Face

The still beating membrane under my face is a lie given to those who assume the mask is just that; A mask. No, that plastic is more alive than anything I've ever touched. It is my face, while the skin is a mask. True nature is often based by assumptions, whereas my face tells no lies you will become. I am pain, I am a lack of pity, a lack of restraint made manifest. Eris quod sum, or rather quod sum eris. When I put my face into your sight, you will become what I am. You will become pain and fear, contempt and loss, hate and relentlessness. You will become me, if only for a brief moment, me. In that moment of hellfire and rage you will see my blackness. Behold my sorrows and despise what made me; For what made me will remake yourself! Watch what losing everything makes in the pits of madness.

My face is only truth, you will hurt, you will suffer, and you will die. No one can escape this. I only choose to show it. Not cheapen it, not lie about it. Bare it for you to see. Now put on your face, and be as I have become. Eris quod sum. Or was it quod sum eris?

Late Night Bathroom Break

I awoke in simple darkness with the need to piss. With each step I seamlessly walked down the stairs with no effort. In the living room I dodged the coffee table, the recliner, and even the large desk. The bathroom was in sight, and I was ready to release this big bladder. The kitchen was next to the entrance to the bathroom. It was there, a writhing darkness, darker than the rest of the room, merely squirming against a corner. I turned on the light panicking and at the same time assuming it was my imagination. I was wrong, the light was on and I saw that thing and ran to the bathroom. It is beating down the door now, and I can’t hold it back much longer.

The Shadow in the Trees

     In the well lit confines of my room, my imagination is soaring. New horrors seem to jump at every turn in my thought-filled mind. The walls are ever so small in this plain,ordinary room, yet closing in to envelope a feeling of dread as if sealed in a coffin. In this anxiety I avert my eyes to the outside of my window in an attempt to calm this feeling of dread and danger lurking just beneath the surface of my mind. As I gaze into the darkness of the late night sky I see a treeline, just a horizon of neighboring trees that begin to blend with that very night sky and the darkness it is holding tight.

Almost instantly I see it.

A shadow bounced from the treeline down into the darkness. I admit this must have been a mixture of my poor sight, the darkness and the tricks of the mind. As I self assure myself, I see the bounce again in a slightly clearer definition. The thought that I am seeing this recur is an obscure feeling upon the frantic mind. The third time the shadow moves I am at a loss for the description for the urge to discover what I am seeing. Turning off my lamp, once again I gaze into the outside of my safe room to see if I can clearly determine the cause of this shadow moving into and above the trees.

The darkness adjusts to my poor sight only to reveal a branch close to my window.
With a relief that washes over me, I breathe the heavy sigh of a panic that is passing. In that breath, my eyes catch it landing on the ground with an unnatural grace

There was a reason to be fearful. It can jump at least 30 feet for it to clear those trees. It is staring back at me, because I’ve been looking upon it this whole time. It sees me far better than I can see it. As it jumps, it points a finger at me. Dear god it’s getting closer now.

Waiting in the Hotel Room

The memories are far too much for a feeble man such as myself to bear, let alone entertain anymore. Every man has his limits because we are built with them. These limits do include the loss of one’s perception of reality over time. This terrible truth holds me in an uncomfortable vice as I sit at the edge of this bed in this hotel room. Surrounded by the familiar, inside a familiar setting, yet within these confides is the utmost unfamiliar. Horrors which plague the mind and disturb children as they forget the truths they learn at birth are creeping just outside of sight in this well lit room. I am not prepared for what is in this room. Nothing ever could prepare me for what awaits here.

Most atheists tend to say there is no god. The term I believe they wish to mean is an omnipotent being that created existence is an absurd model made by a society. I agree there could not have been something so demonstrably powerful to make existence. Yet now with the evils of knowledge that I was so cursed with unveiling, I do know man’s place in the universe, and it is smaller than the size of an atom, with less impact than a single grain of sand. I have seen what we would call angels, demons, and even so far as consider them gods. What knowledge is gained is a thousand times harder to lose. The hellish repercussions from such knowledge is to such a degree I cannot fathom.


These beings are from another time and space, with malicious neglect towards our race. As uncaring to our species as a whole that is unseen to us. We dream of their hellish features, tell tales of their nightmarish acts, only to rationalize the unspoken shudders we get. Primal reactions we keep at the core of our being that makes us afraid was caused by these horrors long ago. The worship of these divine beings will never save us. Nor will it bring the terrible truth I have seen to you. I’m writing this as I hear the creaking, and the whispers that try to insinuate my decline into insanity. My sanity is shaken, but I know the truth. These uncaring greater beings will soon be worse than neglectful, they will take our reality and leave us with nothing but a living nightmare.

It is here in this modest hotel room where I confess my truth, no one can stop it. The slithering and sloshing faintly heard within the shadows is an acknowledgment to my simple surrender. This .45 is my white flag. I need to hope that my finger will be faster than their intentions with me. I’m certain it is not. If memory serves correctly, the definition of hell awaits.