New Kellogg's Corn Smeepies!

Just don't. Don't ask. You may get an answer. Lord knows we wouldn't want that, now would we? Since I was tagged by Kat, I shall post 6 of my favorite songs. Those who I tag, do the same.

1) Music of the Night, from Phantom of the Opera. Not only does it remind me of April and our love (overly mushy, yes?), but as Gerard Butler put it (played the role of Phantom in the most recent movie), "it's a song about fucking, isn't it?" It's actually a very pretty song, somewhat poetic.

2) Ants Marching, from Dave Matthews Band. This song has stuck with me since middle school, and I still love it to this day. It's about people, going about their routines every single day, much like ants. It's a very lively song, being very much able to pick anyone up.

3) One-Winged Angel, from Final Fantasy 7. It's Sephiroth's theme. Need I say more?

4) Classical Gas, by Mason Williams. I remember my stepfather playing this on his guitar, finding myself fascinated by it. There's just something about this instrumental that really draws me--whether it's the great combination of acoustic guitar to an orchestra, or just the acoustic version itself, this is probably the biggest reason I want to learn how to play guitar.

5) Believe, by Elton John. From the Made in England sountrack (1995), came from what I've found to be my favorite of the Elton John albums. The song itself is, quite simply, what people would do without a sense of belief--of love. The combination of lyrics and music make this one of my favorite songs by him.

6) Bury My Lovely, by October Project. October Project is a fairly obscure group, more popular in the UK than in the US--they released two albums before disbanding. The lead singer, Mary Fahl, went on her own, with now 2 albums of her own, and sang the song "Going Home" in the movie Gods and Generals. Her voice has, and still does, move me to tears. She has the best female voice I have ever heard.

And so, now some of you get to be tagged. (evil grin) So, tagging:

hearts_blood

lovediamond

eyesof_atragedy

ee_treehuger

natural_intel

 

Anyway, the day. Day was quite productive in the writing department. I now have Chapter One of my Eternal Darkness novelization finished. Played some video games, and when April got home, talked, defiled the floor, had some dinner while listening to Monty Python and the Holy Grail, defiled the bed, and here I am. Basically my day.

I think I shall post my Prologue of the E.D. novelization, see what you think of it. Of course, if you've actually played the game, you'll follow it exactly, but if you haven't, read it anyway. I don't think you'll get lost. Let me know what you think. Since I forget how to do an LJ-cut manually, I'll just separate the section by asterisks. Skip over it if you don't want to read it.

********************************************************

Prologue: The Precession of Flesh and Bone

 

            Flesh.

            Bone.

            Bound together with the oddest magickal incantation. This wretched book is where it began so long ago, before time, before humanity. I am Dr. Edward Roivas. I am a clinical psychologist.

            I am also dead.

            This is not my story, not even the story of the Roivas family. It is the story of humanity. Like it or not, believe it or not as you will. Your perceptions will not change reality, but merely color it. Humanity has been on the edge of extinction for two millennia. Ignorant of so much, and dependant on so few.

            The Guardians grow restless, their time once again near.

            Whether by fate or misfortune, my family has crossed their path, and they didn't take kindly to it. Their attention turns to my granddaughter, who happens to be the last of my line...

            ...and the last hope for humanity.

 

                                                *                      *                      *

 

            They came out of nowhere.

            Without any sort of warning at all, she was here, alone, in a tiny, cramped room--armed with a shotgun--

            --and several skeletons attempting to surround her. The room had a very musty smell to it, a scent that gave the impression that this was from a time past, centuries ago. The walls were a faded yellow, succumbing to the passage of time and darkness. Another two rose from beds on both sides of the door. She raised her shotgun, pointed it at the closest one, didn't bother to aim, hell--didn't know how to use the damn thing, really--and fired. Luckily, she made her mark, and saw the shell rip through the ribcage, collapsing the thing instantly. She felt the tremendous recoil of the gun, but something was greatly amiss--no sound came out, not even the tremendous deafening blast. There was no time for further speculation--two more walking bone piles were about to grab her. Without a second wasted, she raised the gun again, hoping she was aiming for the head, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. In the blink of an eye, the shell ripped through the heads of both creatures, sending them to the floor instantly. Not two more seconds passed when she noticed the two climbing slowly off the beds.

            With a clear path for the moment, she ran for the wooden door, yanked hard, only to find it locked. Looking through the barred window, all she could see was a sepia colored mist. She pounded hard on the door desperately, hoping the door would break, someone could hear her, anything. The two began walking slowly toward her, and a third began to rise from the far corner of the quarters. Suddenly, a mad, desperate, wailing voice, male, cut through the air, shrieking:

            "May the rats eat your eyes!!! The darkness comes!"

