Difference between revisions of "Phenomeno:Prologue"

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A line my now late grandmother used to say, and one that was quite true.
 
A line my now late grandmother used to say, and one that was quite true.
   
I had been interested in the occult since about when I was a brat, and upon entering university, I learned the truth of those words, stepping many times into the abyss of the spirit world. Ghosts — beings that are impossible for anyone to decisively determine whether they truly exist or not — and the legends that revolve them are at the center of this story.
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I had been interested in the occult since I was a brat, and upon entering university, I learned the truth of those words, stepping many times into the abyss of the spirit world. Ghosts — beings that are impossible for anyone to clearly define, whether they truly exist or not — and the legends that revolve them are at the center of this story.
   
And this story can also be said to be the one of that person and I.
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And this story can also be said to be the story of her and me.
   
As their eyes glimmered facing mystery, as their entranced face breathed out words, they warped the world that I had always believed in. The anxiety they built within me made me feel like the Earth would split apart. Simply listening would instill a fear that made me not want to look back, a fear as if someone were peeking at me from the shadows through a half-open door.
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Her eyes glimmered facing mystery, and her words, uttered with an expression of ecstasy, always warped the world I believed in. The anxiety they built within me made me feel like the Earth would split apart. Simply listening would instill a fear that made me not want to look back, a fear as if someone were peeking at me from the shadows through a half-open door.
   
It was probably because the words they spoke included truths about the other side, truths so scant, grotesque, and twisted that only dead men could make use of them.
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It was probably because the words she spoke included truths about the other side, truths so scant, grotesque, and twisted that only the dead could make use of them.
   
Only now, after that person is gone, do I finally understand that.
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Only now, after she is gone, do I finally understand that.
   
As my grandmother had said, it was definitely a world that I was not meant to see. It was a story that should not be known to a living person.
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As my grandmother had said, it was definitely a world not meant to be seen. It was a story not meant to be known to the living.
   
 
However—
 
However—
   
However, I'm gonna tell that story now, I think.
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However, I'm going to tell that story now.
   
I'm gonna spill everything I have here, I think.
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I'm going to talk about it all from here.
   
Because if I don't — that person won't be able to rest in peace.
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Because if I don't — she won't be able to rest in peace.
   
Because they, having lived in the depths of darkness, having struggled through darkness, won't be able to rest in peace.
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Because she, having lived in the depths of darkness, and having struggled through darkness, won't be able to rest in peace.
   
 
Yes — I'll say it only once more.
 
Yes — I'll say it only once more.

Latest revision as of 13:04, 22 March 2023

Prologue[edit]

"There are some things people are not meant to see."

A line my now late grandmother used to say, and one that was quite true.

I had been interested in the occult since I was a brat, and upon entering university, I learned the truth of those words, stepping many times into the abyss of the spirit world. Ghosts — beings that are impossible for anyone to clearly define, whether they truly exist or not — and the legends that revolve them are at the center of this story.

And this story can also be said to be the story of her and me.

Her eyes glimmered facing mystery, and her words, uttered with an expression of ecstasy, always warped the world I believed in. The anxiety they built within me made me feel like the Earth would split apart. Simply listening would instill a fear that made me not want to look back, a fear as if someone were peeking at me from the shadows through a half-open door.

It was probably because the words she spoke included truths about the other side, truths so scant, grotesque, and twisted that only the dead could make use of them.

Only now, after she is gone, do I finally understand that.

As my grandmother had said, it was definitely a world not meant to be seen. It was a story not meant to be known to the living.

However—

However, I'm going to tell that story now.

I'm going to talk about it all from here.

Because if I don't — she won't be able to rest in peace.

Because she, having lived in the depths of darkness, and having struggled through darkness, won't be able to rest in peace.

Yes — I'll say it only once more.

From here onwards is a story that should not be known.


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