The strange tale of Marco Dagio’s fate had been met with little interest from the public. His mysterious, silent disappearance from a room in the hotel Una Arteminde in one of Rome’s more run-down alleys was not something reported by the media – except perhaps for a small note in the “Il Messagero”, one of the regional outlets.
I would have never known about Marco either, hadn’t my travels led me to the scanty hotel room where his strange and terrifying experiences had taken their course.
Curiosity had made me travel to the Holy City and, due to my major in ancient history, Rome and the Vatican lured me in with all their testimonies of times gone. And so it came to be that I walked around between old chapels and houses, only carrying my backpack, looking for traces of past times and societies and for a room to rest in after a long day of walking.
I just wanted to learn as much as I could, about the city, about our past, about where we came from. It was such a miracle, the human race, evolved from apes, slowly conquering the planet, and I wanted to know all about the origins of our society.
Why had we started to build cities and what had been our first ways of life, our beliefs? What great technologies had we thought up, what customs to stabilize tribes and people? I loved those questions and had already learned a lot at university, but now also needed to see those beginnings of mankind myself. I had to walk in some of the first great cathedrals, the first great cities, here, close by. I knew that there had been others before the Romans, but I still believed that their role in history was one of the most important parts. Still, I planned on visiting other locations in the future, once I had gotten grants or scholarships. I wanted to see so many places of ancient history, Mayan ruins, Chinese temples… So much was out there. So much to be discovered!
As I am not very wealthy as a student – on the contrary – I could not rent a room in one of the more known and prestigious hotels and therefore had to venture into one of the darker parts of Rome, far away from inviting lights and jolly conversations.
The alleys I strolled through in the evening felt more contorted and battered with each step, the window shutters and wall claddings started to look more dilapidated and brittle while high walls rose up at both sides of the narrow roads. Uncomfortable bleakness was emitted by my surroundings as the houses were without ornaments and decorations. I passed one or two small chapels, wedged between big housing blocks, their steeples halfway rotten, their red brick roofs punctured with holes. Those old buildings were gated by heavy, moss-covered wooden doors and felt uninviting, almost repulsive. Everything reeked of urine and alcohol and the faint rattling of old cars and bikes enhanced this feeling of unease even more.
I had left the main road behind a long time ago and was quite taken aback by the existence of such a shabby place deep within Rome’s bowels. The city was renowned for its magnificence and beauty after all. The people living in these alleys were strangely foreign and defensive when spotting me. These experiences were opposite to what I had gotten to know from the folks I had met around the train station and the other city parts I had visited in the afternoon, folks who had all been jolly and kind.
These people here were different, though, and had hard and doubting looks. The women hurried away from me, and the men gazed at me with their brows furrowed before going back into their old coffee houses and taverns, almost as if they went back to their own distant worlds. When the sun had already set and cool lights shone from within the buildings, I reached a small square that finally saved me from those narrow alleys, exhausted and hungry.
An ugly pavement covered the ground, and in the middle of the old forum, I spotted a statue made from granite, seemingly looking in my direction. It was supposed to be a discus thrower, though that only became apparent when I got closer and was able to read the old sign on the ground, giving sparse information on the work of art. Time had not been kind to the statue as it was partly covered by moss and smelled disgustingly moldy. The shape of the athlete was just barely recognizable, and his face was dented in at many places and had gotten demolished by seeming acts of vandalism. The arm of the figure, raised for a throw, was missing the hand, leaving behind a sad stump.
I slowly turned away from the statue, which must have been a marvel of statuary once - before becoming a crippled shade of itself through the influences of time and men. I sadly walked away from it while feeling gazes on my neck coming from the surrounding buildings.
Bordering on that square, I found the Una Artemide with its warmly lit windows, brown walls, and overgrown bushes next to the entrance doors. As it had gotten rather late, I quickly moved towards the building, feeling a sense of melancholy when looking at the dark contours around me.
When I finally left the square and its depressing surroundings behind and entered the hotel’s foyer, a man smelling strongly of aftershave greeted me, looking tired and somewhat grim. I hesitated a little before asking for a cheap room that I could rent for a few days, but he quickly made a good offer for Room 24, which I could move into right away.
The man told me about many people who come to this part of the city, searching for a place to stay despite the uninviting nature of the area. He advised me against talking to the locals, as they felt harassed very quickly, and he proceeded to show me some maps with more interesting places to visit during the next few days.
Overall, I looked forward to exploring these areas from the Una Artemide as my base of operations, wandering the dilapidated streets of Rome to gather new knowledge and learn more about our past. The man gave me a large iron key with a bronze plate engraved with the room number and told me about the huge breakfast served every morning around 8 AM in the hotel’s dining room.
