I found something that I shouldn’t have seen, and now, I fear it is only a matter of time before it erupts from me. There is a hiking trail in the Appalachian mountains leading to some overgrown fields left forgotten for decades at a time. I was out there all alone in my naivety, exploring the great green outdoors of upstate New York. Fascinated by the diversity of the wild and plant life in such a wide area unpolluted by civilization. I was picking some mushrooms alongside the bank of a river when I spotted it. An old farmstead was up a hill covered by some unusually tall bushes and vines that seemed to hold on to it, camouflaging it, embracing it to return to nature; to cease to exist.
Picking the best mushrooms I deemed edible for lunch. The old abandoned farmstead had garnered much of my attention and indeed my curiosity. Despite a small section of my mind telling me to go my way, I ignored it and I walked towards those doors, enchanted by the idea of how a farmstead can exist in such a rural location. I checked the surroundings around the farm. There were no dirt roads leading back to civilization, nor were there any signs of modern machinery or cars that would’ve graced the ancient farmstead.
I then walked towards the dilapidated front door, its age showing through the cracks in the white lead paint. I chipped some of the paint away, a very telling sign of just how unmaintained the property had been. Pulling the handle, the door made a loud squeak. If there had been a person inside, they surely would’ve heard it. I waited a couple of moments, waiting to see movement or any sort of signs of life.
Nothing….
I moved in and investigated the somewhat dark living room, only lit by the sun outside. The coffee table was on its side as if it was thrown across the room. The couches had been torn with the cushion filling all over the couch. Whatever had transpired here, it was clear there was a struggle. I then inspected the walls and saw a five-pointed star inside a circle made of ash; A clear inverted pentagram with a horned goat was present within it. A sigil. And that… That is when I had lost consciousness. All I remember was going down, feeling so tired. I could not fight the tiredness that I had felt during it all. There was no fighting it. It was my obligation to lose consciousness for whatever was inside that farm.
I woke up in an unfamiliar room, the basement. All six sides of this room were full of its sigils made of fresh blood with wax candles lit around the four corners of the room. The sigils were all intricately connected; the blood moving and flowing as if it were in its natural environment. I felt a burning pain from my body. Lowering my eyes, that’s when I saw cuts on my wrists widening with my blood flowing to the sigils, sucking me dry of my vitality and life. Powering this wretched farm house of whatever was contained within. The wax candles increased in brightness as more of my blood flowed through the sigils. I screamed in anguish and cried. I suddenly felt a primal urge to express my pain and let out the rage.
I crept towards the door, my condition worsening by the minute. I knew I had to get out before I lose consciousness again. My mind was bombarded with contradicting emotions that mentally confused me. Sadness, anger, jealousy, happiness, euphoria and even pleasure. I could not focus on the task I was trying to achieve. Each step made it harder and harder to leave the room. However, deep down, I knew each step was a step closer to freedom. Each step was a memory of emotional intrigue. Each memory was blurry except for the emotions I could clearly feel. Anger from the time I squandered my opportunities. Happiness from the times I’ve been with the people I love.
I eventually found myself in the living room once again. The sun had gone down the living room, now lit by the moonlight. My eyes gradually adjusted, allowing me to see within the dark I touched the sigil made of ash. I felt the suffering and pain that had gone into making it exist in this world. I tried to rub it out, rub through the pain. It could not be rubbed out; no amount of strength could rub through the pain. I walked out the door and towards the wilderness. I smelled the fresh air, trying to enjoy my freedom. It didn’t feel the same. I looked back towards the farmhouse, vowing to never return this path.
I made it home safely. There were no creatures trying to kill me, there was nobody stalking me. And yet deep down inside me, it felt like I never truly left that wretched farmhouse. Deep down inside me, something is forming, and I know it isn’t natural.