I live in small-town America, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It’s a quiet place where nothing really happens. It’s one of those old school places where we value an ice-cold beer, blue jeans, and country music. It’s a place where guns are as common as our pickup trucks. While you’d still find the odd religious nut in the town, all in all it’s a really nice and welcoming place. Like most small towns, we hold dearly our many patriotic values, chief among these are our respect and adoration for those brave men and women that server in our military. My brother was one of those brave men, He enlisted into the army and found himself doing 2 tours in Afghanistan.
When we were told his tour ended, we expected him to return to our town and regaled us with his tales of heroism. However, this did not happen, instead he vanished from the face of the earth. We contacted the military but where simply told that he had already returned to America, and they could not disclose any of his personal information to us. I fought against this for years but never made any progress, it was always another rule they couldn’t break or another person we had to speak to. Then after 5 years getting stone walled by the miliary I got an unexpected call. “Hello, is this Greg Abernathy”, a cheery voice asked, “Yes, that’s me, can I help you”, “Great, my name is Officer Kane Jensen of the NYPD, we recently arrested a vagrant for breaking and entering Madam Xenu Emporium and assault of the clerk. He was unresponsive and provided us no information, however after fingerprinting him, we discovered he was one, Paul Abernathy, your brother”. I stood there frozen, unable to comprehend the words she told to me. After about a minute she asked “Sir are you still there?”, “Ye-es, sorry, Paul are you sure it him”. “Yes, quite sure, Now the owner has offered to wave any charges against your Brother, if he can pay for the damages. Now in all honesty your brother is out of his right mind, he needs professional help, not a prison”. I cut her off “I’m getting on the next flight, I’ll be as soon as possible to sort this out”.
5 hours later, I was standing in trash filled street, people zipping past me. Large building towering around me, staring at the old brick building, with golden letters on a black sign that read, WELCOME TO POLICE HEADQUARTERS, above the sign sat hundreds of square windows sunk into the brown concrete façade of the ancient police department building. I pushed past the glass door entering a bright blue lobby, with a large white counter below a large white NYPD sign. I approached the burly man sitting behind the desk, “Good morning, I spoke with an officer Jensen about my brother Paul Abernathy”, the man pressed some buttons on the old computer, looked up at me and said “Yes, he’s currently in the detention center, he is facing charges of breaking and entering as well as assault. His bail has not been set yet” “Yes, I heard that the building he broke into was willing to wave the charges if the damages were paid for?”. The officer looked through his computer again, “Here this is the address, you’ll have to take that up with them”.
Leaving the building I entered the complex labyrinth of the New York subway and made my way to address. It was in one of the older neighborhoods of New York city. Tightly packed red brick buildings, several stories tall yet still dwarfed by the massive glass and steel buildings surrounding the neighborhood. Several old and rusted metal fire escaped clung onto these ancient buildings, and they still had old intricately carved facades. Even though the underlying building still held some hidden beauty the place was not one I would like to spend any time. The streets here were filthy, coated in layers of trash, unknown liquids and odd smears, the streetlights were mostly broken rusted and bent. Strange murals were plastered over the walls, depicting all manner of strange scenes.
However, my destination was very unlike this rough neighborhood. The building held the same charm as the rest of the area, but you could see effort had been placed in ensuring that architectural beauty stood out. The walls where clean and well maintained, the stone adornments where clean, The fire escape was rust free and freshly painted black. The bottom floor of the building held a large crystal clear glass front, except for one glass panel, which was neatly boarded up with wooden slats. Above this glass storefront sat a small black and white sign with a white logo depicting a mortar and pestle resting next to an open book followed by Madam Xenu Emporium. Walking up to the building and peering through the windows, the place resembled an antique bookstore, with lines of old but well-maintained books running along the edge of the store. However there where also shelves which ran along the interior of the store. These contained more odd items, a one seemed to hold a strange assortment of feathers another had jars holding different coloured powers. Another had a set of crystal balls surrounded by both cut and uncut stones.
