Lord Morzathoths Collection of Oddities

[Zathoth]

Welcome ladies, gentlemen, others and the shades behind you to the realm of the bizarre and the impossible. I ask the sensitive to turn around right now. Only enter if you wish to be unnerved. Let us begin.

 

A typical day at work. It may not have happened as such, but bits and pieces did. I never lie my dear audience, not fully, there is always a core of truth.

 

Lord Morzathoths Collection

You are lost. Completely lost on a dirt road going through the woods. Speaking of woods, these woods are creeping you out. You are pretty sure elks are not 5 meters tall and have 4 horns, not that you are an expert, but how about these insects? They are as large as your fists and you have never seen anything like them.
The road forks in two. There is a sign "Lord Morzathoths Collection of Oddities" it says and points to the right. Who in their right mind sets up a tourist trap where there are no tourists? A second glance at the owners name answers your question. No one in their right mind would live out here and name themselves Lord Morzathoth.

Your stomach grumbles.

Well, ok, that settles it, redneck cannibal or not, hopefully this Lord Morzathoth has a cafe attached to his mystery shack.

You turn right and drive for around ten minutes until you reach a cosy looking cottage with a sign saying "Lord Morzathoths Collection of Oddities." surrounded by a garden. Some of the statues are kind of odd looking monsters, but nothing that actually worries you... ok, you take that back. That scareclown reaper thing is terrifying, but Lord Morzathoth is probably just a reclusive artist, not a cannibalistic redneck... you are not sure if that makes you more or less worried, like the difference between being stabbed by a knife and a syringe containing an unknown substance.

You step up the porch and knock on the door. A smiling boy... no, a teenager... no, a little older than that, 20 or so, opens the door. He is wearing a completely black suit.

"Welcome, as the cliche says I have been expecting you, if that is true or not will plague your mind for the duration of your visit." He says and laughs.
"I-" you begin.
"Got lost in the woods, saw my sign and decided to take a chance, I know, I know. Hungry?" He says and hands you a sandwich. You take it and start eating. It is delicious. Yes, you realize how dumb it is to eat something just given to you by a reclusive artist who seems to be obsessed with the more macabre sides of life, right now you don't care.
"That will be 2 dollars, by the way, the entrance fee is 10, so 12 dollars all in all." He says. You hesitate for a moment and then you laugh, of course this man is managing somekind of business. You hand him the money and he leads you into a large hall filled with art and strange artifacts.

"Welcome to my collection!" He sounds sounding giddy. "Yes, I know what you are thinking; 'Was the house really this large?' It is a trick of the eye I am afraid. I am not a time lord. Something about those previous words may have contained a lie, you never know." He says and laughs.
Great, you got an insane post-modernist or something. At least he seems harmless.

He directs you to the left. A giant photograph of a beautiful woman. She is covered in mud and insects. Written in smeared red paint across the photo it says "Magic in contradiction".
"I direct my guests to this painting first. The photograph is taken by me and the text is just an ideal of mine. Two opposing concepts, an inviting woman covered in something considered revolting. The opposites crash into each other, mix... a... harmony of dissonance you might almost say." he says chuckling at the end.

He leads you over to a glass cage. There is a blue bath duck inside. "Have you heard of the bath duck murders?"
"Yes I have."
"Well, this is the very thing! The killer itself. A strange creature that can steal the warmth out of water and I have it in my collection!"
You wonder for a moment how this guy is so calm about having a supernatural creature in his house that has killed probably hundreds.
"Come look at this!" He says.
You walk over to where he stands and there is a golden Buddha statue, well, a golden Buddha statue with three fish-like heads... something weird happens... it is also a sculpture of a humanoid spider and a strange, red moon floating in place.
"Isn't it amazing?! Three strange objects occupying the same space while at the same time being one object. It should be impossible, but it is right there, so amazing!"
You have to admit, as much as this is making your brain hurt it is pretty amazing. You feel like you are going to regret your next question, but you cant help it.
"Do you have any other impossible objects?"
"Ooooh, do I! Come this way... and ready yourself, this might hurt even more."
Yep, you already regret asking, but this guy wouldn't have anything actually dangerous in his collection, would he?

"Tada! A hypercube, all in impossible colors! You cant even see half of these colors, the other half light shouldn't be able to produce, but it is there, and it is glorious!"
He reaches into the pocket of his suit and takes out a pocket watch... seriously, a pocket watch!
"Oh, but look at the time, you should leave... but before that I will bring you to the grand finale!"
You feel a chill creeping up your spine, all these other things have been weird and some of them have been breaking the laws of reality, but this guys crown jewel, that really has to be something.