My worries slowly dissipated, and I began to enjoy the old building and the thought of spending some nights there.
After leaving the foyer and getting a hot soup from the kitchen, I ascended the old wooden staircase to the second floor. As I walked down the dimly lit corridor, the floorboards creaked beneath my feet.
When I reached room 24 and inserted my key into the keyhole, I suddenly felt as though someone was watching me. A shiver ran down my spine, and I quickly turned around to see an eye watching me from the room opposite before the door slammed shut.
Confused but determined to ignore the unsettling feeling, I entered my room. It was a small space, with torn tapestries and uninviting brown floorboards. The cold, white light from the small lamps on the ceiling only accentuated the run-down state of the place. Despite this, a large wardrobe made of dark wood provided ample space for my belongings, and I quickly changed into my sleeping attire.
As I entered the decrepit bathroom through a small green door, I couldn’t help but notice the old tiles on the walls. Though the condition of the bathroom didn’t bother me due to my exhaustion, I quickly brushed my teeth and prepared for sleep.
Despite the less than ideal conditions, the bed was relatively comfortable, and I drifted off to sleep faster than I had expected.
-—-
When I woke up the next morning to the noise of my phone’s alarm, I was shaking and drenched in sweat. My head hurt a little and I knew that I had horrid dreams, though their content had already been locked away by my mind. I imagined that something had come and visited me during the past night, something that had opened the darkest abyss of my thoughts, but I couldn’t explain those feelings, and after a short cold shower, everything was fine again.
The dining room was quite cozy – as I had to admit – and some of the other residents greeted me friendly and gave me a feeling of peace and comfort. The food was indeed plentiful and tasty, and I quickly started to feel at home.
Suddenly, an old man approached, without a doubt an Italian, and after some hesitation, he sat down next to me at the table, looking at me with curiosity. I recognized his eyes as the ones that had observed me the day before from the room opposite of mine. After an initial silence, he started a conversation while his gaze wandered around fearfully. His voice was soft, but every single one of his words was soaked with panic when he addressed me:
“Please excuse my behavior. You must surely think of me as a rude person, but rest assured that I act the way I did for a good reason! My name is Silvio, and I would love to say that I am pleased to meet you, but that would be a lie. No, no, that has nothing to do with you! I am just worried, really worried! About you! I must talk to you, but not here where one could hear it. Who knows who… or what… is listening in! I beg you, let us go outside and walk to some other streets a bit more distant from here and talk. I am sorry for my secrecy, but this is a matter of life and death. Of YOUR life and death. So please come!”
I blinked in confusion and was about to tell him to bother other people, but the old man hastily added, “I will pay for your room—if you want to keep it after our talk, that is! Now, hurry!”
I liked that offer, so it seemed logical to take him up on it, even if he was trying to scam me somehow. So, I agreed to Silvio’s proposal, and after finishing the rest of our breakfast in silence, we left the hotel and quickly put some distance between us and the old building, exactly as old Silvio had suggested. We came to a busy road and spotted a bench where we could sit down.
“What did you want to tell me?” I asked after looking at the cars around us for a while.
“First things first: Sorry again! But it’s important that you leave… that room… for good! Immediately! It is not safe in there!” Silvio started.
“Why? What could possibly happen?” I asked.
“It… I better start from the beginning. I have been living in the hotel for some months now. It is a pretty nice place, all things considered, located in a rather uninviting area, but oh well… I had been living in the hotel because my daughter is working there as a chef, and that is why I pay less rent than one normally would. But I digress…
It started when Marco Dagio moved into room 24. I liked him. He was a rather pleasant fellow but was hell-bent on his research. He worked on something behind closed doors, some books perhaps, though I can’t be sure. He did not go out very often, and there were no noises coming out of the room, so who really knows. I only met him during breakfast, and sometimes we would start talking. I did not find out much, only that he was looking for something in this area of Rome, something huge, at least that’s what he told me. He was sure that something was slumbering in this area, something one could not even dream up in the wildest fantasies, but it was supposed to be real. He sounded a little mad, but his voice was trembling with the spirit of endeavor.
However, one day, he started to leave in the mornings and stayed away until nightfall. He got more nervous, tense, almost afraid. I did not know where he went, what he was looking for, where he poked around, but he seemed both terrified and… ecstatic.
Then, he stayed away during the night and did not return. I got worried but couldn’t take action. The authorities around here would never look for a stranger; they just don’t care. Besides, I had no idea where he went anyway and thus could not go looking for him on my own. That is why I eagerly waited for his return, but Marco was gone.”
