This week only. Pastebin PRO Accounts Christmas Special! Don't miss out!Want more features on Pastebin? Sign Up, it's FREE!
Guest

World Ground to a Stop

By: cardfan212 on Feb 7th, 2012  |  syntax: None  |  size: 16.23 KB  |  views: 117  |  expires: Never
download  |  raw  |  embed  |  report abuse  |  print
Text below is selected. Please press Ctrl+C to copy to your clipboard. (⌘+C on Mac)
  1.         I would like to believe that this world is normal, but it is far from it. A good comparative would be the stories of H.P. Lovecraft. To most people, life is normal. Nothing could possibly be wrong, right? In the stories, there is always the unfortunate main character that encounters utter madness. I am one of those characters, only this is not a story. This is real life.
  2.         Things really started in February of last year. I was laid off from my job, my house was foreclosed, my car was repossessed. I was back to square one: no money and living with the parents. I was desperate for a return to life as it was, thinking maybe this was just a long, very vivid dream. As the days rolled by, reality settled in and I finally accepted the truth.
  3.         My parents offered no advice. The one thing that they did say, over and over, was, “You need to be looking for a job.” They would say this even when I was out looking for one. The problem is that in this middle-of-nowhere town, all the jobs are taken already. The only legal businesses are family-owned and only allow family as employees. That's why I decided to take interest into the not-so-legal career path.
  4.         Legal authorities in our town are sparse. Last I remember, we had the Sheriff, the Deputy, and the Guard at the lone jail cell. It reminded me of the Western movies I watched as a kid. These three were very easy to persuade to look the other way. This allowed for a very successful underground committee of black market dealers, human traffickers, and assassins.
  5.         This was not what I wanted to do, but it was what I had to do. I inquired on the whereabouts of one of these “businesses” and discovered one affectionately called Dark Jim's Back-Alley Distributions that was looking for a new man. Little did I know what I was actually getting myself into.
  6.         Now, directly prior to me going for my initiation, or one may say the antecedent to harrowing events, I honed in the skills that would help in the sleazy life of crime: deft hands for easier pickpocket, proper tools for lockpicking, practicing the art of sneak. Once I truly mastered these physical skills, I braced my mind for the mental strain to come, when it came time for me to forsake my old ways of living a good life. However, no training could possibly prepare me for the wave of remorse that was to come.
  7.         Finally the time came. I opened my mailbox one day to see a blank manilla envelop inside. Upon opening, I immediately felt a strange presence, ubiquitous eyes of an unseen deity watching my every move. The feeling was not pleasant. In fact, it felt quite malicious, as if some long-unpaid creditor was in search of payment through my soul, an embodiment of pure hate and evil.
  8.         Inside the envelope was a simple message, stating “Meet at 9:30PM, behind AmeriGas.” The AmeriGas was the one gas station in the whole town, so I knew right where to go. The strange thing was that the AmeriGas has a very open area behind it. I took great caution as I was going there, thinking maybe this was some sort of police operation.
  9.         When I arrived, I was greeted by a hooded figure. He said not a word, but simply waved me into a back door that I never really noticed before. Directly on the other side of the door was a staircase going down. There wasn't a light in here, so it was quite dark. I clung to the railing as my one true hope of not falling, but I didn't really need to. For some strange reason, I had a feeling like I knew these stairs as if they were in my own house.
  10.         Pasted on the walls of the stairwell were newspaper clippings. Some of the headlines were ones that I had seen just recently, including the one that got me interested in this organization, which stated “Local Gang Pillages and Terrorizes Neighborhood.” That neighborhood was mine. In fact, it was actually the house right across the street from me. I watched everything happened. I did nothing to stop them when I first saw them break the window. I did nothing when I heard screams. I did nothing when they started bringing valuables out from the house.
  11.         I did nothing as I saw my neighbors lead out onto their front yard and shot in the head, execution style.
  12.         I did nothing as I saw these people take the bodies of my elderly neighbors and place them in the back of a windowless van, already loaded with plenty of other bodies.
  13.         I did nothing.
  14.         Still on the staircase, I turn around to find that my guide was not with me. He must not have ever even come down with me. Before I could turn back around, I had ran into a wall. It was as if the stairs simply truncated directly into flat ground at a random point.
  15.         Looking around at this landing, it took awhile for the something strange to click into place. There was no door. The staircase simply went down to end in three walls. I turned around to head back up the stairs, but they were replaced with a fourth wall to complete this room. On the wall was scratched some words. My memory isn't too clear on what they said, plus it was quite dark down there, so this quote isn't exactly verbatim, but it is close enough. The words on the wall said, “Enjoy your eternal imprisonment.”
