LassardLost
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 28, 2013
- Posts
- 824
If you had told Ethan Hawthorne two years ago that he would find a deep interest in the occult, the twinkle in his eye and his endearing smile would have genuinely thanked you for giving him a hearty laugh. Given his good nature he would have thought you a funny man, maybe given you a few friendly verbal jabs at the high quality of your imagination, and would, of course, completely disregard your statement.
Ethan was a smart college goer, finishing his degree in biology in just one more semester, and was slated for medical school thereafter. His basketball scholarship had gotten him through college, and his gregariousness and kind nature, not to mention his handsome demeanor had served him well. If you had asked his best friend to describe him in a sentence, he would have said something like, “He’s fucking perfect.”
Ethan didn’t get caught up in it all. For whatever reason, he always had a balanced disposition, and he didn’t let any of the popularity or attention get to his head. It’s not that he had to work hard to not let it. It just didn’t.
But Ethan now stood, somewhat befuddled, at the entrance way to his summoning room. His summoning room. It was as if ever since last Halloween - ever since Dr. McGalley had taken him into her basement - something had taken hold of him. He simply had to know more...
"Since you boys have come early," the words echoed in his mind, "would you like to see something I don't show everyone?"
The next memory, the memory that replayed in his mind again and again, that haunted him in his dreams, that inexplicably occupied his every waking moment, was what he saw that night in Dr McGalley's basement.
As she walked around periphery of the room, lighting the candles as she did, the room became dimly lit, and as it did, the flickering candle light revealed walls covered in markings, unusual characters, all in either red or black. At a space of about every five feet, mounted on the wall, was a deep purple-tinted wooden bust of what looked like some kind of demon - two short horns coming out of its head, its tongue curling out of its mouth, its brow pushing down a frown over its blank bulging eyes. If Ethan's heart had jumped into his throat before, it was as if it were absent from his body in this moment, and he felt as if he had the wind knocked out of him.
Dr. McGalley turned around and smiled at him, that same warm smile she always had in class, except it wasn't the same. It was now that Ethan realized what that smile had really meant all along. This was that smile's natural habitat. This... dark, horrible place.
Ethan then found himself looking at the ground, and his eyes fell upon an unusual star-like configuration with unusual characters written around it - a pentagram he thought it was called at that time - with a large circle drawn around it.
Dr. McGalley began to laugh, and a deep whoosh seemed to fill Ethan's head, dizzying him. He felt like its presence threatened to take him away from his life if he didn't hold on... his eyes fixated on the pentagram, which began to glow a deep orange...
...and that was all he could remember of it. He recalled in a daze attending the party, having a "good time", and then waking up the next morning wondering whether he had been dreaming.
Of course the next day he had asked Finn about it, but Finn simply made fun of him and stated he had drunk too much punch. He had even seen Dr. McGalley, who gave him the same warm smile - but it didn't seem to bother him, and he had started feeling absolutely silly about the whole thing. It must have been a dream. At one point he attempted to ask Dr McGalley about it in an indirect way.
"Dr McGalley, remember your last Halloweed party?"
"Yes, why?"
"I... do you remember showing anything to me and Finn?"
Dr McGalley had blushed, and Ethan had felt miserably embarrassed the moment she did. Still, she was gracious about it, and she smiled, offering Ethan a pleasantry. "I seem to remember showing everyone my well decorated Halloween living room!" She laughed, her tone clearly indicating feeling uncomfortable at such an unusual and suggestive-sounding question.
It had to have been a dream. But it had to have not been as well. Because ever since that day - or dream, or whatever it was - Ethan felt a deep desire to learn as much as he could about the occult. He spent hours in the stacks, on the internet, in any dingy little bookstore he could find within driving distance of university.
He had been able to maintain his grades, and a bit of social activity. He was still the same good natured Ethan Hawthorne that everyone new and counted on. He still volunteered his time on the weekends at the local soup kitchen. He still received accolades and recognition in his role as a teaching assistant for the Biology 303 lab he ran. He still played basketball for the school team. But in any free moment he had, and with much secrecy, he learned all he could about the ultimate goal of the occult: contact with the other world.
The Darklands, the Dark World, the nethelands, the spirit realm - there were different names for it. There were different manifestations in different cultures over time. The stories always had similar themes though. A place of darkness, that fed off humanity, a place of demons and other spirits - some for but most against humanity. And for some reason, Ethan found no desire greater than to see one of them. To speak to one of them.
He had no idea why. For every moment he read the books, or learned how to read the occult characters, or obtained the trappings necessary for the summoning room, he felt as if he was outside himself, watching himself do it.
