Short stories.
Story 1. The red sigil in the wall.
There is always a particular reason why I chose to avoid people. 1 I don't normally have the patience to listen to all those that constantly disturb the peace and quiet of my life. 2 with the exception of my uncle, I don't believe that there is anyone that I care really. 3 finally there is a strange rash of things happening in my neighborhood.
I don't know why, or what for, but in an alleyway there appeared a strange simbol painted in red.
I don't know what is that, or who painted it there, but, since it appeared there has been a series of strange things happening all the time. This, however, was so silent and sudden, that no one, (save for me that is) noticed the strange occurrences.
Some of the neighborhood cats started to disappear, it was silent and so slow, that no one noticed their absence. As far as I know, this strange simbol painted in red in that alley, was a kind of crude sigil, but, for what and of what kind? I didn't know.
I started to search for answers, I took a photo of the sign, or rather, sigil, and take it to one of the libraries in the district. I asked to some of the experts in the library, and all of them said the same.
—Sir, with respect, leave immediately the place were you saw that sigil, it is a dangerous magic. The red sigil of chaos is nothing but born of the unspeakable power that sleeps in the hallowed halls of deep slumber, were the great Ancients once stood.
This was said to me with such solemnity that I felt the urge to learn more. I searched for more information, and found some mentions in the book of Dzyan, and it is clearly a warning not to get involved in the cosmic matters that are said to be attracted to this sigil.
Also the most important fact is that some authors mention that the red sigil of chaos, appears in the Necronomicón in the page 891, were the mad Arab warns people that this sigil was born in the palm tree of a extraplanar world, were the earth is seen as the moon in the surface of that world. It is said that this sigil is alive, it connects this world with the ultimate void, and to the consciousness of the one being that is the only living entity in the Ultimate Void, the Supreme Yog-Sothoth.
I learned all this, and was shocked, the very foundations of reality were crumbling before me, I stood there, silently reading about the red sigil's strange properties... And the horrible design that moves all destinies to its will...
All was ending before me, I closed the book that I was reading, like lifting a giant slab of stone, before this knowledge consumed me completely.
I was totally exhausted, I didn't know what to do, I was lost like a child that discovers that he no longer has any father's that can help him. I left the library with the sensation that all the world's weight was now on my shoulders. How can someone return to delightful ignorance when he has learned all that makes him insignificant? Where all the people all around me insane? Or, was I insane for learning more than them in all their lives?
I didn't know what to do, maybe, I could blot the sigil in the wall somehow. I had to do something, I felt that was what was expected of me. But, by who was that expected? I dared not to think of that...
I started to change my lifestyle, from the shreds and ruins of my past life, to my present life, it felt like an eternity in time. Days passed by, I was completely alone so the passing of days and time itself was unimportant. Immersed in the reading of arcane and obscure books, I learned much of the secrets hidden since the beginning of time. Yet, the method to erase the sigil still eluded me.
My research was mostly dedicated to the secret alliance of powers that stood out of view from mortals, and that only a few initiated in the secrets of the cult from beyond time, knew and feared most. The Archetypes, the primeval force behind the creation of matter, were always secretly working between the dimensions, located somewhere between the 10th and the 9th dimension, these beings of pure will power and energy, always work around the Gates.
These gates are, as it is written, the embodiment of the Supreme being, but this are inaccesible to the amateur in magic and quantum physics. But, I was confident that somehow I could do something to erase the sigil without putting in danger my spirit. And with that thought in mind, my research continued, until I found something interesting with the red sigil of chaos.
I discovered that the sigil reacts to blood, and to erase the sigil from a place one must pour blood to it, but, the idea of using my own blood or another one's blood struck me as too much.
Days passed, and finally I dared to touch the sigil In the wall, maybe it was not the same sigil, maybe it was just a simbol of a band or something. I needed to confirm if it was the sigil that I had been researching all this time.
As I neared the wall, I had this strange feeling, like being observed closely, as if a beating heart echoed in the sigil somehow. Yet... I neared and touched the wall with the sigil.
All around me changed, suddenly I realized that the sigil was everywhere, in the walls, in the roofs, in the floor, in the sky, in the very air, all the things around me had the sigil, even living beings, like dogs and cats where marked by it.
As my sanity was crumbling, I saw that even my very body had the sigil, everywhere like my body was made by it, intertwined with everything all was made by the very same sigil, the same power, the same consciousness, the same being repeated infinitely.
I lost consciousness and the next thing I remember, was that I was on a hospital's bed, the cause of my losing consciousness was a heart attack, but even if I didn't see them, the vision of seeing everything made by the same archetype haunted me.
The doctors reassured me that in the alley I was found unconscious there was no simbol nor any sigil of any sort in the wall, it was a blank wall with no decoration whatsoever.
I was treated as any other patient, by the time I finally recovered, I almost believed their version of the story, they said that my solitary lifestyle was most likely the cause of the hallucinations, and that of my parents, or uncle, almost nothing is known, as was my life that of an orphan.
