Blackmore (Incomplete)

I say this now – our perception of reality and limitations - as established as they seem to be - are nothing more than an illusion and as fragile, cheap, and hollow as the words found in modern-day grocery store tabloids. Our minds have - somewhere along the way - been rendered almost completely gullible to the counterfeit notions our race has established as a means for our own mental safety. And safety is something only the ignorant could completely believe in, however ignorance is bliss, this I have found over the years to be true. So I find myself frequently haunted by the reverberations of my misdeeds and praying every night since that fateful time that the things I have seen and felt, are nothing more than a phantasy brought on by some exquisite mental illness I am not yet aware of. How maddening it has become to constantly wish that the incident which occurred deep within the near-forgotten tunnels of the Blackmore cavern be returned to their unknown, unseen, and unfeeling state and for that blissful ignorance to be restored so that I may once again sleep soundly without my dreams being invaded by the faces of the repulsive, and insidious In’Pulli along with the horrors they were capable of bringing forth.

It had been in the unexpected discovery of aforementioned Blackmore caverns that I had first laid sight on their strange rituals. Blackmore’s existence had mostly been forgotten, even to those who lived within the small African country it had resided, the only exception being a run-down old harbor town several miles east of the hill where its entrance had been located. Due to my lack of understanding the languages spoken here, or hiring a translator, I did not know exactly what the town was called; though a Frenchmen I’d met while passing through called it ‘une ville pourrie!’