Post by unimportantguy on Oct 27, 2003 21:47:10 GMT -5
I wrote this story for my creative writing class, taking my inspiration from the horror author H.P. Lovecraft.
So, I submit, for the approval of the Midni... er, blackest boards,
"The Book"
This all began as a mistake. An error in translation. Who could have known what can lurk in the written word? I always knew what magic was. It was deception. Magicians, as you no doubt know, are highly trained in the art of deception. We spend all our time figuring out ways to lie to people and get away with it. The “real” magic was in the collective mind of the audience. To the magician, there was no such thing. Well, at least, to me. To me, “magic” was just performance art.
Then, I discovered the Book. I found it in a dusty old book shop in Berlin, during my tour of Europe. It intrigued me because there was no title, and no title page, just a blank, leather cover, and because of the complicated nature of the text. I've always fancied myself somewhat of a German scholar, so I took it as a test of my ability.
That was my first mistake. My second mistake was staying up through the night in my hotel room, trying to translate the archaic German the Book was written in. If I'd gotten some sleep, I wouldn't have made my third mistake, mistranslating the ancient text. The warning printed on the first pages made no sense, so I put a bookmark there, deciding to re-translate that bit later. Then, I turned the page.
Among those who call themselves sorcerers, there are whispers of an ancient and little-known school of magic called Iconomancy. The word breaks down simply enough; the magic of symbols. It is said that Iconomancy is a terribly powerful kind of transformative magic, contained within powerful magical symbols. Once these symbols are viewed, they burn themselves into the mind, at which point they may be used at will, assuming one understands how this is done. Of course, I learned all this much later. At the time, the symbols meant nothing to me. I flipped through the book, and found more symbols, each preceded by pages of cryptic warning, of a nature similar to the one I had failed to translate before. I closed the book in puzzlement. The text seemed to be of an instructional nature, but none of it made any sense. Deciding that I'd just been up too late, I closed the book, turned off the light, and went to bed.
That night, I was tortured by horrible dreams. I was being chased by a tiger, enwrapped in the coils of a huge anaconda, stuck in a pit with a snarling grizzly bear. Each time, I would almost perish, only to awaken suddenly, safe and sound in my hotel room. This cycle continued throughout the night, and on into the early hours of the morning.
I finally awoke at about noon, only to realize that I was supposed to be at the theater for rehearsal. I let out a loud curse, struggling out of bed. At that moment, something odd happened. Suddenly, one of the symbols from the Book came into my head head. For some reason, the image connected in my mind with that of the grizzly bear from my dream. I shook my head, driving the images away. There was work to be done. A show had to be put on that evening.
The rest of the day went surprisingly smoothly, given how it had started. The show went well, and the audience loved the levitating disappearance finale that I had worked so hard to perfect.. I stayed that night again at the hotel, and did not dream at all. In the morning, I was on the plane home.
That was the end of the tour. When the plane finally stopped at LAX, I felt relief flow through me. Three months in Europe, at a performance a night, had been incredibly draining. When I got home, and I mean really home, to my house, I flopped down on my bed and was instantly asleep.
That night, the nightmares assaulted me again. They were different this time. This time, I was the tiger, the bear, some otherworldly creature unlike anything anyone had ever seen. I was fighting for my life, as other terrible creatures attacked me relentlessly. And yet, there was a bizarre joy in it all, a fierce bloodlust that compelled me to fight on. I awoke in the night, and put a hand up to my face to wipe away the sweat that had formed on my brow, but in my shock, it seemed that the terrible tiger's paw was still there, claws jutting out like cruel daggers.
The moment passed, and when I looked again, my fingers had returned. But, the horror of the moment had made its mark. Questioning my very sanity, I found myself returning to the Book. This had all started with the Book, so I reasoned that I might find answers there. The same bizarre symbols and cryptic warning greeted me, but I realized that I could now relate each symbol to some event from my nightmares. Images from my subconscious suddenly arose vividly in my mind, I remember the terrible rage and fear,, the creatures, and most maddening of all, the states. I remembered being fire. The idea was absurd; the experience completely alien. For fire does not think, and fire does not feel, at least not in the way that we understand these words. And yet, I was conscious of having felt what fire feels. I must have blacked out, unable to handle this revelation. Or perhaps it was all just another dream. I cannot tell. However, the events, while surreal, have the disturbing edge of reality in my mind even now.
