inuyasha
2014-06-10, 10:40 PM
I kinda threw this together when I felt like writing. I write a lot of poetry, but not very many short stories. But I would like some critiquing done on this one if anyone's interested :) enjoy.
"Please sit sit, I implore you, don't call me a bufoon like those fools at the university, and don't pity me with the sad look those poor sods of nurses. The events I will recall to you are completely true, no matter how insane, irregular, or incomplete they may seem."
"It was a gloomy, dark, and chilled saturday night on the evening of june 10th. I remember the odd sensations my body experienced with almost perfect clarity, the air was extremely crisp in the form of a strangely bitter wind, this was odd because the day was an extremely warm and miserable day. I remember my nose caught the ghoulish, charnel, rotting stench of something awful. But most of all I remember the sickly pale glow of the full, spectral. I don't know why I was in that damned place, nor why Edmund dragged me into his infernal dealings. In the past months, something changed in him. His once brilliant eyes, filled with conquest and an almost childish curiostiy for lore and education, have since glazed over and his once ecstatic personality has become bitter and envenomed with hate. I didn't dare question his expeditions for fear he would kill me..."
"I'm sorry, a dottering old man like me must be rambling on. You look fairly pale, would you like a drink? Here, have a glass of gin, my one true vice I admit"
"As I was saying, Edmund had dragged me out to some unmentionable and godawful crypt to dig up who knows what. he had a bizarre look on his face, one of less childish curiosity and more corrupt lust for knowledge long lost to mortal man. He seemed to believe he could steal knowledge from a long rotted corpse. I thought he was a fool, but I didn't dare tell him that, I did make the mistake of asking what he wanted so damn badly. Almost immediately his black haired head shot up and gave me a look out of his dull,bloodshot eyes that contained more hatred than any mortal vessel should ever enclose within itself and looked down just as quickly, without looking up again, in a low, gravelly, weary voice just two simple words.
"keep digging"
"I'm sorry, I haven't been up this late in a very long time, allow me to open up a window"
"*ahem* sorry, continuing on. Edmund and I continued in agonizing silence for some time, it felt as if we had been digging for hours with no fruits for our brutish and ghastly endeavors. But I was ecstatic once we felt our spades strike the solid relief of a coffin beneath the dirt and ancient muck. With as much strength as we could muster, we reached our strangely frigid yet oddly sweaty hands down and pulled off the lid enclosing whatever wicked and nefarious enigmas lie within. What I saw on that dark and frigid night would make even the most seasoned mortician gasp, it was a corpse that, while still ravaged by time, was unnaturally preserved so that some minute details were still slightly discernable. The most horrible thing about it though was the inhuman nature of it's structure, almost as if this had been done unnaturally by itself in life, the legs and torso were extended and thinned as if they were put on some sort of horrid machine, the skin was pallid and dull as opposed to the rotted brown it should have been, the fingers were cruelly sharpened and the skin shaved off the ends, and its ancient skull appeared as one of a sleeping man that was the victim of horrid trepanning with dried blood still calloused along the edge. But as I watched, aghast and in horror at this grisly site, Edmund had found exactly what he was looking for. A small note clutched in the greusome hands of this fetid corpse, and as he groped at the yellow roll I got a closer look, and realized it was not human skin, but appeared to be of the same material as the Al azif, an abominable book written by some arabian pariah. He held it high above his head, the moon was at it's peak and had begun to shine brightly with an almost malign sentience, and he spoke the words written on that vile note, and while I know not what it means, I remember it with perfect clarity as it came out of his lips, he spoke.
"Mai ghusapai ki Kamana Li'e bhagavana ke ghara kulaa"
And as the last gutteral word left his tired mouth with an almost echoing tone, thunder boomed and it began to rain. Edmund repeated the words on that damned note god knows how many times! Over and over in the same damned tone of voice, but then dropped it, gasping for breath and he looked at me with the curious and soft glance I had known before, but still not full of conquest or wonder, but instead filled with tears and depression. He began to weep, his watery tears streaming down his face faster than the rain, and through his moaning and wailing cries, I began to hear a music, one that I had never experienced in my life, it was ethereal, almost dreamlike, and as that music played, Edmund looked at me and out of his puffy, night stained face he bawled.
"god what have I done"
as he spoke this through his tears the music struck a sour note, and I noticed it had changed from a jubilant and angelic chorus to a deep, slow, gloomy dirge. The wind grew faster, the dirge slower and louder, and Edmunds berzerk cries grew louder and more indistinct, Then a flash of thunder struck, my eyes were blinded by this sudden shock, and when they recovered, Edmund, the music, and the rain were all gone. The only thing that remained was the opened coffin and that accursed note. I replaced the lid to the coffin, re buried it in the ground, and left without a word, no one since has asked about Edmunds death, and anyone whom I tell this story to believes I should be put in the asylum. So here I am, living with the memories and telling my story to another young man who thinks I'm a damned fool. This night has been really taxing on my brain and mental well being, I would appreciate it if you left my house and never game back"
P.S. it is all one man speaking, and it is a little inspired by H.P. Lovecraft. OK VERY inspired by H.P. Lovecraft
"Please sit sit, I implore you, don't call me a bufoon like those fools at the university, and don't pity me with the sad look those poor sods of nurses. The events I will recall to you are completely true, no matter how insane, irregular, or incomplete they may seem."