I disagreed with that, but, never could prove with name or birthplace, the origin of my name and existence. Like a phantom I was treated as a beggar with no home, and no family that responded to me, yes, I was alone for as long as I could remember, but never pondered on that.
I was finally recovered, and returned home to my own solitude. To think, that I was having hallucinations, sometimes I wonder if they are right, and that my mind never was so normal to begin with.
But...
Whenever I start to believe that I was only having hallucinations, and that the sigil was only a figment of my imagination, I discovered something that was the last straw for me, this discovery was, as fate wanted, fortuitous.
As I was preparing to leave the apartment that was my home for these past years, I found under my bed, something that shocked the very foundations of my reality and life.
A book, but not any book, it was the copy of the Necronomicón that I took from the library, the book that started everything.
And as fate is a cruel mistress, it was conveniently held in the page of the red sigil of Chaos, and the explanation that I feared to read, the final revelation of the mad Arab.
...Ye shall not understand the sigil, as the sigil is alive, the very powers of its creator live in the sacred lines that compose the body of this sacred archetype...
Fear thine power that bringeth the total being that stands far beyond the nuclear chaos, and that stands as a barrier against the unimaginable power of the Ultimate Void.
With this, at last! The name of the creator is uttered, and the beings shall knoweth their true master!
Yog-Sothoth...
Yog-Sothoth...
YOG-SOTHOTH!
The tree times greatest between greatests, the only and truest monster between monsters. Knoweth fool! That the sigil is Yog-Sothoth himself, in the form of the sacred archetype...
Page 899
I learned too much, in an instant all was clear, it was not what I touched in the wall, it was who! For I touched the very God of knowledge, and he shared his wisdom and vision with me!
Now I understand the reality of the vision, why the sigil was printed everywhere, and how we, all living beings, are eternally intertwined. We all are only parts of the mayor being, that is beyond our senses, and way beyond our understanding of this, or any world at all.
As a candle that is snuffed, so my heart and mind were to, snapped of life, and I felt like falling in the abyss of ultimate realization.
For all and everyone are one with Yog-Sothoth!
Story 2. The great beyond.
Of my travels, I can only speak of ventures, and formidable mountains, of emptiness and solitude. Of the great forest, long forgotten from the world, and so many other things that I have seen.
We are so little in this world, I have been to temple's and places that now lay in ruin. Great marvels that once were the glory of their people, now abandoned to time. I have seen the moon rotate so many times in the sky, yet I have never pondered on the importance of being alive in such a long time, in the vastness of this empty world.
Long since forgotten about the honor of people who worked for a better world, now, all their ideals buried in the infinite inferiority of some stupid enough to think that the world is ending. Trying to escape to Mars, or to the moon, to continue with their wretched existence, plunder the resources of this world, make no mistake, only money matters in the end.
Yeah, right...
I too thought the same way, I think that we all are responsible for the way things are.
But, enough of that, this is my recording of a certain moment in life, a moment I fear, may have passed without any relevance at all.
June 26 1976.
I found a notebook that it seems, belonged to my grandfather, who died of cancer some years ago, this notebook had in its the cover: "Do not read" obviously I read it, since it was In the things that my grandfather left in my care.
It is a short story of a experience my grandfather had in his early years, when he started camping on his own. My grandfather said that, "when the Coyote howls, it is death that walks in the valley" I never understood why he had that saying, but after reading that experience he had, and that marked him so deeply, I now understand why he said that. It was in the deepness of a valley that for some reason it remains unexplored even in this 20th century of ours.
In the notes it doesn't say were exactly happened, but it seems maybe it was in the great desert of Mojave, other mentions are vague, but even so, my grandfather was even in his years an expert at hiking and camping. He was at his 27 years, but, he always loved the fresh air and the quiet of the mountain.
The notebook doesn't say which day it all started, it merely jumps straight to the details, like my own grandfather who didn't liked to sit idle and see things pass by.
...It happened again, my camp was visited last night, I saw the traces of footprints, and some other things. God be blessed, for the visitors didn't see me while I was as sleep.
Or maybe they did, but I don't remember...
The stars were shining in the night sky, in this desert there are many strange wonders, but never have I seen so many carrion birds in the day. It is my imagination? Or the carrion birds are circling a hilltop? I wonder what's on top to call such number of them.
Before noon I was walking towards the hill that is infested by a great number of carrion birds, as days pass, I start to notice some strange things, like the birds don't seem to sleep at night, the darkness is such that I can't see them, but I can hear their wings in the wind as they fly about endlessly.
It's strange, but the howling wind and the coyotes at night are starting to look more and more sinister, as the days and nights pass by. Like an omen of some sort, as if I'm about to see something forbidden.
I don't know what to say...
The horrors that I have witnessed...
The unspeakable terror that chills me...
I feel like I'm about to go mad, or I'm mad already and I haven't noticed it. Never in all my days, I will have the power to erase the memory of that night. For it will haunt me for the rest of my life.
At the day I finally reached the hill, it was already dusk, the cold air whispered and my hands barely had any feeling at all, even though I was using mittens to keep them from freezing, I was terribly anxious for discovering the reason for so many birds, but, I decided to rest a little.
