An Old Evil

Okay! I'll admit it. I screwed up. Looking at that stupid book was the worst thing I've ever done. Wherever I look all I see is it's bone mask. Why... Why did I look at that damn book!?

I guess I'll tell you from the beginning. It all started on Saturday.

9 am, I had just gotten up and drawn the blinds to allow the sunlight through my apartment when my phone started ringing. It was my step-sister, Phoebe. Who asked me to go shopping with her. Whenever we go shopping, all we do is look at shoes and clothes, but she means well so I accept. This was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

Skip to 12 am. We're in the mall searching for the nearest shoe store. I tell her I'm going to get some cash out of a nearby ATM. She tells me to meet her at a cafe in half an hour. I agree. It takes me about a minute to get to an ATM. I'm withdrawing some cash when something catches my eye. A bookstore. I remembered that Phoebe loves books and decide to quickly get a gift for her. I take my first step when things start to get odd.

Now, I've been in psych wards and mental hospitals where nurses have commited suicide, and I've thought nothing of it. But this 'store' was just strange. The lighting. The lightbulbs didn't produce nearly enough light, they were constantly flickering. The ambiance was somewhat sinister, I know dust-ridden books and shoddy lighting arn't very appealing, but I felt that something just wasn't right. No employees that I could see. In fact, there was only one thing I could see. A book, a hardcover book stood on a small pedestal in the center of the room, and for some reason I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I was completely immersed by it, mesmerised. I don't know why I started walking towards it. My instincts were telling me to leave but I just.... couldn't. It was like that book had become the absolute climax of my life, I just couldn't turn away. As I got closer, I could make out a shape. A hand-print, deep maroon in color. I didn't really care about it at first, this was also a mistake. I was now towering over the hard-cover book, I feel a sense of needless anticipation. I lay my hand on the cover and turn it. The title made my hands tremble. 'Phrike'. I remembered that story. Phoebe told me about it. Phrike was the greek goddess of horror, but that was in mythology, nothing like that exists in real life, right? I turn a page when I see the words "discedere nunc". I'm almost sure that's Latin, but I can't understand it, so I keep flipping pages until I see a hand-print, similar to the one on the cover. I take no notice, the words are what I want. I can't understand any of it. It's all in Latin. I suddenly have an urge to read this aloud.

I remember reading "Magnus Phrike, sacrificium meum est hic qui haec legerit."

Why would this greek goddess be involved in Latin books? This scared me. I quickly closed the book. I remember staring at the hand-print and wondering for a second, is that blood? It couldn't be. I don't know why I did this last thing. I placed my hand on the pattern. As I felt the cold, dusty leather on my skin, I remember my hand burning for a split-second. Naturally, I jolted my hand back, only to see blood running down it and onto my plaid shirt. I turn and run out of the store, hearing low whispers, "morte morieris, morte morieris".

I run back to the cafe, my heart pounding with every step. I see Phoebe with an angry expression on her face, pointing to her watch. I sit down, panting rapidly.

"Where have you been?"

Gathering my thoughts, I say the thing that first pops into my mind.

"I don't know"

"What do you mean you don't know! You know what, forget it. Something weird just happened."

She went on to tell me that she had been called on her phone by someone that she didn;t know, saying that she had been cursed. I told her that it was probably one of the schizo's I'd worked with in the past, although I knew better. She agreed. We left within the hour, unbeknownst that the next few weeks would determine my fate.

The fortnight after. Strange things started to happen. Every now and again I would hear the words "morte morieris". I looked up on the Internet what this meant. Only one thing came up. 'You're dead'. No, this didn't mean anything. I'm not going to die. This is stupid, I must be imagining things. I kept telling myself this, only postponing the inevitable.

The same week, I kept seeing things out of the corner of my eye, and for some reason, whenever I looked in it's general direction, it disappeared. And whenever I blinked I saw a mask, it looked somewhat deer-like and malevolent, and made of bone. I went to phyciatrists. They didn't help. I truly thought I was going mad.

These things eventually subsided until a week later. I had terrible nightmares of a creature wearing a bone mask, chasing me in dark forests. I hid behind tree-trunks and stones, but it found me every time. All the time repeating a wailing noise. Screeching the name "Phrike, Phrike, Phrike', each word getting more violent as it closed in on me. I always awaken just after it disembowels me. I always wake up screaming with terror. I went back to psychiatrists. No-one helped me. Not even my sister. And so....

I search online. Phrike was the goddess of fear, horror, yes, yes, blah blah blah. I keep searching until I come across a page.

The page says that Circe, a greek witch freed the living entity of Phrike from the pits of Hell to gain untold power, thus allowing her to rule as she pleases. But something went wrong. Circe's evil heart turned Phrike into a demon, just as Circe wanted, she would then rob Phrike of her power. But Circe's bone mask, the source of her power, fell off during a ritual, making her magic obsolete. Phrike stole Circe's mask and escaped into a nearby forest. Phrike would have to kill anything in the forest to survive. One day, a roman scholar wanders into the forest and is mortally wounded by Phrike, who offers her sacrifices in exchange for his life. Phrike accepts. The scholar returns to Italy and makes a book, writing inside that whoever reads the words will be sacrificed.

No! NO! That didn't happen! I'm very familiar with all of Circe's mythological stories and that never happened! And I'm not going to die! This is just a chain post sent by some stupid loser with no life.

This is what I tell myself. For I will sleep soon. But this time I'm not sure if I will awaken. Hopefully Phrike has some mercy, at least. This was all just because of curiosity. Well... Goodnight.