured what once was its predator.

Thursday, 6 September 2012

Sculpting The Monolith

Before the fiery hearth I squatted. The flames danced and crackled as they fed upon the ashen wood, pouring a warm aura that disclosed my pallid face. It was a cold night outside, but the sturdy walls of my ancient hut were to much for the snow to overcome. And so, it was an exceptional winter night, a one suitable for work. My shabby tools lay before me on the creaking wooden planks. I beckoned to the bucket at the corner of the room and it flew gracefully towards me. Soon my work would be done.

I poured the molten flesh out of the bucket. It wobbled as it took its final form. Within moments I began running my frail fingers through it, refining its features. With my knife I cut off the unneeded parts, and soon disposed of them. The flames of the old hearth kept me warm and relaxed, for my business was perilous and difficult; a little mistake could cost me my life. However, I was a master flesh sculptor; for many years I have prevailed and became the rightful king of this peculiar craft.

Great friends were my tools. With their aid, I could masterfully control the flesh and put it under my ultimate command. I would tear apart the puny flesh with my knife and place fire therein. Then I would use my little shovel to flatten the outside of the meat, until the fire took its effect inside. Yes, fire. Fire the savior from plagues. Fire the bringer of strength. Fire the serpent that spews life into the static dead. Fire the essence of mighty Zornath.

My masterpiece was nearing its completion. Never have I carved a sculpture this complex nor have I even thought of accomplishing it. However, I succeeded, and the shattered shards of life were now being recollected and reassembled into a new, lively entity. My sculpture was one of a kind; not only a design of decomposed flesh, but also a creature, a being. But it had no goal, as if it existed without a reason. Its goal in life was my choice only; I could make it a moral prophet for a pound of flesh, but I could also turn it into the vilest monster mankind could ever behold. It was all up to me, and to the divine forces that dwelt in the sky, for I couldn't go against their bidding.

Three hours passed. The monolith took its new devastating form; a fleshy humanoid being, but it was so gigantic in proportions that it was crammed in my hut. Hastily, I led the monolith outside. My plan had been accomplished. One thing remained though. I closed in on the monolith and with a firm tone I uttered, "I have carved thee from raw flesh, and fire has given thee one life". In response to my speech, the massive monolith agaped its mouth and growled maniacally. As it did that, I slipped a rolled parchment of paper through its mouth into its deep bowels. On the parchment I had written "DEVASTATE MANKIND AND PLEASE LORD ZORNATH".

Tuesday, 4 September 2012

Rituals Of Flesh And Blood

The newly-ignited firewood crackled softly, obliterating the silence that reigned over the grave, dark forest. The night sky overhead was pitch-black and completely starless. Once in a while, a fiery meteor would blaze throughout the somber sky, leaving a flickering aura in its path. Then it would burst to rocky rubble as it exploded intensely. A blinding flash would ensue, only to be followed by a monolithic, earth-shaking bang. The protective halo of the planet was too hard for one meteor to pierce, but together the group of barraging meteors would batter the halo and easily smash the planet.

Below the celestial encounter, the sound of briskly-walking footsteps and the cracking leaves underneath resonated in the forest. An obscure figure emerged from beneath the murky trees into the clearing illuminated by the sparkling flames of the firewood. The figure was humanoid and tall, but his head was shrouded with a black hood. Besides that, nothing could be made of the figure, and even with the aid of the gleaming fire, for he was extremely dark. He stood grimly in the middle of the clearing, his head levitated and fixed at the ongoing explosions in the sky. Suddenly, he raised his right arm high and delicately swung it to the left. Within moments a rain of meteors crashed down on the defensive halo, shattering it at many locations. The crashing meteors painted the sky with bedazzling colors, and even the grim figure pulled his hands to his veiled ears when the sound of the explosions reverberated. As soon as the shrill noise faded, the figure's arms sprung towards the sky and he sounded a maniacal laugh. 

And as if an answer to the wicked chuckles, an object tumbled down hastily from the sky. The figure ferociously lunged and groped the object before it impacted with the hard floor of the forest. It was an altar; a stone altar emblazoned with delicately-carved runes, but it seemed that the years have taken a heavy toll on it, for it was damaged and wrecked at many of its corners. It also had a perfectly round top, apparently for sacrificing. The figure stroked the altar and then set it on the ground in front of it. He brought out a candle from his cloak and magically lighted it. Following that, he pressed the flame of the candle against the altar and then he extinguished it. A red, incandescent glow emanated from the top of the altar and washed against the pallid face of the figure. The glow betrayed the darkness and disclosed the horrific design of the figure's face. It wasn't a human; its body resembled that of a tall, slouchy man, but its face drastically differed. For instance , a long, yellow-tinted bird beak protruded like a mountain from its grey, feather-covered face. Over the beak two bead-like, pupil-less eyes loomed cruelly. The hood concealed what remained of the hideous creature's twisted face. Its hands were also clad in leather gloves.

