Filth and Horror…
When you’ve lived in a city as long as I have you notice things. Place people congregate, places people avoid, where the best hookers are, where to dump the bodies so it gets blamed on the mob… things like that. This is about one of those places people avoid. It’s not conscious, for most people, it’s simply a feeling of… uncomfortable-ness. A feeling of “this place isn’t right, lets walk over here..” It happens in the dark places, the places that evil still lingers. You still get the occasional person who feels more comfortable in these spots… goth clubs tend to be built on them (the real ones, were you see the couple drinking each others blood in a corner and you’re more likely to mistake it for a satanic rite than a rave…), but I digress. Living in this city for the past fifteen years has clued me in to a few of them. The couple that is heading to the opera and gets off at the wrong train stop, and hurries up the steps uncomfortably to get out of the abandoned station, or the alley that even the homeless and rats don’t inhabit. Usually there is some underground access there, and always, even if it’s above ground, sunlight doesn’t shine there. Even on the brightest, cloudless day it’s gloomy in that spot, overcast and damp feeling. Is it an explainable phenomenon? Not by scientific standards. But it’s there, and I love it.
I started exploring these spots and mapping them two years ago. Once a month I’d travel the city for a full 24 hours, looking for a new spot, trying to find one of those dark places, explore it, make it mine. I keep a map in my drawer with each of the eight that I’ve found carefully documented, with a notebook full of my descriptions and feelings as I explored the place. There is no pattern, no rhyme or reason for their location. Scattered about the city like leaves on the wind, they simply exist. A corner in an alley here, a subway station there, an underground goth rave in this spot, an abandoned building’s basement in that… I’ve even attempted to purchase two of them that were in abandoned buildings, but the city “lost” or denied my requests.
So why am I talking about these places? What made me write about them today? Last night, I went to my favorite, the basement of a building located on… no, I best not reveal the location. I had lured a prostitute to the spot with the promise of ill-earned funds… After finishing my business and stuffing the parts in a garbage bag, I felt another presence. No one else ever came to these spots, it simply didn’t happen. I was almost always alone in them… the dead don’t count. Looking around carefully, I noticed a light flicker briefly from beneath a doorway. I had already satiated my hunger for the day, but sport was always welcome. Picking up one of my knives I crept silently to the doorway and inched it open. The light had vanished but that didn’t mean it’s creator had. The room was empty, but I saw the light coming from down a corridor. Creeping silently down it, I followed it through a labyrinth of passages, twisting through the basement for much further than I though it traveled. Suddenly I came to another closed door, with the light coming from much strong beneath it than previously seen. I paused for a moment, then pushed open the door and looked into the room. The sight chilled me, and in case you can’t tell, I’m not an easily scared person. I closed the door and ran, leaving my prize behind and escaping to the street, away from the darkness.
My soul felt twisted… turned round and burnt, from the visage I had encountered. But I felt curious. Even in my fear, I wanted more. I wanted to know what could cause what I saw, what I felt when I opened that door. I needed it. Morbid curiosity, or a death wish, either way I had to learn more. I returned the next night to that place, but the presence was gone. I returned each night, forgetting my normal routine, and searched that building for it. Exactly a month later, I entered the building, preparing to give up, when the presence returned. It overwhelmed me as soon as I entered. Filling my senses and causing as much pain as it did ecstasy within moments. I collapsed to the floor, used and discarded, but quickly climbed back to my feet, wanting more. I delved deeper into the basement, the presence growing stronger with each correct turn I made. In a short while I had found that door again, the light flickering, same as before. Opening it slowly, I beheld the site again. Grotesque and beautiful at once. Overpowering my senses and filling me with as much dread as it did excitement. To stare into the abyss and have it stare back into you, as the saying goes, was beautiful. Weeping, I fell to my knees, allowing it to wash over me.
I awoke later, I had no idea of how much time had passed, though the presence was gone. I rose to my feet, shaking, and lit my lighter. Peering around, I saw I was in the same place, still standing in the doorway. The room before me was plain, empty. The smearing of foul bodily substances on the walls was gone, the piles of desecration gone, the gaping maw of hell in the floor replaced with concrete floor. I saw none of the horror and delights from before, only a room, plain walls, plain floor. As I turned to leave, I caught a glimmer of light in the corner. Approaching it, I saw a simple talisman laying in a corner, discarded. I bent to pick it up, and as I touched it I felt the presence again, faint, but there. Pocketing the trinket, I left, returning to my home. As I sit here writing I can’t take my eyes off of it. It beckons to me, calling, begging me to pick it up. I know not how to use it, or what it can even do, but I know it’s mine… or rather I belong to it…
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