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[NF] My encounter with an Eldritch Abomination on the streets of Portland

Wandering through the night to keep warm, I marched across the Hawthorne Bridge barely sustaining consciousness. The droning hum of the occasional car hovering over the mesh metal road jolted me awake several times, but the cutting wind was the real hero on that bridge, giving me something to continuously tune into. It didn’t matter. Four days is too long for any person to go without sleep. Halfway across, weariness won, and I nodded out for a complete second, almost tumbling into traffic.
Thankfully, I caught myself. Drivers would have thought I was a zombie for a brief moment, how I hobbled, arms deliriously outstretched, praying for anything to balance myself with. Shambling away from the road, I fumbled for the cool metal edge of the railing, hugging it as soon as my fingers could drag my dead body closer. Here, I had a moment of panic. Cars forgotten, the only thing I could focus on was the black waters below. Eyes fixated, my hands clenched tightly, all I wanted was not to fall into the fathoms of abysmal, rushing ink. Fortunately, a large delivery truck zoomed by behind me, and the following wall of wind snapped me from my trance. Holding onto the rail for my life, I opted to carefully navigate my way to the stairway marked by the brown OMSI sign, and shuffled down inch by inch.
Successful, I paused under the overpass, dropping my bags to rest my back. Stretching felt good, which led to me arched backwards staring at the concrete above. Bad idea. I silently swore in my head as I felt my blood pressure drop rapidly, knowing I was going to pass out and not being able to do anything about it. Grey galaxies sparked like wildfire, morphing across everything in sight, while my head floated in a sea called nowhere. My body was my tether to consciousness, but I soon let go of that rope, overwhelmed by the icy waves of ruthless nausea. Helpless, I drowned in darkness, fortunately avoiding the experience of my head splatting straight onto the pavement.
The next thing I remember is sitting up, not knowing what happened. The length of the night would later tell me that I wasn’t out for long. But, in that moment, flailed out on the ground like a limp octopus, a mystery had formed. Dreams wisped away as phantoms haunt the living, leaving me with broken, disjointed thoughts to work with. I attempted to gather my bearings, but try as I might, I could not identify anything by sight. Everything was there - I could see blobs of something in front of me - but my mind failed to register anything worthy of a name.
Blinking, squinting, rubbing my eyes did nothing. The world swirled out of focus, taking everything familiar with it. Clearly, I was still processing information, but my brain, exhausted beyond measure, had given up making sense of anything. The gloomy haze of halogen colors blurred together while what could have been a pack of massive maned hounds shivering in the wind released their spirits into the night’s winds, escaping beyond their material form, radiating out across the field of my vision. This resembled the splash a pebble makes when it’s tossed into water, but with an erratic pulse, like invisible lightning coursed with these waves. The world itself, to mean the theater of my perception, not the undefined objects held therein, was alive. A lifeform of a class beyond categorization, outside of the physical realm and marred not by any laws I could identify, breathed with a retching, wheezing fervor. And as I stared into its maw, it stared back without eyes, or even something to call a mind that any human could begin to comprehend.
Terror splicing my own mind, not knowing where I was or what I could possibly be looking at, I sat frozen, my arms locked behind me, palms vigorously pushing into the ground, as if my body was trying to get me back on my feet but lacked any command from my paralyzed nervous system. “It” was neither encroaching upon me or backing away, but its presence was all-consuming. In that air of dire uncertainty, letting go of what I knew, I watched once again as an unconscious hand took the reins of my thinking. From the bellows of my emotionless, machine mind, an image of the cultist that enslaved us with chains made of words sprung into the forefront of my thoughts. Her scathing voice echoed between the walls of my skull, causing me to simultaneously taste bile and rage silently. Indignance spreading, I soon didn’t care if I was about to charge the gates of hell. Fear became a distant element of my being. Then, realizing I was not hopeless, I took control of the situation.