            Directly behind her, an area of blue light began to gather, and as the swirling mist took shape, she kicked the door, hoping against hope that someone would come to her aid. The blue light took on a translucent human form, a form of a man in his later stage of life.

            An electronic sound of ringing invaded the air.

            The blue apparition walked behind the young woman, reached out with one clear arm as another ring was heard. She turned her head toward the spirit, and he opened his mouth to speak.

            "Remember me, Alex?"

 

            She sat up in bed, breathing heavily, her black tank top firmly attached to her sweaty back. The sound of her cordless phone rang again. With half-glazed eyes, she reached to her right, saw that it was 3:33 AM, and picked up the receiver.

            "Uh...hello?" she asked, her voice still quite groggy.

            A man replied. "Miss Alexandra Roivas?"

            "Yeah, this is her. Who's this?"

            "This is Inspector Legrasse of the Rhode Island Police," he began. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's been an accident...with your grandfather--"

            Alex cut him off. "I'll be on the next flight out."

 

                                                *                      *                      *

 

Roivas Estate, Rhode Island, present time (2000 A.D.)

 

            Already she had a bad feeling about this. As the cab dropped her off just outside the front door, she could see a couple of police cars and an ambulance. She hadn't asked the inspector just what the accident was in her haste to make the trip from her college in Washington to Rhode Island. Judging from the scene, however, she sensed that Grandpa had been injured, and even though she didn't want to think it, there was that possibility that something happened to her dear Grandpa, something that cost him his life. Adjusting her backpack, she walked into the building, into the ornately decorated foyer. A few uniformed officers stood in the large foyer, conversing amongst themselves.

            "Excuse me," Alex began. "Where's Inspector Legrasse?"

            One of them pointed to his right, to a door to the right of the staircase. "He's in the library."

            "Thanks." She opened the stained wood door, and standing in front of the fireplace stood a man in a tan trench coat, looking at a picture hanging above the mantel. He looked to be in his thirties, clean-shaven except for a goatee. He was holding a styrofoam cup of coffee in his hands. He turned when he heard the door open.

            "Ahhh, Miss Roivas," he said, holding out his hand. She reciprocated appropriately. "I'm pleased to meet you. I trust you had a pleasant trip?"

            She looked at him, slightly quizzical and mostly nervous. "Um, yeah--I suppose so, considering..."

            "Yes, my condolences," Legrasse said, his tone low. "This is most unpleasant--it's a shame we couldn't meet under brighter circumstances."

            "Yes, it is," Alex said somberly, the words coming out in a rush. "Can we get this over with, please?" she asked, almost demanding.

            "Of course--this way," he replied, leading the way down the shelves of books. "I must warn you, however--it's not a pleasant sight. I'm afraid there's not much to see." His voice was low, very somber.

            The library turned to the right, and when they reached the turn, Legrasse stopped and motioned for Alex to go ahead. She took a few steps down, turned the corner--and suddenly her eyes grew wide, felt her stomach turn several times as she saw the gruesome sight. Lying in a pool of his own coagulated blood lay the beheaded, garroted form of her grandfather. He lay there covered by a thin sheet that was saturated with his blood. His blood-soaked arm lay outstretched on the carpet. His dark hand lay outstretched, revealing a blue ring still on his finger.

            Her whole body heaved as an onslaught of loud sobbing brought her to her knees. She covered her face, not fully realizing what she just saw--her own grandfather, brutally murdered, beheaded.

            "Miss Roivas," he began, his voice unwavering, "is this your grandfather, Edward?"

            Alex rose to her feet, still sobbing. "Yes, it's him...he's wearing our family ring." She turned to him, her bloodshot eyes soaked, glared angrily at him. "I don't understand--why are you showing me this? Can't you check dental records or something? What is wrong with you?!" she asked angrily, nearly yelling.

            Legrasse raised his hands in defense. "I'm sorry," he said, nearly whispering before coming back, himself now annoyed. "It's my job, lady. And no, we can't check dental records--there's no head. Ahhh, none of this makes sense. There's no sign of intrusion, and there was definitely a lot of force used here. I have never seen anything like this in my twenty years on the force. We have no evidence, except for the body, and what's left doesn't say much. We don't have a single clue."

            Alex glared at him, wiping away tears. "Well, you better find out who did this," she commented darkly. "I'm not leaving Rhode Island until you do. There must be some clue in this old mansion revealing what happened. I want answers."

            Legrasse looked at her and sighed. "So do I. I wish I had some."