I walked over to the small glass door and walked into the building. A strong herbal smell assaulted my nose, leaving me feeling slightly lightheaded. Walking in I notice a glass counter, inside that counter sat more odd items, however these seemed more delicate than those lining the shelves, but behind that counter sat an old woman. She had to be at least 80 years old, with a black feather sticking out of her hair, dressed in a old timey black dress, reminiscent of the Victorian era. As I approached the counter, she watched me closely with her steely grey eyes. When I was standing directly in front of her, she said “Welcome to my emporium, you’re here to discuss your brother yes?”. “Y-yes I am, how much damage did he cause”. She took a deep breath and gestured at the broken window said “He destroyed the glass front, that needs replacing, and this” She reached under the counter and removed a dusty old leather bound book. The front cover was badly torn, cutting through the text, which was still barely legible, A plane walkers guide to finding your lost mind by Herald Finch. “This book is the original handwritten copy from 1913, the author mysteriously disappeared leaving behind his last book unpublish and we have a strict break it you buy it policy”. I grimaced, I am no expect in books, but even I could tell this would cost me a pretty penny. “So how much would all this cost”. “$6000” she said in a strict tone, “Then I’ll drop the charges”. That was a lot of money, especially for a small rural farmer, but I could arrange that much, especially for my brother.
I took out my checkbook and inquired her details. Several minutes later, she had her check for $6000 in hand. Her demeanor perked up immediately once she received her money and smiled at me, handed me the old book and said “Your brother really wanted that book, and he really seemed out of his right mind. Maybe give the book a try, it might help him”. I smiled back at her “Thanks for the advice” and walked out the store.
I headed back to the subway, getting onto the train back to the police station. Once I had found a seat on the rail. I looked down at the damaged book. Gently opening the cover, making sure not to tear it any further. The first page was written on old yellow paper with black neat thin handwriting scrolled across the page, it read:
Congratulations on acquiring this guide. You’ve made the first step in recovering your broken mind. The planes are filled with many wonders but just as many horrors, just lying-in wait for the unsuspecting traveler. Their twisted visage can tear the mind asunder. But fret not, this step-by-step guide will walk you through regaining your sanity. For best effect provide this guide to a sane friend or family member before losing your own mind. Let’s jump right into it…
“What nonsense” How could anyone by into these occult type books. I considered just throwing away the book, but something told me not to, since Paul got himself thrown in jail for the book. Maybe it could be used as a bargaining chip if he was difficult.
I finally made my way to the detention facility, The large concrete building sat opposite overlooking the Hudson River. I walked towards its entrance, past it’s American flag, past the DOJ insignia sank into the concrete wall, through the glass door, into the well-lit lobby. After filling in several hundred, papers and signing even more documents, My Brother was finally free to be released. Yet when they brough him out, for a moment I didn’t believe he was actually my brother. The well-muscled, shaved headed marine I remember was gone. Instead, they brough out a vagrant, long unkempt hair ran down his back, a massive bushy beard covered his face running down to his chest. His bulk was largely gone, replaced by a wiry frame, his bones sat gaunt against his skin, he looked like he hasn’t had a meal in weeks. He walked into the room following the officers, but his vacant eyes were focused on the floor.
I slowly approached him, “Paul, it’s me Greg, are you okay”. I could see the light of recognition sparked in his vacant eyes, and he started to mutter under his breath, “Greg, no, no, no, not Greg, no, please, no, don’t, not him”. I placed my hand on his shoulder “Paul, come on, look at me. I’m here to help okay”, but he refused to make eye contact with me, he just kept muttering “No, no, no” and “Not him”. Seeing the strongest person, I ever knew reduced to this state, brought tears to my eyes. “what happened to you”, I said mostly to myself. “Its okay Paul, well get you home, and get you some help, okay”. However, Paul, didn’t respond to me, he didn’t do anything, instead he just stood there muttering to himself. Then I had an idea and brandished the book. “You wanted this right”, His eyes where immediately fixed onto the book following its every move, it was kinda scary. “BOOK, NEED, PLEASE” he screamed out. Drawing back the attention of the Police, which now seemed to watch us closely ready to intervene if needed. “Okay Paul, I’ll give you the book, if you come with me, when we get home, you can have the book”. He stared at the book for several seconds then briefly nodded his head. I took him by the shoulder and guided him out the detention facility, He meekly followed.
The next few days went by quickly. Paul did not do much. He just followed what I asked him to do but refused to speak. I got him food, but he ignored it until I insisted, then he started to wolf down the food, eating as quickly as he could. I wanted to book us a flight back to Iowa, but with Paul’s condition it didn’t seem possible. So instead, I rented a car, loaded Paul into the passenger seat, and made the 18-hour drive back to home. He just stat in the seat, making no sounds and staring out the window the entire trip. I wanted to get home as soon as possible for two reasons, the first was that I truly believed getting Paul back to the farm and into his childhood home, would help jog something back into him. The second was Linda, my very pregnant wife which I had left behind when collecting Paul.
