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.
TO BE CONTINUED.
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.
TO BE CONTINUED.
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