The Evil Within — Infernium Therimoire
A book of black magic — evil — of summoning the dark. For summoning, and acting as a minion to the unknown. Those who pursue revenge, the hatred feelings of losing someone… the chance to reconcile. Found as another way of doing things, things done by itself. Many pursue this power, this miracle. Every spell has his sacrifice as an exchange
Portugal, 2012
Jon, standing still in the face of the grand force of nature, the terrifying and visceral force that torments those who fear it and provides comfort to those who have accepted it. He witnessed the death of his own father, not to great surprise, as his father was suffering from brain cancer that gave little to offer to the rest of his life. There was no hope for him, so the time that remained was well spent. Like a drama story with a happy ending, Jon’s father managed to make the most of it by eating his favorite foods, doing what amused his mind the most, and speaking one last time to those he loved.
Jon, still in mourning a few weeks after his father’s death, received a strange letter at home. A small letter that had been slid carefully under his front door, ensuring not to crumple any edges or damage the seal that identified it. Bending down to see what the subject of this strange interaction might be, Jon noticed something that shook him. The seal of his father, red as blood, strong as stone. Jon squinted his eyes, even brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes to be sure of what he saw. Realizing that it wasn’t a simple joke or someone trying to forge what they shouldn’t, he rushed to the office where his father spent most of his time. Since it had never been tidied up, Jon thought that everything would be in its place and remained vigilant, searching for the seal that, if nothing was compromised, would still be in his drawer, locked by himself. Hidden in the soil of the vase in his room, he found the key he had used to lock his father’s drawer. And, as he rushed back to the office, he opened it. Realizing that everything was in its place, with no signs that indicates anyone could have tampered with the lock, Jon sat in his father’s old chair. Confused and anxious, he understood that reading the letter would be the only choice he could make at this moment.
‘It must be a joke,’ Jon thought as he carefully tore the top of the letter. It was then that, upon removing the message that filled this mysterious cluster of emotions, he read carefully all the transcribed words. To his astonishment, there was only an address written. Expecting so much to be said, it could have been a letter from someone his father had kept for him in case of his eventual death, or perhaps something his father left for his beloved son. But, just an address.. Jon couldn’t understand what it meant; somehow, he didn’t recognize it. By searching the written content, he soon discovered that, at least, the address was far from his beloved house. Without thinking too much, Jon searched for his clothes to wear and left. Quickly, he got into his car, parked in front of his house, and drove off with no set return time. He didn’t want to think too much because the more he thought about the letter he had just received, the more he wanted to ignore it.
The death of his father was a huge loss for Jon; the person he loved the most would never be a part of his life again. However, curiosity also played a part in his small journey he was about to undertake. He couldn’t let go of the idea that perhaps his father was trying to communicate with him. As he drove for long… long hours, Jon began to recognize where he was. Little could be said. With the feeling of an energy, calling for him, guiding him through the roads and serving as a magnetic force. Leaving the highway that directly connected him to the town where he was, he entered national roads that intertwined through the nearest woods. Entering a forest with enormous trees, he finally recognized the place. Where, when he was younger, about five years old, he had been with his parents, visiting a small farm located in this same forest. Beyond the first meters of trees, the farm faced the road. It was then that Jon, recognizing the woods he was driving in, felt confident to follow the old narrow road that led to his family’s famous farm.
Suddenly, the car stopped. As if by coincidence, the blame for this incident was attributed to the fact that the car was out of fuel. Jon wasn’t surprised, although he had never seen the fuel indicator light on. Still, he decided to continue on foot. When he got out of the car, he only brought a small keychain flashlight with him and his mobile phone. He walked along the road through the trees until he was indeed in front of the farm. It was just as he remembered it. Large windows, a beautiful, well-kept fence surrounding the farm, and an old sign at the entrance. ‘Let us out,’ it said. Jon remembered the sign, firmly anchored to the ground, bent and rusty. It was newer when he was younger, playing besides the entrance of the farm, constantly seeing this strange sign, but never questioning its purpose, as he was too young to process it. Not being stopped, Jon continued walking along the road as he approached the door of the house. He couldn’t take his eyes off the huge windows that seemed even larger as he got closer.
It was at that moment, as he put his first foot on the stairs leading to the wooden porch of the house, that his mobile phone received a message. ‘Don’t ring the doorbell. They’re all sleeping. I’ll open the door for you.’ Jon, reading the notification, couldn’t move any muscle of his body. Frozen with negative emotions and enormous fear of the unknown, Jon was paralyzed. It didn’t take long for the door to open, and a tall man with a straw hat and blue denim overalls greeted him. ‘Come in, come. Jon, right? You probably don’t remember me.’ But to the surprise of the farmer, Jon remembered exactly who he was — his uncle, Kenneth. Jon finally relaxed and, unconcerned, hugged the tall man standing at the door of his house. ‘It’s been a long time,’ Jon said, having seen very little of his uncle and not having spoken to him after his father’s death.
