"Salam, Sala'eh Mayalo ala Kan'aa!"
I chanted faster and faster as I realized it was working. The six symbols i drew on the transmutation circle began glowing one by one in a clockwise fashion.
"Salam, Sala'eh Mayalo ala Kan'aa!"
The outer ring of the circle lit up around me, trapping me in a cage of supernatural brilliance. The world outside the circle faded behind the light wall. The ground beneath me looked to have cracks slithering through it, each one also glowing the same white-purple of the rest of the circle.
"Salam, Sala'eh Mayalo ala Kan'aa! Salam, Sala'eh Mayalo ala Kan'aa!"
The ancient words eventually became a rapid blob of odd sounds. Everything started vibrating and emitting a whining sound that was quickly rising in pitch. And with one last and loud burst, "SALAM, SALA'EH MAYALO ALA KAN'AA!"
The solid ground beneath me shattered into a thousand glass-like shards. I looked down, expecting to see demons and gargoyles dancing around the fires of the Underworld and all its legions of the undead. But what i say was a vast and green forest, but more shocking was the fact that my viewpoint was at least one hundredand twenty-five feet above ground. Before I could even wonder what went wrong, I began descending very quickly.
I didn't hit the ground directly, but instead took a detour through a few branches and leaves. I heard snapping and felt the twigs and leaves brush past me, and then I hit the ground with a painful thud. My left leg sent a shock of pain through my body, and there was another sharp pain in my side. I mustered up the strength to turn my body onto its back and look at the sky where i ought to have fallen from. I saw a thin ring of whitish-purple light that was filled with black start to shrink until it was but a bright dot in the sky and was gone
"What... happened...?" I said just before I lost consciousness.
My name is... long forgotten, I am 26 years old, I am an orphan, and I am a Necromancer.
I was born on April 10, 1997. I was a happy, friendly, and very intelligent child. I had lots of friends, two younger brothers, and my parents were together. I lost all of that on June 17, 2011, when my family was murdered. A killer had snuck into the house while we all slept, and had stabbed them all. I survived miraculously, but was quickly taken in by a family of three (father, mother, and daughter of nine years of age), when i was fourteen. From then on, I was homeschooled until I was seventeen. On October 4, 2014, they were all killed when their car brakes failed and they veered off the road and flipped over. That's when I ran away and bought an isolated house in the middle of nowhere. That's when the voices started.
I began hearing voices in my head, almost non-stop. They made me paranoid and kept me from sleeping. They would whisper things like, "It's your fault they died," or, "You should have been in the car." They assailed me with threats and blame and words of hate. They would sometimes sneak up on me and shout things in unison when I was about to fall asleep. And even if they did let me sleep, I would have terrifying nightmares about this gigantic, pitch black, evil figure chasing me down and eventually catching me, though the shock always woke me up before i could see what he did to me after catching me.
I tried going to a psychiatrist, a doctor, and even a priest (I wasn't a religious person, but I was a desperate one). Although, I did feel something when religion was brought into the picture. It felt like the voices recoiled and hissed in, disgust? Fear? Either way, they cowered in the prescence of supernatural or holy entities. I heard them hiss and shrink away at the sight of a rosary. After I found this salvation from them, I began going to church and carrying a crucifix with me wherever I went. For the first time in years, I couldn't hear the voices. For the first time in years, I got a good night's sleep. For the first time in years, I felt sane.
This continued for several months, but eventually, just as a small part of me knew, the voices returned. It seems turning to God didn't work, and scientific means did nothing. It looked like I was out of options. I was desperate, more desperate than I had ever been before. I even tried illegal hallucinagens, but all those did were make the voices shout incoherent syllables for a few hours at a time.
I knew that only divine acts and objects had any effects on the voices, but i've already tried Shintoism, Buddhism, Taoism, Juddaism, Islam, and whatever else I could think of. I tried avoiding one more option just because I feared what it would entail, but I eventually gave in to the world of Necromancy.
I loved it. I even became part of a small group (cult, perhaps?) of Necromancers, not because it would help soothe and quiet the voices, but because I wanted to. I took joy in the macabre rituals with skulls and corpses. I even went so far as to partake in the age-old practice of communicating with the thoughts of the dead. Although the first time I tried it, I panicked because they sounded too much like the voices for comfort.
But other than that, the voices had never been so silent. I read about one specific ritual that would grant me an entrance to the Underworld to speak directly with Mephisto. If this ritual worked, then maybe I could ask Mephisto to take the voices away and grant me awesome peace and sanity.
That was what I was trying to perform before ending up in this alien forest. I could have sworn I'd performed the ceremony exactly like I was supposed to; but if that's the case, then how did I end up in a forest? Was this the Underworld? I did not know either of the answers, but I had to find out something about my situation
Author Commentary: Hey guys. This is my first story on , so please be nice and forgive any -FALCON PUNCH! No! I am not like that! just be honest in your reviews and comments. I can take it. The story's already been written, but I can make minor edits if you have any suggestions. Enjoy!