The next morning, I awoke at my kitchen table with the Book open in front of me. It took a moment for my mind to register this scene, but when it did, I felt a sudden wave of horror and revulsion, and I slammed the Book shut with great force. And yet, I could not slam shut my mind. The symbol for fire seemed to burn there; the tiger stalked around the edge of my consciousness; the bear stalked through the forests of my imagination. And somewhere, just beyond comprehension, lurked those horrific creatures that were never meant to be seen by man. Thick, scaled armor and terrible pincers, tentacles, and all too many eyes in all the wrong places...
I stood suddenly, trying to shake the thoughts from my head. I needed distraction. I realized suddenly that, having just gotten back from a trip abroad, that my refrigerator would be empty. I slid my wallet in my pocket, making a mental list of what I would need. A few minutes in the car took me to the grocery store.
I breezed through the aisles, taking things nearly at random. The entire time, there was a woman behind me with a young child crying in her cart. I felt my temper begin to rise; why wasn't this woman shutting her brat up? In fact, it seemed that she was only provoking it further by ignoring its cries. I groaned inwardly as she got behind me in the checkout line.
The line was torturous. It took twenty minutes to get through it, all with that brat behind me crying, babbling, and screaming every few minutes, just for good measure. And of course, the person in front of me had a million items, and got in an argument with the cashier over the price of hamburger buns. The cashier had to make a call on the price of my romaine lettuce, and, of course, wouldn't believe me when I told her the price. “God help me,” I thought as she called over her supervisor.
Then, it happened. I was picking up my groceries to leave, when one of the bags ripped. As I stooped to pick up the fallen food, the woman behind me pushed her cart forward, not looking where she was going, and knocked me flat on my face. In that moment, the symbol of the bear, which I'd pushed out of my consciousness, suddenly burst through the mental walls I'd put around it. All I could see was that symbol; it filled every corner of my mind.
What transpired next is difficult to describe. For while I was present, I had no power over the actions my body took. The memories come only in brief flashes. I remember searing pain, and seeing red. I remember the terrible feeling of bloodlust experienced in my nightmares. Most of all, I remember terror and confusion, as suddenly, my body was no longer my own, but that of a massive grizzly bear, just like the one that had visited me in those terrible nocturnal visions. As I think back now, all I see are half-remembered images, as the enraged bear tore through the crowd, ripping people to bloody shreds with its great and terrible claws. I was conscious of being covered in blood, but that only further fueled the creature's murderous rage.
So, I submit, for the approval of the Midni... er, blackest boards,
"The Book"
This all began as a mistake. An error in translation. Who could have known what can lurk in the written word? I always knew what magic was. It was deception. Magicians, as you no doubt know, are highly trained in the art of deception. We spend all our time figuring out ways to lie to people and get away with it. The “real” magic was in the collective mind of the audience. To the magician, there was no such thing. Well, at least, to me. To me, “magic” was just performance art.
Then, I discovered the Book. I found it in a dusty old book shop in Berlin, during my tour of Europe. It intrigued me because there was no title, and no title page, just a blank, leather cover, and because of the complicated nature of the text. I've always fancied myself somewhat of a German scholar, so I took it as a test of my ability.
That was my first mistake. My second mistake was staying up through the night in my hotel room, trying to translate the archaic German the Book was written in. If I'd gotten some sleep, I wouldn't have made my third mistake, mistranslating the ancient text. The warning printed on the first pages made no sense, so I put a bookmark there, deciding to re-translate that bit later. Then, I turned the page.
Among those who call themselves sorcerers, there are whispers of an ancient and little-known school of magic called Iconomancy. The word breaks down simply enough; the magic of symbols. It is said that Iconomancy is a terribly powerful kind of transformative magic, contained within powerful magical symbols. Once these symbols are viewed, they burn themselves into the mind, at which point they may be used at will, assuming one understands how this is done. Of course, I learned all this much later. At the time, the symbols meant nothing to me. I flipped through the book, and found more symbols, each preceded by pages of cryptic warning, of a nature similar to the one I had failed to translate before. I closed the book in puzzlement. The text seemed to be of an instructional nature, but none of it made any sense. Deciding that I'd just been up too late, I closed the book, turned off the light, and went to bed.
That night, I was tortured by horrible dreams. I was being chased by a tiger, enwrapped in the coils of a huge anaconda, stuck in a pit with a snarling grizzly bear. Each time, I would almost perish, only to awaken suddenly, safe and sound in my hotel room. This cycle continued throughout the night, and on into the early hours of the morning.
