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October 31, 2012 at 10:00 AM
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There exists a curious legend among the people of South Africa. Although somewhat obscure now, it was prevalent during the late 19th Century colonisation of Africa which saw the construction of railways across the countryside for the transport of workers. This is the legend of the witch trains – ordinary-looking trains, but staffed by the debased servants of a powerful being generally thought to be a witch, or sometimes even thought to be multiple witches. These trains would appear to people travelling alone at night in the countryside and take them aboard, never to be seen again. This was far from the full extent of the machinations of the being that controlled the trains, who will henceforth be referred to as the Witch, but more on that later. Although the activity of the Witch and Her trains has subsided as of late, there is one witch train still roaming, still waiting to return to the Witch’s house.

Seeking out this train is difficult and will take some time; the rails themselves are not mapped so prepare a rucksack for a long day’s journey – and to carry what you will be bringing back. On the first or last day of any month – this is most conducive to the likelihood of the rails appearing – travel by any means to the town of Karasburg in South Africa. When the sun has gone down, begin walking in any direction between north and north-east of the town. It may be advisable to prepare some sort of self-protective gear for travelling the South African countryside at night, but be warned that, once you reach your destination, whatever protective items or weapons you may bring will not be of any use against what you will encounter there.

Keep walking until you find a railroad track. Inspect it carefully to ensure that it is not merely an ordinary track. The track you are looking for will be in excellent condition, and if you look closely, the ground beneath the track will be completely undisturbed – there should be no difference between ground beneath the track and nearby uncovered ground. Walk in either direction along the track. It should take no longer than an hour for you to reach the station.

In stark contrast to the track, the station is a hovel. You will find the few small buildings completely deserted, and all but one have been burnt to the ground. The one that remains standing is a blackened, rickety, wooden shack, though the single front door appears brand new. A sign nailed to it reads,
In older days this station would have actually had staff – the station hadn’t been burned, either. The witch trains didn’t just stop abducting people of their own volition. The train you are looking for will stop here for you soon, but to make proper use of it you need something from the staff room. No matter what you try, the door will not open for you, but fortunately the Witch gave no special treatment to the walls, trusting them by themselves, along with Her staff, to keep intruders out. They are badly burned and worn. A good kicking at any wall should provide an entrance. The staff room is completely bare, save for a few equipment closets along the walls. Search them thoroughly. Most will contain generic, 19th Century mechanical equipment not worth taking, but one will contain a silver control rod for a gearbox. This control rod will be easy to find – it glows, yet curiously it provides no illumination for anything at all save for itself, no matter how dark the environment is. This is what you need. Take it and wait outside. Now wait, however long it takes. Eventually, you will see the decrepit old passenger train come trundling to a stop in front of you.

A train attendant will open the door for you. This train unusually employs both white and black workers, but regardless of his skin colour he will wear an extremely worn and filthy train staff uniform. He will stare at you with decidedly vacant eyes for a moment, and you will very likely feel a sudden, acute sense of discomfort. You would be right to feel this way – the stare is intense, yet there is no-one behind those dull eyes. The man will then say one word:
The tone will sound odd – as a statement, yet there will be the faintest hint of a query in the sound of it. This is because the man’s speech is meant to be a query. In the past, this man and his fellow staff would, upon stopping and opening the doors for them, ask unfortunate travellers of the South African countryside,
“Single, or return?”

If you were to answer the attendant with “return,” you would be taken on the train and ferried a fair distance along the countryside before being brutally beaten by the train staff and thrown off. This is the same for any others who would have been encountered by this train. Any other answer will simply result in him repeating his question until you give one of the expected answers. The other expected answer you can give is, of course, “single,” however, fortunately for you, the train and its staff no longer have the means to carry out their programmed response to this answer. This is why that part of their dialogue has been removed from their usual protocol. If you answer with this, the attendant will simply stare at you and do nothing until you give another response.

This is where the control rod you have comes in. Without saying a word, produce it and hand it to the attendant. His face will not have any reaction to this, but I can assure you that if he had even the remotest capacity for emotion, he would be profoundly relieved to see it. He will silently take the rod and then step off the train to walk briskly over to the conductor’s car. When he does this, simply climb aboard the train and close the door; nobody will hinder you now, and the attendant will not return to this car. It is a standard passenger car, with rows of wooden seats along the walls, everything thickly coated in dust and worn by centuries of age and neglect. The doors to the other cars, as well as the windows, are boarded up. You must spend the whole journey here, but worry not. It is a short trip, and there is nothing you need to see outside the windows anyway. Sit and wait, you will soon feel the train start to move.