After being invited in, Jon simply went to the room where Kenneth stayed. The room was large, with two tall candles lit to illuminate the darkness, two soft red fabric armchairs, and plenty of typical decoration for a country family. Stuffed hunting trophies, a huge bookshelf filled with books and rolls of paper on various topics and literature. And a round table, located in the center, between the sofas and the shelf itself. Somehow, Jon felt comfortable. He had put aside what had happened so far and didn’t worry much more when he saw that his uncle was well and living the same way as always. They talked for a long time, and questions like ‘What have you been doing?’ or ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’ came up. But he didn’t hide anything and could talk to his uncle like two friends who saw each other infrequently but could always be in tune. An hour passed, the night — strong and filled — but clear with the moonlight.
It was then that, while nibbling on the delicious chorizo rolls his uncle had offered him, Jon showed the letter that had been sent to him. It was not strange when his uncle, seeing the subject of the letter and that it was marked with his seal, with the address of the house where they both were at that moment, simply got up. And, as he did so, Jon persisted in asking, ‘What’s going on? Does this mean something? Was it you guys?’ These three questions were enough for his uncle to ask Jon to get up and follow him to the room where his father had slept a long time ago. While continuing to ask the same questions, Jon followed his uncle to the said room. Going up the stairs, he noticed that all five rooms were locked. The farthest, closest to the enourmous window facing the forest from where he came, was the room they were heading to. With his uncle in front, he grabbed the keychain and opened the door. To Jon’s surprise, the room was empty. There was only a blanket on the floor, clean and completely laid out. At the same time Jon entered the room to analyze it and try to recall memories he might not have had of that compartment, his uncle, in long and strong strides, headed to the other rooms. Opening them quickly, it took only a few words in each for those who slept there to come out. Jon, looking back and calling his uncle, wondering why they were doing all this, once again noticed that he had left him alone.
Suddenly, as he walked to the door, he found his uncle facing him. Knocking him to the ground, his uncle and four more people suddenly appeared in the room, entering quickly one by one. Two children, young twins, Elsa and Uller. His beautiful woman, Magda. And an old man, Nolan. Jon recognized them all. The large family that his father had, nephews, a sister-in-law, and his father. Grandfather to Jon, but somewhat unknown to him. They all gathered around him, like a circle in which Jon would be their center. Kenneth, with a now deeper, firm, and determined voice in the next decisions to be made, began to explain to Jon what would happen in the next half hour. ‘It’s not complicated, nor confusing or stressfull. You just have to remain indulgent. Don’t resist so we can do this properly. We open you up. We ingest your major organs, and everything else is done by the law of nature. Then, your father comes back. Not before or much after.’ Jon didn’t react for the longest two minutes of his life, not understanding what was happening. ‘Okay, see? That’s right, don’t move, and everything will be fine,’ said Magda. Without blinking or saying anything, Jon immediately rushed to the door in an attempt to escape what he didn’t believe was about to happen.
It was in vain, and he realized that when Kenneth grabbed his leg with his hands and with great force, threw him back into the center of the room, next to the blanket. In the instant after Jon was thrown abruptly, the family followed, not hesitating to kneel beside his body, and then — the massacre. Magda’s sharp nails were enough for her fingers to penetrate Jon’s fragile skin in the central area of his chest. Violently opening it with both hands, she tore off the skin and tissues covering his chest, breaking his ribs, and tearing out his lungs. Jon couldn’t react, it was enough for him to lose his life at the moment his interior was penetrated, with the enormous amount of blood that already filled the room where the act was taking place. Nolan was in charge of the vision, easily pulling Jon’s eyes from his body and swallowing them, savoring every tear and drop of blood that followed. Only the young twins remained, who didn’t settle for tearing out Jon’s heart this time, exposed with Magda’s help, which was later split in half and ingested by the brothers. Kenneth was smiling while watching his family. A father, who was happy to commence this ritual, prepared to confront the consequences and face the might of his touch to the Infernium.
With the end of the ingestion of Jon’s organs, there was no reaction from Kenneth, who waited for the next step to happen. Slowly, small disturbances began to happen under the carpet where the corpse and the family were. Feeling their legs trembling, they quickly left the carpet, leaving Jon’s body as if by sacrifice. Nothing was said, nor was it celebrated. The family knew exactly what was about to happen, as they had been explained a long time ago. A few minutes passed along the bumps that the carpet in the middle of the room suffered, and suddenly, a man without skin, lips, or nails emerged from under the carpet, as if he were being drowned. Screaming endlessly, testing out his new lungs and tongue, jumping with one arm over his head, pushing away what prevented him from rising above the wooden floor. His skin regenerated at its own speed, neither slowly nor quickly. His body gradually made sense, and his facial expression took shape. In fact, Jon’s father had just been brought back. Alive or dead. Healthier than ever, stronger than before. As a comeback to this world of the living, he left Infernium, using Jon as currency for the exchange. The screams persisted, as long as the pain endured by the new born corpse — always in suffering.
First short story of my new project.
A short story cycle called Infernium Therimoire. Focused primarly on horror.
Along the way, I hope you enjoy the content I’ll try to bring.
I’m so happy and proud of this new project I’m trying to build. Writing is my passion and I aspire to be an author one day. A great one!
Thank you so much! ❤
