Post by Westcompany on Jul 16, 2016 9:58:47 GMT -8
1804 AD, Prague, Nineteenth of October.
"Dear Anastàzie,
I write to you in a moment of great excitement: We have almost done it! That which we, me and my comrades, have worked towards all our lives, will soon come into fruition! Soon, we will all be freed! I will be able to leave the mines, dark and damp, dark and damp, dark and dark and and and, and you can finally leave the sewing factory! Will you come with me? To the reign of our Lord? He shall welcome us, yes, to his great bounty. You should have come to the meetings. Oh, the stories of his rewards! All thanks to the book. Yes, yes, the book! The leather one! It took us long to decipher it, but, bit by bit by bit by bit, word by word, we understood. Yes, yes. I can read it fluently, you see. I read it to them. Brings tears to my eyes. The drawings are... indescribable, Anastàzie. Beautiful beyond comprehension. Come with me! Come! Come! Come!
With love,
Blažej."
They say that there is a place where the sky is moonless and starless, where the sun never shines. They say that it is an abyss of crawling darkness, of solid shadow. They say that it is nightmare made manifest, that it is the depth from which the subconscious draws its most horrific imagery. They say it rests below the deepest depths. They say it can be accessed only by the most determined, and that it can be left by none. They say that nothing therein is real, and that everything there must be true. And they say that to gaze upon it is to look into the eye of the abyss. They say many things.
But I know something more.
I know its name.
And I know where to find it.
Look for me where the raven finds its resting place, in the city where the water runs wild. Look for me.
are those who would dive into the darkness of His domain. Even the strongest of minds lasts not weeks, not days, not hours before descending into madness and paranoia. And even were one to remain sane, all they would find is a fate worse than death, destined to roam that cursed place, with no way out, no hope in sight, clad in eerie shadows that cling to the skin like wet garments. 
are those who do not fear it, who do not shy away. They are the ones who uncover it, in search of their own delusions, and in the process, doom themselves and others. They are the ones who would gain from it, they are the ones who would reach for it. They are the first to enter, and, usually, the first to fall. Eagerness brings about nothing but ruin.
are those who run from it, as there is no escape. Once you become aware, you are forever drawn to it. Be it a constant whisper, always at the very edge of your perception, or a mindless obsession that knows not rhyme, not reason. Such is the nature of this place. Such is the nature of insanity. 