I finally awoke at about noon, only to realize that I was supposed to be at the theater for rehearsal. I let out a loud curse, struggling out of bed. At that moment, something odd happened. Suddenly, one of the symbols from the Book came into my head head. For some reason, the image connected in my mind with that of the grizzly bear from my dream. I shook my head, driving the images away. There was work to be done. A show had to be put on that evening.
The rest of the day went surprisingly smoothly, given how it had started. The show went well, and the audience loved the levitating disappearance finale that I had worked so hard to perfect.. I stayed that night again at the hotel, and did not dream at all. In the morning, I was on the plane home.
That was the end of the tour. When the plane finally stopped at LAX, I felt relief flow through me. Three months in Europe, at a performance a night, had been incredibly draining. When I got home, and I mean really home, to my house, I flopped down on my bed and was instantly asleep.
That night, the nightmares assaulted me again. They were different this time. This time, I was the tiger, the bear, some otherworldly creature unlike anything anyone had ever seen. I was fighting for my life, as other terrible creatures attacked me relentlessly. And yet, there was a bizarre joy in it all, a fierce bloodlust that compelled me to fight on. I awoke in the night, and put a hand up to my face to wipe away the sweat that had formed on my brow, but in my shock, it seemed that the terrible tiger's paw was still there, claws jutting out like cruel daggers.
The moment passed, and when I looked again, my fingers had returned. But, the horror of the moment had made its mark. Questioning my very sanity, I found myself returning to the Book. This had all started with the Book, so I reasoned that I might find answers there. The same bizarre symbols and cryptic warning greeted me, but I realized that I could now relate each symbol to some event from my nightmares. Images from my subconscious suddenly arose vividly in my mind, I remember the terrible rage and fear,, the creatures, and most maddening of all, the states. I remembered being fire. The idea was absurd; the experience completely alien. For fire does not think, and fire does not feel, at least not in the way that we understand these words. And yet, I was conscious of having felt what fire feels. I must have blacked out, unable to handle this revelation. Or perhaps it was all just another dream. I cannot tell. However, the events, while surreal, have the disturbing edge of reality in my mind even now.
The next morning, I awoke at my kitchen table with the Book open in front of me. It took a moment for my mind to register this scene, but when it did, I felt a sudden wave of horror and revulsion, and I slammed the Book shut with great force. And yet, I could not slam shut my mind. The symbol for fire seemed to burn there; the tiger stalked around the edge of my consciousness; the bear stalked through the forests of my imagination. And somewhere, just beyond comprehension, lurked those horrific creatures that were never meant to be seen by man. Thick, scaled armor and terrible pincers, tentacles, and all too many eyes in all the wrong places...
I stood suddenly, trying to shake the thoughts from my head. I needed distraction. I realized suddenly that, having just gotten back from a trip abroad, that my refrigerator would be empty. I slid my wallet in my pocket, making a mental list of what I would need. A few minutes in the car took me to the grocery store.
I breezed through the aisles, taking things nearly at random. The entire time, there was a woman behind me with a young child crying in her cart. I felt my temper begin to rise; why wasn't this woman shutting her brat up? In fact, it seemed that she was only provoking it further by ignoring its cries. I groaned inwardly as she got behind me in the checkout line.
The line was torturous. It took twenty minutes to get through it, all with that brat behind me crying, babbling, and screaming every few minutes, just for good measure. And of course, the person in front of me had a million items, and got in an argument with the cashier over the price of hamburger buns. The cashier had to make a call on the price of my romaine lettuce, and, of course, wouldn't believe me when I told her the price. “God help me,” I thought as she called over her supervisor.
Then, it happened. I was picking up my groceries to leave, when one of the bags ripped. As I stooped to pick up the fallen food, the woman behind me pushed her cart forward, not looking where she was going, and knocked me flat on my face. In that moment, the symbol of the bear, which I'd pushed out of my consciousness, suddenly burst through the mental walls I'd put around it. All I could see was that symbol; it filled every corner of my mind.
What transpired next is difficult to describe. For while I was present, I had no power over the actions my body took. The memories come only in brief flashes. I remember searing pain, and seeing red. I remember the terrible feeling of bloodlust experienced in my nightmares. Most of all, I remember terror and confusion, as suddenly, my body was no longer my own, but that of a massive grizzly bear, just like the one that had visited me in those terrible nocturnal visions. As I think back now, all I see are half-remembered images, as the enraged bear tore through the crowd, ripping people to bloody shreds with its great and terrible claws. I was conscious of being covered in blood, but that only further fueled the creature's murderous rage.
