Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26705150-20160527060800

Mr. Lynch was as much a friend as he was a fantastic painter. I met him when I first moved into my new apartment building two years ago. We often passed each other in the halls and we hit it off as soon as we got to talking. It wasn’t long that he shared the knowledge of his artwork and I later heard talk about the man from the other residents. He was a well respected painter in the local area, with many of his paintings being shown at art galleries, and some of my new neighbors had even seen or owned one of his paintings.

Although the apartment residents only saw one aspect of Mr. Lynch’s paintings, the brighter kind. It was of the former types of people who appreciated the other side of his artwork, the macabre. So while my neighbors glimpsed the grassy meadows of Mr. Lynch, the rest of us saw the unnameable humanoids and alien cityscapes for which he was most commonly known for. I think I was the only one who saw the latter of his paintings and I remember the first time I saw them in his flat. His finished paintings lined every wall of his flat and the rest of his unfinished canvasses were propped up in his living room. The other Art supplies were scattered about in the room, among the minimal amounts of furniture he had.

Every single one of those paintings portrayed the works of Horror and not a spec of paint or lead detailed anything else besides it. It almost surprised me to know that my neighbors never really knew much or cared for this type of artwork, despite the fact that they respected Mr. Lynch so much. He would often do commissions at that apartment and from what I understood, they only enjoyed his sunny landscapes and lively backgrounds of civil life or wild areas. The type of thing that was so far removed from the things Mr. Lynch was used to, but then again the local area was in the bible belt and most of my neighbors were either conservative, religious, or simply uncaring of his art in general.

I was amazed by all of this artwork, but there was one painting in particular that I noticed more than the others. It was the largest painting out of all the ones in Mr. Lynch’s flat and it depicted a middle-aged man holding two items, in front of a concrete wall. It looked like it was in an empty room somewhere. In the man’s right hand there was a vial of black liquid and in the other hand there was a little black book with a gold inscription on the cover. It was blurred, rendering it unreadable.

I didn’t know who the man was, where the room was located, or what the various items were but I was curious enough to ask. Mr. Lynch told me that the man in the painting was the founder of a religious group from the 19th century and the items he was holding were their most sacred items. The book was their bible and the vial of liquid was some sort of unknown substance, but was akin to the Catholic’s holy water, only this was a little bit different. He told me it was actually called black water and this religious group used it to carry out their own spells or magic, along with their sacred bible. For this reason, Mr. Lynch told me the painting had been dubbed the “Black Water Painting”. The whole scene had been created based off his interpretations of the reading he had done on this group, in his spare time.

That painting was the only painting that stayed in his flat permanently. Every time I would visit Mr. Lynch, which was often, some paintings would be created and others would be sent off elsewhere. They might stay for a short time but it was usually followed by a departure of the pieces. I had pointed this fact out to Mr. Lynch one time and the reasoning he gave me for this process was simple, it was his most treasured painting.

Fast forward a few weeks and my contact with Mr. Lynch became less frequent. It eventually dried up to no contact at all and I never saw Mr. Lynch. At first I shrugged it off as nothing more than life getting in the way. He was a respected artist after all and it seemed possible that perhaps he was doing more commissions than before. I’ll admit my life was getting busier too, as I had just been offered a promotion at my job and my responsibilities there went up considerably.

Though I eventually attempted contact with the man again several times, through door knocks and phone calls, I received no answer at any point. Once again I could neither see nor hear from Mr. Lynch and by then I was worried. I decided to check in with the superintendent about it and he agreed to unlock his door, to see if he was okay.

There was the usual array of paintings, canvasses, and art supplies but there was no sign of Mr. Lynch. It seemed as though all of his personal possessions were as they should be and there was no disorganization to indicate he was in a hurry or that somebody else had been there.

There was only one thing that seemed out of place and it was in the bathroom. A group of vials were scattered about on the tile. Some of them were stained and others were still filled with a black liquid substance. In the middle of the room, there was a black circle stained on the floor near the vials. The perimeter of it was what created the circular shape and the area inside was nothing more than regular tile. With the vials and the circle, there was something else too. A little black book, which could have been a bible, sat on the ground. I was standing in the doorway then, with the superintendent.

“What do you think it is?” I asked.

“To hell if I know. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.”

We checked his garage and his car was still there. So that left us with the very open ended question of where he could be and nobody had seen or heard from him in weeks. It also made us wonder what the hell we had just seen and it was enough for us to call the police. They came and the investigation regarding Mr. Lynch’s disappearance began.

