Lessons of Darkness

Author's Note: The following is a collection of 5 stories featuring the same characters. I hope it goes without saying that all of them are over 18. Special Thanks to SimonDoom for helping me with the Title and Blurb.

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An Awakening

I was born with a black mark on me so to speak. Aptly enough because my name's Mr. Black. A fitting name for my family. A common name that we have made much more abnormal just through the act of bearing its nomenclature. Nothing gets through this family's grasp unscathed, not even a last name. So my apologies to anyone who shares this last name with me, you've just been dragged a little close to the shadowy side of things just for your very minute association with me.

All of this may be just a bit of self-mythologization on my part, but who can blame me? The mythology of my family was force fed to me long ago, who can admonish me for regurgitating it? Others have already built up my family's significance, might as well get in on the fun myself. Even when in truth I really do not know much about it. My family's history is draped in the shadows of apprehension and mystique. My parents didn't exactly shine a light on it for me.

An outsider in a family that is made up of outsiders, don't know how much more of an outsider one gets than that. The relief of identification is a comfort I have never known. It is as if I was raised to be as disconnected as possible. My parents ensured that I fell on the wrong side of the digital divide as far as history's concerned, no social media for me. Public schooling remains untethered to my personal experiences and remains solely in the descriptions of some of the books that litter the halls of this manor.

Home school was a must for me, at least I never had any say in it. I never really had much say in anything and in a way that was appropriate as I never really felt the need to say much. I was a natural observer and through the forces of nurture I stayed that way. Although it wasn't curiosity that I had as much as a laconic certitude. A feeling in the back of my head of what I needed to do and when.

And so I watched as one middle aged man after another, with maybe a middle aged woman or two to add a little variety, came into my living room and lectured me on the finer points of reading, writing, math and science and all the other subjects that the great state of Vermont had managed to impose on me through the otherwise impermeable walls of this manor. An imposition my parents took in stride, their pockets were somehow deep enough to pay for a substitute to the floundering education system many a kid would want to escape. I'm not they would want to if they saw the alternative. My parents seemingly made sure I had the most humdrum lecturers possible.

I did well enough on what tests the state board could get through these hallowed halls to continue on in my lonesome, but that was it. No passion for learning and no thought for any higher education. My future was already sealed with no desire to unseal it and write myself a new ending. The money I was born into was enough for me to never have to lift a finger. Nope, it was my destiny to follow in whatever footsteps my family had felt was couth. My life did and still does feel like a dream, one lacking in sentiment where I float from place to place, encounter to encounter.

My parents, what to say about them? They were there, that's a start. Maybe they still are, I don't know. They left one day, don't know where, don't know why. They're just gone and I have no desire to find out what happened. They once frequented my personal space when I was younger. Don't know exactly what they wanted and their consultations with me seemed mighty forced. I don't think I ever even received a hug from either of them. No it was just a quick check in before leaving me to my own means.

One time my mother, in a moment of... I don't even know, something, told me that "I hope you understand that we are doing this to you because your life is not entirely your own. You are meant for something and we are doing our best to prepare you."

Formal words from a formal lady. I never knew what she meant by that. All I can tell you is that I turned out pretty aloof, probably could've guessed that on your own though. Not a lot of sentiment coursing through these veins of mine. At least I don't seem to have any of the anger that awaits most of those not properly inducted into the means of socialization. All I have is a minor interest, a minor longing, a minor contentment, everything subdued. Not much emotion to connect me to the rest of the human race.

I was never meant to be a lightning rod for empathy. People were always meant to point and look at me. I was a Black all right, never mind that I had never met anyone outside of my immediate family. I mostly only go outside to obtain nourishment, I do no action that could actually pique other's curiosity. Yet my bland actions couldn't keep people's imagination from conjuring grander tales. What ceremonies I could be conducting. What horrors I get up to in my own life.

And yet there is some truth to that notion. I do have a book in my possession. It seems that my destiny appears to be tied up in this volume that sits on my desk. It appeared there one day, not long after my parents departed, through what means I do not know. Yet flipping through it I saw steps for incantations and other conjurings that I could follow through on. Summonings I could execute to invite beings from other worlds in.

Yet the follow through to make good on these conjurings does not currently reside in me. Looking through it is just like a child flipping through picture books it does not fully understand. There was nothing to connect within it yet. The guiding arrow that is forever in the back of my head spun around in circles whenever I approached it. I had no reason to follow its guidance.

These are certainly not the actions of an occultist. No mention of the occult from either of my parents either. Yet in the air was always the hint of cabalistic energy flowing through it. Behind which one of the many doors it came from I have yet to discover. Just silence and emptiness for me with the notion hanging over my head that I'm merely just waiting for my life to begin.

I do however believe that it has been predetermined that I will return to the book. An awakening is coming, for me and for whatever this book describes. It's just not the right time. I have yet to experience the inciting incident that will ignite me to comb through the book, translating what I can and executing the ceremonies that will bring whatever may come. That is what I believe I was raised for. The reasons for the tabula rasa my parents raised me to become will be explained soon enough.

