“Look at me,” Maria says. “You’re not saying what you think
you’re saying. Do you know what you’re saying?”
I nod, but I keep saying it.
“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh cthulhu r’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.”
“Do you know what it means?”
I shake my head.
“No,” she says. “Nor do I, but I’m worried.”
She looks around. “I’m going to break off the séance. You
need to stop chanting, okay?”
I look at her, trying to stop. But it carries on.
“I don’t know what you’re chanting…what you’re calling, but we’re
not in control of this.”
She lets go of my hands. “I want you to concentrate on the
candle. Focus your energy on that, and I’m going to blow it out. When I do, I
want you to stop chanting.”
She kneels up, and leans forward into the candle to blow it
out.
She blows, and the candle flame flickers, but doesn’t go
out.
I feel the chanting continuing.
She blows again, and I think of novelty birthday candles,
the kind that you blow out and blow out but they keep relighting, and I giggle,
but I keep chanting and then…
And then there is a jet of flame rising up from the candle,
rising feet in the air.
Maria falls backwards, startled. She brings her hands to her face, but she’s
not burnt.
The chanting stops,
and I feel like I can breathe again, but when I breathe in, it’s hot and
sore, due to the heat of the flame.
I scramble around the flame to Maria, to check she’s okay.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t… I couldn’t control what I was
saying.”
“I know,” she says. “Something was controlling you.” She
gets up, and looks angry. It takes me a moment to realise it isn’t aimed at me.
“What the Hell is going on?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
On the periphery of my vision, I see one of the candles to
my right, outside of the circle, go out.
And then a second is extinguished.
“That’s…not good,” I say. “I don’t know much about séances,
but that’s a bad thing, right?”
And then a third.
Maria is looking over my shoulder.
“Darren…” She whispers, her outward calm covering whatever
she’s feeling inside
The rest of the candles go out. Except the one in the
middle, burning more than it’s possible to burn.
But the light of it, while piercing to look at, doesn’t
extend past the circle. I can still just about see out of the circle, but the
light from the candle stops. We’re sat in a large, round, beacon of light.
“…there’s something behind you.”
I freeze. “Where?”
“Behind you, to your right. Outside the circle. It’s
difficult to see, but it’s there.”
I go to turn. “No!” She says.
“Why?”
Her eyes are swimming now. “It hurts to look at.”
I turn anyway, but she’s right. Something about what I see
hurts my eyes, and I can’t quite focus on it.
I turn back a little. “What is it?” I whisper to her.
“I don’t know.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see it better now, in the
darkness.
And then I realise it’s been there for a lot longer.
It’s been in the darkness.
It is the darkness.
I can only see the shape of it, but it’s inconsistent. It
looks like a man in a plain black suit, but I can tell it isn’t.
It’s too long. It’s arms, its limbs, they’re too long.
They’re really all I can see. It’s limbs.
Long. Slender. And just slightly moving. But not in a
jointed way.
More like tentacles.
Something ageless and old and dark, something inhuman,
wrapped up in a man suit.
“What’s it doing?” I ask.
“It’s just looking at you,” she says, and she’s crying now. “I
think.”
Her tears are darker than they should be. In this light, I
can’t tell if it’s her mascara or blood slowly trickling down her face.
“You think?”
“It doesn’t have a face, Darren,” she says, and she’s
shaking now. “It doesn’t have a face!”
I can see its arms moving slowly around the side of my
vision, and I am filled with dread. Its arms outstretch and they repulse and
comfort me at the same time.
Its arms call to me.
Its eternal embrace.
Calling me home.
And then, while Maria is transfixed on the faceless thing
behind me, I look back at the flame.
I can feel the heat scorching my face, but the flame calls
to me.
It flickers red and yellow, dancing upwards, but in the
centre of the flame is darkness. And that darkness is growing.
Growing larger as the flame grows. Inside all of the
brightness and heat is a pure black centre.
And it opens its eyes and looks at me.
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