The Holders of the Cult


It wasn’t the best idea to do this, of course, but me and my friends felt like we had to after we found the information.

Obviously, Holders don’t like to give up their Objects. They’re very picky. Sometimes there’s a question you can ask that means something very important to them. I don’t know why, maybe it has something to do with how they became Holders, but if you do everything right, there’s usually a way to convince them to give up their Object. But, that’s not always the case.

I’m recording this because it’s the only thing I can do. Three days ago, me and four of my friends managed to track down information on the Holders of the Cult. There wasn’t much information yet as per what question to ask or what things to do, but we thought we should give it a shot anyway. We were stupid, but that’s beside the point now. We gathered up what tools we needed and headed to the location to try and get their Object.

I don’t think all Holders can be convinced to give up their Objects. I think some will just do everything in their power to stop the Seeker from getting what they possess. These particular Holders move from place to place around the country. Right now, they were just outside Bluffview. They were said to be a group of old ladies that owned a large house at the end of a long road, welcoming weary travelers to rest for the night. Those few that returned from their rest were on the brink of madness.

One such Seeker left a post of their location on the forum we frequented, and me and my friends took up the challenge. We all piled into a station wagon and headed out. Bluffview wasn’t too far away, and the Holders lived just two miles north off a long road. We got to the designated road and turned, surprised to see that this was one of the few paved roads out here in the country. It was clearly a road no one really lived on, only trees on either side, but the asphalt looked like it was only recently laid down. We joked all the way down the road, until we reached a large forest. The paved road stretched back into the dense trees, but a large branch had fallen over the road just in front of them. Carefully, we pulled over the car and got out to look. We didn’t see any trees nearby that were missing limbs, but we weren’t that concerned.

We left the car and headed down the paved road, which began to suddenly wind erratically through the trees. Though most of the surrounding area was flat, it suddenly became very hilly as well. It also became darker, much darker. We had arrived at 11 in the morning, but after only a couple hours, the light filtering down through the canopy of leaves dulled dramatically. It almost seemed like the sun was setting. As we came up one rather large hill, we saw the house. At the end of the trail, a quaint white house sat, almost peering through the trees at us. In front of the door, we saw the figure of an old woman in a wheelchair just sitting in front of the door. She wasn’t moving. I think she was staring at us.

We got the willies and decided to turn back, making our way down the hill. It couldn’t have been less than a quarter mile to the house from the top of the hill, but we had only just reached the bottom of the hill and looked back up to see the old lady standing at the top of the hill. She didn’t have any eyes.

We screamed and ran, completely losing our nerve, but she came drifting down the hill. Not walking, drifting. Her feet were still on the ground, but she moved toward us without moving her legs, like she were strapped to a moving cart. The road didn’t look new anymore. It was dark black and cracked everywhere. Worms started pouring out of the crack, rolling over our feet. We tried to leap off the path, but we couldn’t for some reason. No matter how far we tried to step, our feet only just landed on the edge of the asphalt. We tried to step again, but the same thing happened. The worms rose to our knees. My friends were pulled down into them. I heard their screams being muffled into silence. I grabbed a tree branch, but felt the sucking. My shoes slipped off somehow. I think they melted. I looked over to see the old lady drifting through the worms like it were water. I couldn’t get away. I could see the scarred back of her eye sockets. I let go of the branch to swat at her, but ended up falling. I think I passed out.

Now I’m lying on a bed made of moldy muscles. In fact, I think everything is made out of sewn-together muscles; the floor, the ceiling, the walls. They’re all moldy. They’re dripping this greenish liquid that smells badly. I can’t move. This thing is sitting on the headboard staring at me. They skinned my friends in this room and made them eat their own skin. It was horrible. They bled so much but they wouldn’t die. Their bones were surgically removed, one by one. They still didn’t die. Even after the spine was removed, their mouths were held wide with silent screams. Their vocal chords were already shredded from screaming so much. Reggie… he was hemophilic. I thought he would die first. But no, somehow, they made it so he died the last.

It was because they got up. They sat up from their beds and this small gray thing on the head of the bed with the bulging eyes would attack them until the old women came in to take care of them. It hasn’t stopped staring at me. I can’t fall asleep, I can’t move. If I move, they’ll get me. It screams at me every ten minutes. I’m not going to make it out of here. I think I’m sinking into the bed. I think my body is rotting. I can feel the maggots crawling into my legs. But I can’t move, I can’t or the old ladies will hurt me. They’re working their way up. I can’t move, I can’t. I can see them staring at me through the window, oh god. They don’t have eyes but they’re staring at me. It’s like they’re hungry, WHY WON’T THEY STOP STARING AT ME?! Oh the maggots, they’re waiting for the maggots to eat me. It hurts, it hurts so bad but the grey thing is still staring and watching me and I have to be a good boy and stay still. The green is dripping on me and it stings and it burns and it’s going inside me. They’re coming inside now, they’re moving closer, is it cause I’m talking into this? Don’t come, don’t let them get you, don’t ever go to their house, don’t let NO STAY AWAY! I’VE BEEN GOOD DON’T TAKE MY SKIN!! I HAVEN’T GOT UP, I DON’T WANT YOUR OBJECT, JUST PLEASE LET ME G

-The preceding audio recording was found inside an abandoned house 2.5 miles north of Bluffview, Wisconsin. Guy McDaniel and his companions have remained missing since April 23rd.

Categories: | Featured Stories | Those Who Seek |

Last modified on 2012-12-01 07:07:42Average Rating: 5 / 5 (3 votes)Viewed 9920 times

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