Hi. This is #3 of some of my bored writing I'm doing on Steemit
I'm not really the best of writers I'll admit, but I'm looking to improve my skills, feel free to input ideas and any fixes you have in the comments for me (I'm probably going to need it!)
A storm was brewing outside, my palm gently twitched as I began scribbling, dipping and stirring my ink pen in the ink, making small black scratches, leaving blotches all over the paper. I didn't mind, nor care. I just wanted respite, something to turn my mind and eyes away from the abhorrent travesties I had witnessed, something that could turn around all that I have seen, all I have done, heard and felt. I wanted no, I needed, demanded, sweet, sweet nepenthe, for I sought respite, respite from the abhorrent travesties I had witnessed.
It was a cold and bitter winter, my post-box jammed full of letters, taking them out slowly I began to read them, my mind drifting away after each bitter letter, taxes, fines, requirements, apologies, they were all the same, all wanting something from me. All except one, the bottom of the pile, was it there to begin with? I didn't know, I didn't count it when I picked it up, although I know that I didn't see nor feel it when I did. Tenderly I leant over to the table as I sat near the fireplace, a brimstone tinged black, the wallpaper a dry green, the furniture; Mahogany, I wasn't rich persay, I just had inheritance, though, I didn't know what I truly inherited after what happened those nights not long ago.
It was early in the morning, the was still down below, I wandered to the front porch of my house, icicles and snow displayed all around as I used my frosted gloves to reveal a key, gently pushing it into the sturdy lock of the sturdy oaken door, and with a sturdy push it opened, a light creak given off as the hinges worked for the first time in eons, I slowly wandered into the house, the banister to the upstairs was on my right, what seemed to be a dining hall - which later bared a kitchen just further - was to my left. Approaching the banister my eyes became almost affixed, gazing at the insignia, the emblem engraved on the newel post, the longer I peered at it, the more I started to tingle, this wash of dread enshrouding my persona, a feeling so indescribable I cannot bring myself to write it on this paper...
Nonetheless, I moved upwards.
Each footstep felt was a hike in it's own, the splintered railing up bared scratches and cracks, each step creaked and groaned, mumbling for help in peril as I felt like my feet were just going to go straight through, each step upwards felt like one closer down, closer down to where no man should ever want to go. But nonetheless, I moved upwards. Till I reached the top, the summit of the household, dark and dampened with stains littering the area like a cascade of mold, I almost wanted to cover my mouth and body to prevent plague. Peering to the rooms I saw similar emblems, each one seeming to screech into my ears with a pulsating pain that shook my mind.
I originally came to visit a relative, my grandfather, Sir Thomas Duncook, knighted for his service to the king. He had spent many years under their service, until his strange resignation in 1849, where he retired to the household and became more and more isolated and cut off from the rest of the family and the King himself, of which Sir Thomas held great friendship to, furthering the strangeness of his isolation. A few nights before my dreaded visit, I received a letter of which I presumed was from him, a handwritten note sent by him with a wax seal of our household. Of Which Read
"Dear William Duncook,
I have affixed a key inside this letter, I wish for you to head to my household as soon as you are ready, I do warn though, for what you will find is not what you will want.
-Signed, your grandfather, Thomas Duncook."
Ambiguous, the only way I could had described it, so much so it took me a day of sitting and reading over such a brief letter that eventually I pulled myself out of my chair and left for his estate. Leaving and requesting my carriage I began to gently roll the key in my hands, strangely to my eyes an aged amount of dust had gathered on the relic. After a few hours, I arrived at the estate, making my way to the door of the grand mansion that my Grandfather bared ownership of.
As I approached one of the doors inside, my mind continued to pulsate with this pain, as if something was denying me presence, as if gnawing away at my mentality, at me. With the perseverance of my family however, I pushed onward, inward, twisting my hand tightly against one of the door knobs, any of the ones I saw before I bare no memory of which, I opened the door.
And to my regret, that is where the terror began.
Twisted, gnarled, mangled corpses, displayed on the floor still dripping with blood, the fresh red crimson laid stagnant in vast pools that almost reached my toes, startled, frightened, paralyzed I stood there, staring in absolute horror. Terror, I had witnessed something no man, woman, child or even monster of the night wind should ever have to. For what came next truly shook my foundations. Out from the dark corner of the room, from the darkest corner of hell, the darkest pits of inferno. Nightmare, Misery, the endless torment, the voids of the underworld, that which walks the darkest corners of the Earth, the beasts that rule the night and feed on the living, their form so indescribable I can only say it as a colossus of blood and raw flesh, I saw my grandfather, Sir Thomas Duncook, his face red with a crimson tinge, and at that moment the realization came.
I was next to join that pile
In a frenzied state, my grandfather, let out a cackle "You fell right into my hands!" the crazed colossus of a man let out, baring a sharpened knife in his palms "For I have seen the eyes of him, him who will save us all! Him who will pr-" he paused, clutching his chest he began to pant, as he coughed up. Black. Bile. "He's come" the twisted stranger said "He's here. The ritual is complete, the ritual is complete. It is complete. CoMPlETe!".
A shining light enshrouded me, blindly blocking my senses, what came next? Darkness, I was torn asunder from the Earth and felt the sensation of falling, as I saw him. Although my grandfather bared a fate foul and grotesque, where his form became something that shook my core, this was worse, this was abhorrent, something that would drive any man past madness, insanity.
For I saw the eyes of him, him who will save us all
I request you try no form of ressurection on me, for I do not wish to return, I will take this Atropa Belladona quickly, so that my sweet respite because any respite I can hold is not present on this Earth. Farewell reader, farewell and remember never to try and reveal the secrets of Inferos Aeternam
And end.
Thanks for reading (if you did read...) I had a bit of inspiration from H.P. Lovecraft, I'm uh...(Avatar) sort of a fan of the writings, I feel like this one has been a lot better than my last two so I hope you've enjoyed it.