We turned down and old dirt road, heading down the rows upon rows of my corn fields stretching out over the well-maintained farm. We drove down a short stretch of dirt road, heading towards to double story, old fashioned wooden farmhouse, Its walls where clean and freshly painted white. The roof bright orange tiles with a Large cobblestone chimney rising out of the center of the house. A small section of the second floor extended out over the porch which was surrounded by neat white railing. In front of the building stood an ancient Oak tree, tire swing still hanging from a thick branch. A ways away to the right sat an old fashioned red wooden barn with a grey roof. We drove up to the front porch. Paul didn’t respond, just stared out over the fields of corn. “Hey Paul, do you remember this place, its Home, remember, see out old tree, and our swing” I pointed at the old oak tree, the one which we spent many hours of our childhood in and around. However, he didn’t seem to even notice.
I pulled up to the house and exited the vehicle. Walked over to the passenger door, opened it and guided Paul out of the car. He meekly followed without complaint. I guided him to the front door, entering my foyer, the familiar light brown wooden floors, and cream-coloured walls seemed to welcome me home. The room had 4 doors, the one we entered from, a door on the left wall heading to the kitchen, one on the wall in front of us on the left side near the kitchen which led to the dining room, and one door on the right wall leading to the living room. Next to the door heading to the living room, ran a white staircase, with a bright brown railing heading upstairs. As guided Paul into our old childhood home, a voice filled with concern called out from the kitchen. “Welcome home, how did it go in New York”. A small woman with long brown hair, sparkling green eyes and distended stomach waddled into the foyer. “Hi honey, Paul you remember Linda right” I said gesturing towards my wife. Her face filled with concern as she saw Paul’s face. Instead of saying anything about his home or Linda, he just started to mutter, “Home, home, book, give book” I sighed and handed him the old leatherbound book. Linda raised an eyebrow at this interaction and said in a gentle voice “Hiya Paul, how have you been”. Paul clutched the book to his chest and said nothing. He just stood there still, gently swaying back and forth with the book. Linda asked me “What happened to him”, “I’m not sure, but he needs help”.
“Of course, I prepared the guest room, and I got some food ready if your hungry” Linda said sincerely, “Thanks, a lot honey, I’m starving and exhausted. Paul do you want something to eat”. Paul just ignored me happy with his book. I guided him up the stairs to the guest room and told him “Paul don’t worry well get you the help you need” He once again said nothing. I guided him to the bed; he must be exhausted after the drive down but he just sat down on the bed gently cradling his book. “Okay, then Paul, sleep well, Ill be across the hall if you need me okay”. I closed the door and headed downstairs to Linda, grabbing a plate of the roast beef, gravy and potatoes Linda had prepared for us. “thanks a lot honey I needed that”, Linda looked at me with worry “I’m really worried about him, he’s not normal, Are you sure its okay leave him like that, shouldn’t we get him some professional help”. I frowned “Yes your right, I was hoping this place would jog his memory”. She gently placed her hand over mine “We’ll at least he’s home now right”, I smiled at her “Tomorrow Ill take him to the hospital, maybe they can help him”.
The next month passed quickly. I took Paul to every doctor I could, and not one could tell me anything. PTSD was their best guess, but everything they tired failed. Paul acted almost catatonic, he wouldn’t do much, just sat holding his book, only eating or drinking when I asked him to. Bathing him was difficult, because he would not let go of his book and he wouldn’t take the book near water, so up to now I have only managed to get him clean a few times.
Then one night, I was sitting in the living room, Linda snuggled up next to me, watching an old movie. Paul slowly walked into the room, and he was stared at us, I sat oblivious for a moment before I noticed him. When I looked over to him, he made eye contact with me, this was the first time our eyes met since I had collected him. He stared for a moment, then asked “Book, Book, Help”. Paul then walked over to me and hesitated for a second, then held out the book for me. Linda had this massive smile on her face, and I had one on mine too. It was the first thing he ever asked for, now I wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted but he wanted something and that was progress. I gingerly took the book, and he sat down on the floor next to the couch, Like a small child would during a book reading, with a look of expectation on his face. “You want me to read this to you right?”, he nodded.