  16. Panic was rising. An eternity was a long time to be imprisoned. What seemed like hours went by. The claustrophobic situation I was in was pushing my mental boundaries far beyond their limits. I was fairly certain I went insane down there, but looking back, the process most likely began earlier than that. I was trapped after all, nowhere to go, nothing to do, so I sat cross-legged, and remembered my past.
  17.  
  18.         Things probably began at the disappearance of my father. He was missing for 3 months. One day, he got his coffee from the AmeriGas as usual, headed down the road towards his workplace, and was never seen again for a long time. Then, exactly 3 months to the second, he showed up at work. He thought nothing strange. All he knew was that he was right on time for work. He thought he was being joked on. However, after seeing the especially concerned face of his boss, he knew it was no joke. He was sent home from work to gather his thoughts.
  19.         It was a two-hour drive from his workplace to our tiny apartment. Calling it tiny is just me having to exaggerate for lack of better word. Miniscule would also work. It consisted of two rooms. One was a bedroom, complete with a bed and a fold-out couch. The other was a kitchen and dining room combination. The bathroom was shared by the entire floor of residents.
  20.         Due to the length of the trip and my father's condition, the boss personally transported him home. My mother greeted him with wide arms. He came up to me and patted me on the head, calling me “Champ.” I knew right away something wasn't right. My father was abusive, not loving.
  21.         Later that night, while I was pretending to be asleep on my pull-out couch-bed, I watched my father sleep. Usually, he snores loudly and is slung all over the bed. This new father was quiet as a well-oiled gate and stiff as a board. I've never, ever seen somebody sleep that straight before. It literally looked like a cardboard-cutout of my father was in bed with my mother.
  22.         At around midnight, right when I was about to fall asleep, I saw my father stir. I watched through half-open eyes, still pretending to be asleep. He stood up, still unnaturally straight, and walked like Frankenstein's monster into the kitchen. I stared at the doorway, waiting for his return. It took long enough. He came back with a large knife. He walked over to the other side of the bed, and without even waking her, stabbed Mother forcefully through the forehead. She didn't even flinch.
  23.         He pulled the knife out, bringing along with it a few shards of skull and some pieces of brain matter. I couldn't move, could barely breath. I was thoroughly convinced this was all just a bad dream.
  24.         Father then started to change. His flesh started to ripple. His whole body started to convulse, although he still stood straight, even when his feet left the ground. He was just, I don't even know how to describe it, hovering above the shag carpet, now stained with fresh blood. Then it happened.
  25.         His skull split in two. Blood flowed thickly down his front, back, sides, everywhere. The crunch echoed in the silent apartment. His arms came off with a loud SHRIIIIIICCKK, followed by his legs. His torso collapsed into itself, then splattered to the floor. Standing in the center of this large bloody mess was a tall, lanky figure. It had no face, no arms, no real discernible figures other than a head, a torso, and one lone leg.
  26.         The front of its head, where a face would be, cracked open, revealing terrible razor-sharp teeth and a long, forked tongue. It began to devour my mother whole, starting at the feet and working up. The whole time it made horrible slurping noises, sounds that still haunt me to this day.
  27.         After that whole process was complete, it hopped out the window, shattering it, and landed on the car parked on the side of the road below. The alarm started to blare, and that's when the other people in the building began to wake up.
  28.         For the longest time, everybody thought I did it, a small 8-year-old boy viciously murdered his father and mother. There was zero proof. All that was at the crime scene was the knife and a whole ton of blood and other miscellaneous gore. The knife had some strange unidentifiable fingerprints on it, but other than that, nothing. They didn't even have an explanation for the whereabouts of the bodies.
  29.         After this whole thing, I was first sent to a hospital for a mental evaluation. I passed it, but only just barely. I was put into a foster family until finally, one day about a year later, my newlywed cousin came and picked me up. I've lived with them ever since, even coming to call them Mom and Dad.
  30.  
  31.         Just as I finished remembering days of old, I heard a mechanical sound come from all around me.
  32.         I realized that the noise had been occurring the entirety of my time in this room. It had only just reached an audible tone. The room seemed to be slowly descending. This brought up one of my phobias, not knowing where I am about to go. I began to feel very anxious, as if the walls were closing in. I strengthened up, becoming callous, although it was quite a false condition. On the inside I was still the mushy fool I had always been and most likely forever will be.
  33.         The room, which I had then come to call an elevator, was still slowly descending. The longer I stood in that cramped elevator, the more there was a dearth of light. The small incandescent light bulb was starting to die. However, the dimmer the light got, the more insouciant I became.
  34.         The elevator suddenly came to a stop. I looked down at my watch to see that only thirty seconds had gone by, although it seemed like several hours. The doors opened to reveal a somber room filled with hooded figures and a number of lit torches. They were in a circle, facing a statue, revering it.
