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.