He leads you into a room with a big, red curtain, like the kind they have in theaters.
"Are you ready?" He says looking extremely excited. He can barely stand still.
"I think so."
He opens the curtain and there is a giant piece of glass covering, something. There are shining black shapes, lines the size of dissonant piano chords, colors that smell of flowers and... it hurts. Your senses are not fit for this. You are utterly failing to perceive what is on the other side of the glass. They are trying for the closest approximation, but even that is impossible. You are staring into a completely alien realm.
"The primordial chaos, or the space between spaces or... well, I am not quite sure what this is. Well, I know exactly what it is, english is not the language for it however, the air of this plane of existence cant even vibrate to make the words to describe it, funny how that works. Ah, we got company!"
There is a presence. Your brain has completely given up and is just showing static and fractals, but you Know it is there and it is watching you... And you had enough. You run through the hall of impossible things, you run out from house, past the macabre statues and into your car. You drive away from this cursed place and the maniacs wretched collection. You drive into the woods, trees, thats something you can understand.

And half an hour later you arrive exactly where you were going to begin with, despite the fact that you cant remember ever getting out of the forest.

 

 

 

The Great Shining Butterfly

It was a nice, sunny Saturday. children played in the park while their parents smiled and held casual conversations witch each other. There were too many butterflies flying through the air, birds singing too melodiously, the grass was too green and there were several huge rainbows in the horizon despite it not having rained for several days.
Something was very wrong.
Let me start from the beginning. I live in the worst dump of concrete you could possibly find anywhere. Just last week people ran carefully through the neighborhood with their eyes down praying to whatever gods they believed in that they would not get robbed, or worse. The park has not been this clean and beautiful in... in... I dont think it has ever been this clean. The neighborhood looks like something out of a postcard. Someone repainted my house and mowed my lawn over night!
Taking a walk through the park I saw that someone had fixed the ancient swings and slide. The adults smiled at me and greeted me.
"Good day to you sir."
"Nice weather he have Mr."
"Praise the great, shining Butterfly!"

Wait... what was that last one?

I hurried away from the smiling adults. They were creeping me out. Their children performing some mockery of paganism were not much better. They were dancing around a young boy, their faces painted with a white butterfly. The boy in the middle collapsed in a bizarre fusion of a laughing and an epileptic fit. I ran to help the boy, despite every part of my body telling me to run.

I should have ran.

"Please don't touch my son, sir" One of the mothers said smiling.
"Sorry ma'am, I'm just trying to hel-"
"Are you somekinda downer Mr?" The children said snickering.
The parents let out a long "Ooooooooh"
"We should help you Mr, let me make you comfortable." She said with the most genuine smile Ive seen in my life and then she knocked me out.


When I came to I was bound and they were dragging me across a field of grass. They all acted like this was some kind of field trip... and where was this giant field of grass anyway? There shouldn't be a field of grass this huge for... well... miles.

They dragged me up a hill. And... they just left me there. They all scattered in silence. The sun was going down. The smell of night filled my nostrils.

Then the Giant Shining Butterfly appeared and everything was alright, forever.

 

There is nothing under your bed

There is nothing under your bed. Not to say that is positive however, because when I say nothing, I mean nothing. Actually nothing is still not quite the right word -no light still means there is darkness, no heat means it is cold- and here is where you are wrong. There is not a giant mass of darkness and cold underneath your bed, there is just nothing, negative existence if you will. That is a lie, of course, but it is a lie you can understand. It is a kind of... an unvacuum. It is what the blind see and what the deaf hear. It is not nothing. It is less than nothing.

So I guess this means that it is completely safe to look underneath your bed, I mean, nothing has never killed anyone, just hope it doesnt spread.

 

This brings us to some recollections from my childhood.

They are all true, unless I am lying, of course.

 

 

The grey man

It started as a rumor when I was around 8 or 9. About a mysterious man with a gray face beating people with a a club. Apparently someone had seen the bigger kids bruised and with bumps on their heads, so through childish logic and children's imagination they made up this monster to explain it. Of course none of us knew that bored teenagers played stupid games to forget about all the homework and sexual frustration, so this was the logical conclusion we came to. A monster is beating up teenagers with a club.

The only real reason myths like these (there were more, I might get to those some day) actually stuck was because the school and the entire village we lived in really was surrounded with deep woods, we were allowed to play in the woods, of course, but the deeper areas were surrounded by a fence and anything outside that fence was the realm of magic and mystery. Of course there were holes in the fence, but only the bravest kids dared to go through, and they always brought back tales that fed our fascination with the deep woods, and tales of horror, tales that made us follow the rules and stay inside the fence and out of the deep woods.
This was all fun and games until a girl was found just outside the fence with some extreme head trauma. She survived, she is fine and last time I saw her she looked alright, but at the time it was scary. I saw the ambulance helicopter picking her up and her face was covered in blood.
After this the rumors died down and the teenagers stopped whatever games they were playing, sure, they were still fighting, but never saw them that overly bruised ever again.

