A Nightmare Reborn
Prologue Part 4
This trail seemed to go on without end. It wasn't the fact that it was such a great distance, but more that my mind has retreated to the outer edge of fantasy. What I see is no longer a mountain, but more a potential playground for my nightmares. The absence of people has made my mind silently scream, as if it were begging for the warmth of a more humble setting. What I had resented before I now miss, and what I now want makes no sense. This mountainside may not be haunted, but it appears to have now occupied my mind, like a smirking demon ready to devour its prey. Life, as it was before, now seems meaningless to me, as I have become wrapped up in this bizarre case. I would never have believed my career would lead me here, chasing after paper ghosts in the cold, bleak night. As my lantern continued to flicker, I grasped its conceptional light with my weary mind, not wishing for this place's shadows to intrude upon me. These rationalizations of mine clearly are not the products of sanity.
The liquor the store owner had given me now beckons me ever so soothingly, like a maiden in a silent forest, one secluded from the wrath of men. As I examined the bottle of the select whiskey that the hag of a shop keeper had granted me, I felt drawn in by its mysterious allure. As I opened it up to smell its contents, I greedily took a swig, remarking over its intoxicating effects. As the path up the mountainside stretched out in front of me, I staggered up it, a puppet being led up by this place's invisible strings. Now, life makes more sense than it ever has. To take such a reckless incursion is truly divine, all thoughts of the master's punishment being casted away. It's not to say that I am going to die here, but more to awaken from a nightmare, the nightmare being our very own waking world. We are not rational as a human being, our primal thirsts beings ones of speckled beasts, creatures that find comforts in fathomless urges. As I inclined to empty some whiskey into this sparkling glimmer that is the flask, my body became steady, putting my inhibitions where they belong, right into the ground.
My journey to what seemed the conventional apex of the mountain was nearly finished, and I saw a light ahead. Who could be here? Is there someone camping in such a forsaken place? I readied my gun, not knowing what my eyes would perceive. As I crept up to the vantage point, I discovered no one was there. How had this fire stoked itself so far? Would one really think to abandon such a well sought flame? I noticed some objects scattered about the makeshift camp, and I became bold, lurching forward to see what they had hastily left behind. They were baubles and trinkets of a past life, things that would amount to nothing for an average day citizen. We are in the natural world now, as I found small cubes with engravings cast upon their frontal sides. The other items were what looked to be small useless sticks at first, but upon a more thorough inspection, I discovered that they belonged in what was a broken clock on the ground, one of such crude design that it could be considered a relic. As I returned the objects carefully to their formal location, I heard a sound, drawing near. I quietly darted to a safe location, veiling me from all intruding eyes. What I saw next was beyond belief, a man who lacked a lower half. As he glided upon the ground gracefully, I wondered if he was even human. His face lacked features, his head absent of hair, and his body bore no definition. His ears were gone, yet he froze, as if he could sense all that was around him. Another sound accompanied him, and he struggled to escape what was to be his impending doom. A hooded man of small stature ran after him, easily closing the distance. As a hand full of deadly claws raked against the half-man's flesh, he easily became split again, and painful jaws emerged from the cloaked man's face, consuming both blood and eviscerated innards. Were either of these creatures humans? My fleeting insanity left me, and I fired upon the man beast, the bullet passing through its hide, killing it. The half-man was already dead, as I discovered upon returning to the campfire. Neither one was what I believed to be Sam. How, I do not know, but I doubt these two creatures are to be considered human. I seized the camp for myself, laughing as I pitched the two beasts into the fire. The smell of their burning flesh was a remarkable odor, not at all repugnant. If I slipped into a deeper state of madness I swear that I might consume their flesh, as the dried meat and bread I had brought could only curb seldom cravings. I've entered a world that may not be haunted, but its passive lullaby is enough of a beckoning to entertain any madman, including the one that I've slowly started to become.
Prologue Part 4
This trail seemed to go on without end. It wasn't the fact that it was such a great distance, but more that my mind has retreated to the outer edge of fantasy. What I see is no longer a mountain, but more a potential playground for my nightmares. The absence of people has made my mind silently scream, as if it were begging for the warmth of a more humble setting. What I had resented before I now miss, and what I now want makes no sense. This mountainside may not be haunted, but it appears to have now occupied my mind, like a smirking demon ready to devour its prey. Life, as it was before, now seems meaningless to me, as I have become wrapped up in this bizarre case. I would never have believed my career would lead me here, chasing after paper ghosts in the cold, bleak night. As my lantern continued to flicker, I grasped its conceptional light with my weary mind, not wishing for this place's shadows to intrude upon me. These rationalizations of mine clearly are not the products of sanity.
The liquor the store owner had given me now beckons me ever so soothingly, like a maiden in a silent forest, one secluded from the wrath of men. As I examined the bottle of the select whiskey that the hag of a shop keeper had granted me, I felt drawn in by its mysterious allure. As I opened it up to smell its contents, I greedily took a swig, remarking over its intoxicating effects. As the path up the mountainside stretched out in front of me, I staggered up it, a puppet being led up by this place's invisible strings. Now, life makes more sense than it ever has. To take such a reckless incursion is truly divine, all thoughts of the master's punishment being casted away. It's not to say that I am going to die here, but more to awaken from a nightmare, the nightmare being our very own waking world. We are not rational as a human being, our primal thirsts beings ones of speckled beasts, creatures that find comforts in fathomless urges. As I inclined to empty some whiskey into this sparkling glimmer that is the flask, my body became steady, putting my inhibitions where they belong, right into the ground.
My journey to what seemed the conventional apex of the mountain was nearly finished, and I saw a light ahead. Who could be here? Is there someone camping in such a forsaken place? I readied my gun, not knowing what my eyes would perceive. As I crept up to the vantage point, I discovered no one was there. How had this fire stoked itself so far? Would one really think to abandon such a well sought flame? I noticed some objects scattered about the makeshift camp, and I became bold, lurching forward to see what they had hastily left behind. They were baubles and trinkets of a past life, things that would amount to nothing for an average day citizen. We are in the natural world now, as I found small cubes with engravings cast upon their frontal sides. The other items were what looked to be small useless sticks at first, but upon a more thorough inspection, I discovered that they belonged in what was a broken clock on the ground, one of such crude design that it could be considered a relic. As I returned the objects carefully to their formal location, I heard a sound, drawing near. I quietly darted to a safe location, veiling me from all intruding eyes. What I saw next was beyond belief, a man who lacked a lower half. As he glided upon the ground gracefully, I wondered if he was even human. His face lacked features, his head absent of hair, and his body bore no definition. His ears were gone, yet he froze, as if he could sense all that was around him. Another sound accompanied him, and he struggled to escape what was to be his impending doom. A hooded man of small stature ran after him, easily closing the distance. As a hand full of deadly claws raked against the half-man's flesh, he easily became split again, and painful jaws emerged from the cloaked man's face, consuming both blood and eviscerated innards. Were either of these creatures humans? My fleeting insanity left me, and I fired upon the man beast, the bullet passing through its hide, killing it. The half-man was already dead, as I discovered upon returning to the campfire. Neither one was what I believed to be Sam. How, I do not know, but I doubt these two creatures are to be considered human. I seized the camp for myself, laughing as I pitched the two beasts into the fire. The smell of their burning flesh was a remarkable odor, not at all repugnant. If I slipped into a deeper state of madness I swear that I might consume their flesh, as the dried meat and bread I had brought could only curb seldom cravings. I've entered a world that may not be haunted, but its passive lullaby is enough of a beckoning to entertain any madman, including the one that I've slowly started to become.
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