Now, after six months of painstaking searching, and increasing his work hours to pay for all the paraphernalia, his summoning room was complete. It would be midnight soon, and that would be hour in which he would need to read the incantation.
He readied himself.
He wore black slacks, a black button down shirt and black shoes. He was an athletically built young man, his shoulders were strong - he was a basketball player after all. He stood tall at 5'11", though he was one of the shorter ones on the team, he was fast and powerful. His dark brown hair was gelled up messily, as usual, his dark eyes, looked intently at the pentagon in the center of the wooden floor of what used to the study in his apartment. The walls were covered with the carefully placed characters that needed to be there, as was the floor. The candles had been lit. Ethan had stood in front of his bathroom mirror and marked in black on his forehead, the character associated with being a summoner. It was supposed to indicate to whatever creature he would end up summoning from other place that he was the one that had brought it here, and that he needed to be obeyed. Or at least Ethan hoped. The entire project was far from rational. Ethan felt as if he were acting under some kind of directive. But from whom, he had no answer.
Ethan stood before the pentagram, the lights off except the flicker of candle light around the periphery of the room and the periphery of the pentagram. He held his book of notes before him.
Producing a small blade from his pocket, he cut the tip of his finger, wincing a bit at the pain, and let three drops of his blood fall into the middle of the pentagram. He sucked the finger until it stopped bleeding and then began reading the characters in his book.
As soon as the sound vibrated through his vocal cords the room darkened slightly, the candles flickered as if there was a sudden draft that had entered the room - though all the windows and doors were shut, curtains over all of them. Ethan began to feel the whoosh he had felt in Dr McGalley's basement. It seemed familiar, and it made his heart jump and skip into his throat. Something told him he should stop, but he simply couldn't. He just needed to see what would happen. He had come this far and there was no way he would stop now just because of a feeling, no matter how he felt.
This determination was important, for as the whooshing sound in his head became louder, he felt an emptiness in his breast that almost took the wind out of him, and as he finished his incantation, the pentagram on the floor began glowing orange.
"AH!" Pain! Ethan felt a throbbing, stabbing pain in his head that was unbearable, and he heard voices - hundreds of voices, some screaming, some mumbling, some laughing, all dark, all horrible, all... he wanted it to stop... "Stop!" He screamed. "No, stop!" He clutched at his head and fell to his knees.
The last thing he remembered was looking up and seeing a deep shadow somehow take form in front of him on top of the pentagram.
And then he fell to the floor, and passed out.
Ethan was a smart college goer, finishing his degree in biology in just one more semester, and was slated for medical school thereafter. His basketball scholarship had gotten him through college, and his gregariousness and kind nature, not to mention his handsome demeanor had served him well. If you had asked his best friend to describe him in a sentence, he would have said something like, “He’s fucking perfect.”
Ethan didn’t get caught up in it all. For whatever reason, he always had a balanced disposition, and he didn’t let any of the popularity or attention get to his head. It’s not that he had to work hard to not let it. It just didn’t.
But Ethan now stood, somewhat befuddled, at the entrance way to his summoning room. His summoning room. It was as if ever since last Halloween - ever since Dr. McGalley had taken him into her basement - something had taken hold of him. He simply had to know more...
"Since you boys have come early," the words echoed in his mind, "would you like to see something I don't show everyone?"
The next memory, the memory that replayed in his mind again and again, that haunted him in his dreams, that inexplicably occupied his every waking moment, was what he saw that night in Dr McGalley's basement.
As she walked around periphery of the room, lighting the candles as she did, the room became dimly lit, and as it did, the flickering candle light revealed walls covered in markings, unusual characters, all in either red or black. At a space of about every five feet, mounted on the wall, was a deep purple-tinted wooden bust of what looked like some kind of demon - two short horns coming out of its head, its tongue curling out of its mouth, its brow pushing down a frown over its blank bulging eyes. If Ethan's heart had jumped into his throat before, it was as if it were absent from his body in this moment, and he felt as if he had the wind knocked out of him.
Dr. McGalley turned around and smiled at him, that same warm smile she always had in class, except it wasn't the same. It was now that Ethan realized what that smile had really meant all along. This was that smile's natural habitat. This... dark, horrible place.
Ethan then found himself looking at the ground, and his eyes fell upon an unusual star-like configuration with unusual characters written around it - a pentagram he thought it was called at that time - with a large circle drawn around it.
Dr. McGalley began to laugh, and a deep whoosh seemed to fill Ethan's head, dizzying him. He felt like its presence threatened to take him away from his life if he didn't hold on... his eyes fixated on the pentagram, which began to glow a deep orange...
