User blog:MorkarBaroque/The Shape from Things to Come

this is a short story about the Warverse, on the style of Lovecraft, i hope any who read it like it, if you wish, comment what your thoughts are.

The Shape from Things to Come

I

I write this on a pale wall, a pencil sharpener has been given to me for this task only, even if the temptation of gouging my own eyes was overwhelming. The doctors have told me that I was found on my apartment screaming and convulsing, my left leg was given a very incisive cut, my tongue bitten by the mindless reactions my body was suffering. I may cover the entire, grey-white wall with what I am about to say, but the need, the drive to expose what is to come to us is far too strong. I desire if someone is sharp eyed enough to comprehend these desperate, chicken scratches to make an effort to transcribe it, so at least there is an excuse to grasp my so called madness.

II

It all began on the 12 of October, I tasted the fine caffeine’s provided by the local cafeteria, I was awaiting the arrival of an old friend called Andrew Ruther, who has found something most interesting on his travels, apparently desiring to be rid of it, but not having the heart to destroy it. The night sky was filled by few stars, the traffic on the streets is filled by the smooth, squared automobiles, their incessant horn blowing running a quite relaxing atmosphere.

After a hour I desired to lit one of my cigarettes, doing so after being told by Ruther himself on the phone booth nearby that he would be instead arriving at my home, saying that he would waste little time on such trivial stops such as these, as he wished to show me on the privacy of my apartments, the tone of his voice was unusual, as he was typically the type of man who had bravado or at least confidence on his tone with people, but his hesitance worried me so I went to where he was awaiting, my curiosity on whatever he may have suffered increasing. As I walked I could not help but wonder if the travels that he had done may have affected his mind, he was a man of vices, one of these was his experimentation with drugs of foreign countries, which may explain his current attitude, on the other hand he had endurance for those exquisite tastes, smiling at the thought, perhaps too maliciously to be properly considered just mischievous, that he may have found the hallucinogenic or relaxant that finally beat him.

I myself quite admired the man, he worked as a higher up on a manufacturer of goods on many parts of the world, his products on the market being wanted by many as they brought the help needed on the repairmen of cars, his confidence made him into an excellent spokesperson and a cunning knowledge of people, which I myself lack, unfortunately enough, at least we both shared the tastes of the unknown, such as tomes of lore lost, artifacts and idols of obscure deities, he always had the good heart to share his findings on his travels of business or pleasure, in between sharing his drugging goods, which I have rejected in each offer, as it quite seems I may have dodged a bullet.

Many would wonder why waste time with such useless filler? And I ask, have you seen into my mind? No none have, perhaps Andrew was the only one who could have comprehended what is my current state, my mind is hazy after the observation of the object, alongside what I have done afterwards, but the more I begin to unravel the strange, grey mists that plague my memories, the results show something that may be far more than what I have expected. To resume, I was walking towards my humble abide, the apartment sector was silent that night, few lights, no visible souls on the vicinity, my cigar was one of the few things illuminating the walk, the bulbs on the street lights barely shinning or all together nonoperational. My keys rattled as I opened the gates, and likewise as I opened the door of my home, I noted from above my partner’s car, his yellowing car parked on a slightly crooked position, strange but not unexpected on his current behavior.

That is one of the things I shared with Ruther, the need of perfection, or at least affinity for “doing things right” or as we perceived as right, that Is how he became a charismatic figure, by training his mind in understanding others and using those capabilities on his day to day job, perhaps that is why he sought to relieve his mind with such substances; to see invoke a sense of higher self, but to speculate on such matters seems wasteful, as I noted that he was awaiting me a floor up, apparently having a walk as he waited for me. His brown clothes were slightly ruffled, but nothing notable, he apparently grew a short pencil mustache, his blond hair was badly styled, as he wanted to look presentable but lacked the time.