“And what has that got to do with me? I don’t feel that there is anything terrible about that story just because he found another place to stay without telling you,” I remarked.
Silvio suddenly started shaking, and his face turned pale.
“The bad thing was not the time when he was gone. The bad thing was the time after he returned,” Silvio’s voice trembled.
“One evening, he came back dirty, sweaty, and wet, his clothes ripped to shreds, and his face white as chalk, holding his notebook. He went into his room and terrified me horrendously. That night, I don’t know exactly what happened inside that room, but it must have been pure horror. At about 3 AM, I heard an icy scream - a scream I will never forget. The sound cut into my very soul and woke an ancient fear that still rages within me even now. I had someone break down the locked door, but Marco wasn’t there. He was gone. The windows were all shut tightly, and there was no sign of him. The police thought I was crazy, but I know that something unspeakable happened in that room. Since that night, I am afraid to be inside the hotel, and the closer I get to room 24, the more the panic grows. Something is still there, something that is not supposed to be! You must move out of that room immediately! All the others believed me. I saved them. So let me save you as well!” Silvio begged.
I got goosebumps, but my courage had not left me. “That is madness! That can’t be. There must be a rational explanation! I will stay in that room, especially since you said you would pay for it. I listened to your story after all,” I said defiantly.
Silvio’s face hardened. “As you wish. I thought you might listen, but you are too ignorant. I will pay for your room, but you will not be there for long anyway. That’s what I predict, at least!” he said grimly and walked away.
I sat there for a while, lost in thought, but finally decided to hit the road and look for some churches to visit and some knowledge to reap.
-—–
It had become evening again when I returned from my explorational trip through the city back to the hotel and went to my room. I had learned so much! Many tales of old buildings and their lives. Stories about paintings and sculptures. I was content.
As I strolled through the floors, I met Silvio who tried to stop me from getting into room 24 for one last time, though his efforts did not bear any fruit; I simply ignored the old Italian and entered my chamber.
If I had known what was about to happen, I would have left on the spot, hurrying back to Germany, where my life would have been boring and normal for the rest of my days.
But I stayed.
The lights flickered ominously and unsettled me, a menace, threatening me, though that had to be just because of my vivid imagination. I entered the bathroom, ready to brush my teeth.
When I looked into the mirror I froze. For a short moment I believed to see a tall, distorted shade standing in the room far behind me. My throat started hurting, even though everything was normal again after some blinking. The illusion had left behind a bitter taste in my mouth.
Breathing calmly, I leaned against the wall where my hand brushed against one of the loose tiles. I stopped and realized that it could be taken out. I uncovered a small opening, letting a horrible stench into the room. What could rest inside? A rotten hand? The cadaver of a rat? Why hadn’t I noticed the stench before? I got my smartphone from the main room whilst looking for the shade, though I could spot nothing out of the ordinary.
Of course not.
Gripped by anxiety, I shone the phone’s light into the gaping black hole in the wall and finally spotted a leathery object resting deep down inside the niche. When I pulled the rugged thing with some disgust out of its hiding place, I recognized it as an old notebook or diary. The pages were yellowed and old, at the end some were missing, and scrawly cursive English writing covered most of them.
The cover told me that this was the research journal of Marco Dagio. Despite the stench and against all reason I decided to read the hideous thing. To uncover what really had happened.
I just had to know! It couldn’t be that the man had just vanished from his room! Where should he have gone to, after all? Also, Silvio had said that Marco had looked for something incredible. Dangerous, but incredible.
I just had to know! What if I discovered something worthwhile? Something amazing? Surely, it would not be… too dangerous. Surely, there was a rational explanation for all of this!
Holding on to these thoughts, I took the book and laid down on the bed. Full of excitement, I started reading.
As I turned the pages, the words of the diary began to reveal an obsession with the occult and the supernatural. Marco wrote about his search for a mysterious document, which he believed was hidden somewhere within the city. He described in detail the strange occurrences and inexplicable phenomena that he had read about during his search. The more I read, the more I felt a sense of unease creeping over me…
May 4, 2013:
During my research, I discovered some interesting documents in the Vatican’s archives, originating in the 14th century. They are about an object of Satan, being brought to the West by a traveler from the East, probably China, Korea or Japan. It appears to be a black hand mirror which is surrounded by horrifying happenings that drove the traveler’s family mad. That, in turn, led to the inquisition burning them at the stake as witches. The uncanny thing catching my eye is the fact that the story is almost identical to one from a German psychiatrist.
