Eldritch Whorers

"Son?! Can you go clean out the attic while we work on the kitchen?!"

Somehow, your mom's voice rings out through the massive mansion, reaching you all the way on the third floor. The great acoustics probably help, but near silence in the mansion is the most important factor.

"Yeah mom, I'll get to it!" you automatically yell back, before grumbling under your breath seconds later when your mind registers the request. The attic has been sitting there untouched for years, can't that be done some other time? Preferably by someone that isn't you? But you know that your mother would get pissed if she checked the attic and saw everything in there being crushed under several layers of dust and cobwebs. More than a just few cobwebs, you're sure.

Knowing this, you sigh but reluctantly put down your phone and leave your room, trudging your way towards the ladder that leads to the attic. The ladder is an old one, little used unless there's a need to store stuff or take it out, which is why the rungs creak and strain under your weight when you climb them. Cursing under your breath and hoping they don't break, you open the attic trapdoor and quickly clamber into the room.

You waste no time grimacing: although it's a sunny day outside, the attic is plunged in pitch black darkness. The few small windows you remember had thick dark curtains - likely the reason why no sun enters the room, your mind reasons. They must be pulled shut. At least the open trapdoor allows a beam of light to enter the attic and pierce the darkness, but it has only so much power.

The light fades the further it goes, disappearing into nothing eventually, and though it helps a bit, it only serves to enlarge and stretch the shadows in the back of the attic as well. Some parts of the room remain shrouded in darkness and not even peering intently at them dispels it.

You'd never admit it, but your heart beats a little faster when you peer into the darkness and you hate yourself for it. You've never been very good friends with the dark for it always feels like there's something watching you, but you've always known it was a stupid thought. A childish holdover from your childhood years that never quite disappeared. Unfortunately, you're right for once in your life... even though you don't know it yet.

Taking small steps to the nearest wall, you fumble around for a bit but eventually manage to flip a light switch. For a second, the light-bulbs flutter to life just to sputter out and die afterwards. For some strange reason, you have this sudden feeling that something had snuffed them out. You pause, feeling paranoid despite the constant reminder that you're alone here.

A stupid thought, of course. "The lightbulbs were probably old. Just a case of fused bulbs," you assure yourself. But why are you talking out loud then?

The urge to turn tail and go back into the safety of your room in the floor below is irresistible, but something compels you to keep moving. Nervous, you scratch at your ears as you step slowly into the room - it feels like something is whispering into them, a near imperceptible hissing that prickles at your senses, but... it can only be all the dust in the room. Because there's a fuckton of it, you think with a grimace. How are you supposed to clean all of it without even taking a vacuum cleaner or a dustcloth?

Which is actually something you should've thought before going to the attic. "Great going, you idiot," you mumble to yourself. Well, at least you'll explore a bit before going back for one...

Moving deeper into the back of the attic, a faint purple light suddenly glimmers into existence to your right and glancing at it, you breath a sigh of relief despite the odd event. Light is good, whatever makes this oppressive darkness feel lighter. Even though the light comes from the ground, covered by a large sheet, it's almost hypnotizing, the sparkly deep purple it gives off dimming and then growing stronger in pulses. It draws you closer and with each step the light grows brighter... But it's not quite only light, is it? Bizarre as it sounds, there seems to be a strange sort of energy emanating from the purple light. The air feels heavy, like it's charged with static.

You quickly throw the cover hiding the light aside, overcome by curiosity. Peering down, you spot a leather bound book sitting snugly in a jagged hole in the attic's old wooden floor. The holes' edges look weathered and slightly rotted, a fact you confirm when a vaguely foul stench hit your nostrils the moment you crouch down to inspect your find. You scrunch up your nose in disgust, but that's not the important part of the whole thing, really.

As your attention turns towards the book, the purple pulses of energy fill up the whole room now. The rhythm seems to be synced to your heartbeat now and while, this would be enough to freak you out normally, it just causes you to calm down, odd as it sounds. Gone is the earlier fear and apprehension, replaced by an eerie calmness. You have to know what this book says, you must know. Reaching out, you place a tentative hand on the dry leather - a cold chill shoots runs your spine and you're all too aware how your heart suddenly starts beating faster, the pulses of energy moving in tandem with the increasing tempo.

The world shifts, spinning wildly even as you remain crouched on the dusty floor of your mansion's attic. You don't raise your head from the book, but you know there are thousands of eyes watching your movements right in that moment. Even as your own mind keeps telling you it's impossible, you can't be dissuaded from the certainty of a madman. The strange thing, your mind muses -perhaps a remnant of your fading sanity attempting to break through-, is that it sure feels like all the eyes belong to one single being.

Somehow, you manage to rise up to your feet, body wracked by terrible shivers as you stand in terror. The darkness seems to be creeping and churning around you as if it were a massive, wrathful monster and the ceiling looks as if it's drooping under its own weight. There's a pull now, and when your head looks down not quite by your choice alone, your gaze lands onto the object in your hands.

It's the leather-bound book, tucked safely in your grasp. You don't remember picking it up when your stood up, but it's there all the same. Staring down at it, the urge to open it washes over you once more, much more powerful this time. You need to read this strange book, you must read it and learn what it says. Learn what sort of odd book would emit purple light on its own.

You do not question the strange pull, even though a part of you trembles. It feels as though you're caught in the grip of something large and vast that looms over you. Your fingers twitch, curling around the book's binding.