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The strange and twisted horrors I witnessed in that old building will never be believed by anyone if I told them. No matter how hard I’d try, no one would take a moment to even consider it. Perhaps it would be best that way, seeing as I wouldn’t want anyone else to experience or behold my terrible experience.
Even if I did tell someone of my horrific encounter, I’d be locked away in a psychiatric ward as if I were some sort of lunatic just for the things I’d mentioned. I pen these words in this small notebook because I feel their presence approaching. The presence of the ones who I wouldn’t dare speak of out loud. Every day I curse my curiosity and what it led me to. What I would give to reverse time and stop myself from ever venturing inside that devil’s building.
The events leading up to the horror go back to my childhood days. I’d often spend my time reading books and wandering the streets of my city. I never truly did have any friends, so I often spent my time engaged in odd little hobbies. I developed a liking for architecture, so I spent hours walking the streets slowly and gazing up at the houses and buildings to study the way they were constructed.
Soon, I recognized every edifice and home in my town, and I impressed people with the vast amount of knowledge of history and architecture I’d collected during my endeavors. When I wasn’t studying buildings, I was in my library reading up on both subjects.
However, there was one building in my city that had always left me perplexed and very curious about its existence. Whenever I looked at it, I asked myself who had built it and why.
The building I’m speaking of stood in a random part of my hometown. It wasn’t a large or small building, but just the right size to give it prominence. From the exterior, it appeared very unappealing and forlorn, and seemed to have been abandoned for several years.
It was rectangular, and it had a very overgrown and rotted garden in front of it. Numerous tangled vines and thickets were beginning to eat up the walls. The small wrought iron fence appeared rusted and old, just barely standing on its own. There was a curving cobblestone pathway that led up to the entrance, which seemed to have been boarded up and sealed years ago, seeing as the wood appeared to be decaying and growing large patches of mildew.
The architectural designs on the building were very old. They appeared to resemble the Edwardian architecture of the 19th century. The friezes had unusual designs on them, like winged monsters and strange beasts on them. I’d never really studied animals that appeared like those before, not even in mythology. If I could my most sincere sentiment, they gave me the impression of being ancient horrible creatures due to them having qualities of hell-spawned demons and old underwater dragons. Any paint that was initially on the building was peeling off or fading away which left the sickening dull reddish color of the bricks.
On the roof, there was a cupola dotted with dusty and shattered windows, along with two large cracked windows on the front of it. But the element that always caught my interest of this building was the unusual coat of arms that was right on the upper center of the cupola. I’ve never saw an insignia like that before, nor do I think I’ve ever seen any like that afterwards.
In a way, I am very grateful for that. The symbol seemed to be a perfect circle. In the center of it there appeared to be a sun or dot, with the sun’s rays extending out and touching the circle’s diameter. Underneath the circle, there appeared to be two figures (who appeared to be cloaked and wearing cowls) were holding up the circle.
I don’t know why, but I couldn’t help but feel as if it were some sort of symbol of a gate or some sort of uncanny portal.
The building also had two stone plaques on it, one on the left and the other on the right of the entrance.
The plaque on the left was very curious. It seemed to depict a sort of strange, undocumented language. It seemed organized enough to appear like a writing system, but I know I’d never seen it before. The writing appeared like a fusion between hieroglyphs and actual text. Did the constructors of the building have their own set of written language? It left me with even more of a burning curiosity.
On the right plaque, it said, “In the Year of Knowledge, 1820”.
Each day, I would sit on the sidewalk and observe this mysterious old building. I naturally assumed the plaque on the right indicated that the edifice was made in the 1800s. This meant that this building was already well over a century old.
There was something mildly unsettling about it I recalled thinking. The age-old bricks and the archaic architectural style left me with a haunting feeling. I began to think of all the people who had walked past it and looked at this place. They were now long passed away and rotting in their graves. Its very existence was just an echo of a time that has long been dead. The strange and slightly eerie building left me with a disturbed feeling, since it seemed so off and different from all the other buildings in my city. However, my curiosity was piqued, so I decided to do my own research into it.
I spent weeks looking through my town’s historical archives looking for data on that old building, but to my surprise, I could not find one record that spoke of it. As of right now, the builders and the purpose of it remained a complete mystery. This led me to become very frustrated.
