The archives

Through the Looking Glass: Logs 984, 985, 986, 987, 5736

Arcus 984

More luminous energy sent to me by an unknown ally. With this energy, I was able to open a small window that allowed me to look into a lost realm where I saw to my great surprise a city with survivors living as though nothing was out of the ordinary. The window eventually closed, and I spent the entire evening imagining how such a thing could be possible or if it was merely an illusion. The same night another surge of energy permitted me to open a doorway into a realm I didn't much recognise or dare explore. I stared at the scintillating doorway until it faded out of existence. It's as though the one manifesting these sacred glyphs is trying to help me delve deeper into the mysteries of this dimension or, perhaps, he is suggesting that the answers to my salvation are hidden amongst the countless realms discarded by this Old One since time immemorial.

Arcus 985

Instead of reading aloud in my usual way, I clambered to the roof of my tower and conjured a fire and a radio to listen to some ghost stories from a half-remembered radio serial from Terra Dark. Without a doubt, listening to these stories has proven to be the best way to pass the time, especially when you've got endless voices clattering in your head, bringing you down with their endless agonies and anxieties. Later I used the Auris to manifest The Storyteller to read his stories like he had done for his weekly podcast. He was composed of ever-moving, black fog, and I suspect that one day I'll actually be able to recreate a more realistic person to listen to or perhaps even engage with in something that resembles a conversation.

Listening to The Storyteller and hearing familiar expressions, I am wondering: how do I keep myself out of my own creations? The memories I attempt to record as fast as I experience them prove one thing to me. They show me objectivity is impossible, or elusive at best, and I'm never quite sure if my logs are a true and accurate depiction of the subject's memory or a whiskey laden interpretation of a nightmare. To add to my frustrations, I have recently noticed other voices have made their way into my notes. Other interpretations. Other thought-patterns from people whose memories I've likely spent too much time reliving. They are becoming a part of me and that wasn't supposed to happen.

Arcus 986

The Storyteller kept me entertained throughout the night with his gory tales of Nosferatu, so that I almost forgot my own personal living nightmare. His stories entertain and make for a perfect distraction when smashing golf balls into the abyss just won't suffice. There have been countless tales of vampires, and to be certain I've read most of them, but to my mind... his are the most chilling. More than once now I've woken in a cold sweat with the sense that my tower has been overrun by these horrible creatures with fangs for teeth.

Arcus 987

Another incident woke me in the middle of the night. An incredible surge of energy coming to me from an undetermined source. At first, I thought my mind had given way to illusions and wild imaginings until I realised the energy surging through my tower was widening yet another doorway into a lost realm composed of memories from an unremembered civilisation lost to time. I approached and stared into the remnants of a war-torn, abandoned city with the eerie cry of a baby echoing in the distance. Just as I made to enter the lost realm the scintillating doorway shrunk and sizzled out of existence. I soon realised it may very well be possible to explore this Old One from my tower with the help of this unique energy and the Auris.

Arcus 5736

I have seen into the heart of this Old One and have seen things no mortal eyes should see... things that simultaneously perplex my mind and burden my conscience. With mysterious help I have ripped open reality, searched deep within countless rifts and seen everything tumble helplessly towards chaos and entropy... towards death and madness... and for the briefest moment I had the ridiculous thought that the mysterious ally helping me could very well be The Entity playing its game with me, toying with me as a cat does with a mouse before the claw rips the tiny jugular out. Staring out into the endless abyss of black fog I thought that this prison could very well be another form of trial disguised and designed to feast on all the psychic energies derived from alienation, boredom and all those bouts of unremembered insanity. I can't help but feel millions of invisible hooks in my heart and millions of unseen eyes all around me... watching me... waiting for me to tumble toward chaos and madness like everything else... waiting for my mind to turn against itself. This bastard of an Old One wants me to kill myself. I am sure of it. Or maybe... Maybe I already have, and maybe I will again... and again... and again.