Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Unknown Soldier · (05-28-2023)

[Image: Lifes-but-a-walking-shadow-a-poor-player...o-more.jpg]

Staring outside my window as the raindrops curdle their way down the side of the glass and leave a residual streak that reminds me of the reminiscent allegorical alienation that is my unwavering past in an unforgiving world. Sure, I made my marks with minimal attribution to this thing we call society, but they were so small and inconsistent and inconsequential that they left a mere clear smear on the smooth glass surface just the same as the water flowing past on the window in which I now gaze hopelessly expecting something or someone to come and take me away from my human existence. The trees rotating in the wind left and right, shaking at the brute force of the wind flailing in all directions, and darkened by the looming and overbearing clouds hovering menacingly over the skyline; bring a solemn feeling to my soul that maybe somewhere underneath their wavering curtain of dark and depressing loom and gloom that someone, or perhaps something, will take me away.

I would never bring myself to bring perish upon my life at my own hands, but rather gaze endlessly into the everlasting void outside my aurora of anonymity hoping that the dark figure with the scythe or some other haunting creature of the abyss would come to take me to some netherworld outside the realm of this painful existence that I have preoccupied my mind into existing upon exponentially. It's not that I am sad, lonely, or in need of some sort of shoulder to cry upon to console my depression. It's more that I wish to explore the stars and to expand my universe outside the realm of these four mindless walls that have entrapped my imaginative mind that wishes to expand beyond the horizons of this reoccurring rendition of reality. I can see now and emphasize with Macbeth in the great Shakespearean play in the battle for a conscience and the effect of guilt on the mind. How I long to travel on a plane of existence that is everlasting and endless in imagination subsequently similar to something I can see within a dream.

I sigh as I raise the instrument to intersect the drug of my choice into my brain to stimulate it's subconscious and to help formulate my thoughts into something that will not leave me delving into a sea of my cogitations and into a pit of insanity and madness in my mind-numbing misconceptions. Self-medication is all that I have to help me keep from whisking my mind away into a world of boredom and monotonous malfeasance. I pull long and hard, sucking the succulence of the sweetness from the edge of the crystal pipe into my lungs and throughout my body and sending me on a shockwave of tremors in my entire nervous system. All the shivers in my body are shaking with omnipotent feel and foreboding as I wither and wilt into the chair and watch the world melt into a blend of colors that coagulate and display themselves like a vortex of some type of exploding volcano.

When I finally come to, awoken in a pool of my own sweat and saliva on the ground next to the chair from which I sat; what seems like hours but could have been a mere couple of minutes, I have decided that my fate is no longer to give way to my hopeless addictions and my egregious dreams of alternative realities. I turn to my library and seek deeply within the archives of hundreds of choices to reach aimlessly among the crowded bindings and loose papers to thumb my way to the book of choice for which I would be reading and rehearsing the ritual for which I was told to never dare to recite. My collection of occult books and articles is constantly growing as I become more and more a custom to the teaching of black magik. In my studies I have wandered the world in search of the one that would finally bring to me a conjuration of the divine to bring forth strength and prosperity towards my search for unlimited power. As I said before, there must be some other way to reach out and touch the outside realms that lay layered within the confines of our mind and send us on a journey outside this insignificant existence.

I can no longer heed towards the constant worries and warnings of others to not call forth what they claim to be the most evil of entities in which my colleagues have suggested I avoid at all costs. However, within that statement alone raises even a larger question which must be poised to anyone who might wonder exactly what is evil? How do we determine if something is wrong or too vile for human consumption to be conjured by the likes of me? To that I say that if you do not open your mind to it all, then you have simply sold out to the conscription that a small window of supernatural society is outside of your minds reach and are too scared to travel beyond the realms of your own comfort zone. Fear is not a determining factor within my mind that keeps me from exploring the world as a whole. Perhaps that is precisely why my mind is even in this whole predicament of a lost guilty conscience in the first place?   I believe that it is I and I alone that has discovered the secret on how to call forth the most powerful spirits from the realms beyond reality and bring them to my command. To claim them as a genie at my beck and call to do unto my bidding!

Stashed in a secret alcove behind a slew of Star Wars novels, I find the ancient tomes that I traveled to the ends of the earth to retrieve in my long-awaited plan and preparation for this day to finally come. For years I have been practicing in occult magik, delving my secret life behind closed doors from the rest of the world in my reclused apartment away from any wandering eyes of my family or friends. If I were to be exposed, then it would keep the spirits from answering to my beck and call as they wish to keep from being discovered. It is here in my own sanctity of seclusion that I have kept my wandering mind occupied in a world outside what the rest of humanity would consider the extraordinary.