"It was a gloomy, dark, and chilled saturday night on the evening of june 10th. I remember the odd sensations my body experienced with almost perfect clarity, the air was extremely crisp in the form of a strangely bitter wind, this was odd because the day was an extremely warm and miserable day. I remember my nose caught the ghoulish, charnel, rotting stench of something awful. But most of all I remember the sickly pale glow of the full, spectral. I don't know why I was in that damned place, nor why Edmund dragged me into his infernal dealings. In the past months, something changed in him. His once brilliant eyes, filled with conquest and an almost childish curiostiy for lore and education, have since glazed over and his once ecstatic personality has become bitter and envenomed with hate. I didn't dare question his expeditions for fear he would kill me..."
"I'm sorry, a dottering old man like me must be rambling on. You look fairly pale, would you like a drink? Here, have a glass of gin, my one true vice I admit"
"As I was saying, Edmund had dragged me out to some unmentionable and godawful crypt to dig up who knows what. he had a bizarre look on his face, one of less childish curiosity and more corrupt lust for knowledge long lost to mortal man. He seemed to believe he could steal knowledge from a long rotted corpse. I thought he was a fool, but I didn't dare tell him that, I did make the mistake of asking what he wanted so damn badly. Almost immediately his black haired head shot up and gave me a look out of his dull,bloodshot eyes that contained more hatred than any mortal vessel should ever enclose within itself and looked down just as quickly, without looking up again, in a low, gravelly, weary voice just two simple words.
"keep digging"
"I'm sorry, I haven't been up this late in a very long time, allow me to open up a window"
"*ahem* sorry, continuing on. Edmund and I continued in agonizing silence for some time, it felt as if we had been digging for hours with no fruits for our brutish and ghastly endeavors. But I was ecstatic once we felt our spades strike the solid relief of a coffin beneath the dirt and ancient muck. With as much strength as we could muster, we reached our strangely frigid yet oddly sweaty hands down and pulled off the lid enclosing whatever wicked and nefarious enigmas lie within. What I saw on that dark and frigid night would make even the most seasoned mortician gasp, it was a corpse that, while still ravaged by time, was unnaturally preserved so that some minute details were still slightly discernable. The most horrible thing about it though was the inhuman nature of it's structure, almost as if this had been done unnaturally by itself in life, the legs and torso were extended and thinned as if they were put on some sort of horrid machine, the skin was pallid and dull as opposed to the rotted brown it should have been, the fingers were cruelly sharpened and the skin shaved off the ends, and its ancient skull appeared as one of a sleeping man that was the victim of horrid trepanning with dried blood still calloused along the edge. But as I watched, aghast and in horror at this grisly site, Edmund had found exactly what he was looking for. A small note clutched in the greusome hands of this fetid corpse, and as he groped at the yellow roll I got a closer look, and realized it was not human skin, but appeared to be of the same material as the Al azif, an abominable book written by some arabian pariah. He held it high above his head, the moon was at it's peak and had begun to shine brightly with an almost malign sentience, and he spoke the words written on that vile note, and while I know not what it means, I remember it with perfect clarity as it came out of his lips, he spoke.
"Mai ghusapai ki Kamana Li'e bhagavana ke ghara kulaa"
And as the last gutteral word left his tired mouth with an almost echoing tone, thunder boomed and it began to rain. Edmund repeated the words on that damned note god knows how many times! Over and over in the same damned tone of voice, but then dropped it, gasping for breath and he looked at me with the curious and soft glance I had known before, but still not full of conquest or wonder, but instead filled with tears and depression. He began to weep, his watery tears streaming down his face faster than the rain, and through his moaning and wailing cries, I began to hear a music, one that I had never experienced in my life, it was ethereal, almost dreamlike, and as that music played, Edmund looked at me and out of his puffy, night stained face he bawled.
"god what have I done"
as he spoke this through his tears the music struck a sour note, and I noticed it had changed from a jubilant and angelic chorus to a deep, slow, gloomy dirge. The wind grew faster, the dirge slower and louder, and Edmunds berzerk cries grew louder and more indistinct, Then a flash of thunder struck, my eyes were blinded by this sudden shock, and when they recovered, Edmund, the music, and the rain were all gone. The only thing that remained was the opened coffin and that accursed note. I replaced the lid to the coffin, re buried it in the ground, and left without a word, no one since has asked about Edmunds death, and anyone whom I tell this story to believes I should be put in the asylum. So here I am, living with the memories and telling my story to another young man who thinks I'm a damned fool. This night has been really taxing on my brain and mental well being, I would appreciate it if you left my house and never game back"
P.S. it is all one man speaking, and it is a little inspired by H.P. Lovecraft. OK VERY inspired by H.P. Lovecraft