Silently praying for this poor soul, he then glanced toward the smear. It looked like the letter U in the English alphabet...
He tentatively glanced around the area, just to see if there was anything that would help him solve the mystery of this house...
He reached out for the leather book. On it was a word printed in block letters: SHINDA.
"Devoured the crimson life of five, marks of Tsuki given to thee...Mirrored below the soul survive; What was, What is, and What will be." Mouri Kogoro of circa 1890.."
Perhaps a little search around the house could help explain his presence here...
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Chapter 2: Diary of a Madman
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Descending the old stairs, he glanced at the door from where he had entered. He glanced at the key in his hand. He approached the door and inserted it into the keyhole. It only went in halfway; the wrong key.
Ah, well I'm just getting my hopes up with this... he thought languidly as he slipped the key back in his pocket and turned around to face the darkened hallway. He entered it a moment later.
Upon entering, a feeling of dread hit him. He stopped, blinking. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, releasing all the tension in his body. Pausing to gain his confidence, he decided to move on once more when suddenly, out of nowhere, an apparition screamed into existence at the end of the hall-- disappearing as quickly as it came to be.
Am I hallucinating? he asked himself, eyes blinking hard. Or is this a warning of some sort? In any case, he decided to press forward despite the sudden confrontation of the unsettling sight.
Once he reached the end of the hall, he was presented with a junction point, split by an aged grandfather clock ticking away the hours. His eyes narrowed at the face of the clock, finding something odd about it...
Stepping towards it, he examined it. Three Roman numerals were inscribed onto it with bright red ink: XII, III, VI, and IX. He blinked at each of the I symbols.
There's something odd about the I symbols, he thought. But what is it that's odd about them? he wondered, head tilting at the enigma. Finding nothing else wrong, he decided to head in to the door on the right.
Upon entering the room which found out was a kitchen, the first thing he noticed was the blood. It stained the faded white tiles trailing under the door ahead, as well as forming a pool on the bench top immediately under the microwave oven. What seemed more disturbing to him was that blood was dripping from under the closed door of the microwave.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped towards it and reached a hand toward the handle.
He staggered away from the microwave upon seeing a severed head that was placed there.
He closed his eyes and shook his head to get rid of the sick feeling that was in his stomach before hesitantly approaching the head to see if he would recognize someone...
And upon close inspection, he found that a symbol quite familiar to him was smeared on the male teen's head. His eyes narrowed, remembering that it looked like the I on the grandfather clock in the other room.
Unable to see the remains of this poor man's soul, he closed the door and began to search the kitchen. Upon opening the cupboards, he found an bloody knife. Though it looked like a sufficient weapon against the culprit of these hideous crimes, he left it there to find a larger weapon.
After finding nothing else, he turned to the door where the bloodstains trailed under. He gulped, only wondering what could be in store for him in that room. He slowly pushed it open and stepped in...
He closed his eyes upon seeing the sight in the loungeroom. On two of the chairs were two women, stomachs slashed open. Blood was spilled on the chairs, the table, and the floor. After a moment, he approached the table and found what looked like a journal at its edge. He picked it up, staring at it. It was leather, and it had no name on it. With a sweaty hand, he opened the journal and began to read its contents...
May 24th, 1999
An unusually eventful day today. I stumbled across an unusual find whilst out hunting for a place just to be with myself in this remote wilderness. Watching a wild steed as it galloped into a clearing, you can only imagine my surprise to find a house—old and seemingly abandoned—but still standing strong. An interesting find. One that certainly has me curious.
May 25th, 1999
Upon my investigation with the city archives earlier this morning, it appears that the house as been abandoned for almost 10 years and currently resides under the control of the local government. I feel that its location must bee too remote for them to be able to tear it down. But I must admit that I feel drawn back to the house. Mostly out of curiosity—but I cannot deny that there is something else about that place that has me yearning to return.
May 28th, 1999
I could not put it off any longer. I called in sick to the school today and decided that I would retrace my steps into the wilderness to once again find the house which has been foremost on my mind of late. It didn't take much to find it again—as it was almost like I was being guided back to the exact spot that I found myself some four days ago.
Once I plucked up enough courage, I pushed open the unlocked front door. Admittedly, I was very surprise ad the ease of which the door opened considering that the hinge had probably built up a good 10 years worth of rust.
To my relative astonishment, the place was still furnished. Though very dirty, and completely rundown—I was still amazed at the state of the place considering that it had been empty for so long. I decided that I would explore the house, and not disturb anything within. My fear had not subsided, and as a matter of fact, it is still with me as I record this journal some hours later.
My curiosity took me through the kitchen, bedroom, and loungeroom before a thumping noise from the roof on the second level startled me so much that I ran straight out the front door and back through the forest to my motorcycle (as it was, I almost fell off a small ledge and into the thicket bellow). I felt like a complete fool being scared off by rats (which I assume they were).
May 29th, 1999
I had a nightmare last night. All I can remember is the blood and the frightened screams surrounding me. And the house. The house was in my nightmare too.
May 30th, 1999
I called in sick to school once again so I could venture out in the wilderness and explore the abandoned house once more. Not surprisingly, I found the structure with relative ease as I did yesterday. However, I was startled when I noticed that the front door was closed. I am certain that when I left in such a hurry that the door had been left ajar. In any case—I eventually attributed the closed the door to the wind, as I was clearly the only person who had been in the old house recently.
I repeatedly scoured through the house for anything interesting, heading back through the previously visited rooms. Once again, as I passed through the hallway outside the main bedroom on the second level, I heard heavy thumping coming from the roof. I was instantly very tempted to repeat yesterday's dash from the house, but I swallowed my fear and continued on with the exploration.