So, I opened the book, started to read. The book was very weird. it detailed different scenarios that might occur when “walking the planes” and gave great detail of how to protect yourself in each of these different scenarios, and what to do if you failed to protect yourself. For some of these scenarios it would tell you to prepare certain spells, followed by entire pages of basically gibberish, random phonetic spellings of strange words which were uncomfortable to read out loud, requiring you to move your mouth in unnatural ways. I tried to just skip these weird pages, but when I tried, I did Paul would protest, the same happened if I mispronounced the odd word. He sat listening to my words with rapt attention, only doing anything when I made the afore mentioned pronunciation errors. Some of the pages of the book listed great details of how to cure yourself of different ailment. For instance, if you are afflicted by a shadow curse from a black wraith, you need to wash yourself, in the extract of the Calibrachoa, the morning star flower. Followed by a very detailed hand drawing of the flower. Once you are fully clean, prepare the following spell under the night of the full moon. Perform the ceremonial dance during the spell. It then illustrated the dance moves to perform. After the spell has taken hold you would need to create a vessel to transfer the curse too, followed by detailed instruction how to make this vessel, which was a doll made of blend of very specific plants and rare fabrics.
I got about a third of the way through the book, before I started to get tired, and called it for the night. Paul tried to protest but I told him we would continue tomorrow. He accepted that and let me guide him upstairs again and off to bed. The following night he asked me to read some more, and we finished the second third. However, on the third night things changed, when I reached the last scenario.
The most unlikely and unfortunate creature you can encounter when walking the planes, is the elder gods. These are being of unimaginable power. They usually hold no interest in humans as we are basically ants to them. However, if you do draw attention from them, they are spiteful and vengeful. They wipe out civilization just as easily as we wipe out the ants stealing bites from our pantry. If you encounter an elder god, do not interact with it, and flee that plane immediately but never straight back to your home plane. There are no spells that can protect from their unnatural powers. The most common affliction recorded from encounters with the elder gods is a fully fractured mind. These are higher dimensional beings and even a brief glimpse at them can cause sever damage. The afflictions range from hearing strange voices, seeing the shadow people that live among us (See page 114), and in extreme cases the victim will achieve a near catatonic state, doing as instructed but having little drive at all. However, objects of power, especially those linked to the elder gods can results in outburst of aggression.
As I read that paragraph a shiver ran down my spine. The words disturbed me and floated around my head. It sounded exactly like Paul. Could it be possible, did Paul stumble onto some dark magic, could it have broken his mind.
Paul insisted I keep reading. The book then went on into great detail about how to treat the madness of the elder gods. You would need to drink a potion brewed from the leaves of several very exotic and expense herbs. Then conduct a spell to cleans your aura and finally, you would need to wear a silver talisman depicting a cleansing rune, inlaid with garnet. Paul seemed very happy now and said “Help”. Pointing at the book.
At first, I thought the book was a complete fantasy, but now I wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe this book could actually help him. I never really did put much stock in magic, but what harm could it do right? Worst case scenario maybe it would act as a placebo effect and maybe actually still help Paul. So I forked out $1000 and all ordered all the pieces needed to conduct the ritual. Part of me really doubted if this would really work but for Paul, I’d give it a try. After that day Paul would come to me ever night and give me the book open to the elder god paragraph and ask me to read it to him, followed by asking for help again and every time I told him I would. 2 week later the ingredients arrived, as well as the necklace I commissioned a local silversmith to make.
That night I decided to conduct the ritual. Paul followed me into the kitchen as I prepared the potion, I followed the instruction perfectly, I even did a practice run with the mortar and pestle beforehand. After finishing the mixture, I recited the spell over the potion, I really felt stupid saying those weird words over a bottle. However, as I finished the spell something even weirder happened, I am not sure if there is just some chemical reaction that occurred with the ingredients, or if the magic actually worked, but as I said the last word the liquid changed from a dull brown to a bright green. I handed the bottle to Paul, who downed it in one go. Then I recited the next spell, and I could have sworn the garnet in the talisman emitted a faint red light all on its own. I fastened the talisman onto Paul’s neck and the next moment I was shocked beyond belief. Paul spoke “Greg, is that you, how did I get here” He looked around the room in confusion. The scratched his chin, “Wait when did I grow a beard”. I looked at him shocked and threw myself at him with a giant hug. “PAUL, you remember me”. “Woah little bro, what’s going on”.
