You are currently browsing the Artifacts & Objects category.
My damnation came in the form of a bottle.
No, not like that.
When I was a child my best friend lived next to a little junkyard. Great place for a kid to hang out, a junkyard. Full of mystery and exciting discoveries, and if you find anything nice nobody minds if you take it, except your parents, obviously. Well, not my friend’s mom. Most of their bowls and plates came from that junkyard. But anyway.
One day a bunch of us were hanging out, dismantling a car. Some of us might have been interested in the parts, I just thought breaking stuff was great. When we’d got the engine strewn everywhere we set to work on the interior. Under one of the seats was a little glass bottle, full of some green, bubbly liquid.
Curiosity trumped hygiene in those days. I uncorked it and sniffed it. The smell was pleasant, minty, a little floral. One kid, Jackie, dared me to drink it. It was a double-dog dare. I had to.
The taste was also pleasant, and it warmed me on the way down. My body was filled with a strange, pleasant tingling. Nothing else happened, not until that night.
First effect, I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t needed sleep since. It’s all right. I get a lot done.
Second effect, a month later. I started to cough things up. I was playing alone in the woods and I hacked up blood. Then there were chunks in the blood. Then I was puking. The entirety of my coiled long intestine came snaking up as I sat there quivering, tears on my cheeks, struggling to breathe, literally puking my guts up. My mouth seemed to unhinge like a snake’s to accommodate my lungs. My heart was on my sleeve. The bloodstain would never have come out if I hadn’t abandoned the clothes I was wearing. The police searched frantically for a missing person, but never found a thing.
I wasn’t empty when I finished, though. New organs built up inside me. I could feel them, I could see them when I closed my eyes, nameless lumps and spirals springing out of nothing.
Third effect. Two months later. I began to crave the water. I can’t possibly describe the feeling of thirsty skin, but it was a desperate thirst. I left my parents’ house one night and walked and walked until I came to a swamp. I moved in. The murky, bug-filled waters feel like home now, as they did all those years ago. I sit under the water, watching the fish and salamanders get eaten by herons, looking at the surface waiting for my prey.
I’m sure you know what the fourth effect was. I’m typing this on the cell-phone of my latest victim. She was delicious. She smelled like fresh melons.
–
Credited to mngamojemo.
Posted 1 year, 4 months ago at 7:24 pm. 104 comments
I’d heard stories of it. Retreat Road down in Cochrane, Alberta. They have a monastery there. Robes and everything. But their real claim to fame is the massive statue of Christ being crucified in the woods. I’ve been there a few times. Walked up the path with all the smaller statues beside the path. There was a baby, a group of people reaching towards Jesus, all those things, finally culminating in this 20-foot tall cross with Jesus hanging from it. What gets a lot of people though, is that Jesus is weeping on the cross. Nobody can seem to figure out why. Weeping is not the action of a Lord and Saviour.
Never.
Unthinkable.
I’ve been a few times during the day. It’s an interesting walk. Even for the Atheist like myself, it is still awe-inspiring. I happened to notice lights though, beneath all the statues. I asked around, and they do light the path up at night. I asked if I could come back then, but they told me the path would be closed. No one would tell me why.
Not one to follow rules, I returned that night, and made my way over the fence and onto the path. As I walked along the winding route to the large statue, I passed the smaller statues. They seemed different. It was the angle the light hit them. The statue of the baby … it’s eyes were all sunken in, and the shadows seemed to make its fingers end in claws. The statue of the people reaching towards Jesus, they looked dead, reaching towards Jesus with the shadows casting a look of horror on his face. Something about them really unsettled me, but it was on a deeper level than just what they depicted now. I reached the statue of Jesus and gazed up at his face. I stood there for what felt like hours, just wondering why he was weeping. What for? What cause?
I heard the whispers and rustling of the trees on all sides of me long before I saw anything. I gazed up at Jesus, looked deep into those stone eyes, and understood.
That night, he was weeping for me.