 

                                                *                      *                      *

 

Two weeks later, Roivas Estate

 

            After two weeks of nearly non-stop searching, the police did just about everything that they could do in the strange murder of Edward Roivas. Despite the thorough investigation, they could find not a single clue, any scrap of evidence. Not even a hair sample, fingerprint, anything. It was as if some mysterious phantom; some strange apparition had committed the deed, even though such things are best kept in stories of science fiction and fantasy. It was futile, with no results showing themselves. No leads. After two weeks of coming up with straight blanks, the R.I.P.D. officially ended their investigation into the incident, much to the dismay of Alexandra Roivas, last of the line. Since she was the last, the Roivas Estate, all of its possessions, all the finances, everything--passed over to her. The family's crew of servants, in light of the incident, was ordered by police to remain away from the mansion until Ms. Roivas deemed it necessary for them to return.

            Frustrated, and without answers, Alex was now alone. Her grandfather, of whom she was very close with, was dead--and the empty findings of the police did nothing to relax her. She wasn't going to take that for an end to all of this--she needed closure, and somewhere inside her, she just knew there had to be something in that old mansion, anything that could reveal the murderer's identity.

            It was early in the morning, and, as had been for the last two weeks, she found it very hard to sleep--constantly, she was in thought. Even now, she lay flat on her back, her eyes wide open, staring at the blank ceiling of the motel room. Her room was paid for by the police these last couple of weeks, while they did their investigating. Now, with all the police gone, she was now free to move about the mansion. She sat up in bed, her black tank top sticking to her back in the summer humidity.

            Something about this just isn't right...

            Quickly climbing out of bed, she threw a pair of black jeans on--after all, she couldn't go out in a tank top and panties, now, could she? She pulled her blond hair back in a ponytail, let the bangs drape down across the sides of her face. She grabbed her motel key off the night table, put it in her pocket, along with her wallet, and quietly left her room. She'd only be gone a few hours at most.

 

            The main foyer of the Roivas mansion was, simply, huge. Two stories tall, one could get a certain feel of history as they stood in the center of the expanse. It was well lit, not overly decorated; very rustic, but had that edge of pride, for the family had indeed a long history. A light brown adorned all the walls, setting the tone. In the center of the foyer stood a small table, and in the center was a small clock, the tick-tock sounds amplified in the large room. Along the walls of the area, portraits of former Roivas hung on the walls, some of them a little faded with the passage of time. Two staircases, beginning on both sides of the center table, curved upwards almost in a circle to the second floor, which led to the bedrooms, studies, and the like. To the left, a small passage lead to the kitchen and dining areas, and the farthest door led to a lounge area, with a table for some refreshments, and a piano. However, Grandfather wasn't much the musician--occasionally plunking on notes here or there, but eventually the piano fell into disuse. To the right, a door led to the expansive library, where Grandfather spent most of his time, and also an observatory. At the far end, a door remained locked--this led to the basement. Even while Alex was growing up in this place, she always remembered the door locked.

            Alex had been in the care of her grandfather Edward since she was just a toddler--her parents had died in a tragic accident, of which the details were obscure, and Grandpa never spoke much about it. It was one of the reasons why she felt so close to Grandpa--he was her father figure growing up, and one of the reasons why she felt it necessary to find some closure to her grandfather's strange and untimely death.

            Might as well start at the scene of the crime.

            She walked toward the library, her steps soft against the carpeted floor. As she walked inside, she noticed nothing amiss. The library itself presented the same rustic feel as the main foyer, and the smell of old paper greeted her nostrils. This was something to be proud of--it was every booklover's dream. The long stretch of room contained shelves upon shelves of books on possibly every subject you could think of, also containing the family archives--all the medical records, the marred history of the ancestral Roivas, even Edward had his own documentation stored away in one of these shelves. It would take even Alex hours just to cover the amount of books. No doubt Edward kept it hidden. Often times, Edward would have a glass of some drink--Liquid Courage, he called it--some of the finest port one could drink, take a couple of books, and sit there for hours. He was a very knowledgeable man, working in the field of clinical psychology. He also possessed an interest in the supernatural, studying arcane "magick," as he put it. Edward was always a rational person, though. Alex had acquired some of his various character traits. She, like her grandfather, enjoyed scholarly pursuits. He would read works of Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung while she was away in college getting her degree in abstract mathematics and number theory.

            And where are you now, Grandfather? What happened to you?

            To her immediate right, a single door led to the observatory, another place where Edward spent much of his time. Straight ahead, an unused fireplace--hanging above it was a picture of a tree with many branches. Upon closer inspection, one could make out that it was in fact, a diagram of the entire Roivas family tree, a lit candle on either side. There was one spot that attracted attention--the leftmost branch on the bottom of the tree, if you looked at it in the proper light, you could see a small silhouette of a person hanging from the tree. It was one of quite a few optical illusions found in the mansion.