The next few hours were spent telling Paul everything that had happened. He didn’t believe me at first, but the more we spoke the more the realization came to him. He was shocked, and when I asked him, he told me the last thing he remembered was still in Afghanistan. We talked for another 2 hours before Paul become too exhausted to continue, and he both went to bed. The next day Paul asked to go to the barber, and shaved off his beard, and got his usually short haircut, other than the 20 kg he lost it, he was back to his original self. No sight of the strange madness that had afflicted him. However to be safe I took him back to all the Doctors, they ran every test they could, but in the end they had no explanation for his sudden recovery. Even though Paul was still recovering, he insisted on helping out around the farm, and it really felt like back in our younger years when we ran the place together. Everything quickly returned to a semblance of normality.
Now came the next big challenge. Linda, the nine months mark was rapidly approaching, the doctors guessed she would give birth any day now. Then on the third week of Paul’s miraculous return to sanity, on a warm summer night, with the full moon hanging large in the dark sky a cool breeze rustling though the fields of corn. I was downstairs in the kitchen, talking with Paul before bed when Linda called out to me, “Greg, quickly, my water just broke”. We ran upstairs and burst into the bedroom. Linda was sitting on the bed and said, “We need to get to the hospital now”. I knelt down next to Linda while Paul was standing behind me and said back to Paul, “Paul could you bring round the car, I’ll help her down the stairs”, but Paul didn’t move. I quickly I turned back to look up at him, and he was staring down at us. A terrified expression on his face. “Paul are you…”, and my words where interrupted as he suddenly punched downwards, smashing into my skull, and I everything went dark.
I awoke to a horrid pounding in my head. My eyes creaked open, the brightness spent a wave of pain through my skull, and I battled with the strong nauseous that followed. I looked around and found myself sitting on a chair in my dining room. Linda was lying down on the table, seemly unconscious. Paul was standing on the other side of the table, with Linda between us. I was about to jump up when he raised him arms. Holding our dad’s old double barrel shotgun. He started to laugh hysterically, “PAUL WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING”, I yelled out. His laughing stopped, and he looked at me again. Then he tossed something at me, I instinctively caught it. it was the silver talisman, at least it had the same shape, but it was pitch black, even the garnet turned black and reflected no light. “You don’t understand Greg, I’m doing this for you, for you both”. “What the hell are you talking about, Linda needs a hospital now” I all but yelled but he said sadly “No, I’m sorry it’s too late, if only I remembered maybe I could have saved her”. He pointed the shotgun barrel right at me then said “Greg, I remembered it all, I remember her”. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT”. Thick Black tears were running down his face, then he said. “Please, I need you to listen to me, you need to understand, you remember MK-Ultra right?”, I nodded, while trying to figure a way out of this.
“They only released the information on the failed projects to the public, there were many more similar experiments that yielded usable results. One of these projects developed a technique to allow people to conduct remove viewings, I had a strong aptitude for that programs, so they quickly recruited me. They used me to find strategic targets at first, but as my skills progressed, I got cocky and tried to push the techniques further. I moved past remove viewing and into planar walking. I peered into hundreds of different worlds; the military encouraged these expeditions they wanted to find out more about these strange places. In my travels I found many worlds and even discovered several strange civilizations, but they could never see me. I was an invisible eye watching from above”. He took a deep breath; trying to calm the panic that was starting to creep into his voice, then continued.
“Then one day I found a new world, a world of endless forests shrouded in mist. As I wandered above the endless sea of trees a voice called to me. It was a sweet kind voice. She called out to me and told me how lonely she had been, all alone in this endless forest. Then it asked me to visit again. I returned to the trees many times, The voice was very curious and would ask me many questions about earth. She was patient and kind, soon I found myself looking forward to speaking to the voice, I would vent my frustrations to it, share my hope and dreams and more often than not just talk about random things that was happening in my life. Soon I saw her as a friend. That was until I heard her voice speaking to me in the walking world. Once this happened, I panicked, I tried to ask her questions, but it seemed she couldn’t hear me while I was awake, yet I could still hear her”.