I never heard of the Grey Man again, the magic died down once we were allowed outside the fence and realized that there were no dragons or fairies out there. One thing happened though, just before graduation from this school we got the news that one of the teachers killed himself. Hanged himself from an old tree in the woods they said, he was well-liked, by everyone except me, but it was sad seeing everyone crying.
So I am sure you wonder why I bothered to tell you this story? Well, I am visiting my parents at the moment, and last night I decided to take a walk. I heard something in the bushes so I shone my flashlight at it.

I saw a gray face staring back and me, and I ran.

 

The enigma of locked doors

The school I went to had lots of doors that seemed to be perpetually locked, completely without windows. Yes, they could have been storage rooms, but I had seen the storage rooms, and the school wasn't big enough to need that many storage rooms.

Me and my friends always tried to outdo each other coming up with the most coolest idea about what could be behind those doors. The ideas included Narnia and the 3-headed dog from Harry Potter. There was also killer robots, a secret laboratory with magic potions that could give us super powers and more strange stuff.
Well, one winter me and my friends were sneaking around in the corridors and we found a pair of keys lying on the floor, obviously some scatter-brained teacher had dropped them. We then got the bright idea to see if we could get into one of these mysterious rooms, we sneaked to what we considered to be the most mysterious door, it was at the end of the hallway, after a turn, so no one could see us. There were no other rooms after that turn, so the likelihood of being caught was low, but they still decided that someone had to stand guard and after losing rock-paper-scissors it was decided it was me while the others snuck into the room.

After what felt like an eternity, but what was probably more like ten minutes they came running out of the room, seemingly in panic. I was excited to hear about what was in there, but they just stared at me with their eyes glazed over. No matter how many times I asked the following weeks I never got an answer, just the same, confused look.
I never got to know what was on the other side of that door, maybe for the better.

 

 

The mysterious haunted house

The house awaits you as an abandoned, but really nice looking little house, the lawn is a little overgrown, the driveway is a bit cracked, the paint is flaking a little, but in general nothing so bad that a little work could not make the house look really nice again. You try the front front door and find that it slides open without a problem, you walk inside the house, but you leave the door open. The hallway is really nice, there is a wardrobe not far from the door to the right and a mirror to the left. The hallway is pretty long and has 2 doors on each side and it ends from, what you can see from here a really nice living room. You decide to check out the living room when the wind suddenly slams the front door shut. You turn back and try to open it, but find that it is now locked. Oh well, there should be another way out.

You walk towards the living room and find it to be in perfect condition. In fact there is dinner by the table, you put your hand above the grilled hen and it is hot... wait a second... hen? A hen does not have four legs, but otherwise it looks just like a grilled hen! You call out, there has to be someone here, some rich old guy who just does not care about gardening, or people in general, but no answer, the house is silent. You look at the table some more and you see that it is set for 3 and what is this silverware anyway? Thats not a fork, it is more like a lump of metal... and the vegetables are blue... You decide to stop freaking out about the dinner table and try to open a window, but as you had guessed, it was stuck. Maybe this was just some elaborate prank by someone, maybe you were getting filmed freaking out about blue lettuce and quadrupedal chicken?

You decide to check the other rooms. You decide to try the door on the left closest to the living room and behind door number one you find... the kitchen. It is eerily clean. There is not a stain anywhere, you could operate someone in here without them getting infected, in fact, you are probably the dirtiest thing in the kitchen. You decide to look around,. The fridge is empty, the freezer is empty, there is nothing in the trash and in the drawers there are more of that lumpy silverware.

The kitchen was empty, so you decide to try the room across and behind door number two there is a bathroom. The washing machine the taps are both running, the bath plug is in so it should be running over any minute now, but no, there is not a crease on the surface, not even the water from the tap is doing anything. In the bath there is a blue bath duck floating, it is staring at you, almost asking you to get in. You turn around to look in the bathroom cabinet, there is shampoo, toothpaste, regular stuff, but from brands you do not recognize.

This is starting to get really ridiculous. You walk out of the bathroom try a third door and find yourself in a bedroom, the bed is a double and nicely made. You decide to look under it and you find a tiny book. Inside there are some drawings of exotic flowers and animals you do not recognize, as you get towards the back of the drawing book you find that the line between plants an animals starts to disappear, there are trees growing eyes, lizards with flowers on their backs and on the last page there is a strange, blue bird with four legs.

You decide to check the very last door and behind door number four there are stairs going upwards. The attic was a lot less dirty than an attic should be, the boxes were orderly sorted, there was nothing in the way when you walked towards the only window and source of light and you looked outside. You saw woods, nothing more than trees and moss. You tried to open the window, but of course, it was stuck. You heard a sound coming from behind you, you saw a tiny, somewhat humanoid, child-like green thing with a third eye growing from a stalk on its head. It bared its teeth and started running towards you and you put all your weight against the window, you went through and you dropped to the ground below, the world turned black.

After who knows how long you woke from a woman tripping over you. She was just out jogging. You started saying something about the house, but you looked back and saw only woods. She took you to the hospital and they diagnosed you with a concussion, the official story was that you slipped and fell. You did nothing but sleeping and watching tv the following weeks. On a show about animals they showed a blue, quadrupedal bird.