The bird-faced man bellowed a shrill, ear-ripping shriek. He then drew his gloved hands to his beak and he forcefully agaped it. After that, a low growl reverberated from his bowels as his stomach began to expand, as if he had eaten a gigantic object. The object inside him began to slowly move inside his body, and so his stomach returned to its normal size and now it was his chest that was swollen and large. The creature growled ear-splittingly again. The growl squeezed the object out of the creature's chest; it was now crammed in his beak. A third vile growl followed. With a torrent of blood and vomit the object was thrust outside the creature's beak.

The object wasn't technically an object; it was a human's charred remains, a mutilated cadaver. The bird-faced man heaved the repulsively-rotten corpse and softly set it on the altar. Carefully, he poured blood on the corpse from a flask he had with him. Again he lighted his coarse candle and this time he malevolently scorched the human remains. As the flames fed upon the body, the bird-faced man burst into hysterical laughter as if he accomplished his ultimate goal.

A solemn expression returned to the creature's grotesque face as the ashen smoke rose in tendrils from the desecrated corpse. The creature moved its arms in intricate shapes, as if performing an esoteric ritual. It abruptly stopped and set off swiftly into the murky woods. A minute later, two sounds came into earshot: the first was that of creaking and the second was of glass breaking. Massive shards of glass were tumbling from the sky; the planet's protective halo had been devastated.

Thursday, 23 August 2012

Merging With Sword Onto Them, Piercing Where They Might Part II

After beholding the shocking scenery, I felt the warriors' morale astoundingly decrease. The dreadful aspect of our formidable enemies hindered us from attacking; we simply stood facing them, cautiously scrutinizing their cruel eyes. One of them then released a shriek so ruthless that we all instantly and firmly protected our ears with our hands. Hearing of the creatures' shriek was drastically different from hearing them shriek. The incident made me doubt our chance in the battle; if the creatures could evoke so much agony by shrieking, then a physical confrontation with them would be much more horrendous. There were eight of us to six of them, but against a menace as terrible as the Olorundu warriors, that didn't matter at all.

Absolute silence lingered following the awful shriek for long, unending minutes. We were paralyzed by our own fear, but what ceased the Olorundu warriors from thrashing us remained a mystery; they broodingly stood facing us, eyeing us ferociously. The looming silence was then obliterated by the alarming sound of a hooting owl, which probably was significant for the Olorundu warriors, as they strode towards us. Before fear incapacitated our strong will, we unsheathed our honed swords and stood ready for the upcoming clash with the titans.

I lunged valiantly towards the closest of the Olorundu warriors and swung my sword to his right side. As I had expected, he was very cunning and effortlessly parried my futile blow with his own sword, sending my attacking arm away and making me open for attack. He tried to maim me, but I was also too fast for him, as I hastily crouched and sidestepped. It seemed that my evasion angered him beyond limits, because he uttered a dreadful shriek and assaulted me again. Still, he failed in crushing me, but he came closer this time and I was extremely lucky. Luck had saved me once, I thought, but it won't save me forever.

The fierce encounter continued. Momentum and adrenaline forcefully hazed my senses, and so I wasn't aware of my colleagues. The only thing I was aware of was my fear: the fear that the Olorundu warrior was going to triumph. I had taken several mighty blows and blood trickled and oozed endlessly out of my limbs. I had to change my plan, but I needed some time to think. Quickly and without further consideration, I jabbed at my enemy's chest and set of on a run back to the village. After my senses awoke, I beheld a morbid scenery that discouraged me and made me want to die: I didn't see my colleagues. I only witnessed six Olorundu warriors approaching, leaving seven mutilated cadavers behind them.

All was lost. Actually, we didn't expect to victor, but we hoped to slaughter at least one Olorundu warrior. But what I once deemed a difficult task was now an impossible one. A sour taste of regret overcame me as I anxiously waited for the six warriors to come and ravage me. Regret for my wasted life. Regret for my shameful failure. Seconds went by like meandering hours, and only contributed in increasing my nervousness. I then remembered the children. The children that I was sworn to defend. The children that I failed in protecting. As that thought brushed against my decaying mind, I felt tears flow out of my eyes, and got ready to slit my throat. If I were going to die, I would die by my own sword rather than the loathsome claws of the nasty Olorundu warrior.

But I never killed myself nor did the Olorundu warriors. Something uncanny occurred as I began to stab myself, but I don't remember the events because my vision was clouded by the vortex of contradicting emotions that battered me violently. All I recall was seeing a blinding golden radiance and hearing an angelic, melodic chant. Following this fast action, I beheld the Olorundu warriors' flesh disintegrating. Pleasure washed over my senses, but all my emotions faded away when I saw a celestial bridge unfold in front of me. The bridge was completely made of gold, but it was shabby and featureless. As I studied it, I heard the alluring chant again and saw a brilliantly radiating angel lingering joyfully at the other side of the bridge. I quickly sped towards the angel and joined him. As we ascended into the sky together, I beheld the remaining villagers as they merrily entombed the rotten flesh of the Olorundu warriors. Around them, the children I was sworn to protect danced as gleefully and happily as if the Olorundu warriors had never existed.

Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Merging With Sword Onto Them, Piercing Where They Might Part I

A piercing screech reverberated boisterously in the darkened forest, sending shrill echoes of atrocity into the gloomy, starless sky looming overhead. The screech was ominous and disheartening, for it signaled the depressing death of another one of us; the death of another man. Heaps of mutilated, burnt bodies occupied a grand space near the ragged gates of our humble village. With the passing of every moment, more blood of ours was shed, and the enemy closed in on us. Our remaining warriors were terribly discouraged, because they knew that demise was imminent; the fact that they were going to encounter the enemy horrified them. They knew that they barely had a chance against the mighty hordes of Olorundu.

As more time went by, we suffered more and more fatalities. Our grim messengers grievously fetched the desecrated carcasses of the fallen warriors, while priests wandered about, blessing the sick and comforting the sorrowful women who lost their sons in the ferocious battle. After we retreated into the village, all became silent, except for the occasional sobs of scared children. The silence was punishing and unbearable, yet it persisted and continued to torment those in the village, but it didn't really matter; most of the villagers realized that surviving the Olorundu warriors' assault was very difficult if not impossible. All that mattered was their dignity. They wanted to destroy the Olorundu warriors, or at least die trying and preserve their pride unscathed.

After the village's leaders quickly met, they decided to play their last card and send us - the elite force- to confront the fearsome Olorundu warriors. As I got ready to head out to the battlefield, anxiety dismayed me; the upcoming battle was truly terrifying. We, the elite force, were the village's last chance, and our failure in stopping the Olorundu warriors meant the village's evisceration. But then I looked at the mournful faces of women and heard the hopeless screams of children. Children who were unlucky enough to die young. Children who were never going to witness life's beauty. The mere sight encouraged me, and I felt a surge of vigor pump in my veins. I was going to do it for the children.

When we neared the ravaged gate, the dreadful grunts of the Olorundu warriors came into earshot. The sound didn't manage to scar our courage, for we knew that our cause was honorable. We then beckoned to the remaining guardians to unbar the rusty, metal gate. They instantly obeyed us and began to do their task. As the gate opened, fear again began to grip my heart. The fact that my death was certain was very daunting, for  challenging the Orolundu warriors was a very great burden. The other warriors accompanying me were also apprehensive as me. In order to strengthen their low morale, I raised my sword up in the air and bellowed a war cry so loud. The warriors joined me and vowed to fight with all their might.

Finally, after the gate was completely unfastened, we trudged into the dreary wilderness, and for the first time beheld the fearsome warriors of Orolundu. Terror reigned over me as I witnessed their wretched shapes, for despite having heard many tales of their wickedness, I never expected them to be this vile. Their bodies were identical to ours in shape, but they differed in color, for they had a scaly green skin. Their heads though were drastically different; they had heads exactly like those of lizards, but they were much larger. In addition to that, they had long, pointed tails and sharp claws on their lizard-like hands and feet. Their stature was immense too, as they towered over even the tallest of us. After witnessing the true forms of the Orolundu warriors, despair engulfed us all and diminished what remained of our already waning hope.

Thursday, 9 August 2012

Into The Gaping Hole Part III

As I frantically lunged towards my escape rope, another massive explosion occurred and again it clouded my  senses; All I felt was tumbling down violently on a flat, hard surface, followed by a searing pain incinerating my back. My blood burnt with agony and only brought me fatal suffering. After arduous, excruciating minutes, light emanated from somewhere above me, so my senses became intact again, and to my revulsion, I beheld a sight I abhorred very much. Uncannily, the jewelry had completely vanished; now, I was in the midst of an irregularly-shaped cavern with a shabby lantern on one wall. The walls terrified me, for they were carved of human flesh: disgusting, ensanguined flesh, with slimy eyeballs gravely bulging out of it in a repulsive manner. They eyeballs loomed glumly, and the sheer sight of them terrorized me, so I fixed my gaze upon the stone floor, but that didn't end my dismay, because the smell of the subterranean cavity was sickening and smothering.

I drew upon what remained of my scarred courage and tried to discern the oddities of the cave, pondering how I got in it and how I can find a way out. A sour taste of despair restrained me from logically thinking, for all that came into my mind was speculations related to magic and esoteric teachings. Was it a time slip? Or was the blast strong enough to transport me into the earth's fathomless bowels? Nothing made sense, except regrets and laments. Sadly, it appeared that my greed had lead me to my demise. Just as I started to think of a solution again, a cacophonous shriek resonated and again perplexed my hearing. Following the shriek, I heard the eerie sound of steel ripping through flesh from a far corner of the cavern. Without a moment's thought, I turned to the direction of the sound, and beheld a horrendous scenery that made my heart tremble with fear: a wide cut had been made in the fleshy wall, and out of it crept two creatures so gruesome and bizarre.

