Not sure where to post this, as it's not exactly spam, but not quite on-topic enough for off-topic.
To be perfectly clear, I haven't written any of the following account. I discovered it in an untitled .txt file on my desktop one afternoon, and against my better judgement, I'm sharing it with you now. You may think it to be a joke or a scary story (and indeed, I have thought so myself), but the sheer curiousity inherent in human nature forces me to share it. Despite this post, some part of me wants to think that a hacker put the file there as a joke or demonstration - even while the rest desperately wants to believe. What follows is that file, edited only minimally. Judge for yourselves!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
O black Muse! O She-Devil, whose sharpened horns like blades glisten with fresh paramour! O vixen of viciousness! I beg of You to cease Your tortures, Your spearpoint-prodding and wafting of carrion! Do I not, even now, write what Your ceaseless caterwauling implores? Have I not relinquished and even now give thought shape and form, however hideous? Accept, then, these words and allow it to be done! For two years have I suffered beneath Your gaze. Sometimes it rarely-felt; and othertimes omnipresent, as if You took form from nightmare and were perched upon my shoulder awaiting the turn of my head! Would that I hadn't performed those dark deeds and ominous rituals two years ago, but it is neither mine nor Yours to change the river-flow of history.
Indulge me, then, a precious few hours more before Your final price is exacted. I haven't lived, not truly, not yet. At least allow me, if not an account of my life and times, then an account of the events leading to this very moment.
I take the abatement of pain in my head and Saturnine howling in my ears as consent. Thank You, though I suspect you care not for my thanks.
Two years ago - has it only been so long? - I was studying diligently for my Calculus II final in the Crosland tower, buried deep in the silence of the ill-visited 5th floor amongst books gathering slow dust. The city was hidden behind concrete and brickwork, and my books lay in a heap of disarray beneath my feet. Truthfully, I had stopped studying and was instead staring at my notes in blank incomprehension. The sun had long since fallen beneath the horizon, and as my watch faithfully beeped midnight, I roused myself from my daydreams. It had been my intention to nap for the preceding minutes, but failing that, I set the little watch's alarm for another 15 minutes, and resolved to nap in actuality this time.
It was in readjusting my seat's position that I caught sight of something brilliantly ruby in the steady fluorescent light. Bending over, I found it to be a small tome wholly unlike the book of endlessly marching problems beneath my seat. Titleless and without a dedication, the tome started mid-sentence, abruptly after a blank page. There were no tears, and no scraps of fabric or binding-thread, implying that the tome had been printed thusly. The words on the page flowed poetically and idiotically. No meaning was to be had from examination of the words, and as soon as one was read, the previous slipped from mind in the manner of a forgotten dream. The effect was quite like a dream, in fact, as I'd scarcely realized 15 minutes had passed before my watch beeped again.
The quality of the air in the library had changed somewhat - a significant sign, I would later learn. Though there was no identifiable scent, I had a strange sensation of light-headedness, as if lingering for too long in strong perfume. I turned back to my Calculus book, and started to rediscover the ruby tome in my hands. It was laid open to a page (they were not marked) an eighth of the way through. I struggled to grasp the gossamer memories of its contents, but could only recall vague motions of reading. Here I turned a page; there I paused, re-reading a particularly troublesome paragraph; and now disjointed fragments of mumbling through adjectives with which I'd only acquainted in passing.
Thereafter I closed the tome, examining the spine or covers for a bar code and library identification label. Finding none, but still intensely interested in the object, I placed it carefully amongst my Astronomy notebooks in my bag. Calculus II resumed its silent fury, demanding more of my attention than I was want to give to it. Still, even as I walked into the exam room the following morning (having slept very little, I admit), I could feel an imagined heat in my back where the tome ought to lie. However madly I concentrated on the calculus of infinite series and linear algebra, thoughts of that ruby's contents intruded. While idly considering an impossible problem on my fourth pass through the exam, I found myself drawing the thing in the margins.
Even so, the power of every student's mortal nemesis proved too much for Your feeble first clawing on my dreams. At night, my fancies were taken up by scholarly imitation, not the chaos of which I am more accustomed to these nights. So it was not until a week later that the ruby tome once again forced its way into my life.
End Part One
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That's all that was in the file, save for these final few words:
"This account is Scattered by Supreme decree. Reunite the pieces, and lose blissful ignorance."
It occured to me that whichever power scattered the pieces of this account did not factor for the internet's far reach. And so I must wonder if any of you have had a similar file mysteriously appear?