In the limited time that I had before dusk, unfortunately I did not uncover anything that would help explain the mysterious disappearance of the most recent tenants.
May 31st, 1999
I sit here in the loungeroom of the old house by candlelight recording in this journal the events that have transpired today. Although I am scared to within an inch of my life, I am bound to this house and feel that I do not have the strength nor resolve to run back to my car at such and advanced hour.
As I have for the past week, I returned to this house with the intent of uncovering anything that could help answer the question of its missing tenant.
I failed to uncover anything that could help the cause, but what I did find seems far more precious and disturbing than I could have ever hoped for. As I was scouring the library for any misplaced photos or letters, I almost tripped myself over a leather bound book sitting in the middle of the dusty floor. I was certainly miffed as to how I missed it in my movements through this house of the past few days.
Picking up the book, I felt a slight empowerment rush through me. The distant sound of wind began to sound like whispers, and the room in which I was standing seemed to darken. I wondered what knowledge of the scribe had passed down the ages for me.
Enchanted by this aging literature, I retreated back into the loungeroom, settled down in one of the most comfortable chairs and continued to read through the contents of this book.
Written in what seemed to be a red ink of some sort, a lot of the content didn't initially make sense to me as the majority of it is written in a language that is foreign to me. But in the back of the book, there were abridged translations written by a Mr. Mouri Kogoro from 1890.
The majority of what I could understand seemed rather jumbled and non-sensical. Rather disappointed, I closed the book and relieved myself of its burden. Things from this point became rather blurred, and frighteningly surreal.
The sound of the distant forest animals stopped as if all life paused, waiting for my next move. The wind outside stopped pounding against the shuttered windows, and the candle winked out of existence, leaving my in almost pitch black conditions. I listened closely, and all I could hear over my heartbeat and the rasping breath was the whispering I shrugged off before. It was coming from every direction, yet no direction at all.
The whispering slowly got lower, until it sounded like a dull roar. Voice of many different types called out. I cried in pain, screamed my name and shouted some obscenities I dare not repeat. There were so many of them. So many voices.
I felt multiple hands pin me down to the chair by my upper torso, but every time I flailed my arms out in front of me, they connected with nothing but air. The harder I was pressed against the chair the harder it was for me to breathe, and soon I could not breathe at all.
I blacked out—the last thing that I remember was a flash from my nightmare before. A flash of blood. A flash of the screams. The house.
I woke up about 20 minutes ago slumped in the same chair. It is now long after dark, and I dare not brave the sub-zero temperatures of the woodland winter to return home this evening. Tonight I will be staying here in this accursed house.
Sometimes I think that I can still hear the whispering—or are they just echoes of my earlier brush with madness? I can feel the urge of slumber rush towards me light a freight train. I pray that I survive the night.
June 1st, 1999
Plagued by the nightmares more vivid than I care to remember—I awoke screaming. It appears that I slept through the daylight hours. But it didn't matter to me. I was incensed to fight the freezing conditions outside and return home. But I was scared to move from this post. They started whispering to me again. I want to leave, but I can't. They won't let me. I scream at them, but they just laugh and utter obscenities back at me. What have I released upon this world?
June 3rd, 1999
Tsuki spoke to me today. It is he who is spoken of in the Shinda. With every word he whispers into my mind, I tremble as if my soul has been shaken to its core.
June 7th, 1999
I have been here for over a week now. Surely someone must be looking for me by now. I pray that they find me—my captors here won't let me leave. Every door. Every exit. The handles turn, but the door does not move on its hinges.
June 16th, 1999
I no longer fear death. I actually pray that it comes for me.
June 30th, 1999
They still torment me. Keeping me here. Keeping me alive. They need me to…to…I can't even write of it.
July 20th, 1999
I feel that my sanity has almost left me. I hallucinate so vividly. I can't tell what's real and what is not anymore. The Ancient shows me images of his former glory. I don't understand why they want me. Why they need me.
July 26, 1999
I am actually surprised. I am told that they seek not to control me. They only seek my assistance in aiding the inevitable. But why do I continue to resist? What they tell me makes more sense than anything I have ever known. But I still fear them and what they will do to me should I refuse. But at this moment, I can't think of a single reason why I should.
August 13th, 1999
Is acceptance all that I ever yearned for? But the greater good here is far more complicated—yet so much easier to obtain. They smile upon me now. Strangely though, I like it. I find myself basking in the warmth of their chilling promises.
August 22nd, 1999
I am comfortable, and I am learning about the true nature of the world and what is beyond it. I don't know why I continue writing in this journal—I guess that it's the last semblance of humanity that I have within me.
It's ridiculous though. I am becoming much more than human with every moment that I spend under their patient tutelage. I have been tempted to throw this journal into the fire on many occasions. Reading over its pages only reminds of how weak I used to be.
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I've lost track of the day—but I am sure that I have been here for over a year. It has been a long time since I have entered anything into this journal. I can rejoice though. We will have company. At last! I will finally be rewarded. A group approacheth to provide me with the everlasting cup of life. A day away—no more, no less I am told. Wrath. Death. Blood. My day has finally arrived. The Shinda shall make the world remember what was. And I will be integral in reinstating what will be.
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I can see them now. A group of campers as I was promised. Three males and two females. Now all I can do is wait. Wait for my time. Become their hand. Immortality beyond patience. Patience beyond the dominion. I can taste it now. Anoint me, Tsuki-sama! The time has come!
As he closed the book, an unsettling feeling hit him, a question burning in his mind. Am...am I one of the surviving campers? Could I have possibly escaped this house, only to come back without a memory of what I was running from? he asked himself. He had found three symbols so far. If that was the case, he could be the next victim. Setting the book on the table with a trembling hand, he slowly left the loungeroom and the kitchen.
I have to get out of here.