As a last resort, I went around asking people about it. Many of them either did not care for the building or knew nothing about it. Just as I was nearly on the brink on giving up my quest to learn for it, I mentioned it to the old scholarly librarian at the front desk. We came to be good acquaintances since I was constantly reading and checking out books at the library. He seemed to grow an appreciation for me, seeing as he thought kids didn’t read enough nowadays.
But this is where things got very unusual and strange, and I never saw him behave this way or anytime afterwards. When I mentioned the old building, his eyes widened and he grew a bit furtive. He seemed to not want to talk about it, as his pattern of speech grew tense and shaky. His withered old eyes seemed to spring to life as he looked to and fro frantically. I was rather precocious at that age and I knew he was withholding a secret. So, although I didn’t press him to tell me more directly, I kept stating that I was very intrigued and curious about it.
Eventually, as I knew it would, this made him reveal a bit about it. This is what he had said:
“Um, well, yes, my grandfather was a young man when that old place was established. All I knew back then is that it didn’t let just anybody in. I believe it was some sort of organization or something like that in there. Why, I believe there were only exclusive members who were allowed to join.”
“I can’t say I’m too sure to know who was a part of it. I’d heard when I was young that a lot of prominent people were a part of that group. Politicians, engineers, diplomats, scientists, writers, religious authorities, aristocrats and other things like that.”
When he began talking, I became fascinated and was sure to have my face show it. Usually, when people have reached his age, things get fairly lonely so discussing things in their lives becomes of their most relished pastimes.
Obviously, being young at the time, he enjoyed dispensing his age-old wisdom to the youth. The former fear that had seemed to reside in his speech faded away into a sort of hypnotized trip into his memories, and his eyes seemed to grow “lost” as he informed me of the building."
“Rumors circulated that the folks in there weren’t just some run-of-the-mill organization. No, supposedly, they held odd rituals and had members brought in from all corners of the globe. Everything from astrophysicists to fakirs spent their days in there.”
“The people outside of that place were afraid of it. In the late hours of the night, if you listened closely, you could hear unusual chants being uttered in the bowels of that building. You’d see strange lights of various colors glowing inside through the windows.”
“One day, the members of that strange cult or organization or whatever it was just mysteriously disappeared one night. Townsfolk spoke of horrible, indescribable sounds coming from inside of the buildings, sounds that didn’t resemble anything that they had ever been heard on Earth before.”
“No one knows what happened, but the building stayed up since then, and still is up to this day. I can’t really say I know why it’s still standing after all these years. I’ve heard it’s because that group had some political sway and ordered the government of the city not to condemn it under any circumstances. I’m guessing that that order still stands today which is why it’s been untouched. Not that anyone wants to go near it as I’ve heard people say they get very scared standing by it, as if some menacing ethereal force is surrounding it.”
The scholarly librarian’s account left me very unsettled despite the fact that I knew it could potentially just have been a silly lore surrounding the edifice. But I will admit, as I observed it, I always got the feeling that there was some sort of horrible presence dwelling in that place. At times, as I stared at it, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that I was being stared at as well.
Time passed and eventually I stopped paying attention to that strange building in the middle of my city. I became older and my interests shifted to other subjects. I ended up moving out of my hometown to attend an out-of-state college. During those years, as we all do, I began to think back to my childhood. How I would spend my time engaged in my hobbies constantly and not have a care in the world. Eventually, my thoughts returned to that eldritch building that sat there.
I began to wonder if it was still there or if it at long last has been torn down. I recalled the old legendry the old librarian had recited to me. I made a promise to myself that once I had finished my schooling, I’d go to my hometown and see that place again just for old time’s sake. It made sense to me that the building’s old eerie vibes would have faded as I got older, so there would be no harm in visiting it now.
I would soon very much regret this foolish decision. I had learned shortly after I’d arrived that the old librarian who told me the tale of the ancient edifice had died some years ago. Unfortunately, that meant I lost my best source of data regarding that strange desolate building. I never asked him about it again back then due to the fact that it his story had frightened me considerably.
Much like my childhood days, I stood in front of the building, just watching it and studying its strange architecture and pondering over its ghoulish history. The more I watched it the more I began to feel an element of fearfulness beginning to form inside of me.
This may sound silly, but I began to notice creepy patterns associated with its design, not just in terms of architecture, but in my mind.