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October, a month that has special significance for the Celtic people or so I've been told. A time where the chill in the air becomes readily apparent, when one can finally begin to see their breath dissipate into the brisk air surrounding them. The essence from inside one finally showing itself to them in contrast to the crisp atmosphere that's descended. The breath then tries to fight with the new surrounding it has found itself in before giving up the ghost and allowing itself to dissolve into the hemisphere. A reminder of our slow descent into forces that we have no control over.

A time for change, in which the more wintery aims of autumn become apparent. A precipice if there ever was one. It was in this month that our ancestors made decisions that would ensure if they survived winter or not. A moment to act decisively, to manifest one's destiny into one that will rise up to challenge the coming cold and unforgiving climate, with only the hope of spring to motivate oneself toward salvation.

Yet there is no such motivation for me. The survival instinct that winter once instilled in even the most lethargic of us has no use in a modern world. Here, survival by the forces of winter is almost a given. The monster in the closet that has since been renovated. Such an external force that was once so imposing that it was deified by many folklores has now become just a blip on the radar. In trying to protect ourselves from intruding influences that may be good or bad we've just been left with ourselves.

And that is where I find myself now, alone in the manor in which I never feel all that obliged to leave. The guiding arrow that has always pointed me in the direction of fate is at a standstill. Just keeping me sitting in a chair as I watch the sunlight that comes through the windows nudging its way across the floor. There are worse ways to pass the time than examining change in the most minute manner possible. A matter that most people hold as insignificant becomes under my own examination one loaded with meaning. The inherent instability of everything peaks through, the world is always moving even if we can't feel it. We're always moving. We revolve around the sun, no use in trying to find the center within ourselves, is there?

Still I'm a long way out from the center I'm supposed to be in. Instead I'm floating in the nether regions of space where the forces of gravity can't reach me. I don't seem to be following any of the rules of attraction as I have yet to find somewhere, something or someone that calls to me. So alone I sit, watching the world spin with me just along for the ride, wondering if I'll ever find some being to rotate in relation towards.

Just then I hear a noise, the type that sends your spine standing up straight. It's coming from the basement, whatever it is. The answer to what's producing it is perhaps not a safe one to ascertain, but my inner compass feels it's a necessary one. So down my arrow goes, pointing me to doom, destiny or maybe both. Guess we'll find out which one when the finish line hits.

The creaks in the Manor are more noticeable, wonder why? Maybe it's just... Could it be? Is it actually... Adrenaline? Yes it is, the fluid that hopefully will lead me to the better of the binary choice of fight or flight. A feeling that I haven't felt in so long, maybe never. At least not like this. However, I'm throwing my hat in a different direction than the two listed above. I'm going with investigation, a decision that requires a bit more rationality than the forces of adrenaline invite so I guess I have to do my best to hold it back until I need it.

Once again, that noise. Like a combination of bumping and moaning. Something beyond animalistic, almost spectral in a very fervent manner. Something ineffable in its nature, at least a nature for which we don't have the words for, lurks in the place where I'm heading. What it will greet me with remains to be seen. The overwhelming urge of my inner compass overrules any sort of fear that could find a home in me.

So now I find myself face to face with the doorknob. A simple twist and turn would bring me closer to what fate has in store for me. So following a path that's arguably predetermined, I push open the door to come even more closer to what my great beyond looks like. I just have to walk down some stairs first.

So inch by inch, step by step I go down. I can't tell you that there isn't some hesitancy involved, I'm not that close to emotionally deficient for that not to be the case. Still some basic rudimentary feelings stirring up in this cold heart of mine. I'm just not going to write a love song any time soon.

And so finally I reach the end of my journey to find... Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It couldn't have just been my imagination, could it? Nope, the noises were a bit too... Wait what's that? The ground, is it rumbling? This can't be an earthquake, can it? I just know that the energy isn't coming from underneath the surface of the earth, it's something in the air.

The temperature, it feels like it's fluctuating around me. I can't explain it properly, it's like hot one minute and cold the other, but both, but neither. It's... god, I'm so thirsty but I don't want to drink anything. But I feel cold, oh so cold and empty. As someone who's not used to dealing with such feelings there is little to no resistance to them. I just feel them with every fiber of my body.

At least I have no expectation that I should feel anyway else. That's the silver lining, no urge to fight them. I'm not sure I could if I wanted to. I just let them flow freely throughout my being with no attempt at stopping them. I accept the roller coaster ride for what it is, even if a little internal fear comes along for it. No running away for me, not even sure if my legs would permit it.

Then color. Is it my vision that's tainted or is it working properly and there's now a sudden influx of color? Fuck, purple can be such an unsettling color. It's coming through in waves from some center in the room. I can't get it together enough to properly figure out where. The in between of the state of focus and blur is where I find my post, swaying and swinging in whatever foul wind is in the room.

But the color, god how it bleeds into my eyes. Even when I close them the color's still there. Some sort of kaleidoscope pattern of the most unsettling purple, with some hints of blue. No that's not it, it's too wavey to be kaleidescopey. Words, they aren't too good for describing images, especially the ones I'm seeing. I'm not even sure a recreation of these images could describe just how invasive this feels like. Whatever it is, the sanctity of my soul feels like it's just gotten a little less pure.