The journey will be short, however, it is unlike any other you have ever taken – the train crosses more than just land, indeed, it crosses more than space, but let’s not dwell on that for now. You will not feel anything during the transition, nor will you feel anything when the train arrives at the destination, however, it is extremely important that you do not open the door until you are absolutely certain that the train has arrived – the transition is lethal to unprotected human life. To tell if the train has arrived, first wait ten minutes – this is the longest it will take to enter the transition – then periodically tap the boarded up window with your finger. A hollow knocking sound will indicate that you have arrived, whereas if your finger produces a dull thud, as if you are tapping against a completely solid object, you have not arrived yet. Disembark as soon as you are sure the train has reached its destination.

As you step off the train you will find yourself on a barren, rocky plain, surrounded by a thick mist. Probably the first thing you’ll notice the large number of rotting human bones scattered across the area. The Witch, in its activities in Earth, made a large number of servants. It also made a large number of enemies. The bones that profane the grounds here belong to both camps. The battle that made such a necropolis of this place is also the reason for the abrupt disappearance of the witch trains and new reports of them. A short distance away, not obscured by the mist, you will see a dilapidated church of white stone. Staying close to the edge of the fog but being very careful not to lose sight of the church, make your way there.

This part is important – you must keep a close eye on the church, for you will soon see a small crowd emerge from it and start approaching the train. These are more of Her servants. As soon as you see them, immediately run into the fog as far as you dare but do NOT lose sight of the church – this place is not a natural part of our world, and consequently the geometry of the land is abnormal. If you proceed in what may seem like a straight line too far into the fog, reversing your direction will not bring you back, and in this way it is far too easy to become hopelessly lost there, so do not lose sight of the church! Wait in the fog as the servants go past. They all wear the same, worn out train staff uniforms, and they all wear the same, utterly vacant expressions on their faces. Don’t let this fool you though; if they catch you trespassing on Her land they will tear you apart with a fanaticism and strength no human could match. Once they reach the train, they will stay there – this is the first time it has been here in over a century. Proceed to the church at this point, but stay close to the fog just in case.

Approach the white church and take note of the damage. The walls are adorned in scorch marks and bullet holes. More of the skeletons of the Witch’s servants and enemies surround the church and are scattered amongst the floors and aisles of the nave inside, as you will see through the blasted front doors. You won’t end up like these skeletons at this point; all of the Witch’s servants in this place have gone to the train and will stay there. The people who attacked this place made sure to destroy the Witch’s means of re-entering our world, such as the train and the control rod for activating the transition, so Her servants will be hard at work investigating the train you have brought here. But don’t worry, if you do this correctly, you should be able to return back with the train and control rod before the Witch can make use of them once more.

Enter the church and proceed through the nave to the doors behind the altar. Muster up your courage and determination here, and perhaps prepare something like a rag to cover your face with. The reports I have on this church do not indicate a good ventilation of the next hallway. When you are ready, enter.

The dim light of the hallway will illuminate the carpet of half-decayed corpses across the floor. On the walls you will see the sources of these dim lights; small globes wired into the distended mouths of rows of mutilated heads attached to bizarre machinery set into the walls. Unlike the previous areas, most of these bodies belong to Her enemies, not servants, ambushed and slaughtered here when they tried to make their way to confront the Witch Herself. Walk as quickly as you can through this hall while being careful not to trip, there is certainly no need to take your time here. You may notice that a few of the light globes are dark. Consider the bearers of those lights extremely lucky, for the truth is that these light globes are powered by the electrical signals in the brains of these heads, kept alive by the arcane machinery that supports them. Try not to dwell too much on their fates, you should save your mental fortitude for the trials ahead, And don’t attempt to turn any more of these lights off – the Witch is coming very soon, and if you do not escape, many more people in our world, including you, will end up like this.

My information on this place is based on the accounts of the few who attacked it over a century ago and managed to escape. Thus, I can’t give details on what you will find beyond this forsaken hallway, but I know that among the things here you should find a library, a door of the same luminous silver of the train’s control rod, with a crucifix set into it, and a pool of blood. Avoid the door for now, and the pool of blood at all costs. Instead enter the library. Most of the books here are worthless, except for one set, which should be the centrepiece of the library. Though these ancient books are penned in Hebrew, their place is marked by a sign in English reading “The Annals of the Connexion of the Thrones of God,” or simply “The Annals of the Connexion.” In layman’s terms, this odd phrase refers, essentially, to telepathy. These are what you are looking for.

Before the end of your journey you, one way or another, will be able to read Hebrew, and many other languages. However, it is advisable that you use your discretion in reading these books should you ever so choose. Aside from instruction on the creation and control of the servants that the Witch uses, these books talk about the precise nature and origins of the Connexion of the Thrones of God, the universe, of God and the other deities of the universe. It also details the origin of our species, and what we are to these beings. These things are explained in as much detail as the human mind, or the mind of any other being of this dimension, is capable of conceiving, and it is reported that an alarming majority of those who have read these texts were unable to reconcile themselves with the bleak truth of our existence, and would suffer insanity or depression at the least, often committing suicide. Carefully consider your life and outlook before you seek the knowledge in these texts.

