This is Bill The Something. Day 1 of Midgard 2018 he approached our exhibit carefully studying our art work and asking us about our stories. He seemed interested and bought Volume 1 of our book. Day 2 he returned in cosplay firing away more questions at us; this guy had almost finished Volume 1 and wanted to get the other Volumes. His inquisitiveness and dissection of our stories peaked our interest. So we talked some more only to learn that he’s got a few short stories of his own. It was then that learned that we were dueling with another writer. THIS GUY, we nodded at each other, CAN WRITE!
I Hear Them, I See Them (Eldritch Horror Short Story)
by Bill The Something
I Hear Them, I See Them
I can not stop the noise! It does not matter what I do! Even if I close my eyes and cover my ears, I hear their whispering. Of sinister things, of unknowable things, of everything! In the late hours of the night where not even the mice will make a sound, I will hear their deafening songs, their eternal & non-sensical cacophony of quiet drums and shrieking flutes, it's a song no mortal should hear, But I Do! But their sounds are not their only method of delivering agony upon me.
I see their forms encroaching from the corners of my eyes and walls of my room, they never acknowledge me and I don't attempt to acknowledge them, but I never succeeded in doing such, no matter what I try, my focus will direct itself to their horrid forms. Be I within The Public Eye or The Total Solitude of my own home, their forms will always intrude into my sight.
I have tried to speak to them, to reason with them, but in their minds, I assume that I am but a germ. For they do not acknowledge me to such an insane degree, that even me firing upon them with my rifle, doesn't even cause them to flinch.
I've told other of my plight, but no one believes me. They have all given up on me, not the doctors in the madhouses, they give me their best medication, but it does not help. Not even my Local Preacher continues to acknowledge my words.
I have prayed to the Gods, I've asked them to forgive me for whatever sin I might have committed, just something to rid me of these sounds and sights, But its all for not, for I swear upon my worthless life that no God, cruel or otherwise would create such horrid Things!
So as I sit with my rifle upon my lap, I write this note. to inform those who might suffer the same fate as I, that there is no hope.
They do not intend for me to see or hear them.
But. I. Do.
billthesomething, Nov 5, 2017