The creatures resembled devil-like men, but with yellow skin and a couple of razor-sharp horns on their bald heads. They were shorter than the average man and wore wooden armor reminiscent of ancient China, while their vile faces were very dragon-like. Hate and resentment emitted from their wild eyes, which were red-colored and furious. The creatures' yellow skin was very slimy, but was completely hairless. Also, they had teeth and claws so sharp as if they had been honed. Fear paralyzed me as I uselessly tried to back away from the peculiar abominations, but all my attempts were futile, because they were agile and fast. They ferociously charged at me, and when they closed in on me, one of them eerily spoke in a sinister, horrid voice. It said: "WE ARE THE DEMONS OF MOLOK, AND YOU SHALL BECOME ONE OF OUR KIND!!" As it uttered its last word, it chuckled evilly and drove its malignant dagger into my heart. No pain was felt, but I witnessed my pallid skin altering its color to a bright yellow.

Monday, 6 August 2012

Into The Gaping Hole Part II

Diamonds, sapphires, rubies and opulent amounts of gold coins filled the deep hole, reflecting the faint glow of my worn-out torch with a shimmering radiance that burnt my eyes. Amongst the extravagant treasures were also diadems, rings and jewelry studded with rare gems. The quantity of the riches was also prodigious; the cumulative collection of gems and gold obscured the ground of the hole, so I predicted that there must be layers over layers of them. Shocked by the possibility of this speculation, I sped towards my torn leather sack and extracted my shovel from it.

I didn't wait for the sun's rise to commence looting the valuable contents of the hole. Within an instant, I began cramming assorted jewels into my shovel. Afterwards, I emptied them cautiously in a spare sack I had with me. For long hours I collected my precious prize, overjoyed not only by my luck, but also by the ease of the task compared to the punishing difficulty of mining, which was a risky job that relies on sheer luck and has nothing to do with skill. What I plundered in minutes overshadowed what a tyrannical king gained in a lifetime.

If it had been possible, I wouldn't have stopped working until the hole was devoid of any riches, but when the level of the gold declined and became out of my shovel's reach, I considered abandoning the ongoing task; I had already amassed a marvelous fortune that would guarantee any living man a luxurious life, yet it all appeared scanty whenever I fixed my gaze at the remaining jewels. Greed tightened its firm grip on me, but still, I managed to avoid jumping into the dark pit, despite my burning desire to do it.

A plan was what I needed before I could plunge into the hole. A mechanism, to be more precise. A mechanism that would hurl out the riches of the pit, but most importantly, a mechanism that could help me get out safely. Motivated by my lustful greed, I searched my sack for any tools of use, and to my glee, I found everything I needed: a collection of strong metal studs, a metal reel and some long ropes. First of all, I knotted a long rope around a stud which I had hammered into the ground beside the hole.This would be my method of escape from the pit. Afterwards, I inserted another long rope into the metal reel and then pinned the reel horizontally onto the edge of the pit using a stud. Finally, I emptied my sack of it's worthless contents and tied it to one side of the rope coming out of the reel.

My plan was to load the gems into the sack, close it and then pull the other side of the rope revolving around the reel until the sack reached the edge of the pit. Following that step, I would firmly fastened the side of the rope I pulled around a stud I had already hammered into a wall inside the hole so that the sack stays lifted. Finally, I would use the other rope to scale the hole's wall, exit it and store the gems in my spare sack. This witty method worked for hours, as I accumulated riches beyond any man's imagination. It all went fine until I heard deafening blast to which the earth beneath me shook madly. As horror began to swipe aside my greed, I decided to exit the gloomy pit and set off with my treasures. Alas, it never happened.


Saturday, 4 August 2012

Into The Gaping Hole Part I

It is a commonly known fact that gruesome hordes of horrific creatures swarm our frail earth, but it's often overlooked that even more grotesque beings reside underneath it. Throughout the unending ages, man's cowardly aspect denied him the exceptional discovery of the terrestrial depths, yet when it didn't, man always faced nefarious mishaps. Whenever miners sought to delve into the rigid rock for riches and fortunes, disasters and calamities brutally befell them, and the reason always remained mysterious. Only skeptic speculations could be made, and none actually justified the drastic incident in a logical way.

