Horror 100 Volume 2

Discomfort

And these signs shall follow them that believe and they shall cast out devils in my name and they shall speak in new tongues. They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover. Mark 16:17-18 King James Version

From the journal of Dr. Forrest Bailey, Department of Special Collections/Orne Library, Miskatonic University, Arkham, Massachusetts

It was August 13th, 1947. I will forever remember that day; it wasn't for the stiffening heat that suffocated Arkham and its residents like a malevolently omnipotent wet blanket. The discovery I was about to make, or rather, true events that were revealed to me would be the catalytic catapult  of my life's work at the Miskatonic University Orne Library, similar to one catching his first fish may make him an avid fisherman, and a primal urge wells up inside inexplicably every time one passes a body of water. That is how I feel, still to this day, every time I pass an antique book store or a yard sale with a visible display of unwanted tomes. 

I arrived early that morning knowing that Dr. Orne had been ushered away by a memo sent to him from Dr. Henry Jones, Jr. and Dr. John Armitage, PhD from the Department of Antiquities pertaining to the current flavor of the week, the coveted "SB" Cipher Manuscripts. This was a normal event, one that became very common and ones that I was ever so thankful for; it gave me time to pleasantly drown myself in my research.

I gazed upon my desk and saw a curious brown package sitting perfectly square in the center of my evergreen desk blotter. My eyes instantly being drawn to the nervously scrawled lettering on the plain brown canvas that covered what obviously had to be a book of some sort, I quickly scanned for a return address. There was none. This too was a common occurrence in our department, as the senders of many a package that ended up in our possession either had already met their doom; driven stark raving mad and institutionalized, or taken their own life, or having those things that live in the dark shadows of human existence; those things that walk among us and exist somewhere between life and death, watching us and waiting, while humans go about their pitiful existence blissfully unaware of things much older than us, much more malevolent and angry than the "god" in the Old Testament, more foul than any screenwriter in Hollywood could imagine; those very things that "go bump in the night" aided the poor senders; sometimes erasing their very existence, even from the memory of others.

I settled in my chair, after setting my coat and hat in its usual place, eager to devour the contents like a sailor rescued from sea after weeks adrift would savor a steak dinner. All this rushing around over the "SB" Cipher Manuscripts (when in all actuality it should have gone immediately to Special Collections, as that is where its journey ended months later) had taken me away from my work, my individual pursuit of the truth about the cosmos and those beings within it that predate humanity, and most likely, life itself.

"To: Dr. William Orne and/or Dr. Forrest Bailey, Department of Special Collections, Orne Library, Miskatonic University, Arkham, Massachusetts" was jaggedly scrawled on the brown paper wrapping. I opened the package with all the excitement of a child coming down the stairs on Christmas morning, bursting with joy when laying eyes upon the bounty that St. Nicholas had brought him while he slept. The wrapping fell away and revealed a letter and a very aged looking journal, which looked like it could be at the very least a century old.

"Good Doctors,

My name is not important nor is how I knew where to send this. What is important is that it is in your possession now. It will be kept from innocent eyes; those without the mental fortitude necessary not to fracture and either end one's life, or become catatonic with primal fear.

This journal belongs to one Lt. Everett Lee Cummings, a Confederate officer taken as a POW in September of 1864. He was part of the forces stationed in Atlanta that were bracing for Sherman and his attack on the 12th largest city in the Confederacy. I have marked the entries that you would be most interested, unless you are a Civil War "enthusiast" as am I (which is how I came across this journal; an estate sale in Atlanta from relatives claiming to be direct descendants of Confederate General John B. Hood).