by J.N. Moore
A cosmic sea of beings shines through ancient tomes one cannot deny.
|Spiritual ecstasy? A succumbed, saintly convulsion? It’s a harrowing tale of passion ripped open from the cosmic rift, detailing every encryption of dire neglect for the human race. In the year of 1899, many generations regarded Elkhart as a awakening and sprawling city, ripe with varying annals of physical inbreeding via a mass of religious beliefs and mercantile science. Talk of grandiose discourse among the locals transformed all incoherent lingering of loiters spawned from Mishkatosen and other outlying cities, towns and hamlets. Not one for being perturbed by common promiscuity, Elkhart found itself vicariously the diligent protagonist in a grand scheme of aeons past. It was a mania subdued by transparent precociousness. The Indianapolis Star dubbed it a coarse blight upon all that is and was the status quo. The ill-conceived northern city was a stage of numerous grinning cataclysms of enmity from its local citizens towards outsiders.
Tomes of diseased and determined abnormalities were sprawled throughout the study in the house of a man by the name of Mikael Leiyund. He had been studying and researching a great tale of old, seemingly concrete and static hints of subtle differences in each entity and course of action each brought about by way of pandemics and a resonant force from which mankind could barely birth within their minds. Leiyund was keen on studying the cosmos and how insignificant the human race was; the Earth, most notably. Inscribed deep within the hundred year old - from what he aptly named - historical biographies, the Elder Ones made an appearance as great beings of worship; gods. Leiyund notice a plethora of dates, stopping at one in particular: 22,000 BC. Reverting back to his elementary schooling, the man whispered to himself the maximum extent to the last ice age was circa 22,000 BC. “Were they the cause? Every…chapter describes a new date; surely non-fiction.” A vast illness of awe engulfed the man.
Lamentations were conversed between the dreaded cults of these Elder Ones. The intensity and significant fear which made these entries were half-expected outcomes brought about by disobedience. Leiyund noticed throughout the shuttering and spattering of notes left by various authors who could not refute any of the truth, an imposing name made its presence known: Octin’jusp. The repugnance of the language spoken by such occultists was almost unspeakable in the sounds of auditory hacking and slurring, brought with a chanting like that of a haiku stanza made this deity’s name nigh impossible to pronounce.
Octin’jusp was shown bipedal, with gray-ish green reverse-hinged legs not unlike that of an elephant’s. The slender, putrid reverse-handed arms of such an immense and immersive figure protruded from its sturdy armadillo-like armour-convering torso. How could Leiyund forget the abyssal head. It was discarded as a fallacy to put it motion the theory of any creature - bipedal or a quadruped - to have the head of its body as a ram’s skull, marrying a rhinoceros’ elongated and horned snout. Surely the man could never take such drivel serious. Why would Leiyund raze his home city in erratic pandemonium with such idiocy and otherwise blatant attempts at religious escape?
Such animosity was shunned in the minds of the Elder Ones which inhabited much of what we perceived to be a hominid race. The absence of knowledge within a certain area shown its prevalence to be astounding in a broader spectrum. An edifice was surmounted with the unnatural attempt to absolve the human race of its panicking nature. Quelling an uprising in the midst of a heightened sense of awareness wasn’t something the Elder Ones cared for, nor did they take guise of noble kings for sheer enjoyment and utter dismay. A stupendous race of beings from cosmic origins continued to haunt the pages as Leiyund grew more sympathetic towards these ancient ancestors, ad nauseum.
They were revered and exalted, yet wore sardonic smiles and gestures after each extinction and catastrophe they cause the lesser beings which inhabited the Earth at the time. The events were concurrent, as per the violent lashings of such majestic gods. It was amusement in their eyes. How could such irregular beings from a seemingly different universe traverse such time and space to mock lesser beings? It was like that of a child and a magnifying glass: just to watch ultimate destruction unfold for one minute of hilarity. These times immemorial were a genuinely hostile age of ancient eldritch circumstances. The Elder Ones were never preyed upon by each other; the occultists were. Human sacrifices in the name of the Elder Ones to satiate their thirst for narrow enjoyment were a nightly occurrence.
Ghostly descriptions various landscapes suited the deities. I suppose it was only intricate stone carvings which depicted each one in their own entry, encircling a grove of hyperbole by other tribesmen; occultists. It wasn’t unheard of. There are tales of people turning others into a walking corpse. Inscriptions of heathen practices flooded each chapter. I could barely stand to learn about these humans - Neanderthals?
My eyes grow heavy after hours upon hours of pouring through these pages and listing them categorically in my brain. Restless was my thirst for more knowledge of these beings. Perhaps an oblique grasp of the practices of these ancient humans and gods was a perfect arrangement writing my memoirs. It was but a glimpse into the bizarre monstrosities which remained remarkable in brilliance and decadence after thousands of generations. We, as humans, inexplicably idolize the strange and organic constructs deep within the finalization of our psychoses. A marvelous and nameless race - like us some time ago - resulted from the conjuring a father figure to help the weak and heal the sick, transmuting into a civil war between the consciousness and foreboding depictions of life.
My eyes grow heavy after hours upon hours of reading and research. I shall resume after I wake…if I wake.