–
Credited to TheCoffinDancer.
Posted 1 year, 4 months ago at 10:08 am. 116 comments
I gave her the doll on her birthday.
She loved it at first, told me it was so beautiful. That it’s hair was so soft and the dress was so pretty. She wouldn’t let it out of her sight for days. During the day she set it on the table, so she could see it while cleaning the house. During the night it sat next to the bed, looking at us sleep with big blue unmoving eyes.
But my wife’s love for the doll soon changed. Soon I noticed something was bothering here. I asked of course, but she wouldn’t tell me at first, said she was just being silly. But day after day she closed herself more and more for me. Until I couldn’t take it anymore. I pressed her, told her she would tell me what was going on right now or I would drag her to a doctor.
She finally broke and crying words came spilling out.
She then told me it was the doll. It scared her. She told me she had the feeling it was constantly watching her. Sometimes it even seemed like it moved.
This worried me and I went to take a look at the doll.
It sat motionless on the little table in the bedroom. The big blue eyes unchanged. I couldn’t help but sigh from relief a bit. Of course she’s not moving, she couldn’t have been.
I went to turn away, but then saw a tiny movement from the corner of my eye.
I turned back to the doll, picking it up from the table. I held my face close to the doll’s, staring into the eyes.
Something was moving.
I tried to concentrate, tried to look closer.
Yes, there it definately was, movement. But not from the eye itself, it was behind the eye.
Before I could register this the eye burst and out of it spilled at least ten wriggling maggots.
I dropped the doll in shock, backing away instinctively.
My wife yelled from the other room, asking me what was going on. I yelled back at her not to worry. I picked up the doll again, using a tissue to wipe away the maggots. Inside I saw more, pressing against the skin and the plastic outer layer.
So soon already. I had hoped she would have lasted longer.
I will have to get a new one for her, maybe keep it alive at first. That way it’ll last longer for sure.
While I throw away the old doll, I think about how my wife always says she loves the thick blonde curls of little Katie down the block.
Doesn’t she also have blue eyes?
–
Credited to Boudica.
Posted 1 year, 5 months ago at 10:38 am. 86 comments
2AM: I can’t seem to sleep tonight, and writing has always calmed me down. Today has been quite an odd day, It’s been very quiet. Nobody seemed to want to talk today, nobody seemed to want to smile today. I felt different from them, I felt happy. As for why, I am not sure. I seemed to get happier the more I saw them sad, but that’s probably just my mind making things up this late at night. I’m not an evil person. I just want to go to sleep.
3AM: I still can’t go to sleep. All I can seem to do is think of all of the people I saw today. All I can seem to do is think of all the things I did today. All I can seem to do is think about all of the sadness. As for why, I am not sure. I’m not an evil person. I just want to sleep.
4AM: I can’t sleep. I’m so tired, but I’m so awake. I wish somebody was here to tuck me in, to keep me safe. My thoughts are wandering so far that I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to find them again. I feel so different. I feel like I might have caused everybody to be sad today. I feel like I might have done something wrong today. I feel like I might have ended some lives today. As for why, I am not sure. I’m not an evil person. I just want sleep.
5AM: I don’t want to sleep any more. I looked in the mirror. I don’t want to have to wake up ever again. I looked in the mirror. I’m afraid I may have scared people today. I looked in the mirror. I’m afraid I may have been a monster today. I looked in the mirror, and nothing was different. I looked in the mirror, and nothing was the same. I’m afraid of myself. As for why, I am not sure. I’m not an evil person. I just want to die.
6AM: I can’t seem to die. I feel like all I can do is write. I feel like all I can do is breath. I feel like all I can do is live. I can’t seem to die. What’s the point in living? What’s the point in sleeping? What’s the point in waking? I can’t seem to die. As for why, I am not sure. I’m not an evil person. I just want death.
