Medium

I hear the bell of my door ring with a following slam. No one called out to me, as they often do. Here in my home, I provide the service of fortune telling. Many clients thrive on my readings, as if they struggle to face the unknown. Always prepared, must know what comes forth toward them, leaving no sight unturned. None are as aggressive to my door as the slam. Often they lurk in slowly as if held in skeptics and paranoia. A questioning fear that what dwells within the confines of my home is monstrous and will pull them inward to a ghastly demise if disturbed. They speak softly to me, and call my name with hesitance. To whom would want to anger a medium?

I gather myself through my living room and into the divide of my alter room where I cease in movement. I see no one is present and begin to pace toward the door. Perhaps a draft, I ponder, looking steadily around the table for which my readings are kept. Aside the cabinet before the door, I saw the small of his hand before all else. Ashen gray skin with the filthiest of nails. I call out to him, the little boy and he steps forward with reluctance. The oddly sight of this child, for his eyes are wide and blackened by abuse. His glare is piercing, void, and empty. Neglect is wore upon him in the rags he is consumed by and his feet bairn. Why in this winter, he must have been within for days. Frozen, he appeared, though he did not shake. I speak to him, where are your parents? He speaks nothing in return and gives a blank blink. Oblivious, it had seemed, he was to the language I spoke.

What has brought you here, my dear? Go on, do not be afraid. I speak softly and bend downward to be at his height. He turns with swiftness, the upper torso of his body looks as if it would have broken were he to have turned any quicker. He points there, to my sign regarding that I am a fortune teller. You have come for a reading? His torso snaps back toward me and in his little hands, he holds them in an outreached mold. I peer closer to him, slowly with ease so as to not frighten him away. What have you got there, child? I can feel the expression worn about my face alters to a look of observation, my brows crinkle to wonder. I place my hand outward and he drops it within them. Why, it looks to be a scale of some sort. Where did you find this?

I become lost in my foresight. My vision reveals the plethora of repitilians. Serpents slithering on top of one another, the many of them in a crumpled swarm. The lizards that follow, randomly viewed in the serpent's nest. There then appears a black velvet that glides with subtle ease, closer and closer. I become aware that I am as equally observed as I observe this blackened winder, as if it is not a mere serpent, but a being. Its golden eyes concentrate further so on me and I become self aware. It can see me, where I stand.

I am pulled from my vision with sudden haste and great fear. I look fiercely into the eyes of the sullen boy and the scale has faded into dust at the palm of my hands. I am thrown into a brief shutter as he replaced then in my hands, a stone, unexpectedly. It was a dull gem that carried rough features. Nothing of beauty was found within it, until I concentrated more so. It began to illuminate with cosmic lights, shades of hazy purples, brightened greens, and yellows within its core. I felt I was peering into the universe as it was. Watching the spectrum of the galaxies spiral and twist inward, drawing me more near. I began to lose sight of my surroundings and feel I am within the universe, shrouded by darkness and its absence. I listen contently and can hear it, ever so silently. It grows in sound, the growling of its movement. The sound of metal in movement, scraping in a constant roar. Loudly, it grew until my ears were stung with agony. Flashes of a darkened planet in no orbit. It did not rotate, but neared with sudden pace. More quickly then and sounds of the planet grew harsher. Sounds of screams filled my mind, it rattled the core from within me.

I am ripped away from my vision as the stone strikes the floor and I cast in a throw away from the boy. I strike with a harsh thud, the floor and glare at the boy in stun. What are you, child?! I cast out to him and with no avail, he does not speak. Speak! I belt, Speak at once for yourself! To where do you hail?! He stands without movement, when his arms begin to sway at his side, as if in amusement. No smile worn about his face, his movement is serpentine.

I lost sight of him, in the spur of his movement. So frail and with grand speeds, he had cast himself forth toward me and my eyes had closed in shock. Upon viewing, he was no where to be found. Though, I. I found myself consumed in liquid. He had cast upon me in his movements, what appeared to be the blood of doves. I shriek in terror and rage, Where are you, you little bastard! None is present to answer. None, but the peaceful drifting of gentle music. A flute, I recognized it to be. Ever so beautiful. In a way one can not comprehend to speak its rhythm. I feel within my chest, the harmonic shaking the music brings, each note sounds more fluid than before. I listen to follow where it comes from and find I struggle to move my limbs. They are dragged in a sense of euphoria. A relaxation of my limbs, as my toes scrape the floor they walk upon. I do not feel much of this world anymore. It has faded from me, all of its burdens and worries. My body glides, as if lifted into the atmosphere, the calming feeling that I am floating. Yet I am not, as I continue through my home to search for the music.

I am given flashes of my home. Briefly I can see my home as it is, until then I begin to see my home as it is not. An empty residence of abandonment and neglect. Glass shattered and blood worn on the walls. Garbage had spilled onto my floor, devouring it in its entirety and I walk still, in this state of bliss. Scattered flashes return me back into my home as it truly is and then back again to the devastation I am perceiving it. I walk through to my living room and peer out of my window at the cobblestone street. I cry there, with a sudden burst. All was gone! In ruins, it had been. Fire set ablaze across the town and skies of grey flood the heavens above. The flicker of flames do not illuminate in their golden tilts, but grey. It was achromatic, the view I held upon the world. All in slowed movements, as if time was worn and began to fade until it ceases forever more. Death. Death filled it all. The cadavers of townspeople laid scattered and burned, their skins melted and pouring into goo's that drown the streets. My heart breaks and I fall into prayer it is not a vision, nor a reality, but a dream. A terrible, terrible dream!

I shriek at the sound of it. Where it had came from, I am uncertain. Fallen from the heights of the skies, it seemed, but a fright, it cast me in as I turned to see it laying open about the floor. A loud crash it had struck the floor in and I am weary of it, for how had it been placed there? I walk to it with hesitation. The pages flip quickly and back again in a breeze that is not captured. I pick it up and hold within my hands, this book. Reading forth from it what I can and do not recognize it as it speaks in a language unfathomable. Symbols, it holds and markings. I run my fingertips onto a symbol in my concentration of it and became frightened at the sight of turning to my palm. The symbol had cast itself as an image on my palm and I shake with fierce ability to wave it from me. It does not go and I grab onto the book yet again. I flip it closed and wipe the filth from its cover. It couldn't be, I whimper, Oh gods.... No. I am thrown to tear shed again and sob uncontrollably. In a tantrum, I throw myself to the floor and coddle my knees to my chest.

I tense. My muscles along my body throb and ache. Hair raises and I feel insanity is due to me. I feel him there, at my back. I make the attempts to ignore what is felt, but it overcomes my ability, my will to live any further. It shrouds me in my deepest depression and casts for me a promise of suffering. Torment, forever I will be eaten by the serpent, as its tail. The book slams closed a small ways before me and I trace over its letters again; Three fold more and then a ten fold, so. Necronomicon.

My eyes roll into my skull and I am given insights. Creatures, that prance and dance in a festive before a throne. A holder of the flute from which I had followed, and a daughter that falls into the abyss, sculpting the earth as we come to dwell. The blackened shade of a swift shadow glides down into the abyss after her. A creature of destruction. Blood hunger and power struck. A demented form that prides on dismantling humanity, the infection of Barbelzoa. His lost love that refute and shun him. I am preyed upon, the food it will feast. I unleashed, the velvet serpent. The crawling chaos. Nyarlathotep.