29 November 2012
Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft's story "The Outsider"
I stood frozen, facing the old, ornate mirror and too scared to open my eyes. The face that had stared at me out of that silver-backed portal was not, could not, belong to me. The pale white film covering the sunken eyes, the lichen growing from the pores in the face, the grubs that nestled in the ears and could be seen burrowing across the flesh of the face; that could not be me. The neck with the unholy twist, the open torso with dead, un-moving organs, the skeletal fingers sharpened to needle points by the gnawing of beetles and maggots; that could not be me. I lived! I had escaped! The deep chambers of my Lovecraftian prison no longer kept me caged. All my life, trapped within that subterranean expanse, and now my freedom spoiled by the face that I saw. Had my life been an illusion? Had the spark in my chest been no more than a necromantic flame, kindled and then forgot? Was the life that I felt coursing through my veins not my own, but stolen from some innocent creature? It could not be. I peeked out through a single, half-veiled eyelid to see once more the face that would forever haunt my dreams. The dread visage stared back, the blank white shroud upon it's eyes not stopping it from reaching into my soul and shredding the last vestiges of hope. Those eyes, staring at me as if from the depths of hell. Those eyes...Those eyes? Eye-s? I felt up to my face. Yes, my other eye was clamped firmly shut. I looked back at the creature and saw not one, not one but two deathly orbs staring back. My soul mended, I cast wide my eyes and looked down upon myself. The flesh upon my fingers, the skin on my chest. My neck was whole, my face un-broken, my life un-tainted. Casting aside the fears which held me back, I struck out at what I knew then to be some fiend, sent to drive me to despair. My blow struck through the glass before me, shattering it into a thousand jagged shards, each reflecting a different angle as they fell to the floor. Behind the glass, I saw...nothing. No, less than nothing. There was a vacuum, an utter absence of not just light, but matter, substance, and life. This darkness was more complete than death, more fearsome than hell, and more fearsome by far than the creature I had seen. That was nothing wholesome that could come of it. Turning to flee, my foot caught on one of the shards and I came crashing to the floor. Rising up, I glanced back at the nothingness behind me. It stirred, moved, and began to take form. The manifestation grew in size and clarity, taking on a form all too familiar. Now, now, now I chose to run. Out from that cursed place where hope has no place and life has no hope. Out and away from the form that still haunts me to this day. Back to my cave, my labyrinth, to the doors of Death if need be. Never again will I feel love, life, or happiness, for whenever I do, that form will return to haunt me. The dead thing, with the decay and corruption all around; that was a mere prelude. It was not the visage that I saw in the glass that tortures my soul and shatters my sleep. No. I am forever damned by the form from out of the shadows, for out of that darkness comes my shattered life. What dark and dreadful thing could cause someone to live thus? I tell you now, no fearsome beast, no creature born on earth or in hell, could ever compare to the awful truth that I saw, for from within that nothingness emerged...my own image.
Inner Darkness • Opuss № I