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Description
Upon my my restored consciousness I awoke to a world. One so foreign yet so familiar. The moon was shattered and bright as the sun, but it gave no light. Before me stood calamity, a lord of discord. A being so perfect in it’s power, but so primitive in form. It spoke no words, but the wandering forgotten, they spoke. Their words so loud, indecipherable and construed. They hide in the shadows, their transgressions against the fabric of reality contort them. Causing no pain, only the curse of forgotten identity. Their bodies were not strong enough to withstand the shattering of everything real. I return my attention to Calamity, they opened their cloak. Showing me a path to a church of fallen messiahs. I understand now that only a few that take the trip into chaos, may return to reality, barring the corrupted gifts of madness. I did not move from where I stood, locked in a battle between my mind and body. I held stiff until the fragile dimension began to shatter. I took a devil’s offer, but I still live to write this. After breaking into calamity’s reality the sky blackened when his cloak closed. Although, the ground stayed within my vision. I had no other options but to move toward the church. Trudging up the coarse path, the wandering forgotten began to take interest in my being. They closed in on me, screeching their incomprehensible language. In a panic, I sprinted to the doors of the church. In my panicked run the church doors opened wide for me. Bright was the light, it was no divine matter though. The noise from the church was unbearable, but by the time I noticed it’s further disruptive sound it was too late. A black arm dripping with some parasitic liquid grabbed me. It forced me inside with immense speed. By the time it let go of me, I had awoken. I felt pain like no other, a writhing pain in my eye and back. Looking up I saw a knife coated in blood and an eye laying on the stone table. Looking beyond that, the mural of calamity was bleeding, it’s eyes were red. When I noticed this, the pain ended. The vision from my left eye came back. I could see all that hid from the human eye. They worshiped me, I felt enlightened, so far above the unworthy. I am not sure why I even bother with writing this, I must join my peers within the church.

-Prophet Jackson

Above is an excerpt from the journal of an occult leader from the mountains of West Virginia. One day, he and the accompanying cult disappeared. When the police got there all that was found was the seats covered in blood, an eye, and a blood soaked knife. Investigators are baffled at how so many people disappeared at once.
At the current date, this investigation is still ongoing.

October 4 1984

West Virginia Historical Society

Description
Upon my my restored consciousness I awoke to a world. One so foreign yet so familiar. The moon was shattered and bright as the sun, but it gave no light. Before me stood calamity, a lord of discord. A being so perfect in it’s power, but so primitive in form. It spoke no words, but the wandering forgotten, they spoke. Their words so loud, indecipherable and construed. They hide in the shadows, their transgressions against the fabric of reality contort them. Causing no pain, only the curse of forgotten identity. Their bodies were not strong enough to withstand the shattering of everything real. I return my attention to Calamity, they opened their cloak. Showing me a path to a church of fallen messiahs. I understand now that only a few that take the trip into chaos, may return to reality, barring the corrupted gifts of madness. I did not move from where I stood, locked in a battle between my mind and body. I held stiff until the fragile dimension began to shatter. I took a devil’s offer, but I still live to write this. After breaking into calamity’s reality the sky blackened when his cloak closed. Although, the ground stayed within my vision. I had no other options but to move toward the church. Trudging up the coarse path, the wandering forgotten began to take interest in my being. They closed in on me, screeching their incomprehensible language. In a panic, I sprinted to the doors of the church. In my panicked run the church doors opened wide for me. Bright was the light, it was no divine matter though. The noise from the church was unbearable, but by the time I noticed it’s further disruptive sound it was too late. A black arm dripping with some parasitic liquid grabbed me. It forced me inside with immense speed. By the time it let go of me, I had awoken. I felt pain like no other, a writhing pain in my eye and back. Looking up I saw a knife coated in blood and an eye laying on the stone table. Looking beyond that, the mural of calamity was bleeding, it’s eyes were red. When I noticed this, the pain ended. The vision from my left eye came back. I could see all that hid from the human eye. They worshiped me, I felt enlightened, so far above the unworthy. I am not sure why I even bother with writing this, I must join my peers within the church.

-Prophet Jackson

Above is an excerpt from the journal of an occult leader from the mountains of West Virginia. One day, he and the accompanying cult disappeared. When the police got there all that was found was the seats covered in blood, an eye, and a blood soaked knife. Investigators are baffled at how so many people disappeared at once.
At the current date, this investigation is still ongoing.

October 4 1984

West Virginia Historical Society