Journal Entry, Uncategorized

An excerpt from the Journal of Silus Ohmes:

Should man ever be so foolish as to look beyond the borders of his own mind, past the rusting gates of waking, he will find himself abandoned beneath the shadow of an old and terrible dream. I know because I have been there, to the Great Unconscious.
Over the years, my time in the Great Unconscious has shown me many terrible wonders: I have strolled through the fog-eaten hillsides of Somniis; I have felt the cool abandon of the Never Ending Woods; I have even seen the great and terrible Nod—the fabled, “City Under the Bed.” You, of course, have never heard of these places (and if you have, they have most certainly been hidden in the deepest trenches of your sub-conscious), but I assure you they are real.
Perhaps more terrifying than the places I’ve visited are the things that reside within them. They are home to the “Wakeless”—things born from the corpses of dead dreams, and then shaped, like clay, into mankind’s most hideous nightmares. They seek us out in our sleep, you see, and nourish themselves upon our screams until there is nothing left of us but an empty husk, wherein they pour themselves. It is how they come into our world, as living nightmares fighting against the tides of waking, hiding beneath the skin of dead dreamers.
But the Wakeless don’t always arrive in this world wearing the skins of stolen dreamers. The flesh, you see, can only accommodate so much nightmare, and sometimes the biological geometries of these creatures cannot be contained by our simplistic, human shape. Now, to that end, there have been whispers concerning a number of unfortunate women who’ve claimed to have become pregnant after experiencing strange and unwholesome dreams. The doctors, and their minions in the academic world, have, of course, foolishly labeled these cases as a form psychological neurosis. And yes, it is true—there are no physiological signs of said pregnancy; but believe me, these poor, poor women are host to something both quite real, and quite awful. For the things gestating inside those human wombs, on the other side of sleep, are not human at all, but are the implanted seeds of nightmare that will flower into hideous shapes that only the blackest sleep of lunatics can invoke. These are the progeny of the Wakeless and sleeping humanity—nightmared horrors sewed into sleeping wombs, wombs belonging to women who will be thankful to die before they can hear the terrible birth cries of their awful children. And it is by this horrid means that the wickedest of nightmares can be conjured of earthly flesh and bone.
You will read this and think me mad, of course. But madness is, at least in this case, only disguised revelation. But believe me or not, the truth will be upon you soon enough, and you will see for yourself what nightmares can hatch from stolen skin and wicked wombs.

Journal Entry, Uncategorized

An entry from the book, “Gods and Religion in the Post-Darkness era” The legend of Tom Hush

The entity known as “Tom Hush” can be traced back to various ancient cultures and mythologies. In ancient Greece, for instance, the god known as “Harpocrates”—the god of silence and secrets—may have been one of Tom Hush’s earliest incarnations. However, there is evidence that the bizarre legend of Tom Hush goes even further back, and that his origins are much more esoteric than what was previously believed. For example, scholars often theorize Harpocrates was the product of the Greek’s misinterpretation of the ancient Egyptian god, Horus (who is often depicted with his finger placed just below his lips, and thus the inference of silence), but new evidence suggests that the inception of Harpocrates may have been due to the influence of an ancient Egyptian cult that worshiped a strange pantheon of god-like creatures called the “March of Silence” (this information was gathered from a plethora of recently discovered papyri recovered from underground crypts of several Egyptian pyramids). This cult’s ideologies were rumored to have survived in the form of a subversive group of Grecian eccentrics, who had written various tomes and letters regarding this ‘Silent’ pantheon. Of special note, one of these deities was known as “Gersheta,” a god of silence and dark secrets—a theme consistent with both the Grecian god Harpocrates, and of course, Tom Hush. Authorities on the matter now believe a small portion of this underground sect broke off and eventually found a way to assimilate the “Gersheta” deity into mainstream Grecian lore, giving birth to Harpocrates (While Harpocrates was the Grecian god of secrets, it should be known that the original sect of Grecian converts believed in Gersheta [as well as the rest of the “March of Silence” pantheon] who was a more malicious entity that presided over silence and dark secrets).
But Egypt and Greece were not the only ones who had described this bizarre lineup of silence-themed entities. Strangely, evidence of a similar pantheon was found in the records and verbal traditions of multiple tribes located as far south as Kenya, Angola, Zimbabwe and even South Africa. Although these entities possessed different names, these deities were almost identical to those discovered in Egypt, with each entity presiding over a particular facet of silence and secrecy—some presided over the silence of forgotten things, while others ruled over the silence of forgotten places and names. In fact, various anthropologists have been able to uncover several traditions that were used by indigenous, ancient peoples to stave off the influences of this mysteries collective of dark beings. One such ritual involved, and still does in some remote regions of South Africa, the burial of the dead during the “Season of Silence”—a three-month period where-in both the living and the dead are susceptible to the guiles of these mysterious deities, many of whom are thought to strike only during periods of prolonged silence (or the utterance of malevolent secrets). One ancient tribe even placed rattles and handcrafted bells into the bodies of the deceased so as to prevent their invasion by the dark and silent entities, during the quiet of death; while another tribe chose to ordain a group of “noise-keepers”—a group of diligent tribesman who were tasked with singing songs during the silence of the night, disallowing the arrival of the “Silent Walkers.”
Of particular relevance to the myth of Tom Hush, one particular ancient people’s ritual required that an individual purge themselves of any dark secrets or motives during the “silent season,” as it was believed that “Sirimab,” the god of evil secrets and malevolent silence, was able to possess your body and carry out wicked deeds. Importantly, various drawings of this entity in these regions depict a gaunt, humanoid-like figure with a head piled high with jutting antlers, which is, of course, very similar to Tom Hush’s more modern incarnation.
Since the discovery of this bizarre pantheon of creatures, anthropologists have isolated a number of analogous entities distributed across a multitude of other cultures and religions, including many Anglo-Saxon societies. And, like in Egypt and Africa, the deity representing dark and evil secrets was often depicted wearing a robe and a crown of twisting antlers.
While it is unknown how the March of Silence Mythology (MSM) was propagated throughout the years and across cultures, the legend of Tom Hush alighted within mainstream European society in the mid 18th century. In 1753, a series of ritualistic murders shocked London, as many of the victims were found mutilated upon a giant, antlered alter in the middle of the woods. When the perpetrator was eventually apprehended, he was found wearing a mask of bone and an accompanying headdress of deer antlers. The man claimed to be duplicating the features of the entity that possessed him, a demonic creature that called itself, “Tom Hush.” The day before he was executed at the gallows, he fearfully informed authorities that Tom Hush was an “eater of dark secrets,” and that “Tom Hush lives in the dark secrecy of others.” After the notorious killer was executed, the story of Tom Hush spread to become a sort of urban legend. Often times, parents would use him as a kind of nursery bogey, telling their children that if they were harboring any bad secrets from their parents that Tom Hush would find them and steal their souls. The antlered being was also often blamed for unexplained murders or missing persons, as well as killings perpetrated by people who seemed to show no violent inclinations before the crime (not dissimilar from stories told of the Wendigo, itself an antlered and malevolent being).
While Tom Hush is certainly no longer considered a causative factor when considering the motive of murderers, stories still abound concerning the malevolent influence of Tom Hush, the great secret-eater who walks within rooms and hallways filled with soft silence, and who eats his way out of the mind that has stored one too many dark secrets. In fact, since the Great Darkness of 1999, Tom Hush has undergone a sort of resurgence, as many people have reverted to spiritualism and superstition to explain the events of the Darkness. In time, the world may yet see the re-emergence of Tom Hush in all of his glory, along with his dark peers, “The March of Silence.”