The windows seemed like a pair of yellow, rotting eyes staring at the person who was in front of it, and the door resembled a monstrous mouth opened to devour anyone who would enter it like the Hellmouth painting. I suppose now I could relate to the residents of the city who felt it very dark and foreboding.
The more my eyes remained focused on this Hellish building, the more I felt some sort of perverse desire to venture inside of it. I admittedly was shamefully too old to be legend tripping, but some sort of insatiable curiosity enticed me. It’s haunted my memories for as long as I could remember, and I figured perhaps it was best for me to finally explore the inside of it and see what sort of sinister secrets it contained.
I spent a few nights diligently studying the building, trying to figure which way I could get in. The front door, as said earlier, was sealed shut with wooden boards, and the windows appeared old and rusted. The glass was worn and shattered, so I didn’t think there was a quiet way to get inside.
For a moment, I thought about forsaking this silly little objective of mine and just putting this all to rest, when one night, I spotted something lurking about in the dark alleys and corners of the building. I had seen it when I was driving by the old place, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadowy figure furtively walking by the side of it. Somehow they disappeared into the wall! Could it have been a secret passage? A trapdoor?
I immediately parked and exited my car and quietly strode over to the ancient place and quietly made my way to the place where I’d seen the being wandering about. I stretched out my hands and began to let the tips of my fingers slide across the wall, as I had seen the unknown figure seem to press or push something with both hands.
For a moment, all I felt was that old decayed wall and its filthy old bricks. But then I gasped quietly under my breath as I felt a sort of slit in the wall, like an unseen doorway.
I stopped and scanned the area, and I noticed that it was indeed a door, except there was no knob or switch or button. I pushed my both hands against the door, and it suddenly opened a bit, with a dreadfully foul stench escaping from inside of the building.
I was taken aback by this, and immediately, I was left with a sense of both excitement and terror. I didn’t know whether to explore this God-forsaken building to satisfy my old curiosity, or flee from it from what the old librarian told me years ago.
At the same time, I knew I couldn’t stay there for long, seeing as I knew I was possibly trespassing on private property and could face criminal charges. But at the same time, I wondered who would own or care about this old unnerving place.
Either way, I slipped inside and sealed the door shut. The moment I did that, I felt that hideous odor come at me full force. I coughed and gagged at the smell, and immediately covered my nose and mouth from breathing. I don’t know how to describe it exactly other than something very rancid and rotted. I’ve never smelled a scent as bad as that night.
With my face covered, I gazed around and all I saw before me was an old wooden staircase without railings leading up to a darkened hallway. Knowing the stairs were probably very old and ready to cave in at any moment, I took very gentle steps.
The creaking of the wood seemed as loud as thunder as I walked up them. That reminded me of how chillingly quiet this place was. It was completely dark and abandoned, I had no choice but to use my phone’s light to illuminate the way. I saw thick clouds of dust particles float around the light.
Finally, I reached the top of the staircase. I instantly felt as if I had taken a step back in history.
Old ragged, dusty carpets were on the floor, withered and discolored. Wooden chairs were scattered here and there, a few of them with broken legs and several of them tipped over. Crooked, rusted chandeliers clung from the ceiling, with ancient candles that went out perhaps over a hundred years ago still sitting on their sconces.
I made my way quietly over to the end of the room and it was there that I believed I had found out the place where the meetings were held. It had an old, stygian atmosphere. I felt as if some evil force was trying to drive me away as the meeting hall. It felt grim and unwelcoming. There was a large circle of chairs placed around the room that were rich with old archaic details. There were desks here and there in front of some of the chairs, I suppose for old inhabitants of this place to write documents.
There was a small cylindrical stand as the centerpiece of the room. It had a flat table-top with a type of table-cloth over it with strange designs all over it. It was then that I realized, as I looked around, that this entire interior building has peculiar designs in its architecture and furniture. It didn’t appear Victorian or resembling any familiar architecture of the time. Instead, they had odd curves and arches.
There were strange murals painted on the walls. I focused my light on them. They appeared to be horrible winged monsters and strange saurian-like abominations painted with such incredible talent. For a moment, they almost seemed to moving and breathing with life. It filled my soul with cold fear as I looked at these hideous monstrosities lurking on every corner of the room. What were they? What was their significance?
