The Last Thoughts of John Doe

The seed in my mind will no doubt sprout soon. It has been imbedded deep within my mind and its brittle shell is close to splitting. A seed, the closest thing I can possibly compare it to, unknown and unimaginable to the waking man. What will happen when its roots take their to soil, I can not definitively say. However, I did ask for this seed and I am willing to except that it will take me That is not to say that I am not frightened... I am.

Visions of things beyond our world have already began to take my eyes. Voices from unknown corners whisper in my ears in languages you can not comprehend. The touch of chilling unseen fingers have felt my face and spine. The taste of the unknown is upon my tongue.

The impending eruption of this seed is why I have taken refuge in my storage unit. Surrounded by instruments and machines of music, I slowly descend into a madness far more terrifying than one can imagine. The synthesizer in the corner plays the same 16-step sequence over and over to keep my mind within the grasp of reality, for I know as long as the sequence repeats I am still in my last hours of this waking world.

This madness is something I can not describe. It is made of things you can not, and should not, ever imagine or visualize with thought. Made all the more horrifying by knowledge of its ever closer arrival. It is just below the horizon, but I know the second it peaks it will take me. The moment this seed opens I will be nothing, not here in this world or even in the physical sense. My mind will be gone and my body will stay here, the vessel of some growing thing.

I have made this bargain and I shall keep up my half of the deal. I will remain true to my word. I will let this infernal thing have refuge to my form and I shall leave to some place beyond my mind’s eye.

Make no mistake. I have not made a deal with the devil. I have not bargained with some primordial god nor have I traded with the angels. It is true that I found passage with the thing through the ancient Necronomicon, but that is no book of demons. The Necronomicon is not any one thing, it is something of a power beyond your grasp. The Necronomicon is everything and nothing, zero and infinity. It is a living being; the true old one.

I do not know what it is that I will be releasing into your world, but I am truly sorry if it is something that brings malevolence with it. I do not believe things such as right and wrong or good and evil are concept that it knows. A being with no physical form can not know murder, pain, sex, or death, at least not in the way that you or I can.

The seed’s shell is becoming more and more thin. I know this because it is literal. I do not mean that there is something only in my subconscious or in my thoughts. Yes it is there too, but it is also in my brain. No one put it there, but it it did grow there. When it sprouts my head will be literally overtaken and something will grow within it.

Something is dripping from my mouth now. It is not blood, it’s black and I don’t think it's human.

The visions are stronger now. I can see things you can not. The thing floating above me is fully visible, however I dare not look at it. I fear that if it knows I can see it, it will ensnare me with its wicked looking tendrils and do something horrible. I don’t believe that this horrid thing is from outside of our world. I simply think that perhaps it is something beyond our perception, and it has me thinking about all those missing people who’ve never been found.

My attention soon shifts from the specter above me and shifts to what will grow from my skull. I wonder if it is currently going through the same thing as I. Is its sanity and mind becoming mush as it transitions to our world? Has it also always wondered what was out in the great beyond and past its perception? Do they have some equivalent to our Necronomicon?

I strain to continue to writing this, but I would like my final thoughts to be remembered; perhaps read by the thing growing in my brain. Maybe it has prepared a last testament for me as well. Maybe it has also locked itself away in some tight space away from its world. Maybe we are not as different from each as I believe we are. I suppose I’ll have to wait and see.

Memories do come to you when you die, I know this now. Thoughts of my childhood rush back to me like a broken levee and flood my head. I can remember every gift of ever birthday that I’ve had, something I’ve never given much thought since now. I remember the words my mother said to me the day I first went to school, something I don’t think I ever even remembered till this very moment.

I can see different colors, colors under blue and past your eyes. The synthesizer in the room has all but faded away and I can hear a new song, a song from beyond the veil plays in my ears. The words of those distant voices are now becoming clearer, I can understand them in some way that you can not understand. Beautiful and frightening, unwelcome and exciting, embraced and shunned.

The shell is about to burst. I can feel the it expanding. Something moves inside of it. Perhaps egg would have been the better word. I don’t want to go anymore. It is having second thoughts? Does it want to stay where it it? Is it afraid? Does it want me to stay where I am? Does it want to go home? It hurts so bad. You can not imagine this pain. You can not know this fear. Good god it's go