Shinto - tell us more!
Here's Gary's original post…
Jan. 3: Since obtaining the strange Tome, I have felt compelled to consume all the knowledge it has to offer. My days and nights are filled pouring over this fantastic volume of macabre other-worldly beasts and blasphemous rites. It seems that long forgotten Gods referred to as “The Outer Gods” and lesser beings called “Great Old Ones” make up the core of this strange mythos, this pantheon of the bizarre.
Jan. 21: Not only does this text contain a wealth of information on unknown Gods, spectacular abominations and the far off places from which they hail, it also covers the alien occult practices on which this horrific culture thrives. I have found several incantations,spells if you will. Many of them have components so obscure and unobtainable one could never hope to compile them. Still others ask for absolutely horrific rites to be performed, such as the slicing away of ones own flesh for the purpose of consumption. Or even more unthinkable, the flesh of innocent others.
Jan. 28: I, after long consideration, have chosen an incantation with which to experiment. It is a most interesting ritual whose components are attainable but complicated. It involves intricate patterns to be rendered upon the ground in very specific dimensions,and the oddest thing of all, the constant droning of flutes….6 to be exact. Where on earth will I find six flautists?
Feb. 10: When away from the book for long periods of time I experience what can only be explained as “mental hunger”, An aching void that yearns to be filled with what only the Cthaat Aquadingen can provide.
Feb. 16: Head aches and a persistent itchy scalp have begun to accompany the hunger. I must spend more time unraveling the secrets of this priceless antiquity. It is the only thing that eases the pain and the ever building pressure in my head.
Feb. 26: It is evident the summoning spell that I disregarded for lack of components (namely the flautists) has been in my subconscious mind as of late. For, last night I dreamt of it. My view was from above, as though I were floating. Below I could see the intricate pattern rendered in bright red upon a great slab of rock. Its face showing through the earth and grass. Then came next the most peculiar part of the dream. As if from afar, came a low rasping buzz. With each second passing it grew louder. It came, this sound, from all directions, like thousands of cicadas stridulating in unison. Growing louder and louder till all at once, when reaching its peak, this cacophony gave up its dissonance and came clear. All the while this droning invisible choir had been saying my name!
Feb. 27: I realized this morning that the large flat slabs of stone from my dream were familiar. Stones such as these were plentiful around an area I used to frequent in my youth. A place called Pickman's Mill. I am at this moment completing preparations to make a day trip to the mill. It is there that I will at last recreate the images for the summoning incantation that I am inexplicably obsessed with. It will be most grand to see the summoning circle for the unnamed servitor come to fruition. Easther seems upset that I’m leaving, she’s been rather quiet and stand offish as of late.
Feb. 28: Upon my return from Pickman's Mill, Easther met me at the door, her face heavy with worry. She had quite an array of concerns to bring to my attention. Not the least of which was the fact that I had not eaten but a few meals in the past month. Also that I was at times staying awake for days on end locked away in my workshop. She spoke in length of how much she missed me and how worried she was for my health,both physical and mental. Finally she added my complete disinterest in my daughter and her 2 small children (my grandchildren). This last thing, I realize fully, should mean a great deal to me. The truth of the matter is that it does not. Frankly, I have more important things to do, things no one would understand except my lovely Easther. Surely she will see the amazing wealth of information that has fallen into my hands. I’ll show her the wonder of the Mythos soon.
March 3: Today I’m returning to the stone slab at Pickman's Mill. I’ll ask Easther to accompany me. I’ll explain as best I can of the book and its contents. I imagine her excitement. She and I will spend our time together uncovering the aeons old rites of the cult of Cthulhu. Together we will hear his call. Oh, how I love my Easther. I shall dedicate the reading of the summoning to her. She will be so thrilled. Perhaps we will make love in the circle rolling about on the stone. Yes Easther, we will have a glorious day, a glorious life.
March 4: I hardly know where to start. Last nights turn of events have changed my life forever. As Easther looked on, I read aloud from the Cthaat Aquadingen. But alas, as I spoke the archaic verses I knew it was only the beginning. It was precisely at the time I succumbed to my fate that I heard them. The flutes! Droning, whistling, then falling into a chaotic dirge that filled the night air all about Pickman's Mill. The final component had been provided, a gift bestowed on me by the Great Cthulhu himself! And then for the second time my name was spoken. Upon my head was placed a crown of acceptance. No more did the pressure build in my head. Never again would I claw at my scalp to relieve the insistent itching. I had been initiated. The flutes slowly faded away and I was left in the silence of the woods. I turned to see Easther sitting upon the ground. She rocked to and fro, all the while speaking in great run-on sentences. She told of bloated frog like abominations floating about in the woods all around us. She laughed and cried at the same time when she spoke of the flutes they held, and how the piping wouldn’t stop. Then she fell silent and continued to rock back and forth. Something caught my eye! I turned to see the central circle before me pulsating with a radiant green light! Then starting low and distant as it had before, the cacophonous drone of what sounded like the song of thousands of cicadas grew even louder.
It began to take shape, if one could really refer to it as having shape at all. The thing before me had no constant form. It shook and stretched high, only to flatten and turn in on itself. An undulating fleshy blob that randomly produced eyes that looked all about before being consumed by the body that bore them. And there too were mouths. Maws of all shapes and sizes snapping and grinding before sinking away into the amorphous mass that is the servitor. Before me was the thing that should not be! “Teach Me Zacharia!” it boomed, “and I shall in turn impart upon you all I know!” At this point a shrill cackling laughter pierced the night air. I was most surprised to realize that it was coming from……me!