He greeted me on a slight hesitant tone, before returning to something more approachable, we both entered my abode and began to talk about his travels, apparently he came from the heated jungles of Africa, he opened his briefcase, the trembling on his hands was noticeable as he opened it, he noted the worry on my eyes and began to laugh, falsely. I was surprised at what he gave me, he said that he found a strange artifact, I was puzzled by this, wondering why was he so unlike himself, he quickly dismissed anything I say of that capacity, denying each time or simply ignored.

The “artifact” to my surprise was simply a horizontal artbook, with a cover and a backcover of black leather and plastic rings to arrange the pages. I laughed for a full ten seconds, from what I reckon, Ruther was less than amused as he said that he looked into the art there and desired that I would be more “along these tastes”. He gave the book to me, before taking his jacket and case, ordering me to open the door, exiting the apartment complex in an uncharacteristic hurry, his poor attempt at charm lost, as he seemed almost contemptuous and dare I saw, fearful? Before he left he told me that he has “barely looked into the last page”.

III

To grasp what I found is…to believe in fantasy, I hope the artbook that has done this, is found by the hands of my retainers or at least the local authorities, and properly destroyed. The black, simple leather hides contents that are (as I properly understand), impossible to be replicated by human hands, the only things I can see that could be mortal-made are the 60x60 leather and rings. The texture of the pages was like that of plastic, yet having a consistency far, far more durable than anything I could be able to hold, as such the pages are impossible to rip apart, perhaps with a knife, but my memories until that very moment are hazy and indistinct. The pages themselves are capable of being bent as if made of paper, and carry a similar weightless feel, utterly clashing with their persistent resistance.

The most interesting aspect is that the book had a hundred pages, and each one was formed out of flat cubes, each one colored and the size of a nail’s head, each color a completion of an illustrated image, like a mosaic of unusual composition, each piece was somehow united, I don’t smell any aroma of glue or the like, as if the pieces were like this since their elaboration, the most shocking quality of the artbook’s pages Is the fact that the more the viewer witness it, the…greater the detail that is shown, the more they get closer to appreciate the details, the more “defined” the art becomes, the point of being of it being as if it was a picture, or worse yet, a memory that somehow has been crystalized and brought into our material realm, indeed the realism of such pieces was distracting at best and surrealistically horrific at worst.

That night I recall seeing about twenty out of a hundred of the pages, and each time I noted the “definition” of the pieces augmenting each closer inspection, the more my sweat ran out cold. That night on my humble bed I desired to rest, the memories of the mosaic arts on those alien glossy pages coming back; The very first image was surprising to say the least, the sky was blackened, well what I saw as a sky, with a great array of shinning, glowing dots, almost like sand on a black surface, with enough separation to show the blackness of the sky. On the center, what I can presume the point where the viewer should have his attention, there was a sphere the color of blue with green, white and brown details, being hit and carved as a vast array of rocky fragments impact the ball.

It was earth, it had to be, the more I inspected the “drawing”, the more attention to detail and texture could be seen, even the mosaic of the details could not cover it, as if it was a picture on those tiny flat cubes, yet as I exanimated the specific page from back and forth I could see nothing like an actual photo behind the complex mosaic, it was as if it was contained inside those pages. I shivered as I saw the image was mirrored as I turned the page, the level of detail on the piece was astounding, the sharpness of such a piece of art incomparable, I recall that my thoughts after seeing that first piece were “this is an artifact indeed”, but not out of wonder, but of a dark presentiment.

The second page was just as startling, it was primarily composed of grey, it looked like a gargantuan storing room filled with many humanoid mannequins, alongside an anonymous man inspecting the tall object in front of him, his head on the watch of the humanoid’s own. As I looked further the figure was squared, his joints primarily wheeled, a body that reminded me slightly of a heavy duty anvil or a hammer, a powerful body. The color of this mechanical object was the purest and glossiest of white. His face the shape of a thin rectangle on front of another and a neck similar to that of a cubed gorget. The face is what interested me the most, it looked as if it was made of glass. It was shaped like a four pointed rectangle, the motif of this piece and four pointed objects seemed to be a fascinating artistic choice, but the camera like clarity and texture of the image prevented me from enjoying it further.