The other copies of these books were destroyed a long time ago by the Witch, as well as others like her, along with most of the people in the world who naturally had the telepathic Connexion. These people made up a large part of the Witch’s enemies who attacked her here. Take these books and leave now – it will not be long before the Witch emerges from Her slumber, yet there is one more sacrifice you must make to facilitate your escape. Find the room with the silver, crucifix-set door, and steel yourself, for this will not be pleasant. Open the door.

The room is pitch black, but you can clearly see the machinery surrounding the chained, furiously screaming man inside, all of it in the same silver of the non-illuminating glow. Try to find something to hold onto as this man, cut off for so long, forces his mind upon you. Your head will feel as if it is being squashed like a balloon to the bursting point as the last man with the Connexion transfers it to you. It will feel like years, but it will only take seconds before it is done. The man will thankfully die from the strain, making him one less person left behind on your conscience. You will want to take time to process all this, as the knowledge and outright changes to your brain will be unimaginable, but you don’t have a moment, you must run now. If you pass the pool of blood on your way out, you will notice that it is bubbling. The Witch is emerging. Run to the hallway, and prepare yourself for the hardest part.

This hallway was created for the Connected when they attacked this place. All the people now set into the walls have been subjected to unthinkable horrors before being forced inside their minds by destruction of all five of their senses. But with the Connexion you will, upon entering the hallway, feel all of their ghastly thoughts inside your mind. This is why the Witch did this – to weaken the Connected at this hallway with the tormented thoughts of these people so as to defeat them more easily. As hard as it will be, you must focus yourself on running through this hallway. Once you are out, you will be fine, but you must get out quickly.

Get to the train, where Her servants will still be. As long as She is not nearby, you can now use the Connexion to force your will upon them, preventing them from attacking you, but not for long. Quickly enter the conductor’s car on the train, and use your will on the control rod in the same way to make your escape from this place.

If you successfully escape, what you do with your newfound talents and books is entirely up to you. As mentioned before, you now have the capability to read the Hebrew language of the Annals, and other languages. There are many people who will offer incredible sums of money for the Annals of the Connexion, as well as unthinkable gifts, many of which will sicken you with their degradations. Many more people will hunt you for the Annals, as well as for simply what you now are. Most likely, you are not able to predict what you will do, as you will surely be a completely different person at the end of this journey, so at the very least you should hope that you can adapt to your new life quickly enough before it can overwhelm you.

Credit To: corpulent

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Tomino’s Hell

October 26, 2012 at 12:00 PM
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This is popular Japanese story is about a poem called “Tomino’s Hell.” They say that you should only read with your mind, and never out loud. If you were to read it out loud, then you must take responsibility for your actions.”Tomino’s Hell” (トミノの地獄) is written by Yomota Inuhiko (四方田 犬彦) in a book called “The Heart is Like a Rolling Stone” (心は転がる石のように), And was included in Saizo Yaso’s (西條 八十) 27th collection of poems in 1919. It’s not sure how this rumor started, but there’s only a warning that “If you read this poem out loud, tragic things (凶事) will happen.” It just looks like a curse.

It asks to not compare this with the common “You’ll grow taller” or even “My parents died.” Do you get a sense of how dangerous this is?

This story used to be very popular in 2ch, and there were many people taking pictures and videos as proof and posting them on 2ch. There were many users that said that nothing happened, but there were also many posts that didn’t have the user come back to post the results. I think it’s scarier than someone posting that someone else got sick or that someone else passed away. But if you were to read it out loud, it’s better to read it in Japanese rather than the translation.

Tomino no Jigoku (Tomino’s Hell)


Saijo Yaso



ane wa chi wo haku, imoto wa hihaku,

His older sister vomited blood, his younger sister vomited fire,


可愛いトミノは 宝玉(たま)を吐く。

kawaii tomino wa tama wo haku

And the cute Tomino vomited glass beads.



hitori jihoku ni ochiyuku tomino,

Tomino fell into Hell alone,



jigoku kurayami hana mo naki.

Hell is wrapped in darkness and even the flowers don’t bloom.



muchi de tataku wa tomino no aneka,

Is the person with the whip Tomino’s older sister,


鞭の朱総(しゅぶさ)が 気にかかる。

muchi no shubusa ga ki ni kakaru.

I wonder who the whip’s shubusa(?) is.



tatake yatataki yare tataka zutotemo,

Hit, hit, without hitting,



mugen jigoku wa hitotsu michi.

Familiar Hell’s one road.



kurai jigoku e anai wo tanomu,

Would you lead him to the dark Hell,



kane no hitsu ni, uguisu ni.