The black liquid around the vials and the circle wasn’t something that could be traced back to anything in particular. Nobody really knew what it was exactly and the book was something else entirely. We were told that it was some religious document but I never heard of anything it described. The text talked about transcendence and there were lists of rituals that filled most of the pages.

Among those rituals was one that was similar to the scene in Mr. Lynch’s bathroom. It mentioned a substance called “Black Water” but it didn’t detail what it was exactly. The circle was in there too and these were both supposed to be utilized as a portal, in a way. That’s how it was all described by the police anyways. I never got to see the book myself.

They asked me about it and what Mr. Lynch had to do any of it, if at all. I didn’t know much but I told them of what he had said to me regarding that painting in his living room. I told them the back story of it but it never really led anywhere. They never found much else on this group or any members it supposedly had. They also struggled to find any trace of Mr. Lynch and the case hit a wall not long after that.

Then I got a letter by my door one day. It bothered me though, because it was inside the door and not on the outside. Beside the letter there was also a glass vial with black liquid in it, just like the ones I had seen before. I opened the letter to read it and I didn’t dare touch the vial.

“Hello again, I know we haven’t spoken to each other in awhile and it’s been quite sometime since I have seen around there. You’ll have to excuse me for my sudden departure without warning, as I know it doesn’t seem like me to do that. Unfortunately something has come up and some people I’ve associated with in the past have called me to meet them again. This might last for awhile, so again you’ll have to excuse me.

In the mean time I want you to know two things. First I’d like you to join me when the time comes. I think you would be a great part of the group I’m with and I miss your regular visits. Secondly, I want to warn you that something else is about to happen soon. I know you won’t like it and in fact, you may hate me for it.

I just want you to remember why I did it. A certain force has awakened in a sense and peace could be disturbed. I just want to keep that from happening and that’s why these acts must be done. So I’ll see you soon.

-Regards, Mr Lynch”

As soon as I was done reading the letter I took it to the police, along with the vial. They told me they would test it for any fingerprints but that it would take some time. It concerned me though, as it did the police, that the letter read like a confession. Yet there was no clear arrow pointing at exactly what acts Mr. Lynch was talking about. Not much could be done about it and I didn’t sleep much for the next two nights.

It was on the third night, in my flat, when I heard it. Screaming coming from another flat. It lasted only a few moments but it sounded like it came from my floor in the building. It must have awakened everyone, as several people stumbled out into the hallway to see what the commotion was. I was one of those few, but I wasn’t sure which room the screaming came from. The police were called and they did a search of the building.

That was when they found the body of a neighbor in her flat. We weren’t told much at the time but I later learned that it seemed like she had died of a heart attack. There was nothing on her body to indicate anything else but everybody suspected otherwise. The black circle that was found in Mr. Lynch’s bathroom had been on her living room wall where she had just died. So of course he became the main suspect but, just like before, there was no trace of him anywhere. When I learned of this it bothered me because I knew Mr. Lynch may not have been the person I thought he was and even more so because I couldn’t even imagine how he actually killed that woman. Questions like “How was there no struggle?” and “Was a weapon used?” ran through my head but there were no answers to any of them.

She wasn’t the last victim either. There would later be twelve in total and I got the hell out of there before it ended like that. There were no other murders, no appearances of Mr. Lynch, and no other ritualistic or symbolic items that popped up. So the case went cold.

I moved out of that apartment and rented a house shortly thereafter. After I got settled into my new home, I noticed two notes by my front door and something else which caused my stomach to drop. It was another vial of that “Black Water” stuff and the notes were signed by Mr. Lynch.

“Hello again. I hope you can remember what I had said before in my last letter. You know it had to be done. Now I’m writing to you again and I’d like to remind you of my previous proposition. I want you to finish the ritual. There are instructions in the other note and I’ve sent you the Black Water already.

I suppose I should tell you now that, whether you like it or not, you’ve played an important role in this entire thing. You were the first witness of my actions and the first messenger of them. Now you must be the last person to complete the whole process.

I’m sure you hate me now and you may wish to do anything except this act, but I’m going to warn you only once. If you don’t act in this, then my associates will personally see to it that you perish along with everyone else who suffers from the subsequent peace breaking that, not completing this, will cause. So I hope to see you soon.

-Regards, Mr. Lynch”

That was just a day ago and I took the items to the police. Nothing has come of it since then but I haven’t slept at all and I didn’t even show up for work. I fear now what might happen soon and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to stop it. 