The next seemed slightly out of place, a figure that reminded me of a demigod, it was covered in a strange substance of pink or fuchsia, it was gelatinous and bubble filled, the god was very impressive in his design, reminded me of the mythical constructs of centuries old; his body was like that of an orange crystal, his limbs golden and like those of a man, perhaps made out of gold, bronze or brass, his head like that of green or blue fire and two red torches of fire for eyes. It seemed to be on a position of a liberating scream, his limbs expanded like a “X”, I felt I could almost touch the slime with my hands, making me pass the page.

The next page was like the first, shown in the environment of the cosmos; a planet was on the far right, an unseen structure presumably firing at the planet, as we a see a strange cylindrical…blast coming to the black planet, creating a hole that creates cracks of fiery orange consuming it, the world itself was like a window into a caricaturesque hell encapsulated, it was the color of black, with continents the color of crimson, perhaps it was an expression of getting rid of mankind’s inner darkness by the potential of their light.

The next one was a bit more traditional, it lacked the ominousness of the previous ones, it showed another presumed demigod, covered in silvered and gold trimmed plate armor, his expression that of a battlecry, and a thousand or more lightning bolts streaming in the background, a silver and copper hammer on his arm, punching the sky, emanating more thunder from his sides, the man had a close cropped beard and…glasses, which was interesting. The background was the color of sky blue, giving it a heroic edge, I quite liked it, again, the way the details on the composition and the mosaic structure were sublime, I closed over the art and stared at the mosaic’s mote noting that contained some of the detail of the piece on his insides, such impossible detail still dumbfounded me.

I did not desire to go any further, on such an inspection, only looking at the first twenty, prompting myself to see such a number every night, I could not help but feel as if there was more to come, alongside the sensation of not exactly being alone, as if a yet unseen pair of eyes stalking me.

IV

The day at the office was less than pleasing, my hands shook as the feeling of false insolation continued unperturbed, my coworkers noted that I seemed slightly different, my posture no longer with his characteristic slouch, but more firm, as if I desired to run at any moment, and indeed that is true, but to those that said such things I was mostly oblivious to self-examination. I wondered if I was becoming like Ruther, my hands shook slightly and my vision was clearer than the last night, gazing into people or objects in sharper ways than beforehand.

I recalled one of the many notable artistries on the book, as I checked the folders on the cubicle; a sky of green and the ground of volcanic rock, many furred beings bowing before cylindrical, vaguely humanoid machines etched in runes, at the center a taller one wielding from what I could tell it was some sort of crozious or spiked mace, lifting it on the air, on the left and right sides there were titanic statues, one was of a similarly cylindrical shape of many golden, semi-transparent spheres similar to bubbles, the other was that of a surrealist piece, an black cone, the bottom having another cone, inverted, resembling vaguely a diamond, at the point where the two tones meet there was a cluster of horse or goat legs all round forming a ring, at the “chest” of the top cone various spikes formed a similar ring,. At the very top of the cone there were four skeletal goat heads, all looking in different directions. I could not help but shiver as I have seen statues of these things from blasphemous cults, I even have the black-cone-goat’s statue on a far smaller size on my home, gifted by Andrew from his travels.

What was this artbook, why did it possess such an alien constitution, and what where these drawings about? Events of the past? The Thor like figure seemed almost out of place on such a collection, as it depicted things that have been mythologized on earth of less than heroic stuff; such as the dreaded god of the Louisiana swamp cult known as Kahzhulu, or the disgusting, greenish, dog-headed Ghouls who prowled on cemeteries, the squamous children of the ancient Egyptian fish lord Dagon, flying, tentacle headed beasts in the bodies of crustaceans and more. What was the meaning of the planet destroying as well? I asked any of my fellows in any cultural or fictional knowledge on a black and red planet, finding nothing but awkward stares.

