Strange events occur in and around the area of Covefax, Virginia.
My former love,
Have no illusions about the intentions of this letter. This writing is merely a platform for me to finally break the chains that have bound me to the miserable, unfulfilled life that I led for so frighteningly long. I’ve come to realize things within this small span of time that you’ll likely never come to experience throughout the entirety of your exhaustive, hardly endurable existence. Though we may have once shared moments of youthful ecstasy and spontaneous passion, I want you to know that, no, I do not miss you.
The moments in which our paths intertwined along the infinite stretch of time and space have slowly faded from my memory, as if they occurred in some previous life. Now, in the midst of my rebirth, I can observe the immense truth that lies within the statement. I have since drank from fountains of spiritual fortitude and swam in seas of solid black, resurfacing from the depths as a man renewed.
However, this is not how it began.
You may or may not remember when, a year ago, I explained to you that business required me to be somewhere in northern Virginia for around a week’s worth of time. This was not the case. I simply needed reprieve from working in that city. Respite from living with someone like you. As I woke up next to a woman that I barely knew to attempt to advance in a profession that made my skin crawl, I felt entirely suffocated, and so, I took the car and left.
I drove for a few hundred miles in that car, staring only ahead. It wasn’t until I heard the sharp ding from the dashboard that my entranced state was lifted, and I realized that I needed gasoline. I groped at my clothes, searching for my wallet only to find that, in my haste to get away from you, I had left it behind. Irritated, I pressed the pedal to the floor and accelerated until the engine began to slowly give out, it’s spastic sputtering mocking me as I slammed my foot over and over into the floorboards.
In its final moments of life, I managed to guide the car into a grassy area along the side of the road. Once the car was at a halt, I simply sat in my seat for a moment, gazing at my surroundings. I saw that I was in a relatively rural area. The land was populated with many different types of trees, forestry, and foliage. There was a slight breeze, and the sun danced in between the leaves as limbs brushed and rustled from side to side in the soft winds outside.
For some reason, I began to laugh very loudly. Perhaps it was the situation, perhaps it was because I had actually somewhat escaped, but in that moment, I felt that absolutely nothing mattered. It wasn’t time or destiny or any other embellishment that had driven me to this point, it was only chance and chaos. I had suddenly departed in hopes of improving my well-being, but instead, the capsule that I had chosen to swallow wasn’t only failing to cure me; now, I was choking on it.
A few moments later, the hysteria subsided and frustration regained it’s control over me once again. On a rage-driven whim, I slammed my palm into the center of the steering wheel. The horn’s sound traveled along the winds, yet, it withheld a peculiar characteristic. It seemed enhanced somehow, as if there was another instrument in the air that was echoing the horn’s wail, simultaneously.
Alarmed, I withdrew my pressure off of the horn and focused my eyes on the road just to my left, scanning for the source of the sound. My eyes caught a glint of light glancing off the corner of some metal object. Squinting, I followed the shape’s outline and saw that, whatever it was, it was being held by a man. He was standing just on the horizon so, from this distance, I could not pick out any of his features. Anxious, I considered my options. The car wasn’t going anywhere without fuel. The only way I was going to actually get moving was by traveling on foot in some direction. I considered walking back where I came from, then mulled over the implications and decided that it wasn’t an option.
I exited the car and began cautiously proceeding towards the man. There was still some distance between he and I, so I figured that as I was approaching him I would have time to assess whether or not he was dangerous. As I got closer, it became clear what the object was: some sort of instrument, most likely a large tuba. Determining it odd but harmless, I continued to close the distance, now trying to see what the man looked like.
He appeared to be quite young, maybe in his mid-twenties, and was of an average build for the age. He didn’t look particularly unhealthy, but he did seem to be very tired and worn. His eyes drooped and his knees trembled. I could tell that the tuba was very heavy, and also of a higher quality than I expected. I was within five feet of the man now, and he had made no movements or attempts and communication thus far. He appeared to have quite an exquisite taste in clothing, as he donned a marvelous tuxedo. However, when I was closer, I noticed that his non-matching polka-dotted bow-tie stood out stoutly, as if it were proud of it’s position. His lips seemed chapped and corroded. He only looked into my eyes with one of those very faint, slight smiles that whispered death.
I said hello and proceeded to tell the man about the difficult predicament I had come to find myself in. He listened quietly, his disposition reeking of both patience and foreboding. When I was done, he didn’t say anything immediately, but his eventual answer surprised me. One might think that he had not heard a word I had said, as his answer did not even remotely address my original issue.
He asked me if I wanted to hear a song.
I tried to convey to him, again, that my situation was very dire. He insisted, however, that anything that I was facing now was immeasurably infinitesimal in light of the eminence and grandeur of the one called Abathon. Having never heard this name, I inquired as to who he was speaking of. Little did I know, what he would go on to tell me would alter my perceptions on an eternal plane, culminating up to my triumphant transformation. He did not respond, instead pressing his seemingly rotting lips to the instrument’s mouthpiece.
Imagine caliginosity on a grand scale. An unending blackness that traverses the cosmos swallowing stars and spawning subversive supernovas. It’s path unchecked, it penetrates realms and parallel universes, it’s presence garnering the somber trepidation trapped within the hearts of men. This is not entirely representative of it’s temperament, as the consternation locked away inside of me led to my eventual resurrection and, undoubtedly, that is only due to it’s existence. However, I expect you to not understand, as I am sure there are many of it’s properties you’ll potentially never grasp.
Amidst the seemingly infinite howl of the young man’s instrument, I saw that tremendous titan of pitch black expanses, and I understood it as the one called Abathon. It would be a monumental understatement to say that, at the time, I was not mentally prepared. I was weak and I fled from the instrumentalist, sprinting past him and crying out in abhorrence.
I forgot how long I ran. My perception of reality attempted to piece itself back together. Eventually, my body began to fail me and I slowed down to an exhaustive walk. Just as I felt that I needed to reach a bathroom, I discovered an old department store in the nearby town. In my weakened state, I did my best to shrug off my harrowing experience, dismissing it as a run-in with a crazed, fashionable hermit or simply a further deterioration of my mental foundation.
Locking the stall behind me, I sat down and did my best to get a handle on myself. Forgive me, if I come to speak of these next few moments with a very tender affection, as I can safely say I love them more than I ever loved you. A sick, decrepit man entered the restroom and began rambling phrases maniacally. I hate to recall that yes, I was still feeble and yes, I was frightened. However, once I saw the man begin to crawl underneath the door and into my stall, it marked the beginning of my miraculous metamorphosis.
If I had not encountered the instrumentalist upon my entry into town, I do not think my former self capable of what then occurred. I leaped from the seat and quickly gripped the sides of the old coot’s cranium then continuously bashed it against the edge of the ceramic bowl. As this went on I became exhilarated with a fascinating blood-lust, still using the man’s head as a cudgel long after he was unconscious or deceased. Unable to help myself, I licked the side of the bowl, feeling pieces of skin and brain matter stimulate my taste buds.
I swelled with wonderful pride at my deed. I was liberated. From you, from my profession, from any worldly bind that may have once contained me. Imagining this new found strength, you may have now come to understand why I do not miss you. I’ll never forgive you. You kept my potential repressed for many years. Removing you was merely initiation. Now, through my murderous internal revelation, I have become something that dwells within the recesses of haunted dreams and glorious nightmares.
Do not attempt to find me. This world needs cleansing and I have been called upon.
All my malevolence,
praise abathon praise him