It is unimportant to mention my name or origin, for neither contribute to my tale. What is obligatory for the reader to comprehend is that I used to be a gold miner in the rocky, mountainous ranges of the wretched western lands. Having undergone the punishing torture of a penniless life in my childhood and youth, I decided to tear asunder my poverty; I decided to snatch my own gold from the untrodden abyss underneath the earth's surface. Many a man warned me by saying that mining was a risky way in life, yet no one succeeded in bending my sturdy will; I acknowledged that my adventure was of a perilous nature, but that didn't stop me from embarking on it.

For long, meandering years, my iron pickaxe with its leather-clad haft was my only friend; the blazing rays of the radiant sun scorched my back as I monotonously and repeatedly hit the stiff rock with my tool until it cracked open. Anticipation always washed over me as I peered into the opening I had founded, but it soon faded when all I had discovered was more rock. As more months passed, desperation began to creep secretly into my heart. After a tiresome year of futile mining, I forsake my shabby pickaxe and decided to take my leave, for it seemed that luck wasn't on my side. I recall it all occurred on one cold winter night, when poverty and starvation had nearly killed me. Enraged by my own misery back then, I grabbed my meager possessions and left the miners' camp, where my fifteen-month stay was in vain.

With a sour taste of crushing despair, I trudged aimlessly for long weeks. For long days I wandered, and my food stocks only dwindled, but not only the looming ghost of imminent starvation haunted me; my existence was also battered by the freezing climate and the overbearing amounts of frigid snow. Yet I persisted and battled the severe cold until I finally reached a steeply-sloping rocky landscape, which I loathed, because it reminded me of my wasted mining days. Still, I thoroughly scavenged the land for a suitable resting place.

As I inspected the hill's abrupt crevices, I saw a sight so queer yet so relieving; I had stumbled upon a gaping hole so wide and deep in the ground. Only darkness emanated from its fathomless recesses. After a hasty moment of consideration, I set alight a torch with my last remaining match and apprehensively beheld the gloomy interior of the pit. What I beheld made my heart fraught with ultimate joy, but it also saddened for the years I had wasted in vain before the discovery of this hole, for inside it was a great assortment of gems and jewels, which differed in color, shape and size, but shared a magnificent, bedazzling radiance.


Wednesday, 1 August 2012

Lunar Battles

Out there over the widespread plains of the dreary lands, the waning, horned moon outshone everything with its brilliant radiance. It delicately painted the landscape with a pale white against the gloomy black of the night. The moon's radiant beams filled the air with dreadful grandeur and wicked majesty, while a dark, sinister vibe emanated from its fathomless craters. Like gaping holes they loomed large, and they made the crescent look glum and miserable; it appeared so sorrowful that it would even embrace the darkness of the night and shed a tear if it could.

For long, lonesome nights, I gazed at the weeping moon, keenly marking down it's subtlest changes. I witnessed it wax into a fat full moon and then wane into a scarcely visible line. Despite the form it assumed, the melancholy of the moon always prevailed; it was desperate and resentful, as if it felt and thought. Whenever I recounted this macabre tale, I was laughed at by everyone. To them, the assumption that the moon had sentiments was "purely ridiculous".

Yet I ignored them and ignored their lack of insight. Even though they didn't believe me, I persisted and decided to continue discerning the frail moon. The subject became of utmost importance to me that I dedicated my existence to it; I slept in the day and studied the moon in my vigil. With the passing of time, I withdrew more and more from normal life and became a nocturnal creature with one obsession; the crescent moon lingering in the night sky. As I accumulated more knowledge on the bleak subject, more and more lunar secrets unmasked themselves and disclosed their true forms, which were quite variant but always mystical and horrible. Some were decipherable, while others were so unearthly and queer. However, they were all ominous and disturbing.

It was all fine and tolerable until I saw the accursed shapes. Shapes so queer and obscure emerged from the feeble outline of the floating crescent moon. Shapes so dark and terrifying. Beasts, monsters, morbidities beyond even the most lunatic of imaginations. They haunted me in my days and nights, while a mere thought of them was enough to induce agony in me. Even my dreams became fraught with them and sent me into realms so chaotic and twisted. In my waking hours, I sent the shapes away with my blessings and litanies, but they prevailed. Fear and dismay were everything I felt now; with the lunar bestiaries lurking about, I couldn't but feel anxious and apprehensive.

When I was sure that the torment of the lunar shapes was inescapable, I decided it was done. My life had lost its precious worth. Standing by the window that exposed the lurking moon and the morbidities residing in it, I drew a kitchen knife close to my neck, and within a moment, blood began to trickle down my chest, making my horrified heart beat only faster. I gazed at the moon; I looked it in the eye. I saw it as it laughed at my sheer misery and crowed over my faint submission to death. Within moments, it waxed into its full form and then began to grow until it concealed the black of the sky. The new moon, with its prodigiously vast proportions, grinned evilly; it's maniacal eyes were so cruel and savage that I couldn't tolerate the mere sight. Agonized and hopeless, I drew the knife close to my heart. I called upon what remained of my strength and brutally stabbed myself. The impact was crushing, so I stumbled uncontrollably and fell to the ground. As my blood ran out, a sense of extreme joy and ultimate glee washed over me, for I saw the expression on the moon's grotesque face alter as it hastily waned and faded from sight. I had killed myself, and killed the moon with me