...and that was all he could remember of it. He recalled in a daze attending the party, having a "good time", and then waking up the next morning wondering whether he had been dreaming.
Of course the next day he had asked Finn about it, but Finn simply made fun of him and stated he had drunk too much punch. He had even seen Dr. McGalley, who gave him the same warm smile - but it didn't seem to bother him, and he had started feeling absolutely silly about the whole thing. It must have been a dream. At one point he attempted to ask Dr McGalley about it in an indirect way.
"Dr McGalley, remember your last Halloweed party?"
"Yes, why?"
"I... do you remember showing anything to me and Finn?"
Dr McGalley had blushed, and Ethan had felt miserably embarrassed the moment she did. Still, she was gracious about it, and she smiled, offering Ethan a pleasantry. "I seem to remember showing everyone my well decorated Halloween living room!" She laughed, her tone clearly indicating feeling uncomfortable at such an unusual and suggestive-sounding question.
It had to have been a dream. But it had to have not been as well. Because ever since that day - or dream, or whatever it was - Ethan felt a deep desire to learn as much as he could about the occult. He spent hours in the stacks, on the internet, in any dingy little bookstore he could find within driving distance of university.
He had been able to maintain his grades, and a bit of social activity. He was still the same good natured Ethan Hawthorne that everyone new and counted on. He still volunteered his time on the weekends at the local soup kitchen. He still received accolades and recognition in his role as a teaching assistant for the Biology 303 lab he ran. He still played basketball for the school team. But in any free moment he had, and with much secrecy, he learned all he could about the ultimate goal of the occult: contact with the other world.
The Darklands, the Dark World, the nethelands, the spirit realm - there were different names for it. There were different manifestations in different cultures over time. The stories always had similar themes though. A place of darkness, that fed off humanity, a place of demons and other spirits - some for but most against humanity. And for some reason, Ethan found no desire greater than to see one of them. To speak to one of them.
He had no idea why. For every moment he read the books, or learned how to read the occult characters, or obtained the trappings necessary for the summoning room, he felt as if he was outside himself, watching himself do it.
Now, after six months of painstaking searching, and increasing his work hours to pay for all the paraphernalia, his summoning room was complete. It would be midnight soon, and that would be hour in which he would need to read the incantation.
He readied himself.
He wore black slacks, a black button down shirt and black shoes. He was an athletically built young man, his shoulders were strong - he was a basketball player after all. He stood tall at 5'11", though he was one of the shorter ones on the team, he was fast and powerful. His dark brown hair was gelled up messily, as usual, his dark eyes, looked intently at the pentagon in the center of the wooden floor of what used to the study in his apartment. The walls were covered with the carefully placed characters that needed to be there, as was the floor. The candles had been lit. Ethan had stood in front of his bathroom mirror and marked in black on his forehead, the character associated with being a summoner. It was supposed to indicate to whatever creature he would end up summoning from other place that he was the one that had brought it here, and that he needed to be obeyed. Or at least Ethan hoped. The entire project was far from rational. Ethan felt as if he were acting under some kind of directive. But from whom, he had no answer.
Ethan stood before the pentagram, the lights off except the flicker of candle light around the periphery of the room and the periphery of the pentagram. He held his book of notes before him.
Producing a small blade from his pocket, he cut the tip of his finger, wincing a bit at the pain, and let three drops of his blood fall into the middle of the pentagram. He sucked the finger until it stopped bleeding and then began reading the characters in his book.
As soon as the sound vibrated through his vocal cords the room darkened slightly, the candles flickered as if there was a sudden draft that had entered the room - though all the windows and doors were shut, curtains over all of them. Ethan began to feel the whoosh he had felt in Dr McGalley's basement. It seemed familiar, and it made his heart jump and skip into his throat. Something told him he should stop, but he simply couldn't. He just needed to see what would happen. He had come this far and there was no way he would stop now just because of a feeling, no matter how he felt.
This determination was important, for as the whooshing sound in his head became louder, he felt an emptiness in his breast that almost took the wind out of him, and as he finished his incantation, the pentagram on the floor began glowing orange.
"AH!" Pain! Ethan felt a throbbing, stabbing pain in his head that was unbearable, and he heard voices - hundreds of voices, some screaming, some mumbling, some laughing, all dark, all horrible, all... he wanted it to stop... "Stop!" He screamed. "No, stop!" He clutched at his head and fell to his knees.
The last thing he remembered was looking up and seeing a deep shadow somehow take form in front of him on top of the pentagram.
And then he fell to the floor, and passed out.