To the sheep of gold, to the bush warbler.



kawa no fukuro ni yaikura hodoireyo,

I wonder how much he put into the leather pocket,



mugen jigoku no tabishitaku.

For the preparation of the journey in the familiar Hell.


春が 来て候(そろ)林に谿(たに)に、

haru ga kitesoru hayashi ni tani ni,

Spring is coming even in the forest and the steam,



kurai jigoku tanina namagari.

Even in the steam of the dark Hell.



kagoni yauguisu, kuruma ni yahitsuji,

The bush arbler in the birdcage, the sheep in the wagon,



kawaii tomino no me niya namida.

Tears in the eyes of cute Tomino.



nakeyo, uguisu, hayashi no ame ni

Cry, bush warbler, toward the raining forest


妹恋しと 声かぎり。

imouto koishi to koe ga giri.

He shouts that he misses his little sister.



nakeba kodama ga jigoku ni hibiki,

The crying echo reverberates throughout Hell,



kitsunebotan no hana ga saku.

The fox penoy blooms.



jigoku nanayama nanatani meguru,

Circling around Hell’s seven mountains and seven streams,



kawaii tomino no hitoritabi.

The lonely journey of cute Tomino.


地獄ござらばもて 来てたもれ、

jigoku gozarabamo de kitetamore,

If they’re in Hell bring them to me,



hari no oyama no tomebari wo.

The needle of the graves.



akai tomehari date niwa sasanu,

I won’t pierce with the red needle,



kawaii tomino no mejirushini.

In the milestones of little Tomino.

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The Power of Gods IV

October 26, 2012 at 12:00 AM
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Dear Anonymous,
I have received your answer and am glad you have shown interest. I know that the process seems daunting, but the opportunity that I have given to you is worth the risk.

I have outlined the instructions below, as promised. Follow each step precisely, and the power you seek will be yours. But first, I’m giving you a little background info that pertains to your task.

In Hindu mythology, there were great wars waged between the devas (gods) and the asuras (demons). Maintaining order and peace became impossible because the tide of power was in a constant flux. The devas and asuras would do tapas, which are practices that involved giving up pleasure in order to obtain siddhis, powers such as strength or invisibility.

Tapas usually involved menial tasks like yoga, fasting, tantras, meditation and the like. While the devas were more devoted to practicing tapas as a form of enlightenment, asuras would perform them long enough to obtain a siddhi and then abruptly stop.

Sukra, the teacher of the asuras, gave the asuras knowledge of different tapas and rituals to grow more powerful. Eventually, he was able to give them invincibility. The devas lost battle after battle against the asuras, and faced extinction. However, under the guidance of Vishnu, the Supreme, they were able to obtain the drink of immortality and defeat the asuras. Now, you may wonder why I told you this little tidbit of myth.

The asuras are real, and you’re going to perform a tapa to get a siddhi from them.

I have a few things to note before I start. You’re not going to be doing the upward dog on a yoga mat or chanting hymns. These tapas have more…exciting requirements that may repel those with weak hearts. This power is not meant for the meek.

Second, as I have stated earlier, the asuras were defeated in many of the great wars. While many died, some of the more powerful asuras are still alive. They are weaker than when they waged war on the devas, so their siddhis are much more accessible. You will attempt to gain a siddhi from one of them.

Finally, a word of caution; there is no turning back after the tapa. You may leave and forget everything – the power, the tapa, and this letter – before the tapa begins. Once initiated, the tapa cannot be stopped. You will either finish the tapa or die. This is not a threat from me, but a warning of what you will face once the tapa begins.

Now that you have been properly informed, please feel free to read on.

Your first step is to go to a local jeweler or charm shop to find a symbol of a snake. This can be an actual snake or just a fang. The symbol can be on a ring, bracelet, necklace – any accessory that can be worn. You will need to keep it on to begin the tapa.

Once you have found a suitable accessory, roam the streets until you come across a peculiar shop that you never noticed before. It’s a small, windowless establishment with a black snake on the door. A small peephole outlined in red will be above it.

Knock twice and hold your accessory, with the snake symbol visible, to the peephole. After a brief moment, the door will open and you will be greeted by a small, elderly women in gray robes. Return her greeting by saying “Namaste” and bowing slightly. If done correctly, she will usher you inside.

The woman will seat you at a large wooden table, and then sit across from you. Do not be fooled by her frail appearance – she is a rakshasa, a guardian of the asuras. If you show her weakness, she will either kill you or drive you insane to the point of suicide.

Do not tell her anything about yourself. She will trick you into reminiscing on a past memory or dropping a hint of the slightest insecurity. Her innocent small talk is an attempt to pry the fear from you, but you must not give her a single detail.

If she offers you food or drink, do not take it. If you start to feel tired and she offers you a bed, refuse. If she begs or pleads with you, ignore her. She will even shapeshift into hideous, monstrous forms to scare you. Do not show fear and do not scream.

