The Musings of a Mad Metaphysicist

I stood staring out oft misunderstood caliginous, that which evokes that ever so primal fear that lay dormant in the heart and soul of man. It’s oppressive feeling crashing itself against the steadfast yet oh so meagre barrier keeping it at bay.

Reaching above my head and pulling a loosely hanging chain, on the exterior luminous constructs came to life, casting radiant light into the inky abyss. Despite their glorious incandescence they did little more to cut the gloom than a sun beam reach in the aphotic of the sea. The devices traced the black in a horizontal arc, in an opposite tandem of one another.

Despite the suffocating endless expanse shrouded in that ever Stygian darkness. I sometimes swore against the obsidian backdrop he could see equivocal humanoid shapes. Moving about the darkness, too far to be sure. But one knows the saying, Stare long into the Abyss and it stares back.

At the times these phantoms meander about the shadowy reaches of the sunless expanse. Ever so often wonders if this godless place was set to drive me mad. Tempting me with morsels of potentiality to understand this place. Siren calls to lure me like a sailor to walk headlong into what would certainly be his unmaking.

The alien silhouettes continued their slow wander on the horizon, as I focused his gaze it became more clear to me how inhuman the shapes truly were. But as I observed them, trying to only make out one at a time. Struggling to reach out with some understanding to form an idea, a picture in my head to give reason and solidity to the grotesque forms in the dark, they began to fade from my straining vision. With each blink their harsh sharp forms diffusing more and more into the atramentous landscape. And in an instant they were gone, reminiscent of the mind playing tricks at the corners of your vision. However I knew this wasn’t the case.

I pulled the chain once more. The luminant machines on the exterior’s light faded until they were once more choked by the powerful Cimmerian. Leaving the observation deck I returned to my experiments though distractions plagued my ever pondering mind. Breaking any semblance of concentration I could muster. Those damnedable shapes, the countless days I’d dwelled in this place of chaos and unmaking. Why…why had my eyes never beheld thoses…things.” I shook the thoughts away once again, my work, my ever driving cause could not, would not be jeopardised by these foolhardy machinations of a wild goose chases into that living darkness which none sent forth had ever returned.

Intrusive thoughts continued to drive themselves like a wedge in my mind between the tasks for which I needed to take the utmost care. Their ill-formed anatomy entered my subconscious once again. Their form which was seemingly wholly human aside from one notable distinct feature, gangly protracted appendages springing forth from the spot a human’s arms would theoretically be. Straying for a moment from their shapes I wondered how anything could survive here. Through research I was learned in many things, I knew that creatures found means of survival in the most unlikely of places. Volcanoes for example, one so unstudied would never realise that survival for animals though impossible to spot with the naked eye could survive in near contact with the magma. But here there was nothing save the habitat I called home.

Oh, to be rid of my problems. The feel of my sins weighing heavy upon my back. To be free of my aberrations. She was my greatest failure, one which was my only ambition to rectify. Those aberrant phantasmagorical things would simply have to wait.

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