  35.         The statue was a sundry mix of various animals. Two of its legs were normal human legs, but a third leg protruded out of its lower back. That leg was similar to an ostrich leg. Its torso had large muscles of a man, scales of an alligator, and fur of a yak. It's head was also strange. It appeared to be an elk or a stag. It had one set of large antlers, three sets of jaws with rather large fangs, and three pairs of human ears. Its snout was also elongated, like a wolf or a similar canine.
  36.         The whole time they were droning out some long and strange chant, so I'll generalize it. It went something like, “O exalted one, we continue your legacy of almighty powers, the powers to create life and death. Your prowess in all that you do far outweighs the small doings we mortals have the ability to do. Send your sons to help us. O Great Exalted Critphignu, bless us and send us the next One.”
  37.         At the end of the chant, the crowd split, and the leader of the cult walked down the split center. He stared right at me and stated, smooth and clear, “Hello. We have been expecting you from the time of your birth. You are the son of Shogrothath. Now help us in returning the universe to the way Critphignu desired.”
  38. After hearing this, I did not know how to react. Was this a good or bad thing? Who were Shogrotath and Critphignu?
  39.         “I'm sorry to disappoint, but I have know clue what you're going on about. Care to elaborate?”
  40.         “Ah yes, I do believe I speak for everybody present when I say I am sincerely sorry.” The cult leader took a step towards me. “I should not force you into this position so suddenly. I did not make my intentions too apparent. Sit, boy, let me explain.”
  41.         It took quite a bit of time and some confusion on my part, but eventually I understood that Critphignu was a leader god that these people worshiped and that Shogrotath was the god of evil-doings. Those are essentially the principle beliefs of this cult.
  42.         I was about to walk out when the leader showed me one more thing. It was a hall full of paintings and statues. There were many labeled “Critphignu,” “Grontieder,” “Sunther,” and “Arphg'nui,” but I did not see any of this Shogrotath fellow. At least, that was until the final painting.
  43.         The final painting was a very detailed oil-on-canvas of some disastrous landscape full of death and destruction. In the center of this desolate place was a creature that seemed similar to something I had once seen, maybe something that I had repressed the memory of. Then it hit me.
  44.         Standing in the center of this painting was a tall, lanky figure. It had no face, no arms, no real discernible figures other than a head, a torso, and one lone leg.
  45.         Father.
  46.         At that moment of recognition, I became very anxious. I made a straight dash for the door that I came in from, but it was no longer there. To make matters worse, the cult members had circled around me. They began to chant.
  47.         “Grand Shogrotath, whose immense power is revered by all with knowledge, come down from your grand throne. Your son arrives. Your son beckons. The circle is complete, Father and Son united. Bring the Earth to its rightful glory.”
  48.         The chant continued over and over. I found it mildly calming. After a number of times through the chant, the room went dark. When the lights came back, He was there. However, the cultists were not. Pieces of them were strewn about, but as for the cultists that were in one piece, there was no sign.
  49.         I looked at this beast and felt a bonding feeling. I reached out to touch it, but I fainted right before the tips of my fingers could touch Him.
  50.         That's when I woke up at home, as if nothing had happened.
  51.         Dr. Brown walked into the padded room of Patient #9823-D. He slowly and calmly walked to the table. Even though the patient was restrained, he was still a threat. Dr. Brown reached the table and picked up the bundle of lined paper that sat there.
  52.         The doctor flipped through the story. “Hm, patient shows no signs of improvement. However, this story is an exact duplicate to the last seventeen we made him right. At least we know his insanity is a consistent one.” He then stopped the audio recorder.
  53.        
  54.         Patient #9823-D has been institutionalized for thirty-seven years, ever since he was discovered to have been the murderer of his parents. He killed his father one day and buried the body in the garden. Then, exactly three months later, he dug up the body and proceeded to murder his mother. He then mutilated both bodies and cast the parts into the fireplace.
  55.         The patient has had one successful escape, although how he did it is unknown. During the escape, he ventured off to the AmeriGas station and murdered everybody there. He was found asleep in the gore. He was sedated and brought back.
  56.         Since his return, he has been asked to write exactly what happened throughout his life. He would be asked to do so every six months. Every time the story was exactly identical, word for word.
  57.  
  58.         Dr. Brown packed up to leave. He went to the window that looked into Patient #9823-D's room, but found it dark. Odd, he thought, lights out isn't for another forty-five minutes. The doctor flipped the light switch. He could not see through the window, however. It was splattered with blood and other gore.
  59.         The doctor flung the door wide open. He did not know what to expect, so he did not know if he should be surprised or not. Standing in the center of this large bloody mess was a tall, lanky figure. It had no face, no arms, no real discernible figures other than a head, a torso, and one lone leg.
  60.         The doctor barely had time to scream.
clone this paste RAW Paste Data