7AM: Every word I write seems to give me more life, and I can’t help but take it. I can’t imagine how I’m living, but the words keep me alive. I can’t imagine how I’m happy, but the words give me strength. I can’t imagine how you’re still reading, it’s you that keeps me alive. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, your death brings me life. You can’t imagine how I’m feeling, I feel so alive. You can’t imagine yourself living, you just want to die. As for why, I am not sure. I’m not an evil person. All I want is to live. All I want is you to die.
Dear Diary,
Thank you for reading.
–
Credited to Sage.
Posted 1 year, 5 months ago at 2:14 am. 61 comments
Hello.
Its nice to finally meet you. Finally? Oh, its uhh.. I’m just overjoyed to have someone to talk to. Oh, I cannot express how happy I am to have this opportunity.
Oh? Why am I so happy? Its really quite simple. The last few years of my life have been torturous. I mean, god… Oh thats a funny saying. God. No loving god would let any of his children go through what I have. But now I have someone to talk to. Oh glorious day!
Oh where to begin? I think it was a day much like this one. I went to the library with some friends to find something to do over the upcoming weekend. We got there just before the library opened and found an hourglass on the stairs. Real ornate looking. Gold encrusted and whatnot. We were pretty bored, so we turned it over, set it down, and got to talking. Few minutes later, the librarian shows up. As it turns out, he showed up at the same instant the last grains of sand ran out of the top chamber.
We didnt find anything at the library, but did have a new hourglass. We spent the rest of the day just hanging out at my place. We talked, enjoying the entertainment the media provides. We figured out the hourglass lasted about forty-five minutes. I cant remember when we did this, but thats about how long. Before it got dark, we went to go for a walk. Nice, leisurely stroll. I remember turning the hourglass over before we left. I mean, not intentionally. We were just playing with it, and I put it down, sand on top. We left. 4.30
One of my friends asked me the time. I remember glancing down to my watch. I was about to say 5.15, but then I heard the screeching of tires. I heard a shriek, and looked up. A car was backing away from us while another of my friends lay crumpled and bleeding in the middle of the road. His neck was clearly broken. We spent the rest of the night at the police station filling out statements. They never caught the driver. Knowing what I know now, I doubt there ever was a driver. Just some car.
Continue Reading…
Posted 1 year, 6 months ago at 7:12 pm. 124 comments
On my eighth birthday, I got a present that would change my life forever. It was a beautiful doll that looked a lot like me. That is why my grandmother bought it for me. I named her Polly. However, days after I got the doll, things began to get weird, but I didn’t notice.
I slowly became unsocial, never having kids over. All I needed was Polly to make me happy. She was my best and only friend. I just went to school, and came home daily. I never bothered to make friends, or talk to teachers. I even stopped trying in school. I had been a perfect student until I got the present. Nobody really noticed, though, so I didn’t mind.
After about a week of having Polly, I stopped eating real food. I just didn’t feel right eating normal food, so I would always go out to the backyard (we lived in a forest area), after telling my mom I wasn’t really hungry that night, and find some woodland creature to hunt and kill for dinner. My mom didn’t notice me not eating much, until week three. She even took me to the doctor a few times, asking about what was wrong with me. The doctor always had the same answer. I was at a healthy weight and was not sick. After our third visit to Dr. Cortez, my mom decided I was fine and just going through a “stage” as she called it.
After a month of having Polly, my mom noticed me sleeping in my closet instead of my usual place: my bed. And when she would come to check on me, not only would I be in the closet, but Polly would be in my bed. I would also sleep with my eyes wide open. My mom just ignored it, also saying it was a “stage”.
Three months later, I got a haircut. I wanted a bob, and that is what I got. The creepy thing was, after I got my haircut, Polly’s hair started to fall out. It only stopped when her hair was exactly like mine. My mom then knew things were not right with the doll, but I would not part with it because Polly was my friend. She was the only one who understood me.
My mom also told me that when she was about to fall asleep, she would find Polly right next to her bed. Polly would stare at her intently. My mom would put her back in my room, but always find Polly in the same spot when she went back to bed. Eventually, my mom ignored it. I now know that Polly was checking to see if my mom was still awake.
