Chapter Two
The debris of splintered wood and chipped paint rested on the floor in a chaotic pile beneath Ben’s feet. Standing there, peering into the dark concrete chamber, he felt a sense of triumph. From above, a single pillar of light broke through the hole in the ceiling where Ben’s foot had first gone through and illuminated a small spot on the floor. A collection of crates and boxes cluttered the walls, creating an empty circle in the middle of the room. The desk he had seen rested against the far wall, obscured by the darkness. Layers of dust had collected on everything and the air was hazy from the sudden disturbance he had created. He waited for a minute as the air was taken over by a stale snowstorm of gray powder.
Ben tried to fight off a sneeze as he stepped in, but failed. The beam from the flashlight lit up the flurries as they fell and found their place on every surface. Ben illuminated the room in portions as he inspected the different containers, reluctant to search the desk with the skeleton next to it. Some were filled with strange stone artifacts that were surrounded by packing straw and others were filled with books and other peculiar odds and ends. It was obvious that each item was very old, and most of them looked like they belonged in a museum. Excitement began to build even higher in his chest as he rummaged through the trove of interesting items, trying his best not to look toward the skeletal corpse.
Each box offered up new excitement until at last he was forced to inspect the desk. He lifted his gaze to the book and then to the decayed body. Ben stared, enthralled by the macabre scene. The skeleton was seated in a chair, leaning against the wall. Its flesh and clothing had rotted away years ago, leaving nothing more than fossil from a previous age. A chill ran up Ben’s spine as he inched closer to the disturbing sight. Ben had never seen a dead body before, but for some reason the bones inspired a scientific curiosity in him, rather than filling him with terror the way they did when he watched horror films. To stay anchored, Ben ran his fingers across the top of the desk, leaving long tracks in the thick dust.
He stood by the bones, lost in thought, until his hand came to rest on top of the book inches from the skeleton’s boney hand. It was a huge leather-bound tome, much larger than any he had seen before. Bibles with annotations would have a hard time achieving the same mass as this ancient manuscript. The cover had a strange bronze emblem on it and the leather was cracked, giving it a sinister look. Ben marveled at it until he was pulled away by his own curiosity again. Books were interesting, but the bones had a story to tell that was much more chilling.
Crouching down, Ben came face to face with the skull and stared deep into its hollowed-out eyes. The black abyss before him reflected nothing but the emptiness of death, which was more disheartening than the body itself. In its creaky hand, dangling below the desk, was an antique revolver, gripped tight, finger against the trigger. In the other, resting atop the massive tome, was a black notebook, untouched by the hand of time. Still crouched there, Ben grabbed it and watched as the hand fell to pieces. The small bones fell to the floor as he opened the little book and flipped through it until he reached the last page.
The myths were all true; the book is in fact evil incarnate! It has taken me months of research and study, but I have finally proven that it is the ill fated Ala Azif. Why have I been so cursed as to actually find the damned thing? Of course, I went looking for it, but we all thought it was just a myth. That it was nothing but a simple idea that would occupy our small minds and fat wallets. But here it is… in my possession, and here I am with a gun in my hand. The same gun that I plan to end my life with before the book can completely take me. If you let it, it will take everything you have just to watch you squirm as your life collapses around you. Your life and your dreams are forfeit the second you open this book and your reality will no longer belong to you but instead to the sleeping gods that helped to write the damnable thing.
I sit here in my house writing this with nothing else in the world. My family is dead; taken from me by mysterious circumstances. I can’t help but shake the feeling that the book was the source of their demise. If I told anyone this though, I would surely be locked in a padded cell where corrupt doctors would perform horrible experiments on me until I became truly insane. So instead I will join my poor family in the hereafter and hope that God has mercy on my soul despite my meddling with demonic things. Do not open this book, for it is a harbinger of evil and destruction. All will be lost…
Franklin
Ben frowned. “Suicide, huh?”
Ben stood up with the journal in his hand and examined the skull. There was a large hole connecting the mouth to the back of the head where the bullet had passed through and entered the wall, leaving a hole in the concrete. He felt kind of gross touching the remains now and pulled his hand away. Distancing himself, he returned to the mammoth book on the desk and looked down on it with intent. Dust flew into the air as he expelled a huge breath and blew on the top. The depth of the brown leather became apparent and the emblem proved to be more intricate than he could determine previously. With his fingers, he traced the interlacing lines and circles of the cold bronze design until they rested on the latch. Hesitation caught his hand as he thought about the warning the letter had left him. How serious could it be? It was just a book, after all. Taking a deep breath, and deciding to disregard the ominous message, he turned the lock. The latch popped open with a click and fell to the table.
With curiosity gripping him, Ben had to see what this man had killed himself over. Superstition and belief had fascinated him since a young age, and it showed on his bookshelf. Thoughts of a childhood full of old archaeology texts and watching television specials with his dad crowded his mind. He placed the flashlight down on the table and reached for the book.
The hard cover hit the table with a loud clap. Each yellowed page sounded like it was torn from the book as he turned them with slow deliberate motions. With every turn, he found a wealth of interesting images and symbols.
His eyes widened as he skimmed over unknown languages and drawings. Some of the pictures depicted abnormal creatures while others portrayed autopsies on human and animal remains, as well as rituals he didn’t understand. He had turned through only a handful of the book’s pages when one page caught his eye more than the rest. Scrawled across the ancient paper was a symbol that held his gaze, fixing his attention until he was lost in a trancelike state.
The image seemed to pulse as he looked at it, drawing him further in until something began to creep into the back of his mind. At first it was a simple sound that was almost inaudible, but then it rose into a soft murmur that grew louder until it was like a chant, roaring in his head. An image flashed behind his eyes, and it was in that moment that he knew what he had to do next.
Walking over to the bones, Ben grabbed the loose fingers from the floor and laid them out on the desk. As if sleepwalking, he made his way over to the crates and searched until he found a ceramic mortar and pestle. He put the finger bones in the bowl and, with the cream-colored tool; he ground them to meal and then dumped the remains into his hand. With words unknown to him on his lips, he blew the contents of his hand into the air.
The bone meal dispersed into a cloud and then began to come back together to form the outline of a body. First the arms and legs took shape, then the torso, and finally, the head came into view. A white silhouette stood there examining its own existence for a moment before looking at Ben. Its features were mere representations of the face they once defined and its look of perplexity was nothing more than a movement of the powder.
“Why does this place hurt so?” it asked in a shaken, ethereal voice that had a disturbing echo to it.