I begin tossing these ancient relics over my shoulder in a mad delusional phase of energy brought forth from both the anticipation of this event and the drugs pulsating through my bloodstream. I will need them all... Exactly 666 different volumes, articles, and books of varying degrees of black magik that I have mastered throughout the ages of my life and the studies of my former colleagues such as the great Aleister Crowley. The Lesser Key of Solomon, the Ars Goetia, Echophraxia, Transcendental Magic, Condensed Chaos, Forbidden Knowledge, Necronomicon, 777 and other Qabalistic writings, The Grimorium Verum. They are all there! I can see them all spread out before me and I salivate at the thought of how I had become of this collection, by some means illegally and immorally. The thought enters my mind and I have no remorse for the means to this end and how they all came in my possession. The evil deeds and lives, yes lives, that had to be taken to acquire my precious books of ultimate knowledge and power now lay beneath my feet in a pool of wicked wishful thinking that has become the subject of my dreams and were now going to be used to bring forth the nightmares of this pathetic reality outside my rain smeared windows!

Beneath my carpet was the pentagram I had carved into the wood hidden just underneath the feet of everyone who had been inside my apartment unbeknownst to them. I had taken meticulous time and effort to sculpture it perfectly to its exact coordinates for it to be perfect. If I was going to be performing this ultimate magik ritual I was most certainly going to do it right, and I was going to go to no expense to formulate this from the deepest fathoms of my heart and mind to appease the spirits from the other side of this dimensional portal that I had diagramed in the privacy of my own home. I then drew the circle of salt around me, but unlike my sad and scared predecessors, I left a small window open instead of completing the circle completely, for I would be inviting them in! I want them to come and join me!

I begin the ritual and the chanting, I know it will take days or perhaps even weeks of fasting, sweating, and pleading with the spirits from the outer realm to come forth and take me away with them to a world in which I can be supplanted as the super master of supremacy! Hour after hour, book after book, chant after chant I continue to echo the chorus of the dead and the demonic to do my bidding, and with each cackle and command I can hear them outside the circle... calling and coming ever so closely to my circle and to enter into our world... Lightning strikes the outside of my window, as the storm that was ever boding has now gone up into a frenzy. The rain comes and goes as it whips continuously back and forth with the coming of the wind! Thunder bellows and breaks the silence that is interrupted by the echo of my chanting and screaming of the prayers etched out in each book that I continue to open and close and use sporadically when necessary to invoke the most powerful spirit of them all. Finally, it all comes to a screeching halt and the storm subsides and the rain stops, and a giant ball of fire comes creeping slowly inside my circle and speaks to me in a low guttural speech like that of a child asking for something small as a favor.

I speak to it as it calls out to me from beyond the interdimensional void that was brought to me now inside my circle and it asks me for what is the reason for which I have summoned it here in this hour of this day. To which I command to my genie that I wish to become the greatest writer for which the world has ever seen and in return he simply asks for me to sign my soul over to him in blood to which I am glad to oblige! When the period is dotted and the deed is done on his parchment consisting of human skin and written in the blood from the prick of my finger, he disappears into a whisp of smoke and is gone in an instant. I collapse and fall down on top of my collection of books and wood carven pentagram in the ground and pass out for what is probably a very long period of time...

[Image: BRAND_H2_ACTA_111852_TVE_2398_060_20131025_V1_HD.jpg]

When I awaken, I feel just the same as I did before. Although my surroundings are quite different as the storm has subsided and the wind has died down and the rain is nothing more than a dew upon the grass. I sigh to myself and grab my instrument to go back to inhaling the drug of my choice once again and act as if nothing had happened. Once again it was nothing but a fluke and a figment of my imagination. I'll try again soon some other day and hope for a better result. I turn on my computer and I begin to start writing for my favorite e-fed when suddenly I am overcome with some overbearing feeling of something that is perhaps watching me from behind? I then put my fingers to the keyboard and begin to experience some sort of out of body experience as if the words appearing on the screen in front of me are not what I intended them to be. I begin to feel something overtaking my body as if I were possessed by some unseen malicious force controlling my every move! I do not wish to write and spew these hateful words of such a demonstrative nature! I am trapped in a body that I have no control! Somebody help me! Oh god please help me and have mercy on my soul!

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode The Story of Cory
Author	Message