The man had vanished from his room one night, though he still managed to send his notes to a newspaper. It is perhaps only a coincidence that similar reports have surfaced over the years, mostly unknown and quickly locked away by certain institutions like the Catholic Church or the Society of Eb. Thanks to my profession and my previous work, I was finally able to look for more documents in the Vatican’s archives that might imply events of unknown cause. Unfortunately, I was never able to find someone who could tell me stories of true substance about all those happenings I had found hints to during the past years. Obviously, one should be careful when hypothesizing just based on some written documents, but I am certain of the validity of my thoughts.
May 17, 2013:
After having done a bit more research, I got news of a man who met some unspeakable things in Eastern Europe; a man who only hesitatingly gave away his information. He seems to be shaken to the core if my source is to be believed. Tomorrow, I will hurry to Vienna, meeting said man, and perhaps I will get some more information on all the puzzling events. Then, my theories will finally be confirmed. I am looking forward to tomorrow.
May 18, 2013:
There has been a major setback. My interview with the man from Vienna has not taken place as he has disappeared from his room during the last night. A friend of his who is connected to his story is nowhere to be found either. I was too late! I have to find another clue, one that will not lead to nothingness in such a disastrous manner. Nonetheless, I will not be disheartened by this turn of events and carry on my research. Perhaps there will be more to find in the archives. I just have to keep digging!
June 18, 2013:
Finally, another clue! I discovered the testaments of an old secret cult that existed back in ancient times. Its history was locked away deep within the Vatican’s archives, and I had to move heaven and earth to get a permit for entering those areas. But luckily, some money and some friends made it possible, and so I might learn more important things very soon. Then, my work will finally bear fruit!
24th June 2013
I can’t believe what is starting to surface… The whole matter is far greater than I ever could have imagined, so much greater! They have been the ones; they hid it away. The greatest knowledge of mankind, the power to move mountains and climb the moon! Unfathomable knowledge! It is still here, here in Rome. The entrance is at the “Riserva Naturale della Marcigliana”! It’s so close, only minutes by car. I can’t believe it! I have to go and find it, beneath the trees, at the three stones, guarded by Pluto. It’s clever, but obvious if one knows. If one knows! The truth, the old secret! And then, I will have made it! I will be famous, a hero, the ultimate scientist!
There was another last entry, undated, and its contents made me gasp out loud. It was scribbled down more hastily, and by reading it, I got the feeling of looking at the writings of a lunatic. The last sentences in the diary were simply a single, terrifying statement:
“It’s too late. They’re coming for me.”
What had he found below Roman streets? A secret, without a doubt, but which one?
What ancient knowledge lay beneath my feet?
I had to know; I just had to! I knew how he had felt. What he had craved. The bliss of new truths. The happiness of discovery.
Quickly, I got up and packed my belongings into my backpack. A strange eagerness had gripped me, as though preparing me for a long walk. My thoughts were racing, and I was sweating like mad due to the excitement.
I ran to the door, ready to open it, when my smartphone started vibrating. I looked at the display and stopped. The screen had gotten strangely distorted, and white noise covered all of it, almost like the one on old television sets. I looked at my wristwatch, almost by accident.
It was 3 AM.
Suddenly, I remembered the words old Silvio had muttered in the morning; an icy shiver ran down my spine.
“Marco disappeared around 3 AM…”
The lights in the room started flickering, and my blood seemed to freeze in my veins. A dangerous doom was approaching; I could feel it! I had to leave; I had to…
I kicked open the door and jumped out, clinging to the luggage I had carried with me, when the lights inside the chamber died off for good.
I stared into the darkness, listening. There was only silence. It had just been the lights…
I almost fainted when I realized that the room was not empty, that someone or something was there. Staring back at me.
I could not see what it was. I pressed my back against Silvio’s door and looked into the blackness, looked at… it.
My senses started to fade when I saw a skinny, inhuman hand, white as milk, with coarse skin and six fingers, reach for me, emerging from the darkness of the room.
And then I heard its gurgling, clicking voice:
“Ebrugh… Ebrugh… You will all cease… I think… I think, you might be able to see it now… Eslud esmad… The Ancient Age… just vermin, cattle… Kage no hitobito, Fuka-sa…”
When I came to my senses, I was standing next to a bench in a park, my belongings in one hand, Marco’s journal in the other. I did not know how I had gotten there, whether I had run screaming through the streets of Rome or crawled like a beaten dog. My thoughts were spinning, and in the end, I threw up on the ground, my head filled with panic and terror. I felt watched, hunted.
I had to find out what was going on; this couldn’t be happening! And now I was certain…there was something unnatural below me. I should have left the country, but my mind was taken over by the urge to know, to learn. I started walking; I would look for what Marco had already found.