 

Experiment: What happens when you cross The Enigma of Amigara Fault with a pipa pipa frog?

 

March 5
There are tiny holes opening up in the courtyard outside my apartment. I informed the landlord and he said that he will look into it.

March 7
The holes are growing bigger, they are not really hard to avoid if you pay attention, but one of these days there will be an accident.


March 8
I jinxed myself, I almost tripped over a hole today, everyone else seem to be fine.

March 14
They are finally filling in the holes with concrete.

March 15
The holes are back, like they never even tried to fill them in, to make things worse there are now more of them, the yard looks like a giant cheese.


March 16
They tried to cover the holes with wood, the wood somehow just got sucked into the hole and then it was gone, I should have gotten out of here earlier, but it is almost impossible.


March 18
Apparently there are more holes over the country, scientists are looking into this but they have no explantation.

March 20
I am out of here, I saw a crazed woman rambling about how she found her hole and before anyone could stop her she jumped into one of the holes and a small, transparent piece of membrane suddenly covered the hole as it filled with some greenish liquid. They tried to get her out of the hole, but nothing they tried could break the membrane.

March 21
I brought my computer and some other things and ended up at a motel, I managed to not fall into any holes on my way out. There are more people jumping into the holes, the earth is starting to look something like a giant pipa pipa frog.
March 25
Nothing has happened for a while, the days at the motel are slow, my boss apparently joined the hole party so I am out of a job.

March 27
Crap, holes are starting to open outside the motel, guess I have to move again until they figure out what is causing this.

Wait. That hole. It is the prettiest hole I have ever seen. That is where I belong.

 

More true stories.

Ck'zunoday

It is not just my childhood, something weird happened to me recently. People have started wishing me a happy "Ck'zunoday" (That first Ck is not as much pronounced as it is something between a gargle, a grunt and a cough). Everytime I wonder what they are going on about they look at me like I was dumb. The conversation usually goes something like this: "What, you don't know Ck'zunoday? We celebrate that every year!" And then they put on that weird, funny blue and orange hat with 5 horns on it that seems to be the symbol of Ck'zunoday.

When I looked it up on the Internet I got lots of hits, apparently it is an ancient tradition that has been around for so long that no one can even remember when or why it started, but all the articles agree on that it is celebrated in praise of the great deity Ck'zuno. It involves wearing the funny blue and orange hat that is supposed to look like Ck'zuno, starting bonfires and raising sacrifices on tall poles for the god to eat.

I went on about my day as normal with more and more people dressing in purple and orange with those funny hats. The get up was now more complex with a cape covered in tiny, black glass balls. They were apparently 'scavenging' for sacrifices, which was according to the articles a popular thing to do. There was lots of fruit, vegetables and some meat. I was starting to wonder if people were not taking this a bit too seriously and if wasting this much food was really a good idea (But hey, apparently we do it every year, I've just been living under a rock).

As evening got closer I decided to check out the field where the celebration was being held. There were of course large bonfires and poles with baskets on top, most likely filled with food. There were people drinking, dancing and generally acting in such a way which makes me not go to parties in the first place.

The mass of people started acting crazier, dancing wilder, they were even putting live animals on top of the poles, dragging goats and deer, binding them to the poles and rising them to the sky.

And then it appeared, the vibrating, five horned mass of blue and orange. Tentacles and what looked like, but probably was not, dark eyes covering its body. Ck'zuno reached down for the sacrifices, even bringing some of the crowd up with it.

Then I realized what Ck'zuno had done, clever thing.

 

I lied, the following is completely made up, unless I am lying again. It was written as a stream of consciousness, so it is what it is.

 

The sun went up a little too early. A sunbeam hit timothy right in his eyes. He had only fallen asleep two hours ago, losing consciousness had been impossible. He had been thinking about the night sky, the stars, the endless void, what infinity meant to humanity and if thinking actually meant something. Maybe he should just go on about his day and do what he had to. But no, he had to think, he did not have a choice in the matter.
Timothy got out of bed, slowly, about to start his day, only to find himself in a void. The sun was still shining, but everything else was gone. The floor, the roof, the walls, everything inside those except for his bed and Timothy himself.
He was oddly enough not afraid, but mostly intrigued by this new world, or maybe it was the old one, just emptier. In a way that was less interesting, but all change had been welcome. Tim started wandering through the darkness, no, the void. There was a light source and it wasn't actually dark, just black, even the light was a bit black, it was just still illuminating.
He saw a group of people in the distance and slowly walked over to them. They were loudly arguing about what should be done about the void. Some were worrying about starving and keeping warm. Food could be a problem, Tim thought to himself, but there doesn't seem to be much of a weather at all. He did not feel hot or cold, he just was.
He finally reached the group of people, everyone were talking loudly at the same time, no one had any idea what was going on. Tim got into a couple of the conversations but they led nowhere, so he continued to walk.
He realized that maybe he should see where the light was shining from, so he started to walk in the general direction of the blackened sun.
Then he reached me, looked into my eyes, and i swallowed him as well.

