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The Excavation, Pt. 2

by Revenence

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Inner Danmons
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1.
Goodbye 32:17
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To go through GOO FALLS is to understand MAA. Perhaps MAA does not like the idea of being able to circumvent the authority of the evil one. As my eyes fall to the ground, I lose the ability to see the future. To go through GOO FALLS is to understand MAA. Perhaps MAA does not like the idea of being able to circumvent the authority of the evil one. As my eyes fall to the ground, I lose the ability to see the future. To go through GOO FALLS is to understand MAA. Perhaps MAA does not like the idea of being able to circumvent the authority of the evil one. As my eyes fall to the ground, I lose the ability to see the future. To go through GOO FALLS is to understand MAA. Perhaps MAA does not like the idea of being able to circumvent the authority of the evil one. As my eyes fall to the ground, I lose the ability to see the future. To go through GOO FALLS is to understand MAA. Perhaps MAA does not like the idea of being able to circumvent the authority of the evil one. As my eyes fall to the ground, I lose the ability to see the future. Maybe there is one able to see me, but it is very hard to understand if they themselves have a vision of the past. Perhaps, perhaps ask Hahri and the Dark Pearl, for they may have a solution to the evil that is the statue at GOO FALLS. Please don't understand everything in the sand. The sand is sacred, and so is He. MAA has nothing to do with its divisions, but once you approach Fair Tower, beware of the men that speak in quotes. They turn you to stone in an instant. Please don't understand everything in the sand. The sand is sacred, and so is He. MAA has nothing to do with its divisions, but once you approach Fair Tower, beware of the men that speak in quotes. They turn you to stone in an instant. Please don't understand everything in the sand. The sand is sacred, and so is He. MAA has nothing to do with its divisions, but once you approach Fair Tower, beware of the men that speak in quotes. They turn you to stone in an instant. Please don't understand everything in the sand. The sand is sacred, and so is He. MAA has nothing to do with its divisions, but once you approach Fair Tower, beware of the men that speak in quotes. They turn you to stone in an instant. Please don't understand everything in the sand. The sand is sacred, and so is He. MAA has nothing to do with its divisions, but once you approach Fair Tower, beware of the men that speak in quotes. They turn you to stone in an instant. Is there something that I can do to circumvent the strategy of the old ones? The answer is no. Please! Do not speak to the mean in the cliffs. They are the ones who speak in quotes, and they mean every bit of harm possible to the end of time. Twisting hallways, red carpets... Do everything in your power to avoid Him. His sand is the sacred sand, one you cannot step over. MAA be praised; the way is done. The way is done to MAA; MAA be praised.

about

Part II of the Excavation. An old archeologist, amongst the first to find a Horrid Figurine, retires after witnessing the horrors brought on to the area nearby upon its discovery. This is his story.

Upon reaching the excavation site, there was a lot going on. People moving to and fro, people with wheelbarrows carrying material from the site that had been so callously blown up with dynamite. Little runes, once filled with information, were nothing but shards now. Some said it was not the nature of the men that had made them want to completely devastate the place that once held information on pre-Colombian society, but a mad sort of superstition that had destroyed the minds of these men for who knows how long.

The men told of a strange man who haunted their dreams. All of these men where present in fighting the fire that had destroyed an asylum on the edges of New York state. They had in fact applied for the excavation job just so they could destroy it; there was no doubt about that. Something had continued to haunt these men to the point of insanity. The archeologist didn't blame them, though. Despite the loss of the ruins, it had become apparent to him as well that some terrible things were best forgotten.

I had a friend named Blank; an odd name for sure. He had given himself this name in his childhood because he didn't appreciate his birth name. Although Blank knew that he had a genuine name and had a fascinating memory, he did not remember what his given name was or had ever been.

Recently, Blank had been reading odd letters that he had been getting in the mail (we were close enough that he would tell me about any happenings). The letters described a place beyond what he referred to as the "lunar plane". His correspondent was unknown; he didn't dare tell me his name. But Blank was clearly fascinated by the writings.

After I visited Blank following the 29th of November in 1915, he began to act as though he was not his usual self. He would write letters addressed to odd locations that did not amuse the local post office. At first, I thought it was a prank. He would often write to places called things like Varii-Gree, Tomhet, and Oasis. It was a visit on the 19th of December that really confirmed Blank's illness for me, although it would be strange to call it an illness. An illness is something, though sad, that can be comprehended by the average human mind.

On that cold day in December, he told me of a strange palm figurine that he had found while walking on the road near New York. The figurine was very crudely carved, with facial features barely being recognizable. Yet, despite being an archeologist, one who had seen all kinds of different tribal art styles, I was not prepared for the atrocity that he held in his hand. The figurine had been covered in ash, that I could tell. However, the strange figurine harbored a look in its ill-carved eyes that filled me with a sensation of sickness. Apparently, Blank had indeed not acquired this monstrosity from any sort of curious shop or peddler or anything like that. As he said, it was simply found on a road that was downhill from the asylum fire that I mentioned earlier.

The worst part of the figurine which was only as large as my hand was not the look however. It was the smell. The smell, which seemed to originate from a discolored spot on the back of the head, reeked in a strange way. It was closer to the same sensation one may receive when eating a slice of Brie with the rind, but this felt absolutely intoxicating.

I went home and while walking through the snow, I though I saw prints in the ice that were much larger than mine. The sheer size of the prints and the gradual and shallow contour that they presented may have been mistaken for odd depressions in the snow that had nothing to do with a large animal, but I felt at the time that I could see them quite clearly.

It was later that my lifelong friend Blank disappeared. I had gone to visit his house one day, but found neither Blank nor anything in the vacant house. Absolutely nothing had been left behind. However, there was a strange purple syrup staining what remained of the floorboards, as well as an overwhelming stench much akin to the one I described earlier. I walked in through the broken door and before I knew it, the rotten floorboards creaked and give away. I feel around 8 feet and landed in the basement. In the basement, the stench was even stronger and the purple anomaly that I had noted earlier covered the concrete floor. I soon realized I was stuck.

As I desperately tried to move, strange roots began to manifest themselves on the walls. The light above me vanished, and soon, the basement grow cold. This is all I can say. Later, I found myself in a forest. No light came from the sky above. Instead, there was light generated from various fungi, enough to illuminate the way. Blank had told me stories of the parallel worlds that he sent letters to, but until that moment, I hadn't the slightest inkling that they were true. He told me of a great tree that grew in the gap between two islands, the tree being large enough to shroud the entire land it grew on. In this damp but comfortably cool atmosphere, I could feel the essence of nature returning, something being destroyed in the world I come from. This regeneration, combined with Blank's epic tales added to my fascination. Despite my amazement, there was a small part of me that felt unsettled, like something was amiss. For the sake of the world, I dare not say what.

It was the figurine, I later realized, that was one of many other figurines being carved in an unknown place in this forest world, and being transported to what we know as Earth. Although we humans think of time as a line that flows from one end to another, it's actually more complex than that. I realized this when I returned to Earth, except as a different man. I have been separated from everyone I once knew since. The power of the other worlds is a terrible thing. We will be powerless to stop any sort of dimensional or time-related atrocity that comes our way.

Since this discovery, I have become largely apathetic to any happenings, but I still wonder about Blank. Where did he go to? I heard from a friend of mine that he had turned up somewhere in China, so after receiving his address, I sent him a letter. He did not respond. After the asylum fire that took place in 1939, I stopped caring completely. I feel like one of a number, kind of like an empty shell...

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released December 8, 2014

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Zeffon Renton, Washington

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Don't you dare even tend to catalog what lurks ominously in the dark...

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