The Sea Of Reality
The sea of reality
Far and away this world is a small beach of sanity. I cannot fathom breaching that edge, and stepping into the great sea, god damn what am I saying… there is nothing ‘great’ about that damned sea. I dare not even look up at that sky at night, what god dare claim mercy and love to all, and yet create that sea. I have stepped fully into that briny freezing water, and never realized until I was dragged down and forced to see all that lay beyond our own shore.
By god the horrors of hell shan’t scrape at me if that’s the waking world. I was merely an over zealous researcher, should have never started that job, I was damned the moment I was recruited. To hell with those people, I don’t even know what’s left after the accident, the lab must be either incomprehensible, or beyond repair of any information being retrieved… good, that place is no sanctuary of knowledge, forbidden things, forgotten gods, men of more than what can be described with the limitations of godly script. The rotting gods at the edge of all that is, and was, their decaying corpses being a mere moment from wiping out half of what we see in the sky.
The light of galaxies staring like eyes upon my back, and yet still I cannot tell if they judge me, or simply cannot see me, just looking forever with dead eyes into the ether. I used to say progress was my goal, to explore that which has never been touched, but maybe the limitations of what we are were protections from these entities, masses which move and flicker like a candle flame in wind through our reality and out into the infinite black sea of tar, a writhing, breathing mass of a sea beyond which we can never hope to see, let alone understand. We pray for safety at night, and forgiveness for our sins, but no god can wipe the horrors from my mind, which wrap me up in a suffocating blanket as I fall deeper into madness.
One may ask, surely your career experience should have awarded some inclination as to the dangers of that job. And by all lines and lies I was aware, but never to this extreme, I never was truly aware of how much we danced upon that knife edge of our world, and once we tripped, all was lost. All those now dead and damned for trying to reach god's domain, but now I only ask… which god.
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Pt. 1
This I write as the last words to be heard by my hand, and to attest to the atrocities of which I have bore witness to. I must be clear, no answers will come to you, or comfort learning what I have seen and know now. I was damned long before taking that job researching things that man had best left alone. But to get to explaining what happened we must understand who I am, god I must be honest, I am but a shell of a man, let alone far and away from the same person I was where this story starts us.
I had grown up in a small everybody knows everybody town in New England, quaint idyllic life for most people nowadays. I had been raised in a relatively religious household, little more than Easter church, and prayer before meals as a young lad. I had a fascination with religions, and mythologies, going through from Greek, to Norse, and even some Eastern mythologies where I could find content in my small town library.
This led me to being enamored in learning about the bizarre and occult secrets like Paganism in my mid-teens, familiarizing myself with all the little details, I guess this is also how my desire for being a historian started. I worked hard through my teens, always the odd one, somewhere between the school nerd, and goth, both envied and hated, and now only one of those may be true for those who know me, knew feels more apt after that last job.
The ostracizing never really was a concern for me, as much as it was my parents, but given my performance in school being near top of the school by graduation, they never seemed to approach me about their concerns directly, but I could hear them talking through the walls at night. They did congratulate me soon after graduation when I had managed to get a scholarship into a quite prestigious college for a major in history.
And this is where my life started proper, I had to move a number of hours away, and lived in a dorm with three other students. We managed to get along quite well given all of us seemed to be out of state, and in different courses, one was in music, one business, and another in forensics. We managed to become drinking buddies at the frat parties that were hosted around, even getting into young trouble by dipping into the local bars, and on more than one occasion banned for upwards of a month.
All this to say get to where things properly start, with the professor for history, a man at the time was quite young compared to the other professors in the school, it felt like night and day between him and the teacher next door, one side with a late thirties man, well kept dark hair and quite the surprising energy about him, and the other side a man who seemed to have more hair on his thin arms than his head. The history teacher was Dr. Myard Hammond, he was an expert in the esoteric, and less savory details of history, human, and as I came to find out, inhuman knowledge.
Given my passion and striking fondness for the subject I spent many off periods throughout the first two years discussing the very macabre and obscure histories of the world, including religions on their societies.
It wasn’t until my second year, December had fallen and we were just about a week out from Christmas break, the students were either taking Midterms or burning out from them, so the bars were quite alive that night, I was out with my roommates and as the lot of them talk about heading back for the night. They all had their various reasons between their own tests coming up, or lack of sleep biting at them for proper repose they left.
I stayed seated at the booth, finishing my drink, figuring that if nothing else I should also get some repose, burning myself to finish a few classes worth of studying for a number of overlapping test days ahead. I had just about finished when looking up I saw Dr. Hammond enter, the only tell the door was opened was a quick biting wind from the frosty air outside, the place was too lively and loud to hear the small bell above the door ring.
I motioned him over as he looked around, and I noticed that even under his large coat, he was a disheveled man, I could see the bags under his eyes, unkempt hair, wrinkled dress shirt poking out the bottom untucked. He seemed skittish, surprised someone would recognise him almost, and I soon came to find out why once he tentatively sat down, confirming nobody else was coming back to sit there. He ended up getting some strong liquor and kept looking into his glass most of the while.
I by this point was at least mostly intoxicated, with some wits still about me, asked jovially of his day, unaware of his tense nature.
He mumbled to himself some, then looked up at me, and even through the alcohol I saw the eyes of a desperate man, he was half the man I saw just a day before, and when he spoke all the energy that had been so pervasive through all his classes was now gone, he made no sense at the time, talking of some place he called the ‘sunken city’. I pressed if he was talking of Atlantis, and what that has to do with anything.
He had slapped his hand on the table, just barely shaking the drinks and said, ‘God damn, I know Atlantis, but where, by the Dead Gods Where! They have been found from the deep Amazon, to the deep Sahara, where did you slimy Bastards hide the last key.’ his voice was unusually sharp, and edged, and seemed to be talking to himself more than me.
Left: Chiyo, Vampire-Elf, Oracle (She/her)
Right: Seriphim, Aasimar-human, Paladin, (They/them)
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