Monday, 30 July 2012

Fury From The Deep

Within the immense lands of this darkened world lurk horrors that even the immemorial years of boundless time scarcely recall. In the remotest recesses of these accursed realms live creatures that assume forms much unlike those of men. Over the unending ages, these creatures struck fear and horror into the hearts of the bravest men. Wandering nomads murmur queer tales of unspoken morbidities. Some speak of damp, stinking marshes where humans with fish heads dwell. With frantic expressions on their faces, the nomads depict the forms of these marsh natives; scaly, muscular bodies with a bedazzling, radiating blue color. The nomadic folk continue by claiming that the queer race have fish heads, with slits for a nose and gaping gills stretching over their slimy necks. In addition to that, it is said that the half-fish half-men have webbed hands and feet reminiscent of those of frogs. It is also said that they have claws and teeth sharper than the sharpest swords.

At the confessions of the nomads men of science laugh and claim that the nomads are maddened by the heat of the sizzling deserts. The nomads seem to be insulted, for they insist on the veracity of their strange stories. Once, in a forgotten village so old that no living man knows it's name, a violent confrontation broke out between a group of nomads who believed in the existence creatures and the villagers who denied it. The nomads spread weird warnings and unknown messages across the village, with the phrase "THEY WILL RISE AGAIN FROM A GRAVE SO DEEP!" recurring very often. At first, the warnings were neglected by the villagers, who dismissed the nomads as "mad wanderers with false esoteric teachings", but a while later, when the nomads started increasing in number, those warnings became a real threat.

The violent confrontation continued for months, bringing blights and bloodshed into the miserable land. The bloodshed only increased with the passing of time, for many of the villagers joined forces with the nomads. Many came who tried to settle the conflict peacefully, but none succeeded. Their wise words weren't as strong as the sharp edges of the warriors' swords. So it continued brutally for more and more years, until a wise man arose from the ranks of the villagers army. As soon as he gained the leadership of the village, he called for a hasty meeting between the warring sides. When they were gathered, he said that the war was meaningless and pointless, and could be simply ended. Many of the leaders found this claim unsatisfactory, but they allowed him to speak. He then said that the matters could be settled if the villagers challenged the nomads by asking them to take them to the marshes where the creatures dwelt. This request angered many of the leaders from both sides, yet many others found it clever and beneficial. After hours of reluctant pondering, both sides accepted the request and decided to end the war with it.

It seems that the absence of the villagers' usual skepticism cost them a lot, for their blind belief that the creatures were unreal led them into their demise. The group that was sent into the marsh that the nomads designated as the nest of the beasts never came back. Yet the villagers waited. They waited for what felt like long years, but when desperation started to triumph against their patience, they formed an armed group and embarked on a journey to the marsh. To their utmost dismay, the first group wasn't there at all. What they found was a pile of burnt flesh clad in silver armor - the villagers' armor. The flesh was found beheaded, bloodied and desecrated on the shores of the exact marsh the nomads had told them of.

Taking that observation into account, what happened is somehow obvious, but not entirely, because not many know that the nomads were bathing in the marsh when the first villagers arrived. Because not many know that the whole nomadic army disappeared after the massacre. Because not many have read the note inscribed in blood on the villagers' rotting cadavers:

Beyond The Ebon Door Part IIII

To my atrocious dismay, the room, like myself, substituted its old, monotonous aspect for a newened, eerily-terrifying one; its dimensions were massive now, exceeding the proportions of the whole mansion. The composition of the room was largely altered too; the room resembled a large cube of polished, white marble. As I beheld the ghastly magnitude of the room, fear tightened its already firm grasp on my waking senses, but it didn't inflict damage upon me. Because I wasn't real and physical. Could I have died? Just the thought of it terrified me, so I decided not to dwell on it.

As I studied the monolithic assembly in which I weightlessly floated, I beheld another striking variation, one that was subtler and less prominent. From the furthest recesses of the arena-like room, a trail of blackened tendrils of smoke fluttered about aimlessly. Moments later, the tendrils started designing complex shapes, as if they were a part of an esoteric religious ritual, and that made me suspect that a creature guided them. Motivated by speculation, I flew gracefully across the room towards the smoke.

What I discovered bedazzled me; the tendrils weren't tendrils, and the smoke wasn't smoke. Instead, the tendrils were humanoid-like forms twirling rapidly in a repetitive circular motion. To describe them isn't an easy task, but I recall that they had a smoky, blackened exterior. The skin was distorted as if it were made of sand-like grains. Simplicity was a main trait of these creatures; their forms were entirely identical. Describing their movement was an easier task, for they swirled around in the shadowy mass of their inter wining bodies, and their transitions were very rhythmic, as if they swayed to a melody, one that my hearing wasn't aware of.