The portraits that hung on the walls were also a bit uncanny. There appeared gentlemen but who seemed to have come from various nations. One appeared to be a scholarly man of African descent, and another seemed to be an Asian man. Another looked like a Native-American man from ancient Mexico. They all appeared from different backgrounds.
I began to think that the members of this cult had prestigious men from all over the world like the scholarly man had told me.
But for some reason, all of these men were gathered together for some unknown reason. What did they do here? Why were there such horrible creatures painted on the walls? Why did it have such odd insignias? Was this just a weird organization or some sort of macabre cult?
Normally, being a lover of history, I’d take great appreciation in finding antiquarians’ paradise. It seems to have remained untouched for so long. An auctioneer would have probably taken great delight in selling these treasures worth a fortune. I felt as if I were walking in an enormous time capsule.
But this place filled with me horror and loathing. It didn’t feel like a pleasant little lodge where a group of aristocrats would assemble and discuss various subjects. No, instead, it felt like some sort of cult’s gathering place to commit strange and horrifying rituals or something of that nature. Why did they disappear? Did they dabble too far into the dark arts?
I suddenly felt the need to get out of this horrible edifice. I began to sweat a bit as I began to stare at those loathsome beings on the walls and those portraits whose faces seemed to distort into evil glares in the darkness.
Just as I was about to get out of this madhouse, I noticed another narrow corridor leading out of this wicked meeting hall to another door. It was closed, and seemed to have rusty latches on it. I shined my light on it, and to my horror, the door seemed to be moving. It was as if something was locked inside, pushing or banging on the door and trying to get out.
Even more queer was that I saw strange lights shining through the threshold. The most accurate way I can describe it is when one is on a train, they can see flashing lights moving rapidly outside the window. It appeared like that, but instead, it was behind a room. I felt very afraid as I stared at those mysterious lights and that unexplained thing trying to escape.
I began to approach the door. The closer I got to it, the more I heard some very unearthly, nerve-wracking noises. It’s almost too difficult for me to explain, but it sounded like garbled screaming and some sort of ominous, guttural breathing. It also like a sort of powerful wind was blowing behind it as if behind the door some sort of intense storm was raging.
The door was only a few steps away from me, and I felt myself growing more and more nervous as those horrific sounds became more distinct. My breathing increased in speed and my hands began to tremble a bit, when suddenly, I heard an old, raspy voice behind cry out, “STOP!”
I whirled around half scared to death by the sudden piercing scream. I saw a ragged old man standing there in the middle of the meeting hall where I had been moments before.
His eyes were lifeless and gray, but filled with fear and confusion. He had a thick, bushy beard that went down to his stomach and filthy clothes that seemed as if he had been wearing the same pair for years. His skin was stained with dirt and his hands were veiny and wrinkled.
For a moment, I just stood there, stupefied at the fact that someone actually was inside of here. I couldn’t find the strength to respond to the old man. He called out, “What are you doing in here!? You have to leave at once!”
When life finally came back to me, I gulped a frightened lump in my throat, and I asked, “What is in here? What is this horrible place? Who are you?” The old man’s lost and frightened expression shifted to anger, and he responded with, “Nevermind that! Get out! You being here is not a good thing!”
There was something so very familiar about his voice and his mannerisms. Even his face was familiar to me, but I couldn’t exactly pinpoint on what it was at first. My feverish curiosity, however, took hold of me. Despite that this building seemed ridden with the devil’s work, I still had numerous questions. “I just want to know what’s in here. What was this place? Who are those people in those portraits and these strange monsters? A librarian some years ago told me-“
“’Librarian’? No, it can’t be…it is you!”
The old man suddenly pointed his finger at me as he said this. His angry expression suddenly turning into complete disbelief. He stared at me and took a few steps closer, as if examining my features. And he said, “Aren’t you that child who asked me those questions about this old place some years ago?”
It was then that it hit me. It was the librarian from all of those years ago, the one who had told me about his grandparents seeing this place being constructed and all of those details.
I immediately expressed my shock at seeing him. When I had first met him, he appeared to have a sort of aged grammar school gentleman who mostly spent his days quietly checking out books and doing research into his field of expertise.
Now, he appeared as unkempt and dirty as a homeless derelict. I informed him that people had told me that he had passed away some years ago. It was also surprising that he’d still be alive after all of these years, but he certainly appeared to have grown far older and I could tell he was just waiting to die.