As I came to my home I was tempted to go to the last page, almost doing so, but I thankfully stopped myself, the other pieces needed to be examined, analyzed; I invited a close coworker named Ranald Brock, who came to me as he like Ruther and I, had an interest in mysticism, sometimes consulting me on the newspaper at the articles of murderous cults worshipping inhuman gods, trying pin point the exact origin of such horror filled creatures. He like I, was frankly astonished at the materials of the alien mosaics, dumbfounded at such usage of (presumed) plastic, he recognized the sphere statue, calling it “an idol to ‘Umr At-Tawil” and the blackened goat that I possessed on my person as “The fertility goddess, Shub Niggurath”, as we both looked at the pieces I mentioned Brock that my friend Ruther either bought it or took it from Africa, which confused the man, as he mentioned that they were far too primitive for this manner of craft, “Even we couldn’t craft this” I pointed out, this was beyond any artistry that my mind could properly understand, even the most pompous and pretentious of artists would have problem grasping the meaning of these random, ominous art pieces.

With Brock I saw twenty more of the photo like pieces, this time included cities at the technological level of the very early 1900’s trapped inside an impossibly bigger building, one of the three included the city being besieged by barbarians in gray and brass or bronze edged plate, a luminous figure on the reaches of space (which seems to be a reoccurring motif) with many wings and a frankly hard to easily defined physique beyond “vaguely humanoid” by the high glow it emanated, being caressed by a figure that to our shock, seemed to be differently understood to our eyes, to Brock’s he looked like a black figure in pharaoh clothes, illuminated by an aura of white, while I simply saw a mess of multicolored ropes and tendrils forming into a humanoid shape. According to my friend he was “the Black One…the Pharaoh in Black” he seemed to ramble a few seconds with many names including Ahtu, Faceless God and the Dweller in Darkness. To me it seemed to be tempting this…angel like creature, which Brock seemed to agree, even if the visage of such a changing piece disturbed us both. Other paintings included a gold plated figure in chains, his armor having the sculpted visages of screaming humans, his head a black pill like shape, like an inverted candle his petroleum colored face dripped vertically from his face and skull, the “tear drops” forming swords and a hammer.

After finishing with the inspection I gave Brock farewells, I seemed at greater ease than the day before, I slept with my mind filled with incessant voices of my own subconscious, seemingly my own head desiring to ramble on, with alien thoughts that I could barely comprehend including voices of undecipherable gender, whispering gibbering nonsense.

V

I woke up with a feeling of drunkenness, and cold sweat, I realized I was far too late for my job, I wasn’t too worried, I needed to see what was next on the artbook, as I write this I realize this is the moment when things went for the worst, I spent all the day watching the paintings, my movements where beyond feverish, and it took a great amount of willpower just to put on focus on other actions such as drinking coffee or urinating, everything felt so blurry except for the book, I wondered if this was what Andrew felt, I wondered if Brock wanted to come back and take a deeper look alongside me, I decided to refuse him if he came here, he doesn’t need to end up as I am now.

The feeling of stalking permeates even now, I look around the house, all possible windows and I see none, but the feeling of eyes boring behind my back still is as strong as if someone was directly there, breathing and exhaling just a few meters away. I am so surprised that so many of Ruther’s mannerisms are passing to me, perhaps even the blurry vision was one of them, why did he gave me this book instead of destroying it? Was he unable to during his ownership of it? What of simply to get rid of it is the right way to eliminate such visions, dreams and overall freakish symptoms?

I paused my viewing for an hour, thinking what to do next, if to destroy it or simply throw it at the trash was for the better, I only had an hour before my mind was made up, the urge to continue was too strong, the blurriness of my vision and overall exhaustion without it winning over any other decision. The images started to feel even more real the more I began to see them, even looking like windows into alternate realms, almost. I saw the construct-demigod being confronted by a three red eyed shadow that had a glowing outline, touching the demi-god as they were surrounded by the infiniteness of space, the ground a grey, crater filled rock. I saw gigantic machines, vaguely shaped like ships of fantastic construction floating over cuboid cities, all of them the color of grey, and filled with cannons, overseeing the people on the ground as if they were nothing but bugs.