Soon, she will know that you are serious and will ask about your purpose. Muster as much confidence as you can and say “I ask to be granted a siddhi from one of your asura masters.”

Afterwards she will guide to a large metallic door, inscribed with Sanskrit words. These are shamanic spells that are designed to keep you inside. This door is the final step before the tapa begins. At this point, you can still leave the shop unscathed. The rakshasa will not follow or impede you, as long as you make your decision quickly. If you choose to begin the tapa, she will wait for you to enter before closing the door behind you. Now the tapa will begin.

Inside the room you will find several things. There will be a small table in the corner. On the table you will find a crooked dagger and a small bowl filled with water. A single drop of water will fall from the ceiling and into the bowl on a regular basis. And you may also notice the man that is bound and gagged in the middle of the room.

Take the dagger and sit across from the man. Wait patiently until you hear a drop fall into the bowl, and then cut him once. Be careful how deep or precise the cut is. I recommend cutting his arms or legs, away from any veins. Do not mind if he squirms or yells while you wait for the sound of another drop of water.

Then you must cut yourself.

The tapa you are performing shows two points: that you can bear pain like an asura and revel in the pleasure of harming another being. In order to gain the siddhi of an asura, you must prove that you can act like one.

You must perform this tapa exactly fifty times; twenty-five cuts for both you and the man, with each cut getting slightly deeper than the last. Be careful with your cuts. You must make sure that neither of you bleed out before the last slice of the dagger. If you and the man survive, then you will notice significant changes on the last cut.

All of your wounds will quickly begin to close, and you will feel energetic and active. You may feel the need to prolong the man’s suffering, but you must kill him; these urges are common but can be controlled.

You’ll be strong enough now to completely crush the metallic door and let yourself out. Do not be surprised if the rakshasa bows to you as you leave.
Your body temperature will become higher than the average person, to the point where others will think you’re running a fever. But you will discover that you will not contract any sickness ever again and that you age slower and live longer than most humans do.

You may want to consider changing states after a few decades – people will start to ask questions about an eighty year old that looks twenty. You may not want to bother with a family, either. This power is not genetic, and they may grow suspicious of your youthful appearance or die long before you do.

I hope that you will enjoy your new found power. But do not meddle with the humans for too long.

Your brothers await you in the afterlife.


Credit To: CreeyGuru

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A Parent’s Love

October 15, 2012 at 6:00 AM
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We were all there that day. The day they released him. Me and Kent, Bonnie and Simon, Nora and Anthony, Dustin and Patrick, and Darlene. We didn’t bring the kids. I think it was Nora’s idea to leave them at home. And it was Patrick’s idea to go watch the release. Chad Lamb strode from the prison, wearing the smirk that had won us over six long years ago. He stopped at the gate, spotting us. Dustin waved. Darlene raised a finger to her throat and slowly dragged it across in the classic execution motion. Lamb scowled, exited the gate, and turned west, heading for the bus stop. There was an empty lot across from the prison where we waited by our cars. Lamb, I was happy to see, continuously checked over his shoulder as we watched him walk away. He wasn’t afraid, but he was cautious. When he disappeared from view, Nora said flatly, “It’s time. We need to go to her now.”

Three years ago, the kids had started having nightmares. They woke up crying, but would refuse to say why. They’d started making up excuse to avoid going to school. And they’d reacted with fear around Mr. Lamb, their charming, engaging new teacher. Finally, over the summer, Patrick and Dustin had taken their adopted daughter Yuan to a consular, who’d convinced her to open up. Lamb had touched her. Had touched several other students. With a little more pressing, Yuan gave a few more names. Dustin and Patrick had gone to their parents, gone to us. It was hard. I didn’t want to believe it, but Stan had been so scared. He’d evaded us, refused to answer the questions at first, but finally broke down. He’d been convinced he’d get in trouble. So had Violet, Eddie, and the twins Tyler and Beatrice. Lamb had done a real number on them. The police had been wonderful. Slowly, gradually, the children built up their courage to testify. My stomach twisted as I recalled Violet breaking down in tears on the stand in court. Poor, sweet Violet. Then again, Violet wasn’t sweet anymore. She went from a shy, helpless seven year old victim to a ten year old black belt with a mean streak. Six year old Kayla had the meanest, toughest sister in school. If only Beatrice had been so strong. Once again, I thanked God it hadn’t been my Stan. Then felt horrible for the thought. I heard the car stop, and looked up. We were in front of her shop. I could see the other parents waiting in front of the emerald door. “Come on.” Kent said wearily. “She hates it when we’re late for our appointments.”