“Yes, that’s what they think. Not only do they think I am dead, but they believe I had ended my life. I wrote a note in my home, pretending that I had gone to some secluded area and killed myself. But the truth is I came here to spend my remaining days protecting the world from the detestable things locked away in here.”
Immediately, I felt a pang of dread form inside of me. Nervously I inquired as to what he meant. When I did, his weak eyes turned towards that weird door at the end of the hallway, and he began talking in a somber, serious tone.
“The group who once used this place as their lodge was known as ‘The All-Seers’. They only admitted people who had strange and somewhat horrible psychic abilities. I don’t know exactly what sort of abilities they had. Maybe ‘abilities’ is the wrong term, more like powers. Not even I could truly understand them."
"My grandfather was a member of the All-Seers. He told me a story that has haunted me ever since I was a child."
"He had explained to me that he had planned on initiating me into the cult. He told me that the people he associated himself with had the gift of speaking to higher beings. These beings were called The Old Gods by them."
"These individuals came from all over the world; Japan, Mexico, England, South Africa, and many others."
"Men and women were invited alike. The All-seers saw racism and sexism as superficial and pointless, and invited people from all walks of life."
"The supernatural beings whom were worshipped by ancient civilizations across the globe were said to be based on one set of true powerful beings that existed. These beings that were once held to a high regard before their rituals and beliefs were lost to the sands of time."
"Now, the group of people who affiliated themselves in this lodge claimed to be able to contact and speak with those gods and wanted to get taken to their plane of existence where the All-Seers committee would become immortal and live as these Old Gods did."
"My grandfather was a mystic and a sorcerer, but he hid it from my father (his son) and his wife due to it being very frowned upon in his time. However, he professed and taught me much of his magical knowledge because he saw a natural love of knowledge in me."
"One day, he told me that he and the other All-seers would try to venture into the realm of the Old Gods. They would perform a very powerful but possibly cataclysmic ritual which would create an extra-dimensional portal that would open gates to other worlds and possibly let loose horrible monsters and beings upon this Earth."
"My wise grandfather instructed me to stay behind, and if such a thing were to happen, I’d have to stay here and chant the magical spell every day which would keep back the unknown creatures from crawling through the gateway.”
He lifted and pointed a crooked old finger to the door which those strange noises and lights were coming from. His voice suddenly became nervous and it made me grow very uneasy.
“There…that is where they created the portal. They went through it, and right before they disappeared, I heard horrible screams that I wish to never hear again! Every member, including my grandfather, was never seen again." "However, I felt very loyal to him, so I did as he was told. Each day, the things behind that door bring me a feeling of loathing and terror. I can feel them trying to break through and walk upon this Earth. They’re things one can’t even imagine in nightmares! I fear that I will soon die, and there will be no one to keep away those abominations. I couldn’t teach another the magic I learned. I wouldn’t dare put this curse on anyone else.”
The former librarian put his wrinkled hands to his forehead and rubbed it in distress. He seemed to breathe heavily and seemed to be pacing frantically. Despite this, I couldn’t help but feel that this old man was insane.
He pretended to have committed suicide so he could live inside an eerie, filthy old edifice and was claiming to keep back supernatural forces behind an old door. That was too hard to believe, and for a moment, I suspected that perhaps this man was a sort of sociopathic serial killer.
What if he were hiding bodies beneath that door or something even more heinous? What if those strange and inexplicable sounds were a few of his victims trying to scream for help?
I took a step back and gazed back at the tenebrous door. I felt compelled now to open that door, regardless of what was behind it. If my inferences were correct, I could report this psychotic old geezer to the authorities and have him dealt with accordingly. But at the same time, I couldn’t tell if I were trying to get a look behind that door merely to calm my fears.
Without thinking twice, I marched right for the door. As I did, I heard the librarian call out, “What are you doing!? Stop!”
I heard his fast limping behind me, and I felt his arms wrap around me and wrestle me back. We began to have a sort of struggle. I tried to break out of his grip. “You fool! You can’t open that door! You can’t! Please, get out of here! Leave!” Being younger and far stronger, I shoved him off and he went tumbling backwards. I went straight for the door. Now my curiosity evolved into an obsession, and I simply had to find out what was going behind it. The constant pounding of the door, those unearthly sounds and howls coming from the other side. What was it all?
