Sorry it’s been so long since I updated. So many amazing things have been happening for me that i can’t wait to share with you all here, since yall were here for me when i needed someone so many years ago.
I brought the journals to a lingual anthropologist at my local university to sift through and try to help decipher with me. I know it sounds silly, but i just couldn’t bring the other book with me to show him. It called to me. It needed ME to guard it, keep it hidden, out of sight.
Luckily the journals were all in English. The professor dated the first one around 1943 However the journal entries in the first journal and the other two he dated around 1947. I asked him why he believed that but only got a roundabout, nonsense answer. However, we both found this odd as when we read them .
I deciphered the illegible pages of the journals that i couldn’t make out in my last post and this is what it said:
I drank of the water and removed the lids from my eyes. I can think so much more clearly now, see so much more fully. Through my paranoia-induced mania, I believed these people invading my town were evil, insidious. I kept journals documenting the ascent of my town as some pious hamlet into the prosperous destination it has evolved into today.
I have included my journals and a corporeal copy of our sacred tome in hopes the written journey of my foolish non-belief into a clergyman of our King can be more fully realized, understood. I will be laughed at for doubting, but I deserve much worse.
She no longer comes to me at night. Instead, I simply hear the singing. What beautiful words they utter, tongueless and dribbling saliva as they harmonize. Now when I sleep, I don’t dream. I only think of him. Of our cause.
To the one who finds these treasured artifacts, take heart, have faith, and we await your arrival.
Then the last few pages were written in frantic, scribbled scratch marks across the pages:
Read The Book Read the book
read the book it makes you have happy times
: )
The book is already inside of YOU IF YOU READ this FAR! the book is in you, all you have to do is open it and close your wanton eyes.
READ THE BOOK. READ THE BOOK. READ THE BOOK. READ THE BOOK. READ THE BOOK READ THE BOOK READ THE BOOK READ THE BOOKREAD THE BOOK READ THE BOOK READ THE BOOK READ THE BOOK READ
Read the book
It has happy faces in your brain when you read.
READ. THE. BOOK. : )
This was all it said, over and over, nearly 3 composition books full of the same thing. Then I read the unmarked book shipped with the journals. I don’t know what it’s called. I don’t even know what language it was in, but when I opened the pages and set my eyes to it, I could read every word.
I’m so happy I read the book. My life has been amazing ever since. Passages of it come to me in dreams. When it wants me to speak its gospel, a litany of scripture pours out of my mouth involuntarily like vomit. For so long I’ve wanted to open the book again and take another look, but I don’t know where my copy is anymore.
The book is inside me now.
It’s inside me and it saved me. The people I told about it called me crazy until I gave them a sermon, too. You have to believe me.
Read the book and your life can be like mine. So many smiles claret with the bruises of a grin. Blood stains a weird shade of red, not like lipstick.
I consulted my mirror and asked how I could help people the way that I was helped. I was told that making this followup post would be the best way to spread our dogma.
The book is a sanctuary of truth waiting inside each and every one of you to take a peek. Then it speaks to you, makes you one of its own clergymen in my case.
Everything is fine now. I can see so clearly without my eyelids shielding my vision.
Read the book and everything will be fine for you, too.
Drink of the water
and
listen to their beautiful songs.
I only hear it in my dreams now. I only see it in my dreams now. I don’t hear or see anything at all. Except for what it shows me.
I don’t sing anymore either. Taking out one’s own tongue is a much quicker process than I ever could have thought possible. I thought the singing was involuntary but I was so wrong. It’s pure existential joy. I watched two women do it before I tried it myself. It made me curious. I wanted to experience the pleasure of pain.
Some of the other priests are mad at me, they say only weak followers remove their tongues, but what is a priest if not the Shepherd of the meek and helpless? I should lead my followers by example, action.
I think they are just jealous that I can now speak in languages the human brain can’t comprehend. Sometimes if I “speak” to a follower, they just drop dead, their body food to be returned to it. They never try to speak back. If they are induced into sleep, they sing without end, tongueless and guttural.
The followers remove their eyes too. Some clergy theorize that it’s a way for them to keep some sort of their sanity. I think it may be a way to see the truth more clearly–maybe I’ll claw out my eyes next just to find out. It doesn’t matter. I only see what it wants me to see, in my head, in my dreams.
I don’t think we need eyes to see.
Everything is just so wonderful here now
Read The Book
We look forward to hearing from you : ) )