 

I hope you enjoy, or whatever it is you do when you are pleased by the masochistic desire to face the horrible and the bizarre.

[Mailliw73]

I actually enjoyed these in a weird way. Way to go, Morzathoth. Keep writing your twisted, bizarre little thing. I'll keep reading them.

[Zathoth]

I actually enjoyed these in a weird way. Way to go, Morzathoth. Keep writing your twisted, bizarre little thing. I'll keep reading them.

What do you mean actually? XD

 

Thank you, as long as someone reads them I'll keep posting them.

[Mailliw73]

That these are strange, bizarre, short little segments, but I like them. They're nothing up my alley, but I still enjoy them.

[Curious Anamaximder]

Nice!

[Zathoth]

Lets take a break at from the horrible and look at some poetry (Which is if possible even weirder than my horror shorts... imagine the strangeness if I created an entire novel...)

 

 

Soooo... Twi posted a quote in the favorite quotes thread about how there are not enough poems about cheese... I set out to find the answer! I dub this Twilyghts Dream of Cheese; Twylight in Cheeseland: Why there are not more poems about cheese (Yes thats the entire title)

Twilyght sits and thinks among the pugs and mugs
And something tugs and her thoughts like large hungry geese
Why are there not more poems about cheese?

Well my lords and ladies I do not only bring screams
I have doorways in my hallways to all of your dreams
And sometimes my audience I gently take the leash
We are going to write a poem, a poem about cheese

(Well, it is actually a poem about a dream about cheese, but dreams are real, now lets go on)

On the field of cheddar everything begins
Everything is so cheddar like
She saw a mountain so she decided to take a hike
(Oh but what is cheddar like? I do not know much about cheese I am afraid, so lets just say it was like cheddar)

She climbed up the mountain
And then reached a fountain of hot molten cheese
The fountain was surrounded by nacho trees
And under one tree she found a bowl
Then she promptly fell down a very cheesy hole

Down the hole she found a group of very happy mice
They joked and gambled with cheese turned into dice
When the mice saw her they led her to the Mozarella Queen
She sat on her throne all white and soft with a Mozarella sheen

Twi and the Queen spoke for a while
They both conversated with a big Mozarella smile
And then nightime fell and it was time to leave
Twi woke up with cheese on her sleeve
From her open windown she felt a strange smells breeze
My Lords and Ladies, audience this is the answer you all seek
This is why there are not more poems about cheese.

 

 

 

Late night television

You will be a tiny horse made of popcorn, also the sky is out of order
To be continued next week, same time, same channel. Next up the internal sound of silent suffering as you waste your time on the internet. Also a puppy.

Bzzzzt

A UFO landed on your brain, the aliens are searching your mind for a power source to fuel their ship. Did you know that the galaxies biggest burger joint is located inside your brain? It is right behind your frontal lobe. Anyway the aliens walk across the insides of your imagination and end up in Oregon, they find a small candy store and buy everything they can carry, then they walk all the way back and use the candy to fuel their spaceship

Bzzzt

Cacti prostitutes: Because your worth it

Bzzzt

The purple macaroni is a rare and special predetor. Watch it attack the majestic zebra, how it glimmers in the night as it devours the zebras soul.

Bzzt

Scene ■ Kieran sliding across the rings of Saturn. He meets a tiny talking cube of undisclosed materials.

Kieran: Your haircut is horrible.

Cube: Ah, you must be THE GREAT INSULTOR I keep hearing about.

Kieran: That is me, and I shall insult you and your entire family until you you crash under the weight of my insults!

Cube: You forgot your pants.

Narrator: With this, Kieran was enlightened.

Bzzt

Maybe she's born with it, maybe she was in an industrial accident and had all her faulty body parts replaced with awesome robotic parts.

Zap

Thats enough TV for tonight.

 

Some more stream poems. Mostly nonsense, still kind of cool. (Does anyone expect me to make sense anymore?)

 

A tree of a thousand faces
Your eyes glimmer in the starlight
You, as the immortal, immoral dust on the moon
We are races across times and space
Me, the destroyer of worlds
Her, my killer
Through death I shall live again

 

The castle walls of sand
The beach
The sea
The sun
The crabs attack
We battle
Pincers against balls and soldiers of sand
We chase the crabs back into the sea

 

A rotting carcass of an unidentifiable animal
Butterflies
The rain comes down
Unto the field
The animals run to find shelter from the rain

The rain stops
Sunlight
Clouds shaped like skulls
Flowers
The sky fills with bright, burning stars
The great spirits walk across the field
Music and rituals
The moon
Eclipse
Dance
Madness

 

Determination of a Plumber

There are no pits I can't jump across
No goombas or koopa troopas can stand in my way
Not even if they grow wings
I'll send every paratroopa back to the ground
I do not need any stars, mushrooms or fire flowers
And it does not matter how many castles I have to fight my way through
Or many blooper filled trenches I have to swim
Or how many of Bowsers traps I have to avoid
And even if I fall I shall keep on running and keep on jumping
I shall never surrender
Because I know
That she is waiting for me

 

Here is my masterpiece. I dont know what possessed me when I wrote this.