Following a moment of quick consideration, I decided to approach the creatures, for I fancied that they could come to my aid. I swum in the air straight towards them. As I neared the creatures, a sudden state of reluctance arose in me, but my desperation was grand enough to extinguish it. I drew closer to the aberrant creatures, but my eyesight beheld no new details, nor did I observe any elements I overlooked before; the creatures black, grain-like texture was blacker than night against the white of the room.

Curiosity isn't always beneficial, because sometimes - as in my case - it leads to unspoken evils. My poignant interest in the gnarled beasts led me too close them, and thus, I fell in their malevolent trap when I first beheld their malicious faces, which were also black and featureless except for a pair of ominously glowing blood-red eyeballs. To my utter dismay, the creatures weren't friendly or welcoming. Instead, they lunged viciously at my ethereal body like rabid predators, striking fear in me. I felt my form falter as I commenced a desperate flight from the relentless creatures, who were closing in on me. Disallowing myself from surrendering, I continued to flee from my ferocious pursuers. As I sped across the room, I thought that continuing the escape was futile; my salvation was totally unimaginable with the beasts tailing me. Yet despite this, I maintained my bursting acceleration, because looking back would definitely bring closer to my certain end.

And that was the last thing I beheld with waking senses, for following a massive blast somewhere underneath me, it all occurred so fast. The blast intoxicated me, and so I'm not sure of what happened back then. All I remember is that after the blast, I heard a mind-crushing shriek and felt myself paralyzed. The horrific madness though, didn't come till a black limb embraced my floating form.

FEAR. I thought of fear. I saw him. I saw fear. He commanded me. I CAN'T TOLERATE THIS! ANYTHING, EVEN HELL IS BETTER!! HELL. Pits filled with boiling flames. Burnt cadavers, charred remains and repulsive odors. Stakes sharper than the sharpest blades. Scenery of torment. Monstrosity. Suffocation. Suffering, I shall undergo! MEMORIES. I grabbed a flask, opened it and poured my memories therein. DEATH. I welcomed Death, my final savior. I thought of death, and couldn't think anymore. And so, existence was trampled and forgotten, leaving one dark, brooding word echoing behind: ZORNATH.

Friday, 27 July 2012

Beyond The Ebon Door Part III

At closer observation, the room appeared gloomier than before even though it matched the mansion with its components; also glass and granite. Inside the room reigned a suffocatingly-repellent stinking odor. The vile smell slowly smothered my senses, but it wasn't enough to quell my infinite curiosity. When the sinister effect of the odor finally withdrew, my eyes automatically adjusted to the scenery; the room was wholly empty, devoid of anything interesting. My eyes desperately scanned the room for any hints of oddities, but to no avail, and so I felt betrayed.

It was a sour emotion; years of speculation, all lost in vain, like a wisp of dying smoke fades from eyesight. Still though, Professor Green's warning contradicted this; why would he have admonished me threateningly not to step into an empty room? IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!!! This angered me to the utmost. Infuriated beyond the limits, I sprinted madly towards the door with a burning desire to forget this futile chapter of my existence.

Yet I never made it to the door. Something weird happening: The incident. The bloody incident. The exact one that Herbert saw coming. As I approached the door, I stumbled wildly and collapsed to the solid ground with a bright thud, and with a scolding tone came back my conscience. It battered me violently with the regret of not heeding my master's advice.

I was downed on the floor, completely unable to command my frail limbs. My senses were intoxicated and my eyesight thoroughly clouded. After a few moments, when I gained the energy required for my recovery, a sensation so queer overtook me; a spine-tingling, agony-inducing sensation, yet strangely, without physical pain. To me, it seemed like the harm was directed at my petty soul, and I was assured of my predictions' validity when, after that, my eyes or shall I say my eyesight beheld the horrible scenery.

I was floating in mid-air, and beneath me lied my stable body, rendered unconscious and immobile by a mystical force. My dismal fright was so immense that I tried to shriek, but no sound came; my attention was directed all the time at my physical body on the floor, for I didn't notice the ethereal, transparent form I now resided in. That hideously frightening realization would've made my heart beat so rapidly, if I had a heart. I couldn't sense the existence of my drifting, immaterial shape. Despite that, the harm which befell me didn't incacipate the mobility of my ethereal form.

Without a moment's thought, I rushed in my floating form towards the poor corpse that once was me, attempting to regain control of it, but to no benefit, and when I was sure of that, I converted my terrified gaze to my surroundings, of which I cognized nothing yet. To my atrocious dismay, the room, like myself, substituted its old, monotonous aspect for a newened, eerily-terrifying one!