“The scientists refused to let me go back there; they said it was too dangerous, she was worming her way into my head and they feared my mind might snap. But I didn’t agree with them, so I tried going there on my own, without using the machines and drugs they so meticulously developed to let me walk between worlds. I entered a deep meditation and send my mind back into that forest. This time, things seemed so much clearer than normal. The trees looked different, they seemed less wooden, more fleshy. The voice called out to me, but it was louder, rougher and it felt truly alien. A deep fear coursed through my mind, and I tried to flee back to my body. But in the blink of an eye, one of the trees stretched out and wrapped around my body. I had never felt anything physical sensations during my planar walks, I only ever experienced sights and sounds, but now I was wrapped in some horrid tendrils. The tendril was pressing down so hard into me I could feel it crushing my very soul. I struggled trying to free myself from that steel-like vice but it didn’t budge. Then I was yanked downward, the world was a blur as I hurtled down towards the forest floor then I heard them, screams, thousands of screams. Sitting below the branches of the trees were thousands of things. I don’t have the right words to describe them, but in the simplest language they were like a cross between a goat, a squid, and a tree. Thousands of them crawled along the forest floor, but between the creatures sat thousands of pulsating eggs.
Suddenly the very forest underneath me moved, the earth split apart, revealing a gigantic eye. It spanned a mile long, maybe even more. The giant eye focused on me, and the voice spoke again “WELCOME BACK, WE WERE AWAITING YOUR ARRIVAL. LET ME INTRODUCE YOU TO MY CHILDREN”, suddenly thousands of demonic goat bleats washed over me. “THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR SOUL WITH US, I WAS LOOKING FOR A NEW WORLD TO FEED MY CHILDREN”. Another fleshier tendril reached up towards me, and plunged straight into my chest, The pain was indescribable. Then a large bulged appeared in the length of the tendril, slowly pulsating as it moved down its length and entering into my chest. “YOU WILL BE THE FIRST OF YOUR KIND TO SIRE MY CHILDREN”.
“That is the last thing I can remember before walking up in your home. The ritual you preformed cleansed my soul, but the black goat of the woods left her child inside my soul. You could cleanse me, but you cannot kill it. It only moved from me to a more suitable host” He moved the shotgun down from me pointing it straight at Linda’s stomach. Its presence corroded the protective ward on that talisman, that’s why its all black”.
“Are you hearing yourself this is crazy Paul. You need to stop this”. He shook his head a manic look in his eyes “Don’t you understand, tonight when Linda’s water broke, I head it. That scream, the same scream of her children. That’s why I’m telling you all this, we need to kill it before its too late. BEFORE IT CONSUMES THIS WORLD”. He was yelling now, spittle flying from his mouth, and in his rage, he pointed the gun towards the wall. I took that opportunity and jumped out of the chair tackling into his side. We flew into the backwall, and the gun shotgun went off, we feel to the ground in a flurry of punches and kicks. We struggled for several seconds, I could feel my body failing me, it was felt heavy, and my head was felt like it was full of cotton. Suddenly another BANG went off, and Paul’s assaults stopped.
I looked down at him. One of use triggered the second shot for the gun. The blast of the shotgun had hit him right in the chest. The floor, the room and myself was coated in blood and viscera, as pieces of his muscle and bone went flying into the area. I could even see his still beating heart though the gaping hole in his chest cavity. He whispered out his last few words “Please, Kill, It” and lay still. I slowly staggered to my feet. My Left eyes was swollen shut, but through my right I could see the nightmare on the table. The first shot has hit Linda, in the head. Pieces of blood, bone and brain lay scattered around the table. Dripping down onto the floor mixing with the viscera left behind from Paul managed body. Then I heard it, a small wail. It was a muffled babies cry. I immediately grabbed my phone, called an ambulance then the police.
One week later, after unending interrogations, and investigation. I was finally freed from police custody but told not to leave the state. Before I could even get my bearing or grieve for the loss of only two remaining family members, I got a call from the hospital. My daughter had survived the incident, I would need to come down to the Hospital and name then collect her. After this whole ordeal I found the myself drawn to the name Lilith. I headed down to the hospital to collected my daughter. She looked like the spitting image of her mother, small build, brown hair and wide green eyes. I brought her home and placed her into the small crib into our bedroom, which we had prepared before the incident. Later that night I awoke to a unfamiliar sound, I first though a goat had somehow broken into my home, but when I stood up the same goat cry came from the crib next to my bed, I went to check on Lilith but staring up at me from the crib was a pairs of pitch black eyes.
I am now sitting in the study, holding my father’s old shotgun, typing out the events that lead up to this point. I’m not sure what my next move should be. That thing is still a piece of Linda, still a piece of the woman I loved, but its also something else. What should I do?