The Holder of the Path

In a large city, in some country, you may find a grand hotel. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who called "The Holder of the Path." The worker will try his best to keep a look of indifference on his face while handing you a key which, as he will explain, belongs to an unused supply closet in the building (if only it were that simple). Upon locating and unlocking the correct door, you will find a narrow, winding road suspended in an endless void, only occasionally disrupted by the massive outlines of things best left undescribed.

To fall off the path is to be thrown out of reality itself. A nightmarish eternity of inconceivable horror awaits anyone who either stumbles into the void by their own error or is dragged off the path by the timeless monstrosities that reside on the outskirts of creation. If you should ever feel as if you are being watched while traveling through this piece of oblivion, the best chance you have is to immediately freeze in place and hold your breath. Continue to do so until either your audience loses interest or moves in to claim you. If the latter should occur, feel free to scream as hard as you want, though your screams will fall on deaf ears.

Eventually the path will end at a door; upon opening it, you will find a small, dirt-caked room. Propped up against the far wall will be a heavily emaciated corpse; what‘s left of its skin has long since blackened with necrosis. There will be nothing else unusual about it unless you approach it and ask one question: "How did they acquire guardians?"

If said line is spoken, the corpse will begin to stir. A subtle red glow will emanate from its eye sockets as it lifts its head and begins to whisper the long and macabre history of the Holders. It will speak of unholy pacts and unspeakable atrocities. Within time, its tale will touch upon every form of evil known to man or God (and then a few more). Furthermore, if given the title of any Holder, it will reveal its history and the meaning of the object that it protects.

Well, almost any Holder. You see, it will never go into detail about itself. This is because the ghoul hopes that its visitor will not question why it seems to be lacking an Object. Truth be told, its Object was somehow sealed inside its skull, and the ominous glow from within its eye sockets is actually the shining light of the Object trapped inside.

That is Object 7 of 538. Its Holder will do anything to keep you away from it.

The Holder of Song

In some city, within some country, you may find a childrens' museum. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone called "The Holder of Song.” You will then be guided to a single door leading to a long, winding staircase. It will spiral higher than the building stands; at the top is a door that opens into a hallway.

A sudden wave of heat will wash over you upon opening the door. Proceed down the hall; eventually you will feel much colder. You must then stand perfectly still and make no sound. If you hear a baby crying, turn and run. No harm will befall you, but the baby's cry will follow you wherever you go. If you hear it for the rest of your life, count yourself lucky; if and when it stops, your firstborn child will die.

If there is no cry and the heat returns, proceed to the door at the end of the hall and open it. The room beyond will be awash in green light. In the center will be an old woman turning a music box that produces no sound. Her legs have both been severed at the knees. When you speak to her, you must look her in the eyes. She hides a spear fashioned from the bones of her legs; break eye contact, and she will impale you with it and leave you, in seemingly unending agony, to bleed to death. She will respond to only one question: "What was the song they used to play?"

The old woman will begin to sing. The song will be in a different language, but the melody will be the most beautiful you have ever heard; peace and serenity will wash over your mind, body, and soul. Suddenly, without warning, you will be able to see, in vivid detail, the image of carefree children playing and singing, innocent as can be. Though the scene seems peaceful and jubilant, it will eventually take a horribly sinister turn. The children will begin to fight each other. Soon, they will start to kill each other in the most brutal ways imaginable. They will impale each other on wooden poles, disembowel each other with sharp rocks, and even rip flesh from bone with their bare hands. The image will then show these children, now merely tattered doppelgangers of themselves, spreading death and destruction more horrific than you could ever imagine. You will see a naked boy, drenched in blood, singing with delight as he runs through a hellish wasteland, pursued by unspeakable monsters. They will overtake him and utterly destroy him, the song still issuing forth from his shredded lips all the while. Despite these scenes of horror and brutality, you will remain calm and peaceful all the while, though you will not know why.

When these horrific visions end, an intense pain will stab at your chest. Your heart will feel like it is about to explode. Still, you must not break eye-contact with the old woman, for to do so would invite such horrors upon yourself that an exploding heart would be comparable to Paradise. If you remain steadfast in your gaze, the pain will eventually cease. The woman will stand up (though you will know not how) and place the music box in your hands.

The music box is Object 6 of 538. When its song plays again, they will all come together.

Something alittle different

I used to do a tiny bit of urban exploring. Its been awhile but I though I might put up a couple of the pictures over a few posts.

Your run of the mill crumbling down house.

On one hand alot of this is more or less just pictures of garbage, but I enjoy seeing nature retake the land. I dont like overly long posts so I'll put up some more from this place another time.