My plan was to make this discovery at day, l was confident in this, but, fate wanted another thing.
My night and rest was absolutely filled with terrible nightmares, visions of the carrion birds with their eyes, torn from their sockets, flying blindly in a void, circling something undetermined.
I awoke with a laugh in my ears, ringing from everywhere, and anywhere at the same time, my intuition told me that whatever is at the top, this night will be the last...
I couldn't stop myself from ascending the crest, like a man possessed I started to climb, my feet, and hands were terribly swollen, they ached and were almost completely frozen, yet, I couldn't stop.
The climb was brutal, like an animal, I felt miserable to be here in the bottom and not up there at the top. That's what I felt, but, I couldn't tell if this was what I really was feeling, or if this was somehow imposed to me by something, or someone else.
As the rocks slide and went tumbling to the bottom, my rational side left me more and more. My thoughts were to reach the top before dawn, to see, to experience what is there, waiting for me. The desert, the dead valley, the dark stars, the sands from which my footprints were visible, and not only my footprints were there down below, but also another footprints were there.
Following my own steps, closer, ever so closer, in my irrational state I couldn't care less, but now I think that there was something or someone following behind me.
I see the top, the birds are falling from the sky, just as I reached the top, they are dead, as was in my nightmares, their eyes, God! They are rotten, and out of their sockets, like in my dream.
My stupor left me, the moment I see a figure, a humanoid figure of sorts is there, in the top, among the dead birds, with the stars and the cresent moon with its weak rays, illuminating a being of some sort.
The being turns to me, and starts to walk towards me, my shock is great for I'm sure it had no face.
I screamed, in utter fear I turned and tried to descend as fast as I can, but it's no use, that thing was almost on top of me.
I see more clearly his Visage, God's! Please, forgive me for venturing beyond!
Eyes, rotten and not, in all his body, the being is walking among the corpses of not only birds, but humans and bones, it extends his hands towards me!
I jump and scream in sheer terror, the darkness and the unconsciousness that hit me are a blessing to me.
I have seen too much...
He now knows that I have seen him, he stalks me at every hour of my life, after that night, my life changed.
I returned to my house, with my wife and son, but I never told them what I saw in the desert, I will must likely take the truth of what I saw with me. But, I will leave this diary for my future grandson, may he never learns the truth about this world, and may he dies ignorant of what stalks humankind in the darkness...
May he respects my silence, and never learns the truth.
All I can say is this: At the top of the mountain in the desert, a being waits, and eats, the bones and eyes of the living, he isn't living. He exists even before mankind existed, and he will must likely devour us all.
For he is the terror, the faceless darkness, and infinite eyes of death's destiny...
The notes of my grandfather end here, with one last piece of advice, one last discovery before his demise.
He will stalk us! Even if we escape to another world! There is no escape for all of us are doomed!
Story 3. Papers in the wall.
As the demolition of an old abandoned building was taking place, the workers discovered a strange door in a basement that doesn't appear in the buildings blueprints.
The door was made of metal, it was rusted and old looking, and the workers were not very keen on investigating strange rooms that are not marked in maps. And so, this was the task of a senior investigator in the police force, in the city of Boston.
The demolition was suspended, until the investigation ended. Inside the room, the walls were dusty and ancient, and the darkness revealed a skeletal pile, maybe someone who was trapped in here, who knows since when.
The inspector also discovered a great amount of papers, forced on the walls of the room. Maybe this person wrote all he could before dying.
The pile of bones and the papers were taken to the station, and from there, they will be investigated to reveal the mistery of the room, and the identity of the deceased.
But, what was truly baffling was that there was another door, in the far end of the room, hidden in the shadows, there was a door, but this one when opened took to a dark cave or abyss of some sort, like the underground caved in gallery of the subterranean train.
There were no lines of the train station in here, but, maybe there was another explanation to this, but for the time being, there was no investigation on the subterranean passageway.
And so... Time passed, and the results of the investigation were never made public, what was written on the papers was never disclosed, and about the identity of the skeletal remains was never discovered.
The door that lead to the subterranean gallery was sealed, and all this mysteries were forgotten. Perhaps, the mysterious disappearance of the investigator and the illnesses of all the workers and scientists involved in the case, was the reason for why the case was better left alone.
The city simply sealed the door, and the mistery of the room was forgotten to all, the part of the city were this happened also without apparent reason was abandoned, the plans to rebuild this part of the city were stopped and the place simply was abandoned.
Some claim that at night, one can hear sounds coming from underground, screams and something like machinery. Others say that people disappear in this place, more frequently than in any other part of the city. Some say that the gallery that was discovered was the entrance to a subterranean city, and that the city of Boston is slowly being absorbed by this hole, and the beings that inhabit the underground city.
In the end nothing is known for sure about the case, who was that person in the room? And what was written in the papers? Are questions without answers. The only thing I can say for sure is that, since this discovery the rate of disappeared persons increased dramatically over the span of ten years.
Are we really prepared to learn the truth of this world?
End.