Wednesday, June 23, 2010
It follows me. I know not from where it came or what it foretells of my future, but it follows me. I first noticed the smell, a heavy earthen aroma like that of mushrooms turning sour. Others near me do not smell it. It is a nauseating foetid smell unlike anything of this earth. Then came the movements, deep in the shadows. Is something there? Who is it? I could have sworn I heard a wet rustling, like dead leaves being turned by a gravedigger's shovel. They are beginning to think me insane, but I know it is there, just out of sight. I can sense the blank, lifeless stare of eyeless sockets and the cold stench of a dead, tendril-like hand. Sometimes I think I can see the slow, glowing draw of a cigar butt, and the thick gray smoke billowing from the dark corners, but no others can attest to these sensations. I am terrified of the devilish portent that this soothsayer brings.
It follows me.