To be perfectly clear, I haven't written any of the following account. I discovered it in an untitled .txt file on my desktop one afternoon, and against my better judgement, I'm sharing it with you now. You may think it to be a joke or a scary story (and indeed, I have thought so myself), but the sheer curiousity inherent in human nature forces me to share it. Despite this post, some part of me wants to think that a hacker put the file there as a joke or demonstration - even while the rest desperately wants to believe. What follows is that file, edited only minimally. Judge for yourselves!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
O black Muse! O She-Devil, whose sharpened horns like blades glisten with fresh paramour! O vixen of viciousness! I beg of You to cease Your tortures, Your spearpoint-prodding and wafting of carrion! Do I not, even now, write what Your ceaseless caterwauling implores? Have I not relinquished and even now give thought shape and form, however hideous? Accept, then, these words and allow it to be done! For two years have I suffered beneath Your gaze. Sometimes it rarely-felt; and othertimes omnipresent, as if You took form from nightmare and were perched upon my shoulder awaiting the turn of my head! Would that I hadn't performed those dark deeds and ominous rituals two years ago, but it is neither mine nor Yours to change the river-flow of history.
Indulge me, then, a precious few hours more before Your final price is exacted. I haven't lived, not truly, not yet. At least allow me, if not an account of my life and times, then an account of the events leading to this very moment.
I take the abatement of pain in my head and Saturnine howling in my ears as consent. Thank You, though I suspect you care not for my thanks.
Two years ago - has it only been so long? - I was studying diligently for my Calculus II final in the Crosland tower, buried deep in the silence of the ill-visited 5th floor amongst books gathering slow dust. The city was hidden behind concrete and brickwork, and my books lay in a heap of disarray beneath my feet. Truthfully, I had stopped studying and was instead staring at my notes in blank incomprehension. The sun had long since fallen beneath the horizon, and as my watch faithfully beeped midnight, I roused myself from my daydreams. It had been my intention to nap for the preceding minutes, but failing that, I set the little watch's alarm for another 15 minutes, and resolved to nap in actuality this time.
It was in readjusting my seat's position that I caught sight of something brilliantly ruby in the steady fluorescent light. Bending over, I found it to be a small tome wholly unlike the book of endlessly marching problems beneath my seat. Titleless and without a dedication, the tome started mid-sentence, abruptly after a blank page. There were no tears, and no scraps of fabric or binding-thread, implying that the tome had been printed thusly. The words on the page flowed poetically and idiotically. No meaning was to be had from examination of the words, and as soon as one was read, the previous slipped from mind in the manner of a forgotten dream. The effect was quite like a dream, in fact, as I'd scarcely realized 15 minutes had passed before my watch beeped again.
The quality of the air in the library had changed somewhat - a significant sign, I would later learn. Though there was no identifiable scent, I had a strange sensation of light-headedness, as if lingering for too long in strong perfume. I turned back to my Calculus book, and started to rediscover the ruby tome in my hands. It was laid open to a page (they were not marked) an eighth of the way through. I struggled to grasp the gossamer memories of its contents, but could only recall vague motions of reading. Here I turned a page; there I paused, re-reading a particularly troublesome paragraph; and now disjointed fragments of mumbling through adjectives with which I'd only acquainted in passing.
Thereafter I closed the tome, examining the spine or covers for a bar code and library identification label. Finding none, but still intensely interested in the object, I placed it carefully amongst my Astronomy notebooks in my bag. Calculus II resumed its silent fury, demanding more of my attention than I was want to give to it. Still, even as I walked into the exam room the following morning (having slept very little, I admit), I could feel an imagined heat in my back where the tome ought to lie. However madly I concentrated on the calculus of infinite series and linear algebra, thoughts of that ruby's contents intruded. While idly considering an impossible problem on my fourth pass through the exam, I found myself drawing the thing in the margins.
Even so, the power of every student's mortal nemesis proved too much for Your feeble first clawing on my dreams. At night, my fancies were taken up by scholarly imitation, not the chaos of which I am more accustomed to these nights. So it was not until a week later that the ruby tome once again forced its way into my life.
End Part One
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That's all that was in the file, save for these final few words:
"This account is Scattered by Supreme decree. Reunite the pieces, and lose blissful ignorance."
It occured to me that whichever power scattered the pieces of this account did not factor for the internet's far reach. And so I must wonder if any of you have had a similar file mysteriously appear?