My knowledge of attention saved me, and I thank the aliens for their infinite wisdom. Level-headed, I reasoned that the belief of this entities’ existence was solely responsible for bringing the creature to life. Without giving it much conscious thought, I stopped feeding the idea of there being a lifeform in front and me, and instead focused on my own breathing. In the nose and out the mouth in a steady count. Count four in, then eight out. Slowly, a calm emerged, easing its way across my mind and body. With it, my vision started to clear, allowing me to see the bush for what it was. Memories of passing out started rising to the surface of my mind, spurred by recognizing the fountain by the flat-topped rocks, where I failed to sleep during my first day in that cursed city. I grabbed my bags out of instinct and stood up. The world seemed to bobbed with me, but I kept my balance. It was hard to focus. The center of my vision was clear enough to make out objects to identify them, but the rest of what my eyes fed me was smeared into a jungle of perturbed dementia.
My pupils darted in several directions, like I was trying to get a clear glimpse of floating debris in front of my retinas. This let me study the miasma before me. Loosely tied thoughts about Google’s Deep Dream software and Satre’s chestnut tree, its roots absurdly forgotten, danced forcefully in my head as I tried to comprehend existence without rigid boundaries governing my cognition. Words were not meant to capture such unbound features. Pure, raw information, untouched by higher order ran naked in the festering halls of my mind. The trees, the bushes, the man-made path and fence, even the defined star-speckled silhouettes of what I knew were tall buildings across the river dissolved feverishly into a nauseating soup.
However, I soon found that I could control this madness. The act of conceptualizing something summoned its essence into the world. In other words, my conscious thoughts were directing how I pieced together form from crude elements. This proved highly entertaining, reminding me of all the optical illusion books I played with as a kid. Enthused, I worked with the bush directly in front of me, oscillating between its expected, bushy nature and that of a woolen hippopotamus. This was but a notion at first, yet as I trained my attention to this inter-dimensional animal, its head became clearly defined and moved about by the logic a head should move. Then, just as surely as I conjured that image, it dissolved back into the edge of a colorless bush swaying with the wind. The blaze of christmas tree lights from the distant profile of downtown could be compelled to dance with the majesty of fireworks piercing the night’s onyx stage. Even the grey paved ground underfoot offered itself as a mosaic painting the spacetime continuum.
Yet, in the midst of my psychonautic exploration, my head jerked to the heavy hands of sleep once again. I had to move or I was going to be swallowed by this noneuclidean dreamscape. A single step was nothing, but after a few I was lost, having suddenly forgotten where I was, left unaided by any sort of visual cues. Bewildered again, I noticed that the voice in my head could not keep a long train of thought going. I could appraise my situation without a solid grasp of my mental contents, but quickly lost any tangible logic, like I was trying to hold onto an unwinding rope, its individual strings being carried off like will-o-wisps in the wind. With the memory of the park dashing in and out of focus, I carried on despite the unease that ruined the still waters of lucidity I was used to swimming.
Suddenly, a voice called out in the distance, though it could have just as easily emerged from my own imagination. Confusion was abundant. Unsure of where its origin, I looked around, perplexed and unable to make out if anybody was really there. Yet, after a moment, my eyes narrowed at a figure in the distance, standing dead still as just a silhouette in the sickly yellow light from the nearby street light. The figure did not startle me, but a feeling of primordial dread struck me cold. My mind reeling, unsure of what to do, I broke concentration with this apparation and suddenly it disappeared. Maybe it moved. I did not know then, and I do not know now. But, I stared, still fighting with my senses, concerned that it was a real person trying to get my attention. As I did, the notion that the CIA was messing with me crept into my thoughts. Paranoia silently seeped across my mind, damning any and all good sensibilities I had left.
And then it happened. Another shadow crept into view, past the arch of the bridge. Then another followed some distance behind it. And another. They walked, but their motion was not right. These humanoids slinked, almost gliding from one side of the walkway to the other. Although they appeared human, something was horribly wrong with them. But try as I might, I could not make out any distinct features with them being so far away. I blinked, and they were in a different location entirely, creeping closer, dipping in and out of the shadows. I did not know what they were, only that they were unnatural and that they were coming towards me.
The dam burst, and fear flooded my mind. Every instinct I had told me to turn tail and run. Yet, somehow, I kept my wits started backpedaling, never breaking eye contact, less they apparate again. It did not take long to see that this was not putting enough distance between us, so I turned swiftly, and almost had a heart attack. I leapt, yelping as I was startled by the appearance of a much closer shadow standing meters in front of me. This thing, it had no face, no eyes, yet it stared menacingly at me. I thought for sure it would lunge straight for my throat, however as seconds passed agonizingly slowly while my life flashed before my eyes, this shadow demon stayed put, sweeping back and forth, using its legs not to stand but instead to drift in the air as a balloon might on a calm day. Not knowing what else to do, I raised my fists, not yet ready to die.
