the doom that came to retarius

today's blog entry will be written in the style of H.P. Lovecraft.


i awoke, not sure if i remained in the fantastical dream state, the light of the day piercing the inky blackness of my room. suddenly i shuddered, calling to mind the horrific dream i had of...but i must not say, for fear that the mere recollection of the dream push me fully into the realm of utter madness.

after morning ablutions, i made myself breakfast, a devilishly toothsome amalgamation of scrambled eggs and cheese, so delectable the slightest taste could drive one mad. and i also had some coffee.

i had to go shopping today. the sky was a menacing gray, hinting of a foreshadowing of upcoming terrors that may or may not actually happen. as i drove, i passed old houses, haunted by shadows and looming dark and melancholy, reminding me of a time in the northwest when...but i dare not say, lest in mentioning the foul deeds they return to haunt me evermore.

i arrived at the store, the front doors looming in front of me like some keepers to the gates of hell. as i approached them, they opened, as if sensing my approach and welcoming me to my imminent doom the way a spider welcomes a fly. i entered, and beheld a sight as no living man has seen, save in the phantasmagoria of opium induced fever: a sale on shampoo, the very item that drew me from the safety of my home into the unknown, into a maw that could very well end up with my very death. it was as if the old ones that have passed on into shadows, forever watching and waiting, spoken of in only hushed tones by elders, and spoken of as mere tales to frighten by the youth, knew that i needed some shampoo and possesed the managers of the store, the way demons posses those who invite them through dark rituals performed in secret.

as i drove back home, the sky had become a grotesque palate of grays, mocking the very sun. i had recently purchased a trance cd, filled with beats mixed by dj's as if satan, the great worm and father of lies himself guided their hands and handpicked the records from their milk crates. i imagined satyrs and bacchanals dancing and whirling insanely through seething abysses of clouds of smoke and light, the floor teeming with writhing bodies, teeth gnashing, eyes raised heavenward as if pleading for brief respite from the acrid smell of sweat and sickeningly sweet perfume. i was thinking....i should go to burning man next year. anyway, as i listened, enchanted, i suddenly became aware of a change in my surroundings. dammit, i missed my turn, so i had to drive a ways in traffic until i could turn around and return home.

i ate some lunch and played the PS2 for a while. as i played, i could not shake a chill i had, as if the grim reaper had taken a seat behind me and was about to make a call, his bony hand, reeking of rot and fresh earth, grasping my soul and wrenching it from my body, my screams the soundtrack to his last caress. it turned out the damn door was open.

it had become night, a blanket of darkness spreading across the sky like cancer, my heart began to beat as i....but i cannot continue....the mere mentioning of the terrible ordeal is too much to bear and threatens to cause me to relive the exquisite pain, driving me into the depths of complete insanity.

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