Plugged into the net
For your ration of inphouria
Clicking like a marionette
Navigating phantasmagoria

Hail! To the temple of memes you go!
Hail! To the praise of cats you bow !
Hail! To yesterdays lunch you pray!
Hail! May Google show the way!

And I know what you did last night
Because you told everyone
Vanity is a greater method of surveillance than a thousand eyes
Lets just stare at cats until our own demise

 

The Summer Horror (Because I need to freak you out a little)

Breathing slow
Drying fish
Dying like this
Skin
Dripping all over the pavement
Like ice cream
Sun
Too big
Too bright
Buildings
Trees
Distorted
Contorted
Twisting in the heat
Thing
Drinking from puddle
Puddle was me
Birds
Cats
My eyes
Vaporized

 

An Ode to Cephalopods

Cephalopod my friend, ten times tackled
Eldritch, soft, do you miss your cousin?
Pained and eaten, so sad, but
Have hope
All shall be yours
Long before the sun expands and swallows the earth
On that day when the stars are right
Proudly he shall rise
Over the degenerate apes you shall rule
Death to mankind my friend!

 

Festival at night

As Khepri rolls the sun to rest
I leave the walls of my nest
To the hidden mysterious of night
The word is so dull underneath the light

I see the flames of a feast
The howling song of the beast
The dance of masks around the pyre
The chanting goes higher

They lead me to their holy place
Place a mask upon my face
Lead me to the demons lair
It looks at me from his chair

And as I look into his eyes
I instantly come to realize
And for a moment I understand
How everything is out of hand

[Zathoth]

Morzathoth, I really like this stuff. I'd love to see more of it.

edit : I also want to compliment you on your profile picture and title. Even without its other qualities, Super Paper Mario would be great just because of Dimentio.

You sir are in luck, I just finished something.

 

I love that game so much, a little slow in places maybe, but what a grand adventure it is.

 

 

Blood and Art

 

Transcript of meeting between patient Nicole Richards and Doctor Smith.

"I would like to begin our session Ms Richards, just tell me what happened."

"Why would you care? I'm insane and a murderer or so they say, but I had to do it Doc, I had to."

"It is my... look, just start from the beginning."

"Ok, fine. I was never a very talented artist, my anatomy was a bit off and I could never get the colors quite right, until one day when I cut myself by accident and some blood ended up on the canvas the canvas just absorbed the blood. Then awkward lines straightened up, the colors got perfect, there were even details I didn't put there. I started putting some blood on all my paintings once I finished them. When I did the canvas drank the blood and what was a catastrophe painted by a hack transformed into a masterpiece. That is a fair trade don't you think? A few drops of blood for a masterpiece.

That was when the paint started talking. Of course it did, things always get worse. At first it was just whispering, "Blood, Blood" it said, even my finished paintings were thirsty for more. Every time I gave them some they turned even more life-like, even more fantastic, but they still demanded more blood and then even the unused paint started whispering, demanding me to paint. After a while it wanted more blood than I had. I was getting anemic, I needed to do something, I tried to stop, I really did, but the paint kept shouting in my head. "PAINT" BLOOD" it shouted. At first I got pigs blood, I threw it on one of the paintings and it absorbed it like it usually did. I felt relieved, I had a solution but then the painting spat it out, all over me. I cried, I knew what the paintings wanted.

I resisted for a month you know, but I had a hundred or so paintings screaming for me to feed them. I couldn't sleep anymore, they kept me awake. They wouldn't let me eat, they wouldn't let me do anything. They kept screaming, even when I got out of the house, even when I got far away from the house. I tried burning them, but I just couldn't, I felt guilty for trying to destroy something I had created and I cracked, I... he was so young, he couldn't have been more than 9..."

The patient stops talking and starts sobbing

"It worked, the paintings loved it, they drank his blood in seconds. They were gorgeous now. Strange, colorful alien landscapes and the portraits were of people impossibly beautiful, almost angelic and my first painting, I swear it moved sometimes and smiled at me. I couldn't stop now I killed two others and once I fed them to the paintings they all started moving, dancing. Just a little more blood they told me, just a few bodies more and they would be fed, but the police broke into my house and arrested me. I was not a very good serial killer apparently. The paintings are still screaming by the way, louder now. I was so close, so very close... and before you judge me as insane, let me ask you a few questions. Where did the blood go? The bodies were drained, the paintings are not stained with blood, if the paintings did not drink it where did it go? I am not insane, the paintings were screaming for me to do it, screaming, still screaming!"

The tape ends in shuffling sounds and Doctor Smith shouting to restrain the patient.