            She walked down the corridor, past a small desk with some books on it, and turned the corner to the spot where she saw his bloody, defiled corpse two weeks ago. Now, nothing but an empty section, where she found another unused fireplace, and saw another portrait of a Roivas above it, female. A single bookshelf unit stood on the wall to her right, and next to that, another desk, with books askew along the desk. Next to the fireplace was a full-size grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging. However, Alex noticed the time was wrong--the hands were placed at 12:00.

            The place is mine now, might as well fix it up.

            She walked over to the clock and opened up the glass face. She glanced at her watch to check the time. 3:33 AM. As soon as she moved the minute hand to the 33, she suddenly heard the sound of a click, then the movement of gears coming to life. Turning around quickly, she saw the solitary bookshelf sliding back into the wall, revealing a hidden passage.

            The police didn't say anything about this...

            As Alex walked toward the discovered passage, she felt a chill, sending goosebumps across her creamy white skin. Her heart began to quicken as feelings of curiosity and excitement entered her mind. The short corridor took a left turn, until it ended at a dark, wooden door. Cautiously, she turned the knob, found to her surprise that it was unlocked, and pushed the door open.

Holy hell...

She happened upon a very small room, perhaps no bigger than a college dormitory, and instantly, she could smell the age of the room--the room definitely had an old, musty quality to it. It was dimly lit, several lights hung from the ceiling. It was cluttered, filled with possessions that could've been easily mistaken for museum pieces. The wall was cracked, and partially exposed in places. Alex felt as if she had taken a step back in time, what with everything in the room. To her immediate left was a desk, cluttered with papers and books in disarray. In the center was a large, leather-bound book, fairly thick, spiral-bound, it looked like. A few bookshelves stood in places around the room, disorganized. Alex closed the door behind her, and began to just walk around the room, examining this newly-discovered room of the estate. Not even Grandpa told her about this.

The lights are all on...was someone here recently?

Her steps made the bare wooden floor creak loudly. Her eyes fell upon a large shield, propped up in a chair--nothing of importance. Next to a bookcase, she noticed a small table. On it, three small candles stood in a line--2 short ones, then a taller one.

            Some sort of shrine?

            As she walked toward the rear wall, she noticed a picture on the wall, something cylindrical. Taking a closer look, she realized that it was quite the ugly picture, even felt a slight twinge of anger and disgust.

            It's a drawing of a stack of human bodies--every one cemented into place! What sick, twisted wacko drew this? Man, that's disturbing--although, the artist was quite meticulous about it--it's rendered down to the smallest detail: the exact anatomy of fractured bones and the convolutions and entwining of spines and ribs make it somewhat mesmerizing.  

            Moving along, she saw a short sword hanging next to the tower picture--it was a weapon of Rome, back in ancient times; a Gladius. Making her way around the room, she came across another picture--this bizarre drawing of a cyclopean city, a strange type of architecture surrounded in a strange fog, from what Alex reasoned.

            I wonder what type of inhabitants populates a city like that...

Coming back toward the front of the room, she saw yet another picture hanging next to a bookcase--this one showed an outdoor scene, the subject being a tall stone structure situated in a jungle--possibly an ancient structure; perhaps an ancient ruin from an Asian country. Propped up on a chair next to it was a strange looking mask, the corners of its lips just pulled upwards in a perpetual grin. Now, at the desk once more, two more frames hung behind it, one showing clearly a cathedral, and next to it was a sheet of paper, yellowed from age, but with writing on it. Alex took a closer look, and saw that the writing was still legible, but written in a script she couldn't decipher--perhaps there was something in this book that could tell her.

            Just what is this?

            She sat down at the desk and stared at the huge book, illuminated by a desk lamp. She stared at the cover of the tome, noticing its leather binding, which possessed a sort of strange human quality, as it were--the leather was very light, similar to the color of human skin. The spiral binding was in fact, circular rings of polished bone, maybe ivory, lashed together with a black material. The cover had a wide brown stripe running up and down, and in the center was a raised ring of bones, with small skulls attached. In the center of the ring, a strange symbol was etched into the binding.

            Grandpa...if this is indeed something of yours...

            Curiosity overpowering, she opened the heavy cover of the tome, and suddenly, a series of images flashed in her mind; a huge, hulking slimy purple monster, with one large fanged orifice, a tall tower in a desert, the huge, tall room of a cathedral, and a strange creature, something worm-like, which opened one mouth, revealing fangs, closing in on her--and she jumped, startled by the sudden wave of weird images.

            What the hell...?

            Collecting herself, she repositioned herself in the chair, and starting reading the words on the aged, yellowed page. As she read, it was almost as if she could hear a male's voice reading to her, as if the words were his:

            I had no knowledge of what was to come. Nor did I care. How the knowledge changed me, it will also change you. As you read this, you will come to learn fear, just as I have. You too will come to understand...or you will perish.

****************************************************************

And so, off to bed. Nighty night, all.