Cronus Vol I : Gods never die

30.10.2020

The darkness seeps deep within me, like an eternal curse in this realm of shadows. Every night, my dreams become more horrifying and vivid. Last night, I was trapped in a sinister spiral of terror.

In my horrifying dream, I woke up in a dark room, surrounded by the cold breath of stone walls. I felt my soul shaken by guilt and remorse as I stared into emptiness, my eyes filled with horror. A chilling sound made me jump: it was the beating of my heart, resonating loudly in the suffocating darkness.

I realized I was a captive of my own sins. I had betrayed moral principles and helped a criminal escape justice. Now, I found myself imprisoned in a world with no escape, tormented by my dark conscience.

In my terrified mind, I began to sense the malevolent presence of a demon relentlessly pursuing me. Its demonic laughter enveloped me, freezing my blood and deepening my fear. I tried to run, but my legs got stuck in the soft sand of an old and desolate cemetery.

As panic overwhelmed me, I realized I was not alone in this macabre world. Around me, frightening silhouettes materialized from the darkness, whispered voices echoed in my ears, and cold, merciless hands touched me. They were the souls of those I had betrayed, demanding their revenge.

Fear blinded me, but in a moment of clarity, I understood that this internal investigation was just a bridge between the real world and this demonic dimension. I was trapped in the snare of my own mistakes, condemned to live in eternal agony.

Drama tears at my being, and remorse consumes me like sharp claws. I feel my soul crumbling into small pieces, while the darkness devours my shattering pride. It's hard to accept that I have become an impostor in my own life, a monster undeserving of forgiveness, even in my own eyes.

In a desperate attempt to escape this spiritual filth, I seek refuge in memories, in the house of my grandparents. There, amidst warm and loving memories, I hope to find a glimmer of hope and a breath of peace in this personal inferno.

But even within their sanctuary, I feel shadows creeping through the cracks of my past. Dark memories haunt me and cry out for vengeance, while the apparent tranquility of the house transforms into a macabre backdrop. An overwhelming pain engulfs me, and the walls become an inscrutable prison.

With trembling hands and a heart torn apart, I continue to write. My words become the echo of despair and the internal war raging within me. The pages of my journal fill with horrifying scenes and dark thoughts that pierce through my existence.

As the ink spills onto the pages of my journal, I feel the darkness engulfing me with each written word. The lines become the manifesto of a troubled mind, a macabre dance between truth and illusion, between madness and lucidity.

My journey into the abyss of horror continues, and terror clenches my heart in its icy grip. My thoughts grow increasingly sinister, and my sins open like gaping wounds, bleeding into the depths of my being.

As I flip through the dark pages of my journal, I sense the melding of reality and fiction in a maleficent way. I recall an incident that froze my soul, a horrifying event that marked me forever.

It was a stormy night, rain lashing against the window in a diabolical rhythm. I was consumed by an inexplicable unease and felt that something sinister was about to happen. I ventured into the depths of the city, where shadows merged with darkness and danger lurked in hidden corners of the streets.

I stumbled upon a scene of horror that clawed at my soul and penetrated deep within me. A group of people dressed in black gathered around a mutilated corpse, a spectacle drenched in blood and agony. A shiver of terror ran down my spine, but I couldn't resist the irresistible pull of that macabre sight.

In those terrifying moments, I realized I wasn't merely a witness to the horror. A malevolent connection had formed between me and those unknown criminals. I remembered the dream in which I aided a criminal's escape, but now it felt like that dream had become reality. Entwined with my body and soul in a demonic manner, I was an accomplice in this tragedy.

Despair enveloped me like a toxic fog, and fear crushed my breath. I understood that I was no longer an innocent victim but a puppeteer of darkness, an instrument of evil. Remorse gnawed at me, transforming me into a labyrinth of conscience where I got lost in my own guilt and despair.

In search of liberation, I sought refuge in the place where I would uncover the horrifying truth behind these events. I treaded the same estranged paths of the past and entered my grandparents' house, a fortress of memories and dark mysteries.

But what I found there surpassed any imagination. I discovered that my grandfather, a sinister presence I had revered in childhood, was the one pulling the strings in this deadly game. He was the master of darkness who had pushed me into the abyss of my inner self, feeding on my remorse and fears.

I was betrayed by my own blood, the starved prince of darkness. Confronting the terrifying truth, I felt my consciousness shattering into a thousand pieces, and my world crumbled around me. I became the pawn of destiny, a marionette in the maleficent hands of my own malice.

Now, with trembling hands and a torn heart, I continue to write these thoughts in my journal of horror. The pages become a tomb for dark secrets, for deeply rooted sins. I strive to release my soul through words, to seek forgiveness or to lose myself entirely in the abyss of my existence.

This book of terror will be my testimony, a desperate cry in the night, a mirror of the darkness I carry within. I hope that someone will read these words and find within them a lesson of the soul, a warning about the dark abysses that surround us. And I, in the depths of my darkness, will continue to search for light and forgiveness, even if the path to salvation seems endless.