The shop was crowded with books, animal bones, statues of gods and fairies, strings of strange plants, and several ancient weapons. The glass counter at the back separated the public shop from the private meeting room. Darlene trudged to the counter and hit the bell once. A black curtain, emblazoned with purple eyes, was pulled aside, revealing Coda. “Heya parentals! Today’s the day, ain’t it!” Coda was always cheerful, no matter what. He had long, sharp teeth, and nails to match, with eyes as yellow as candle flames. If I’d cared, I might have wondered what he was. The boy wasn’t human. She had confirmed that. “I’ll get The Bone Woman, ‘kay?” Coda offered, disappearing back behind the curtain. “Come on!” He called, and we followed. As we always had. Nora had found her. I never asked how. The Bone Woman’s might had been proven to me, and her effectiveness was all that mattered to me. We each took our usual seats around The Bone Woman’s table, and waited. Eventually, Coda returned, leading his master by the hand. The Bone Woman’s glass eyes gazed sightlessly over us as Coda gently helped her into her massive, throne like armchair. She had a thick book, bound in a shining white material. We’d seen the book before. She’d shown it to us the first time we’d visited her. The Caligo Veneficus. The Darkest Magic. One of only thirteen in the world. Bound in the flesh of a murdered priest, the stitching done in human hair, taken from a mother who died in childbirth, and the ink it was written in mixed with the blood of a hanged man. “Are you sure?” She asked, breaking the silence. “We’re sure.” We said in unison. She nodded grimly, flipping the book open to a page near the center. The Iratus Motuus. The Angry Dead. Nora and Anthony looked grim and determined. Bonnie put her hand on Nora’s shoulder. “Are you sure, honey? Completely sure?”

“This is the only way to put things right.” Anthony said, and Nora nodded. The Bone Woman shooed Coda away. “I will need the item.” She said as he left. Nora reached into her pocket, and removed a silver necklace. A heart shaped chunk of aquamarine winked cheerfully in the fire and candle light. Anthony swallowed, tears in his eyes, as soon as he saw the necklace. I remembered that necklace. Beatrice’s favorite. She’d been wearing it even when they found her in her room, hanged by her belt. A news article proclaiming Chad Lamb’s coming release from prison clutched in her hand. Nora regretfully handed the jewelry to The Bone Woman. The shaman took it, inspected it, and nodded. “Her soul has left a mark upon this object. It will work. It will call to her.” Coda came back, holding several bottles, cans, and herbs. He dropped these unceremoniously onto the table, and then turned to a shelf in the room, fetching a brass pot from it. He set this on the table too, and vanished again.

As we watched in silence, The Bone Woman went to work. She seemed to not need eyes to identify what was what. She seized a decanter of dark, red wine, pouring it into the pot, and began to chant. Three yellow rose blossoms, a pinch of salt, seven rabbit bones, a lock of red human hair, a handful of grave yard dirt, snake fangs, on and on and on. The brew began to smoke and steam without being boiled, and The Bone Woman’s chanting grew faster and louder. I heard Beatrice’s name sprinkled in the foreign chant. Lamb’s name as well. Finally, she reached the finally stage of it. “Arise, my child, arise, arise, arise! Your killer now walks free, and justice has done not its duty. The time of justice is gone, now comes vengeance. Arise, my child, arise, arise, arise!” There was a burst of sound, and lavender smoke poured from the pot, filling the room and blinding us. A tortured, horrified scream split the air.

The smoke cleared, and The Bone Woman looked at us gravely. “It is done. She shall be waiting for you at the agreed upon place. Go to her. But, Nora, Anthony, be warned. This is not your daughter. This is an instrument of revenge and unholy justice. Remember that.”

The coffin stank. And the body was disgusting. Why did she get this gig? She’d wanted a fresh corpse. The body slowly reassembled, stitching itself back together via the Shamaness’ dark magic. The Bone Woman. Ah. Her. One of the strongest. Soon, the hands were fully reformed, and she’d slammed upwards, tearing open the coffin’s cherry wood lid. She pushed up, up, up, through the soft, icy Earth, and into the midnight air. The throat fixed itself, and she gulped down oxygen. She didn’t need it, but it felt nice for the body. She pulled herself up, settling her feet on the frosty grass. She knew where to go. She rolled her still repairing shoulders, and walked. Heading for the iron gates, down the dirt road, towards an abandoned barn that her master had ordered her to proceed to. “They, shall, be, waiting.” He rumbled.

The white dress was tattered, torn, the lace slightly yellowed. She’d lost a shoe on the trip up, and the another on the walk down the hill the grave was on. It was two hours to the barn, and the legs were stiff. The arms swung limping, the feet shuffling and shambling. It grew to be too much effort to keep the mouth closed, and she let it fall open, the tongue lolling out. She felt restless. She wanted to rip, tear, kill, devour. She wanted to get the job over with and go home to the fiery, sulfur-scented fields of home. The crumbling barn appeared, and she vaguely spotted several cars parked. She grimaced. Damn. Late. As she approached, she heard shouting. “The damn witch cheated us! Nothing’s here! God damn it Nora, how could you—“ She got to the door, reached up, and ripped it open. Nine living humans looked over at her, startled. One of them took a hesitant step forward. “Be-Beatrice?” The human whispered. She said nothing. Only a raspy moan for an answer.