I see a vaguely humanoid shape on a small hallway, a bulb on the top illuminating everything but the creature at the front, who was a shadow, pure, absolute black looking to the side, while his “head” was staring at the viewer. At that point I do not remember any of the events during that blackout, I can only speculate that I was sleeping, I woke up at the couch, the book at the penultimate page. I was drooling and barely conscious, my vision lacked the blurry nature that permeated it, and I took a look at the book, I presumably saw the entirety of the book that same day, but I didn’t remember much of the pieces I saw, just flashes that lacked little sense, so I took the book and I did a flipping through the pages before the penultimate one.

That one was perhaps the most ominous, it lacked any imagery, just text that looked more like runes, I could tell it was along the lines of a hundred or more characters, all written in a red-wine color, the page where this “text” was written a yellowing one. The effect of profundity that the alien art had was still here, the more I stared at it the more it seemed the text floated above an endless yellow background.

Whatever this text was, it was unknown to me, so without any choice and uncomprehending of what I was about to see next I flipped the text-page….

I resume my writing after a few pauses, my heartbeat as fast as a locomotive, my sweat as cold as the day I first saw the Artbook. I may have ignored a warning, a threat that it was safekeeping from any readers that may have been mentally unprepared of it, and when I saw it, I believe that none could be prepared for such madness.

Has the reader ever closed his eyes and swore he saw impossible, indescribable colors on the eyelids? Well the background of this was similar, but plastered into a physical realm, a color that I have no true idea what to call, neither it was brown, or red, purple or anything of my mortal spectrum. It simply was…at the sides I saw blobs of flesh with tentacles, mouths and many other characteristics that fail on words. Some were illuminated, some of this shapes included the multicolored rope-tempter, the goat goddess and the gold orb bearer, many others that were unknown to my eyes where forming a circle, another one was formed inside their own, the creatures were smaller and looked deformed, with disturbing organic looking flutes penetrating from their bodies.

The thing at…the front sat (as much as it could be described as such, words fail me) on a cylindrical, stone looking throne of pure black. The being seated on the alien chair made my eyes itch, his companions likewise, but the sensation was far, far stronger as I looked at the monster at the center, it was gray, bulbous and without a true shape, and then in a few careless blinks

The whole painting moved.

The creature and his horrid companions, moved! Their alien consistencies began to tremble, reconfigurate their bodies, the horrid creatures began to twist and…I don’t know, to put it into words is simply impossible, the depth of the painting was beyond word, like a small door to the infiniteness of the alien colors and the tridimensionality of the abominations, the more I moved my head the more the creatures followed my movements, I was crying, as I began to hear whisperings that were of truths undeniable, things that I will not speak. I turned to my kitchen, intending on silencing these whisperings, they must be coming from the book! I thought, I was dammed when I tried to do so, perhaps a gun would have worked better, but I was no Andrew Ruther, I lacked the monetary means to get a firearm, or the time or place to steal one, as I ran to the couch I noticed that on my hallway that I wasn’t alone…

I witnessed a vaguely humanoid shape on my hallway, the bulb on the top illuminating everything but the creature at the front, who was a shadow, pure, absolute black looking to the side, while his “head” was staring at the viewer. It pointed at me, his very form darkening my vision, it made no sound, I began to charge at it, desiring to finally end the life of my stalker, but the shadow ate my vision, I didn’t close my eyes, the thing shallowed my eyes…I wanted to kill it and destroy the book, perhaps to end myself as well, this could not continue.

VI

There is no more wall to continue writing, there is nothing but a sharpened pencil, which my captors abruptly take as they storm the door. I fall on my knees and weep, as I realize the truth, the creature was…is…

No it couldn’t be, it should not be, but I weep loudly and without shame as I realize what the artbook meant, as it reveals his secrets to the world at large.

It showed events that will be, are, and were.