Fiction- The Old Ones.


I scribble these events using scavenged parchment and pen, in a time of peril. I will start from the beginning, as I am not sure that I, nor my companions, will survive this night. I travelled to this forsaken place in search of knowledge of the unknown. It is a certain quirk of mine to dabble in the things that others would not dare. To fathom the unfathomable. The reach the unreachable.

The unknown is what threatens my very being at this moment. It’s what threatens all of us. Me and my companions, Toole and banks, stumbled open rumours of this house. A place where script and text of the old ones had been hoarded for years. But in our eagerness, we had been ignorant of the dangers. For knowledge of the old ones always came at a price, and was always guarded by the foul things that lurk in the darkness.

The house seemed but a ruin as we laid eyes upon it under nothing but dim torchlight. We were weary from our travels through the desolate forest and the pitch black of night. But we were finally here, after months of research and investigation, we were finally to bear the fruit of our labours. Even the unwelcoming guise or the foreboding eminence of this building would not slow us.

The front door barely hung on rusted hinge, it swung inward with piercing screech. All was silent, bar the whistling wind behind us and the creaking of ancient floorboards beneath us. We prowled down a corridor that seemed to stretch the length of the house, swatting away thick spider web as we searched. Then there it was, a lit room betraying the darkness before us. As we approached, the stench of rot and damp seemed to dissipate.

We sped our prowl to a stride, as we saw our goal ahead. We broke our guard as we entered. We stood in the light once more, surrounded by shelves of books and ornate desks of curios. The room seemed to be protected from ruin and age, as all was gleaming and untouched by time. An entire juxtapose to the house we entered. The power of the old ones is a mysterious one indeed. Could the ward be emanating from the knowledge contained within these books?

We were not prepared for what happened next. We were so enthralled by the sight before us, that we did not see the entrance vanish. Where once we came through, was now a solid wall. A wave of panic beset the three of us, for we had no escape, nor means of escape.

And thus, four hours later, here we still remain. But what I have written thus far, is not why I fear for our lives. Upon an hour into a struggle, the walls around us have come alive with sounds of an encroaching doom. Scratching, booming, growling, cackling. It does not relent. If we should leave this room, I fear that we will be torn to shreds. But if we stay, we will be driven to insanity.

I have scoured through the pages of one of these ancient tomes. It contains the knowledge that is both of my dreams, and of my nightmares. The knowledge contained within all these tomes is far beyond that of all comprehension. It is the knowledge of forgotten gods, of alternate dimensions, of ancient cures and spells. If it is worth my life or my sanity, I am not sure. I will read on further, as my companions are better suited to find a way out. If there is an escape, they will find it. If not, it does not bear thinking of our fate.


I hope that you enjoyed this short piece. Thank you all for reading!


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