That fight never came. The shadow lurked for a few moments, and then it was gone. Poof. Like it was never there. A dreadful feeling followed, as more caught my eye. A gang of these looming hellvoids stood leering in the twilight edge of the cone of brightness shimmering from the park’s lamps. Here, I was frozen, rigid, and at a complete loss for what to do. Cause and effect had gone out the window, fate vanishing with consequence. If only I could escape, return home from where I was banished and cover myself with a warm blanket. No, I thought to myself, breaking free from those old shackles. This was not a moment of doom. This was a chance to improve myself, to grow more fearless, and as a result, more powerful. Thus, I righted myself as a god of this realm, my only armor against whatever abyss my mind could summon for me.
I took a step. Then another. They didn’t seem bothered by my movements, so I continued on until I stood in front of the sign for the firehouse. Over the last few days, I had read this sign maybe a dozen times in passing. Yet, now the words had gone, replaced by nonsensical scribbles. I squinted, trying to correct the world to the pattern I was familiar with. Words came, but not the ones they should have been. There was a flash of contorting runes spelling nothing before the quite clear depiction of the initials C-I-A materialized, before shifting again to even crisper word: GOD. The letters above then twisted themselves to spell out “Trust God,” an omen which lingered for almost a minute before I had to blink and disperse the celestial message.
I was in a bad spot. That was about all I knew for certain. But my faith was strong, and that carried me for the next bit of delirious walking I did. I don’t remember much about what was going through my mind, because what was about to happen shattered any means my dazed neurons had to form coherent memories.
There was a bag on the right side of the path. I remember that. It was a small plastic bag, black, the kind you get from a mom and pop convenience store. Its rustling caught my eye, but I didn’t get a chance to see it for what it was for very long. You see, as I noticed it, it noticed me, and transmogrified itself into a snake. It slithered away quickly, probably more startled of me than I of it. The thought of the serpent tempting Eve crossed my mind, but this served only as a distraction. For it was in this moment I heard a detestable din; a whining like a devilish machine that crushes bones into dust. I looked up, losing the plastic vermin underfoot, and any faith I had in God just about died in an instant.
I do not know the kinds of things that danced in HP Lovecraft’s head, but what could only be described as an eldritch abomination straight from the deepest bowels of hell was coming directly towards me. This wasn’t an illusion. Not in the slightest. This real abomination, anathema incarnate, standing some seven feet tall and five feet wide, and lacking any real cohesive shape but clearly possessing countless tendrils and tentacles flailing wildly as it shuffled vehemently towards me, was on a warpath to annihilate me. I fell to my knees, all hope vanishing from my soul. If my body could muster tears, I would have wept. Was this God’s punishment? Yes, I admit I was a leper, a sinner without remorse, but why this? No one, not even the most vile murderers, rapists, and pederasts deserved this. Barely able to speak, I prayed with every breath I could muster. Oh God please no. Please forgive me! I beg of you please, no. Not this. Anything but this!
It was no use. This diabolically evil creature was not going to stop. It inched closer, gliding on its stomach as a slug might. Time stood still. And in the eternity that followed, I saw my life in all its fucked glory. Accepting death is unlike any other experience. It transcends all notions of being. It is the limbo between this life and the next. So when the monster reached me, the feeling of sheer nothingness was bountiful in my mind, body, and spirit. I bowed my head, ready for the immeasurable pain that was inevitable.
And then it passed me. My head slowly tilted to see what it was waiting for. I expected some unholy maw to unhinge and consume me whole, but instead I saw only a man. A homeless man, pushing a large cart stuffed to the brim with seemingly anything he could pick up. He looked at me funny. I must have been a strange sight, flailed out on the ground as I was. He continued on without even saying hello, leaving me to piece together what the hell had just happened. After what could have been an hour, I stood again, reborn and ready to repent, completely and fully. A new world awaited me, as a phoenix reborn from the ashes flies freely through the soulless night sky.
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