Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I just spent the last hour putting wards and pentagrams on pieces of paper taped across my room. Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram done at least 4 times. I don’t know if any of this is going to work. I’m just praying it does. The Goetia is next. Burning through candles like mad. Everything is completely fucked. Fuck. I’m scared.
If you’re reading this…I’m sorry. I owe you all an apology. I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up bad.
Lemme explain.
I finished studying for my accounting exam by about 9:00 at night. Deciding I’d had enough and I wanted to visit the grotto for some me time, I picked up my iPod and headed out the front door. The night was young, and I had a lot of listening to do. As soon as I stepped outside, the first thing I noticed was the fog. It was thick and covering the ground. I got excited, thinking to myself that I was so damn glad that the atmosphere was so gloomy and spooky. My mind flashed to the story about the boy I had posted just yesterday. All of this was perfect for Rosetta Stone. I closed the door, briefly considered bringing a bottle of absinthe with me, then decided that I’d rather just wait until afterwards. I didn’t exactly want to lug all the stuff I needed to prepare it, and I didn’t wanna put it in a bottle either. It would get warm without ice, but if I put the ice in the drink to keep it cold it would just water the mix down further.
Reading this, I gotta tell ya that I’m actually, genuinely laughing. Not four hours ago my fucking absinthe mix was the biggest problem of my night.
Jesus fucking Christ.
So I stepped out into the night. It was a bit cooler than normal, but still a bit too warm for a jacket. Fishnets and a t-shirt gave me all the warmth I’d need. I walked out of the apartment area and into the campus, slowly making my way to the grotto. The whole time, London After Midnight played through my headphones. I was completely oblivious to the world around me, enjoying the night air and the mysterious fog that playfully wrapped around my ankles as I stepped further and further towards the grotto.
I made it to the steps and descended deeper into the gloom, til I could make out the shine of the lamps above the cross in the grotto. The fog diffused the light into the air, creating a soft glow just outside the entrance. I stepped in and looked up at the crucifix hanging behind the altar along the back wall. The metal racks on either side held an assortment of candles, some lit and some snuffed out. Three bouquets of roses were placed on the altar, soaking in orange juice jugs filled with water. Clashed with my mood a bit, but I wasn’t gonna let a little thing like cheap plastic containers spoil my night.
So I stood between the altar and the cross, plugged in my headphones to my iPod, and started listening to the melancholic melodies of Rosetta Stone. I imagine I got through a couple of songs, but I dunno how long I was just listening to the songs. I was blissful and enjoying myself, lost in the music and the feel of the night. I don’t know why I was pulled out of my reverie, but at some point I had caught something indistinct moving in the corner of my eye. I turned around and looked out of the grotto into the dense fog. It had gotten thicker. I could barely see a few feet out. The chain link fence wasn’t even visible. In the distance I caught sight of that movement again. There was a shadow framed in the pale white mist. I shouted out to it, gods know why. I pulled my headphones out of my ears, wondering if he or she might be shouting something at me. But there was nothing, no response. I waved my arms to get their attention, but still nothing. Then, without warning, they faded into the mist, leaving no trace of their existence. I shrugged, figuring it wasn’t my problem. But I still felt uneasy. Something about this scene wasn’t settling well with me.
I approached the altar and stood between it and the cross. I laid my arms to rest against it and looked out into the fog, searching for any hint of movement. I don’t really know what I was hoping to see, but I couldn’t make out a thing. For once, I wasn’t so glad about this damned mist. My joyful mood was giving way to anxiousness and worry, and I wasn’t even sure why. What was it about the shadow I saw out there, somewhere in that endless abyss of dreary white? What about it had my stomach tied in knots?
Everything was quiet. A strange, uncomfortable sort of quiet when you’re expecting something to happen and it doesn’t, like watching something beautiful hanging on the edge and you know it’s going to fall and shatter into a million pieces. I waited in silence as the fog rolled and settled like a pale white sea. And then, I heard it. A rustling in the foliage somewhere nearby. It was faint, but getting louder. It sounded as if someone were making their way towards the grotto.
I looked around, scanning the nearby vicinity for any figures in the night. But I could see nothing. I leaned over the altar to get a better view, making sure to keep it between me and whatever was still outside the grotto. The sound changed, from a rustling of leaves and grass to something scraping across gravel, but I still couldn’t see a damn thing. But then I realized something. Something terrible, which made my stomach turn as I struggled to keep down its contents. If it was scraping across stone and gravel, it had to be inside the grotto with me.
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