Continue Reading…
Posted 1 year, 8 months ago at 3:36 pm. 136 comments
There is rumor of a great palace unfound deep in the deserts in Egypt. A massive complex of four-thousand rooms protects the single most prized possession of ancient Egypt. The Blood Mirror.
It is said every thousand years, a great hero of mankind must make his way down to this mirror, and stand before it in pick blackness at 19:06 June 6th (6/6 - at 6:66) and behold their own death. Their own image appears to slowly distort, screaming a horrible silent scream as their teeth and skin melt away leaving streams of blood to run down the mirror and pool at the bottom.
Gazing into this pool of blood on the other side of the mirror of their own blood will allow them to view the Antichrist’s birthplace, which they will then scream out in horrible screams of pain for an hour and six minutes, before their heart stops.
If the Antichrist isn’t stopped, all of mankind is doomed to an even worse fate.
it has been exactly 940 years from June 6th since this last happened, the next date is 2066, but the location has been lost. The hero will find this place, but we must be there to hear his screams, or we are lost…
06/06/2006
Posted 1 year, 10 months ago at 11:56 am. 76 comments
They say that the olfactory senses (the sense of smell) is the sense closest linked to memory. Go on eBay, or to a high-end antiques dealer. Find an item made a good amount of time before you were born that was hermetically sealed, vacuum packed or tightly packaged in some way. Make sure you are in surroundings of completely neutral smell with little or no wind. Open the package. The smell should hearken back to your collective subconscious or memory of a past life.
If you are successful in choosing the right item, with the right smell, you will have at least a memory flash, or likely a memory flood of years before you were born.
Posted 1 year, 10 months ago at 12:06 am. 49 comments
While honeymooning in Maine, my wife and I stopped in the picturesque town of Boothbay on a particularly dreary and rainy day. Since our planned picnic was out of the question, we sought shelter in a dilapidated little antique store near the harbour. While my wife inspected the large chests and side tables near the door, I eagerly examined the antique tools and seafaring equipment inside the glass sales counter at the back. Being a collector of optics and mariner’s instruments, I hoped to find a sextant, or perhaps an old leather-bound telescope.
A particularly interesting piece caught my eye. It appeared to be a heavy brass flashlight, bearing a worn brown patina but remarkably modern in design. I asked the shopkeeper, but he could only tell me it was found in the same old sailor’s chest as several of the compasses and the sextant also on display. He inquired as to whether I would like to purchase it for five dollars, or perhaps have it for free. “It’s worthless to me, nobody wants it.” When I remarked about the price, he sighed wearily, and then reached into the cabinet and retrieved it for me.
“Here, see for yerself, feller.”
The craftsmanship was wonderful—quite durable and apparently hand-made, perhaps originating from somewhere in Europe. Worn lettering indicated it might be German, or perhaps Austrian, in origin. I twisted the bulb housing and a weak red beam swept out. Poking it into a dark corner of the shop, I was greeted with fantastic monotone swirls, moving and entwining with each other like a pit of eels. As I stared further into this unusual projector-kaleidescope, my fanciful mind invented ghoulish faces and sinuous, gnarled tendrils.
Shutting the device off, I turned excitedly to the shopkeeper. “Fantastic!” I said. “It must have an oil filter of sorts in front of the lens! I have two Victorian kalediscopes, but none that are illuminated like this.”
“You don’t get it, do you? Nobody gets it. They all come back to return it after a while.” The shopkeeper leaned on the counter and I could see that he was breathing heavily and perspiring. “They all think it’s some sort of trick… till they start seeing it when the light’s off.”
“That ain’t no projection, mister. That… damned thing, that light… it ain’t makin’ up those creatures. It’s just lettin’ your eyes see what’s already there.”
Posted 1 year, 11 months ago at 9:15 pm. 74 comments