Thursday, 26 July 2012

Beyond The Ebon Door Part II

Days passed, and years were swept away with the oppressive tides of time, but my morbid addiction to that door only developed. I would squat for hours in front of it, gazing at it keenly as my eyes pursued ever-changing, inter wining lines carved on it. Together the lines designed shapes so weird and ominous . At times I saw monsters, while recently I beheld delicate outlines of majestic cities upon the ebon door. Every time I noticed a variant element, as if there was a magical force guiding the carved lines. The fact that the lines on the door were always traveling was terrifyingly astounding, and only resulted in increasing my incessant curiosity.

Despite my great passion of the door, I still never had the courage needed to unlatch it, let alone turn the knob. I never dared to do that, not only because of my loyalty to my master, but also because I was anxious and apprehensive. Sadly though, my fear didn't endure for a long time. If it did, that horrible happening might've never occurred, but it all happened when, one night, Professor Green decided to travel to a place unknown to me. As soon as he stepped out of the darkened mansion, I rapidly sped to the ebon door, and started to displace the brass latch. I hesitated in doing that. I stood for what seemed like hours, my trembling hands upon the latch. Suddenly, my conscience pushed me back away from the accursed door. I abruptly drew back my hand and leapt back. I can't betray my master, I thought, for he has given me a responsibility I have to persevere. However, this reasoning failed as my feet trudged uncontrollably towards the door. It was my chance, my only one. Never had I been this close.

Still reluctant, I advanced again towards the door, and with my shivering right hand began to disassemble the latch. NO!! NO!! I shrieked in a throat-ripping tone. Undeliberately, I punched myself on the face. Madness coerced me to rave about as a ferocious battle between my curiosity and my conscience was being fought inside my mind. Enraged by my own craze, I angrily charged towards the ebon door with vigor. It had to end. Hastily, I unlatched the door, turned the knob and kicked the formation inwards.

My kick was frail, and only managed to open the door ajar. I peeked inside as my heart exploded with apprehension, but what I perceived had nothing to do with peculiarity. A glimpse was enough for me to realize that it resembled all the ordinary rooms in the mansion. That disappointed me, and my conscience started taking over again. At that time, I could back away like nothing happened. But then I noticed how far I've gone, and so I decided that there's no return. Finally, after prolonged pondering, I took a deep breath and like a furious bull barged into the bleak room.


Sunday, 8 July 2012

Beyond The Ebon Door Part I

Life is indeed a complex, illusive phenomenon. Its intricacies are of a deceiving nature, for they beguile our senses in a manner so grotesque that we come to believe everything we see. We, sadly, have come to acknowledge life as a one-dimensional thing, never regarding many of its essential, vital aspects. Thus, men aren't aware of how compound life is, and never seem to imagine how heterogeneous are the elements that resemble its constitution. Whenever we behold the prodigious, unlimited margins of the skies, we never consider what lies beyond them. When we sit discerning the majesties of the twinkling stars, we never seem to apprehend the immemorial years of their old age. Many are the things we perceive without realization; the realization of their true essence, and so those things continue to be obscure to us. Our knowledge is largely extensive, but unfortunately, it is superficial and shallow. That is man's flaw.

My name isn't significant to what I'm writing, nor are my origins. However, it is obligatory to share with you my background back when the queer incident befell me. I recall it happened in the year 1900, when I was under the custody of Professor Herbert Green. Together we spent years on the purpose of scientific research and novel discoveries in Green's grand mansion.

The mansion was of massive proportions, as it had tens of rooms in it. The corridors extended for long distances, and always seemed to never end. The grand walls were assembled of green-ish granite, and the floor was built of solid glass that disclosed the bowels of the earth below. Along with the dim, shadowy flicker of the torches that drooped from the walls, the granite and the glass both gave the place a somber, gloomy atmosphere that, despite its darkened nature, was royal and majestic. From the outside, the mansion was not even slightly underwhelming than the inside. The outer walls were of adobe, and made the construction look strong and sturdy. Dotting the walls were manifolds of windows that, despite being delicate and slim, weren't fragile at all. Besides its hidden passages and doors, the mansion had only one main gate. The gate was a pair of oaken, arching doors that spun outwards on creaking hinges when triggered through complex mechanisms, which were complicated for those unfamiliar with them.

It may seem to the unwary reader that there is a connection between what I'm going to recount and the dreary wickedness that emanated from the mansion. That is partially true; during my lengthy years in which I dwelt in the mansion, I've come to unravel many of its bizarre peculiarities. Still though, a lot of its secrets remained concealed and never tired of keeping me bewildered and astonished. Amongst those, the small, rectangular ebon door on the first floor was the most charming to me. I always fancied what abnormalities lurked on the other side, but I kept heed to my professor's cautions. Ever since I arrived at the mansion, he always warned me, and with a grave expression begged me not to open that door. I answered to his desperate petition, yet my lust for the esoteric was still burning, my obsession never ceasing.