The human drew back, gathering together, whispering. “What did she say for us to do?”

“Uh…We send her to Lamb, I think. Yeah.”

“Okay, okay.” They broke apart, and another one approached. “Es…es vos iratus…mortuus?” He fumbled out uncertainly. His Latin was awful, but she nodded once. She pulled back the blackened lips, showing the sharp teeth granted by the spell. She held up the hands, the black, claw like nails casting shadows. She gave another raspy, hungry moan, and one of the humans burst into tears. “Send her away, send her away.” She wailed. The one before her pointed back out into the night. “Chad Lamb.” He said firmly. “5831 Carmen Lane. Soon. Within a week. Understood?” She nodded, moaned, and turned, shambling away. Some instinct, evolved from the earliest days of her people, led her back outside, towards town. She did not run. She had time. So much time.

She took back roads, moving like a shadow through trees and backyards, quickly approaching Lamb’s house. She got hungrier with every step. She needed to eat! Good, she was sure the nose was picking up his scent. Finally, thank you high dark master, there was the house. There was her meal.

Chad was still up. On his computer, surfing his ‘special’ sites. Thank God that the American government still hadn’t started monitoring what registered sex offenders looked up on the web. He was so engrossed in a newly posted video, that he didn’t hear the back door open. Nor did he hear the sound of dirty, cold feet padded across his kitchen floor, through his front hall, up his stairs, down his hall, stopping in front of his closed office. He did finally hear the office door open, and looked up. “WHAT IN THE HELL??!!” Beatrice Mastin was standing in his doorway, standing in at him with puffy, sticky eyes. She smiled at him, her dirt stained fangs filling her mouth. She shuffled through the door, holding out her arms, curling her claws in and out. Chad fell off his chair, his pants around his ankles, scrambling backwards, until her ran into the far wall. Beatrice reached him, and stopped, staring down at him.

The girl, from far away in another world, asked her to say something, and she complied. After all, fear made the meat taste better. “I’m hungry, Mr. Lamb.” The man’s screams were almost as sweet as his skin.

Credit To: I live in your closet

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October 10, 2012 at 6:00 PM
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If you wait at any given train station on a certain date, a train will appear that isn’t on any schedule. If you board the train you will find that the interior, regardless of the battered exterior, will be very elegant and old fashioned.

Have a seat and enjoy the train ride. The steam engine is beautiful: plush seats, exotic decor, gorgeous windows and elegant color schemes.

The crew are refined and very eager to please. The ticket takers engage you in conversation. Every half an hour or so, a waiter comes by to offer you the most select dishes.

The landscape rushing by outside is incredibly lush and lovely. Lakes and mountains, deep forests and pristine beaches. Don’t try to recognize any of it. Not a single tree or peak or grain of sand corresponds to any known geography.

You are not alone. The train is full of passengers. Some are dressed like you; some are in clothing you recognize as ceremonial and foreign; a few are dressed very elegantly, in luxurious fashions as least one hundred and fifty years out of date. Others sport fashions you do not recognize, and carry items—electronics? accessories?—that you have never even imagined.

When the train makes its fourth stop (this will take several hours), get off.  If you disembark beforehand, you will disappear. If you manage to return—and some do—you will speak a different language, one completely unknown to our world. You will panic, and weep for days on end. You will not eat. You will pine for the world you left behind until you die.

If you disembark after the fourth stop?

No one knows.

Do know that every once in a while, a dismembered corpse is recovered from the rails near the boarding platforms. Typically these bodies are rotted masses only vaguely recognizable as human. Despite the advanced decomposition and the mess, they appear very suddenly, often in the time it takes to blink.

Many of the victims remain unidentified due simply to the appalling state of the remains. Those identified, however, all had stained and battered train tickets on their person, dated days, weeks, even months and years prior.

People will tell you the victims tragically fell or even threw themselves into the rail wells.

But surely you know better.

Credit To: lilmissbean

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Doppelgänger Ritual IV

October 9, 2012 at 6:00 AM
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Department of Parapsychology, London.

Item no. 1282. 15/03/1996.

Found in the sub-basement of Gallowsditch House, Highgate Village, London .

Item is a box containing papers and broken shards of mirror. The box is made from oak, measures exactly 11 inches by 11 inches and is fitted with a brass lock which appears to have been forced open. All four sides and the lid are ornately carved with detailed faces, the eyes have been inlaid with ivory. The papers within are foxed with age, most are water damaged. One page of interest, the most intact and better preserved, is marked with the date 24th September, 1966 and is titled,

“Doppelgänger Ritual IV, Invocation of the Double Self by Edmund Gray”.