As I walked rapidly over to it, I heard the bearded man behind me begin to utter some unintelligible words, as if he were praying or something along those lines. I whirled around to look at him and I witnessed him on his knees with his hands making some sort of strange bird-like formation. But to my surprise and horror, I saw his eyes glowing a bizarre whitish color, and it made me cry out. I stared at him frozen, too frightened to move.
The more I stood there, the louder his chanting became. How could this old man possess this much mad power within him? Was I dreaming? Was any of this even real? Or was this some sort of psychotic nightmare? Immediately, with nothing else left to do, I flung myself to the door and grasped the rusted knob. As I did, I heard the old man’s shriek in a hoarse, desperate voice, “NO!”
I swung the door open and what was behind it would I never be able to properly explain. I never wish to see something like that again. The fear that I felt gazing at it left me permanently afraid of staring into darkness.
I felt an supernaturally-strong blast of wind push me back violently. I landed on my back and could barely open my eyes due to the gale force being so powerful. When I did open my eyes with great effort, I let out a horrified scream.
I saw an empty spiraling portal or abyss with bolts of lightning flashing softly deep inside of it. Parts of chairs and old papers scattered about were pulled inside into the abyss, and I heard the other furniture rattling loudly as the intense wind shook the entire building.
I began to crawl backwards as I felt the intense vacuum-like sucking of that hideous portal trying to take me in as well. The strength of the portal was unlike any hurricane or tornado I could ever have felt in my life.
Gripping the floor as best as I could, I crawled slowly with the roaring of the extra-dimensional abyss behind me. As I made my way over to the old man, I could see him huddled in a corner, shielding himself from the debris that was swirling and flying into the horrid mouth.
Everything from old candles that were on the chandeliers on the ceiling to even large black rats attempting to scurry away were being pulled in. I felt it was only a matter of time before the librarian and I were sucked in as well.
As I slithered on and on, I suddenly heard a deep, monstrous roar come from within the portal. Instinctively I turned around and saw, to my utter dread, large shadowy silhouettes resembling those deplorable flying monsters and winged beasts painted on the walls in the meeting room. They seemed to be zipping by with remarkable speed, but they were just slow enough to be able to make out.
Then, I began to see long, tendril-like things beginning to worm their way through the abyss. They appeared translucent and had a sickening blue color to them. It made me feel that these monsters from other dimensions were attempting to get through. I reached the old man and put my arms around him. I screamed over the roaring wind that we needed to get out of here.
For a moment, he seemed to ignore me, and then he looked me in the eyes with those morbid glowing eyes of his that I had seen earlier. That made my blood run cold.
“Go! Leave this place! Never return!” he bellowed, with a stern and infuriated look on his face.
I let the man go, staring at his heart-wrenching shining eyes, and then I began to make my way to the exit. The more I stayed in there, the more overwhelming terror and madness began to consume me.
Finally, after arduous non-stop crawling, I wobbly stood up and held onto the sides of the hallway forcefully walking towards the exit with that ominous wind and those wretched roars and eerie sounds pouring out from that portal.
One last time, I glanced back at that old librarian from my childhood. I could see him standing before the raging storm, hypnotized, with those shadowy beings and those hideous tentacle appendages protruding out. I couldn’t dare stay there one more moment to find out what happened. The terrible insanity was too much for me to bear. I escaped the place and went sprinting down the hall, sweating, panting, and half-insane with fright.
Never again did I ever think about going near that building nor staying in my city. That night, all I recall after that morbid and fearful event was collapsing on the bed and fainting from horror and exhaustion at the small motel I was staying at.
Now, I sit here in my room in the house I purchased in the city I had moved to. I never found out what had happened to that old librarian and his unusual past with the dark arts and that mysterious “All-Seers” cult. Did he survive and continues to protect the world from those menacing other-worldly beasts? Did he get pulled into those dimensions of chaos?
Each day, my mind gets lost thinking of those hideous things behind that evil door, and every night, I feel them as if those terrible monsters are right beside me, wanting to take me into their abhorred domain. I feel it is a matter of time before those Hellish things get released into the world, and end up devouring this planet. I feel their detestable presence, and they will be coming for me soon, very soon…