Something exists. Something truly and utterly horrifying. The exact nature of this 'something' is entirely unknown, even to myself. I'm unsure of whether it is something from the dawn of time or something wholly new. I'm unsure of its size and power. I'm unsure of just what it even
is, truth be told. So as you read this, remember that. And remember this - At one time, I was not entirely unlike yourself, whoever you may be. Perhaps that's why I'm writing this log of my journey, however it may end? Perhaps, by some strange occurrence, if this should find its way somewhere, to someone as average and unimportant as I had once been, they might learn of this terrible evil, and be able to take precautions against it, if there are any. Hopefully the "gift" this
abomination has cursed me with will aid in its downfall.
Life, for me, had once been simple. An average guy from an average Midwestern town with an average job. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was stuck behind that counter at that damned bank for the rest of my life, despite how many things I wanted to do with my life. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that my relationship had no major issues. And I knew - I knew - without a shadow of a doubt, that the world was unfair and that there could never be any sort of higher power that thought the creation of this horrid earth was "good". And eventually, one after the other, I was proven wrong.
It started shortly after my thirty-sixth birthday. My coworkers held a quick, small party for me before we were scheduled to officially start for the day. It was a nice gesture, and I appreciated it for the rest of the day. Until I was called into the office of Edmund Bigont, our supervisor and the most hated - and feared - man in a ten mile radius of wherever he was at any given moment. Immediately I knew that whatever I was being called in for, it wouldn't be good - Ed's office was never a place where raises or promotions were given out, though most of us thought it was primarily because he was unabashedly racist, particularly in regards to Latinos, and when most of your staff is Hispanic, well... You get the picture.
"Frank," he said once I'd entered, his gruff voice straining through the rock quarry in his throat. "Take a seat."
Meekly, I sat across from him. All four hundred pounds of him seemed to tower over me, despite the fact that he was only of average height. My lips were sewn shut as the fat man ran his pudgy fingers through silver strands of thinning hair. The peppered gray of his small goatee and mustache did its best to hide the hideous scar on his upper right lip - a remnant of his days in the military. For quite some time, we sat there, silently. Many times, I thought to bring up the issue of why I'd been called there, but I knew better than to rush Ed Bigont to do anything. Fat, squeaky clean hands fumbled through folders and with themselves in that silence while I distracted myself by looking at everything and everything in the room.
Models of boats and planes of all sorts adorned the office. Pictures of a happy family sat nearby most of them while a framed plaque sat perfectly center on a shelf, holding various medals earned during some military excursion into a land I knew nothing about. A piece of my mind thought to ask him about some of them - I always did like war stories from whoever had them, even if it was Ol' Edmund.
"Frank, I wanted to thank you for coming in today. I know its been hard for you the past few weeks, what with your mom and all," his voice broke the uncomfortable silence between us.
The floor suddenly seemed very lovely to look at once the topic of my mother was brought up.
"Yeah, its... its been rough."
"I'm sure it hasn't been a very 'happy' birthday to say the least. But that's not what I wanted to talk about."
He paused for a moment before continuing. I think he might've actually been trying to think of how not to be rude.
"You know, its not easy, having this job. I might be your supervisor, but it always falls on me from up high to be the bearer of bad news. Its never really my decision. And I'm the one who catches the blame for it all - don't think I don't know about what some people say about me.
"Fact is, times are tough for everyone. And apparently the higher ups think with your current situation, you're too much of a risk, financially."
My heart didn't just sink. It crashed and burned like the goddamn Hindenburg. As much as I hated the job, as much as I absolutely detested some of the people who came in, demanding I give them money they don't have, this was the only thing keeping myself and Maria afloat. And now some faceless suit in an office was getting rid of me solely because my mother had passed.
"What are you saying," I stupidly asked.
"Dammit, Frank, you're not making this easy. Now listen, I fought tooth and nail against this - Lord knows you're the best one out there. People above me want you gone. I don't know why, they just do. I bought you some time, but honestly, I don't think they'll change their mind. So, I want you to take my two weeks paid vacation and just do whatever."
For a while, I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. Edmund Bigont, the most vile man I've ever known, wasn't just being kind to me, he was actively trying to help. Staring at him, my mind couldn't quite process the information he'd thrown at me.
"Uh... Thanks," I uttered after a moment. "Thanks a lot, Ed. I'll, uh... I'll get right on that."
As I stood to leave, Ed stopped me.
"Oh there's one more thing," he said. I fell back into my seat gently.
"Yeah?"
"Not sure why, but someone left this envelope for you. Strangest thing I ever did see."
The tan paper of the envelope stood out against the dark hues of the office. Curiously, I reached out, taking it from the older man. The paper felt, looked, and even smelled old.
"Thanks?" I questioned, unsure of just what to expect from an envelope that looked like it came from the eighteen hundreds.
"Its not a problem. Just head home for today and take it easy, alright?"
"Yeah, I'll go ahead and do that. Thanks again, Ed."
After leaving the office, my mind was more on the envelope than on the impending termination of my job. I felt the textured parchment between my fingers, eyeing the seal used to keep it shut, wondering who in their right mind still sent letters like this, and why, of all places, did they leave it for me at my job? Turning it over in my hand, I noticed the front of the letter had a strange symbol on it, one I'd never seen before but held an air of familiarity about it. A jagged triangle in the center of the paper, with an eye at the very center of the triangle. A chilling sensation ran down my spine once my eyes were laid upon the symbol. Something about it unnerved me to the very bone.
Wasting no time and throwing my caution and silly feelings of dread to the wind, I opened the envelope, an action I regret to this day. There was only a single piece of paper within the envelope as well as an object I couldn't quite glimpse. The paper was easily removed. Once it was out of the way, I turned the envelope on its head, letting whatever the object was inside roll out onto my open palm.
The cool feeling of it resting in my palm as soothing and calming, and a strange sense of Deja Vu came upon me as I looked at the object in my hand. Lying there, still as could be, was a single, silver and black ring, with the most unusual carvings on it. the head of the ring was the most strange - an eye surrounded by jagged shapes reminiscent of teeth or flames. Holding it up to the light, I found myself becoming lost in the ring before finally placing it in my pocket and looking at the paper that had been inside. It was folded only once, but the paper was so coarse and rigid, it was as if it had been in there for ages.
Once it was open, I read only three handwritten words and a set of initials.
Keep it safe - T.E.