In handwritten form the rest reads as follows:

Here I shall transcribe the secret ceremony of invoking the double self. All procedures prior to this are to be disregarded as no successful results were made by my past attempts. Here is the perfected ritual in detail. I have documented this for posterity only and strongly advise against practising the following without a sound mind, the proper knowledge and the tools for protecting oneself against malevolent forces that may manifest themselves because of deviation or carelessness.

Part 1. The Ritual.

Objects required:

A tall free standing mirror.
A small sharp blade.
Large quantity of iron filings.
Large black sheet of fabric.
1 Gram of Psilocybin mushrooms (optional).

It is preferable that this ritual be performed late at night so you have complete peace, free from any unwanted interuptions.

Prepare an empty room. This room must be used only for the purposes of this ritual, kept locked at all times and the windows must be blocked out completely.

Stand the mirror at the north wall.

“Seal” the room by pouring the iron filings in a continuous line all around the room making sure to encompass the mirror in this protective space.

Consume the dried psilocybin mushrooms, (the hallucinogenic effects of the fungi will “break down” the walls of reality between this and other hidden planes of existence, it will also heighten your awareness of the elusive and arcane forces that secretly reside in all things).

Wait 1 hour 30 minutes for the mushrooms to take effect before proceeding further.

Now remove all items of clothing and stand before the mirror.

Arrange the candles in a circular manner around yourself and light them.

Take the small blade and make a deep cut along one finger. When the blood is flowing annoint all around the edge of the mirror.

Now stand very still and stare at your reflection; study every inch of your body, starting with the feet first and work your way up. When you’ve reached the head look deep into your eyes and say,

“Spirits of the veiled realm, beings of the looking glass world, speculum speculorum, I invoke you now to assist me in my quest.  From the night world beyond the borders of reality and time, ancient ones  aid me now and give me your blessing”.

Close your eyes and in your mind imagine the mirror as a doorway. Breath deeply in through your nose, hold for three seconds then out through your mouth counting down from ten with each exhaled breath. Step through the mirror door.

Above, around and below you is complete and utter darkness; you’re suspended in an infinite black void. The air is buzzing with static energy which permeates every fibre of your being.

Now envision a bright blue flame materialising from the centre of your chest; concentrate on its glow, see it burn brighter and brighter.

Now it grows in size until it is encompassing your entire body. In your mind say,

“I am a beacon, I summon you. I am a beacon, I invoke you. I am the key and I have opened the way. Follow this spirit light and enter this earthly realm “.

Next, in your mind, turn around and face the mirror door, do the breathing exercise again; this time counting from 1 to 10 then exit. Open your eyes.

The next step requires your upmost concentration and diligence.

With all your being will your reflection to move by its own accord.  Ask it in your mind to move a hand or blink, whatever you choose as long as you focus intently on your reflected self. Do this for at least thirty minutes, if you feel stronger push it to a full hour.

Do not expect to get immediate results, this takes some time to master.

If you are successful you may at first see your reflected self glimmer or twitch ever so slightly; with continued perseverance you will see more dramatic movements, do not be disappointed if you see nothing at all, this takes time, patience and plenty of practise.

This ends the ritual.

Perform this ceremony again twice a week or more. At the end of each session cover the mirror with the black cloth, extinguish the candles and give thanks to the spirits.

When exiting the space be careful not to break the protective seal. Lock the room.

Part 2. On the Arrival of the Double Self.

(The rest of the document is missing; it has been torn away).

Searching the property we found the room described in the ritual guide. It was located on the second floor and had been locked with two locking bolts, each with heavy padlocks. On the removal of these we discovered inside a tall free standing  frame which was the mirror, the glass had been removed; on the floor beneath it were a few small fragments. Haphazardly scattered about were the pages of what seems to have been a diary. Assembling these in order, the last entry is dated 7th October, 1966 and reads,

“He is here! He is me! He has locked me in this room and has taken my place, I’m fading away. I have made a terrible mistake and I am now paying the price for my meddling and my arrogance. I  cannot tear myself away from the mirror. I have no reflection. My skin is crawling with unseen things, it’s driving me insane! The mirror is watching! That unearthly horror that is the black void beyond fills my dreams and relentlessly haunts my waking hours. I have tried to break the mirror but some great force has its hold over me. My body is not my own, I am changed but I am the same. I can’t take anymore of this, I’m losing my mind! Don’t look at the mirror!”

Attatched is a black and white photograph of a blurred face, on the back is written,

“yarG dnumdE si eman ym”

Inspecting the mirror frame we found traces of blood, deep scratch marks and, embedded in the wood itself, several torn fingernails.

Credit To: Marc Green.

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