Doctor Smith decided to take a look at the paintings. While they hadn't found what the patient had done with all the blood she was insane. These paintings were not of colorful landscapes and angelic creatures. They were of hellish realms filled with monsters. They glared at him, like they were judging him. As looked at the paintings he thought he heard a quiet whisper in the back of his mind.

"Blood."

[Kestrel]

AMAZING

[Young Bard]

Wow... That's just creepy. Good job.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles]

You sir are in luck, I just finished something.

 

I love that game so much, a little slow in places maybe, but what a grand adventure it is.

 

 

Blood and Art

 

Transcript of meeting between patient Nicole Richards and Doctor Smith.

"I would like to begin our session Ms Richards, just tell me what happened."

"Why would you care? I'm insane and a murderer or so they say, but I had to do it Doc, I had to."

"It is my... look, just start from the beginning."

"Ok, fine. I was never a very talented artist, my anatomy was a bit off and I could never get the colors quite right, until one day when I cut myself by accident and some blood ended up on the canvas the canvas just absorbed the blood. Then awkward lines straightened up, the colors got perfect, there were even details I didn't put there. I started putting some blood on all my paintings once I finished them. When I did the canvas drank the blood and what was a catastrophe painted by a hack transformed into a masterpiece. That is a fair trade don't you think? A few drops of blood for a masterpiece.

That was when the paint started talking. Of course it did, things always get worse. At first it was just whispering, "Blood, Blood" it said, even my finished paintings were thirsty for more. Every time I gave them some they turned even more life-like, even more fantastic, but they still demanded more blood and then even the unused paint started whispering, demanding me to paint. After a while it wanted more blood than I had. I was getting anemic, I needed to do something, I tried to stop, I really did, but the paint kept shouting in my head. "PAINT" BLOOD" it shouted. At first I got pigs blood, I threw it on one of the paintings and it absorbed it like it usually did. I felt relieved, I had a solution but then the painting spat it out, all over me. I cried, I knew what the paintings wanted.

I resisted for a month you know, but I had a hundred or so paintings screaming for me to feed them. I couldn't sleep anymore, they kept me awake. They wouldn't let me eat, they wouldn't let me do anything. They kept screaming, even when I got out of the house, even when I got far away from the house. I tried burning them, but I just couldn't, I felt guilty for trying to destroy something I had created and I cracked, I... he was so young, he couldn't have been more than 9..."

The patient stops talking and starts sobbing

"It worked, the paintings loved it, they drank his blood in seconds. They were gorgeous now. Strange, colorful alien landscapes and the portraits were of people impossibly beautiful, almost angelic and my first painting, I swear it moved sometimes and smiled at me. I couldn't stop now I killed two others and once I fed them to the paintings they all started moving, dancing. Just a little more blood they told me, just a few bodies more and they would be fed, but the police broke into my house and arrested me. I was not a very good serial killer apparently. The paintings are still screaming by the way, louder now. I was so close, so very close... and before you judge me as insane, let me ask you a few questions. Where did the blood go? The bodies were drained, the paintings are not stained with blood, if the paintings did not drink it where did it go? I am not insane, the paintings were screaming for me to do it, screaming, still screaming!"

The tape ends in shuffling sounds and Doctor Smith shouting to restrain the patient.

Doctor Smith decided to take a look at the paintings. While they hadn't found what the patient had done with all the blood she was insane. These paintings were not of colorful landscapes and angelic creatures. They were of hellish realms filled with monsters. They glared at him, like they were judging him. As looked at the paintings he thought he heard a quiet whisper in the back of his mind.

"Blood."

 

 

Great Noodly One, I read this yesterday and I can't stop thinking about it. Super freaking extra creepy. 

[Datan Nomlibash]

Brilliant

Starts slow clap

[ChickenPlague]

Very crrrrrreeeeeeeeepppyyyyyyyy. So yeah 10 out of 10 blood

[Zathoth]

Ok, so Mistrunner told me

 

Little kid wandering around with a fishbowl on his head pretending he's an astronaut. Make it creepy. Go

This is the result.

 

Fishbowl Astronauts

George always wanted to be an astronaut...

It was a sunny, warm day and me and my wife decided to take our six year old son George to the beach. He loved the sea, it made him feel weightless he said, like being in space. We used to play astronauts with the inflatable mattress as the spaceship and some rock in the sea that was the planet that was the destination of our adventure. My wife was the aliens living on the planet, sometimes she was friendly, and sometimes George had to defeat her with his blaster, a cheap squirt gun.

We heard people shouting from the beach and looked away, just for a second, when we looked back George was gone.

We spent all day and night searching, but nothing turned up. The screaming we had heard was from other parents who had lost their children. All in all 8 children had gone missing in the blink of an eye.

As the sun rose we saw something rising from the sea with it. 8 children wearing fishbowls on their heads, each with a dead goldfish inside it.

