Museum “Face in the Dark”

“There is a difference between the night and the dark.

The night is a turn. A period of time between when the sun sets and the moon rises over the world. It is a balance, and a give and take. Generally speaking, no night or day supersede one another when all is told over the course of a year.

The dark is none of those things. It is something that exists endlessly, that seeks out existence without any thought.

It exists or it doesn't.

But that isn't the end it. In reality, there is so much more horror.

The natural state of things is not light. It is not life.

It is entropy, the dragged out and indiscriminate falling apart of things. The lowering of energy from one form to another, on a downward, unraveling spiral.

This is something many understand, even if it takes a little to accept its inevitability.

And that is all well and good, so long as we can see it that way.

But that isn't the whole truth.

The world is full of monsters. In our studies, we have seen all sorts of things at work that call into question how we view what is possible and impossible. Creatures that grant wishes or feed on pain.

Things and places coursing with blood.

And that is the thing isn't it? We accept the monsters, so long as they stay where they should stay.

Along a singular and very strange stretch of road.

But that isn't true.

Wellington Street is for monsters, but so is everywhere else.

So what does that mean?

What is reality really, if entropy is not just some scientific constant.

What if entropy, what if the dark is alive?

What can one do with something like that?

Can anything be done?

No. All that is left is to crumble.

Like I have.

They are all gone, just like I planned it, and soon I will be too.

Black...all I see is in the dark.”

The last custodian of the museum addressed this to me. The police found it on her body, along with the body of her wife and son.

She is trying to make things make sense.

Over time, the WSHS have come to believe that there are signs and whispers that tell of the coming end. Sometimes those are noticed early, and sometimes they are noticed far too late.

But one thing that they know for certain is the why.

They say that it is our fault.

Whenever the end comes over the horizon, there are seven “sisters” who make their way into the world. And one by one, those women fall.

We fall, and each time we do, another thing drops away, and soon it will all end.

And I don't know how long I am going to be able to hold on.

I know how it all sounds. Believe me. I really do. But I was just so tired of not knowing, and so I insisted they tell me what they know. And now I have the truth, even if it is one I don’t want.

I am scared. I can feel the pull towards sleep. I have been sleeping more and more, and I have had to buy one of those old fashioned alarm clocks just to make sure I wake up in the morning. It is hard, and I feel awful. My skin aches and my eyes are gritty. I have dark issuance coming up under my nails, and my throat is getting sore and raspy.,

It is just you and me now, and if I could have my way I would just leave and come to you. And that would be a good idea, since I have so little now to tie me here. I go to work and look for answers, and then I return to the apartment and try and recover, sitting in a space that smells like lake water.

I cannot begin to tell you just how much you have meant to me over these years, just how much I have come to rely on you to get me through my week. And this all feels so very unreal, like I am not a part of it.

They say I am looking for a ritual, but I do not know where to look. There is so much to go through, so many records left to try. To locate the key to this event. And I have tried so damn hard to push through, but I don't think I can for much longer.

I am so tired.

They say that the ritual is one of binding, one made easier by numbers. The problem is that things are pulling apart, and there is so little that we can do about that.

But all through this we can keep on seeking out new choices.

New way to hold on.

I feel calm right now, and I don't think it all has hit me. Maybe it never will.

But I am fighting on Love. You have to believe me on that. And I need to fight no matter how much it hurts, how much I wake up wanting to cry, or how much I limp on my way to work.

No matter how much my stomach fights me when I give it food or water.

My body is hurting me and I am fighting my body.

I want to communicate more, but I am getting dizzy, and it is hard to type with my fingers swollen like they are.

I will see you soon my love. I promise you, that no matter what happens, I will be here.

...It is our fault.

I am so tired.

The apartment smells like lake water, but my room does not.

I don't know what it smells like, but I know it is not natural.