I'm on my knees now, this is all just a tad too overwhelming. It's searching for me, trying to find something. Trying to bring something out of me. It's too late, it's already invaded me. For what reason? I don't know. I don't even know what it is or what it's looking for. Do I want it to find what it came for inside of me or should I pray to every possible god that it leaves me empty handed?

An act of sacrifice may be needed on my part. To sacrifice what ,I do not know. What part of me shall I cut off, to rid myself of to grow beyond this encounter. All of a sudden the color dissipates and darkness surrounds. I can still see my hands and feet at least. I know I'm still here, but where?

A great chill courses through me and then a jerk the brings my spine up straight. My hands, they aren't mine anymore. At least they aren't responding to whatever signals my brain is sending them. No, they have someone else's strings on them. Twitching and moving, fingers in a tizzy. Rapidly moving as if they are trying to type something out except that no keyboard could ever handle the force they're typing with.

How to respond to this? I don't know why but I sense that if I show a strong sense of fear for whatever this, it would use my fear to get a foothold to bring about my annihilation. Whatever has me would take complete control and expel what essence I have from my body. A slight nervousness is all that can be permitted. There can't be any extreme emotions, they would allow whatever it is to feed off of me, to drain me, and then take me. That would be giving the game away, that would give it my number. If it were to control my interior world for even a single second it would know it would be time to strike and with its newfound confidence it would go in for the kill.

How to combat something that through invoking the sensations of fear and anger needed to begin to fight it would hasten my downfall? What tools do I have at hand while I wait in this limbo? What can I do while I do my best to tamp down whatever feelings that my emerge from my interiority? Peace, calm and acceptance is what I turn my mind to.

Something has invading me looking for a host or something. It is a danger to me but it's not to be feared. It wants something to attach itself to, some strong sensation that it can use to sneak its way through me. I don't want to give it that, I want to tell it that it has no home in here. I want to believe that I have enough self-control to steer this ship to the outcome I so desire. The only thing that will stop me is if I think it might be stronger than me, especially in my own interior domain. I have to trust that my own acceptance of the situation and desire to put an end to it will be enough or else everything's already lost.

So I focus on my inner muster. I project a barrier of protection that's within me. A force of pure will enters inside me. Acting as both a barrier and weapon for what has invaded me. I will not let it take control of me and that's a fact. After a lifetime of acquiescing to surrounding needs I finally find a willpower of my own and use it to defend against this being.

Just then I feel it slither away, not physically but mentally. Maybe even a little spiritually too while we're at it. I don't know if the creature even has a corporeal form but I still feel as if a weight has been lifted off me. Light has been restored to my vision and I find myself back in the basement. On my own two feet I get back up on. The ground under my feet is once again sturdy and concrete.

So with that in mind I go back upstairs, not to pack up and leave this house forever more like any reasonable person would do, but to go back to the book after having found my purpose. I know what my new north star is now and it is the same power that I have just come face to face with and barely emerged unscathed. There was a darkness there for sure but not one that necessitated the need for a night light to keep it at bay. No, this was a darkness to dive back into when the time was ready. When I had the proper tools at my disposal.

A power had emerged to me in a most frightening way, but it was a power all right. One I felt compelled to explore further and in greater detail. The power had passed over me and I'm sure I could recreate that particular victory if round two necessitates it. I'm on a quest of fate now and it only ends in one way. No use in fretting about what the final destination may be, I'm going to get there eventually.

One question that burns in the back of my mind brighter than rest is whether this was the doing of my parents? Was that the aftershock of one of my parents incantations or just some random spirit that out of all these homes in my surrounding area simply managed by happenstance to pounce on the one with the greatest reputation for the occult? My faith is in the former, some consequence of their actions had found its way back to me. Though no resentment courses enters me for I see the opportunity to fulfill my purpose.

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I'm glad my work on this book is coming to a close because I sense something is trying to find its way into my dreams. My most unconscious of areas, someone could really do a number if they found their way in there. The last few nights I've been sensing something in these lands of fancy my mind makes up for me. Almost as if I turn a corner I will come face to face with some instrument of destruction. So in these dreamscapes I have always backed away from whatever source of danger my mind instinctively detects. A lot of corners have gone unturned in there. Unlike in the basement a week ago, I will not have the upper hand.

I move through my dreams with care and discretion and spend my days at the book for as long as possible. For 7 days and 7 nights I've done nothing but eat, sleep and try and translate the ceremonies. And with such a concentrated effort, my time studying Latin and other arcane words is coming to an end. It is time to choose a ceremony to perform. I'm sure all of them have the same potential for salvation or damnation, just some will be easier and harder to obtain the outcome I want.

Leraje, Astaroth, Marchosias, Abaddon. These were all beings I could summon. But something draws me to Lilith. It could be my inner compass pointing me towards destiny or it could be the regular desire of a man wanting to be near a woman, or whatever this demon with a female name could be gendered as, finally awakening in me. Whatever the reason, it's become clear that Lilith is the demon for me.