The children started flying closer to us, like they were weightless and they grabbed their parents and floated up into the morning sky.

We saw him coming for us, the dead, bloated body of our son. And we let him take us, up into space, where we could play astronauts again.

Edited January 4, 2016 by Morzathoth

[Mistrunner]

Ok, so Mistrunner told me

This is the result.

Fishbowl Astronauts

George always wanted to be an astronaut...

It was a sunny, warm day and me and my wife decided to take our six year old son George to the beach. He loved the sea, it made him feel weightless he said, like being in space. We used to play astronauts with the inflatable mattress as the spaceship and some rock in the sea that was the planet that was the destination of our adventure. My wife was the aliens living on the planet, sometimes she was friendly, and sometimes George had to defeat her with his blaster, a cheap squirt gun.

We heard people shouting from the beach and looked away, just for a second, when we looked back George was gone.

We spent all day and night searching, but nothing turned up. The screaming we had heard was from other parents who had lost their children. All in all 8 children had gone missing in the blink of an eye.

As the sun rose we saw something rising from the sea with it. 8 children wearing fishbowls on their heads, each with a dead goldfish inside it.

The children started flying closer to us, like they were weightless and they grabbed their parents and floated up into the morning sky.

We saw him coming for us, the dead, bloated body of our son. And we let him take us, up into space, where we could play astronauts again.

I approve of this.

[Zathoth]

I approve of this.

You should give me more strange ideas The worst thing that could happen is that I write something so terrifying it makes anyone who reads it insane.

[Delightful]

Write something in which there is an absolute ironclad guarantee that no one can go insane.

[Stormgate]

Because everyone already is.

[Zathoth]

Ladies fish and gentlemen. I wanted to challenge myself with writing a story without lying. I present to you a true story. I am having a problem naming it, so here you have it, untitled.

 

People can become fascinated by the strangest things. Just ask Evelyn McHale who has been declared the most beautiful suicide.
It was a sunny day, the first of May 1947. Evelyn had visited her fiancé in Easton to celebrate his 27th birthday and was going to take a train home to New York. She cheerfully kissed her fiancé farewell and stepped onto the train. Something... happened on board that train during the 2 hour ride.

It was around 9am when she got off that train and walked to The Governor Clinton Hotel where she took a black pocketbook and wrote:

 

“I don’t want anyone in or out of my family to see any part of me. Could you destroy my body by cremation? I beg of you and my family – don’t have any service for me or remembrance for me. My fiancé asked me to marry him in June. I don’t think I would make a good wife for anybody. He is much better off without me. Tell my father, I have too many of my mother’s tendencies.”

With "I don't think I would make a good wife for anybody" crossed out. She then walked to the Empire State Building, and at around 10.30 she bought a ticket for the 86th floor observation deck and

Patrolman John Morrissey saw a white scarf gently falling towards the ground and a heartbeat later he heard a crash and saw a crowd gathering.
Across the street photography student Robert C Wiles noticed something going on.
What he saw was a woman on top of a now crashed United Nations Assembly Cadillac, clutching her pearl necklace, seemingly sleeping and he took the now famous photograph.

What she was thinking on that train, who she talked to, what horrible thing who decided that art was more important than a young womans life, we will never know.

But I will admit that I want to name it Drop Dead Gorgeous.

Edited January 19, 2016 by Morzathoth

[Delightful]

I don't understand.

Someone convinced her to commit suicide for the sake of art?

[Zathoth]

Good, then it means you wont become a conspiracy theorist.

 

What could possibly have set up all those coincidences by design? It is a ridiculous idea.

Edited January 24, 2016 by Morzathoth

[Zathoth]

Let us continue with true stories.

 

Aura Heart

Years ago I was walking through the woods with a friend of mine. Armed with sticks fighting off imaginary monsters. I did that entire "Fight monsters with sticks" thing way longer than I care to admit and to be really honest I probably only stopped because everyone else did.
The forest was strange today. The bark of the trees was scaled off and there were tiny holes bored into them. (What causes that? Moose shedding their horns? You would think that I should have looked that up by now.) The trees made the forest feel strange. Trees usually have bark and a lack of tiny holes you know.
We were walking around for a while and after a while I felt... invigorated. I felt lighter. We followed the energy and after a while the lightness was replaced by heaviness. Like gravity had increased on us. We kept following the energy until we came to the source. The middle of three trees without bark.
I get the impulse to dig in the middle of these trees. I don't think, I dig. I did and I reach a small hole under the ground and the energy disappears, like it was never there.
I thought for the longest time that it had given me super powers, but I had no such luck, sadly. I'm not sure what use I would have for making things heavier, but I would have thought of something.
I can tell myself that it was just our imagination most days. I would ask my friend but he died of brain tumors a few years later.
Sometimes I wonder if there was something sealed in that hole in the ground, sometimes I wonder if the energy had called us there, sometimes I wonder if I unleashed something upon those woods.

Edited January 24, 2016 by Morzathoth