We at FAWX news are always striving to efficiently deliver breaking news – and today we’ve perhaps perfected our craft to a startling degree of accuracy. The most reliable, and effective, is the unimaginable – and so after a bit of browsing on eBay, and an awkward glance at the username “pagan_mom15”, we’d purchased a replica crystal ball.
Unfortunately, upon delivery, I’d hugged it in my left arm as my other was preoccupied with a warm cup of coffee, and I’d dropped it, my carefree expression suddenly turning in anticipation as it swiftly descended into the cold, hard floor below my shoes. I heard it smack, and roll across the wood like it were a sophisticated see-through bowling ball, glinting as an unleashed container of dancing colors, directing rays of light around in circles as though a flickering orb of disco. I was relieved, until its natural course of direction took it towards staircase. Oh how horrified I was, shock and appalled, as it jumped down each, individual step. I knew for sure it was going to be broken. But ‘twas a stalwart orb, merely striking the marble flooring of the waiting room with a loud crash, and then I watched, as it spun around like it were performing a graceful pirouette, casting a shine something alike a mirage on the wall. Suddenly, it stopped, crumbling into a thousand pieces, releasing a fine, glassy dust which collected in a delicate mound of powder on the floor.
Since there were no experts in crystal ball repair in our studio, I decided to congeal the magical shards, perhaps radiating airy curls signifying its awesome power (at least in the mind of this reporter) in jell-o for the time being. There it was, on the news desk, and I gazed into it, my eyes hungry for the vast secrets they contained, broken pieces suspended in the jiggling mixture. My first news report, it would seem, was a man, sitting in a strange hut in a tropical region, big green stalks all around him, and the sky seemingly nothing but a ceiling of leaves, spanning outwards like a wavy fan, the flick of rain upon them, with their big thick spines moving tiny streams which cascaded over the tip, curves of both sides, indented so to cup, meeting to a point like a blade. The air was heavily moist but heated, and the gentle mist slowly swam through it, the man breathed in a damp smell. He had found a lamp, it seemed, and his fingers clamped onto it, nearly falling out of his grasp which was infused with the mixture sweat, and damp air.
Then suddenly, the vision began wavering, fading out and undoubtedly shifting. I watched in amazement as the jell-o rumbled, a beam connecting each shards powering a new sight to see. And what was this? The man was home, his fingers pinning a rag cloth to the lamps tarnished surface, and he polished it until a pleasing sheen erupted from beneath the rag, as he slid it aside. Then, a flow of gas emerged from its spout, which gleamed as he moved it in his hands. Slowly the few tendrils of gas, connected to the lip of the spout, drifted towards each other and blended with seemingly magnetic cohesion, compiling a gentle, feminine face before him. Without even parting his lips, it told him:
“Three wishes.” He seemed eager, but was able to tame his urge to ask for the most obvious of human desires. He stared into its airy visage, apparently contemplating its conditions of existence more so what he longed for.
“A life-long mate, who I will love forever, and who will love me too.” He finally requested. Then, showering onto him was a sudden materialization of pills; white, oblong shards, tinged with the devils of skin, inciting nightmares of walking corpses and other ambiguities of death.
“What’s this?” He asked. And it hadn’t returned with even the slightest noise.
“Two more wishes.” It reminded him.
“Success, I want to live a long, happy life with a steady job.” He requested. And again, more pills plopped against his head and skin, cluttering his floor and table.
“One more wish.” It said almost bodingly. He thought, not wanting to waste his last wish, that perhaps it wanted him to consume some of the pills it had given him. He was hesitant of taking an unknown substance, but he was scared to not take any chance which would perhaps waste his final wish. He picked up one body of the white thing, fit snugly between his fingers, and he downed it in one swift gulp. He looked up at the genie, with a child’s eyes, cloyingly filled with a sense of gratitude and he asked:
“All of the wisdom my mind can hold.” He sat there, unbearably awaiting the moment his wish was granted, but then nothing, more pills. It retreated inside of the lamp, and he sat there, not amused.
The vision shifted once more, and this time I overlooked a languid man, who was spread out on his bed, caught in a state of perilous pleasure, his skin afloat the gentle waves of opium yet while his eyes descended into the fowl pit of despair – clearly having been fond with his first, albeit forced dabbling in painkillers.
The jell-o presented something new. This time he squirmed in his sleep, nearly drowning in the amount of sweat his flesh produced while in bed. He tossed and turned something fierce, caught between the intermittent need for a wooly comforter to warm him, and the kiss of the cool air to freeze the heat which burned him a red color. The genie’s face appeared, generating a chilling susurrus which itched at his raw brain, in the tender conditions of a fresh piece of meat, his heart thumping to each word, and then even more to the mental repetition afterwards.
Suddenly, his scalp began to ripple, individual hairs on his head detaching and swinging through the air, and the flesh began to split open, as though an axe was in the process of cleaving it in two, breaking apart muscle and bone to reveal his brain, which contorted restlessly, as if in the hands of some manipulator, and then the genie propelled itself from his mind, its grand and horrible image steadily growing, although still anchored in. The earth rumbled beneath it, a triumph as it entered the physical realm. Energies formed and chaotically merged, sparking an effluence of gestures from both the man, convulsing in agony, and the demon, who heaved his carapace in pride, while emitting a fiery gaze which had the power to melt all things. The house began to crumble like a shelf of rock had been struck by an unimaginable force, and sunk into the earth; a crater the size of a small meteor impact was shoved into the ground below. Then, all was quiet. The demon withdrew into dormancy.
I took a step back. A genie, or demon, now inhabits a crater the size of an apartment complex – prior to his having existed in a man’s brain, feeding off of him in his weakened state. Unreality had become reality.
“Johnson.” I said.
“Yes McPhag?” he replied.
“We need to get a news team out to a crater. I think there’s something for us to see.”
We’d arrived on scene, only to find a disparate crowd of people, all holding receptacles of water. I could sense dark emanations from the hole, which people dumped the water into – then I caught a small sound, just barely a whisper, which was as commanding as a soldier’s bellow, conjuring peculiar thoughts and strong feelings. At the time being, nothing could be done, but much coverage would be supplied to ensure that necessary information reaches the public. We watched as people, apparently subdued into a trance, shuffled towards the crater to dump water into it. According to reports, it had been observed that the water went through a state of purification before being poured into the hole.
UPDATE: November 15th, 8:00 PM
Today the hole was filled, after months of cyclical transfers of purified water, from house, church and McDonalds to the mysterious, demon imbued hole. Shockingly, as it became filled with the final blanket of water wavering over the lip of one mans bucket, the demons malformed face rose to the surface, with it being a mirror for its ghastly features - apparently now having become one with the purified body of liquid, which was now the entity it its entirety. It sends chilling echoes of its gut wrenching taunts all through the country, inspiring greed, hate-crimes, cocaine cannibals, and involuntary drug use – its maw a black hole, slowly sucking away the souls of every human being on earth, intangible, translucent wisps of the human psyche draw towards this terrible font of power which only consumes. While this will not be the end of human kind, if nothing is done, all humans will exist as empty vessels of flesh with absolutely zero emotion and creative thought. Everyone is endorsing the soul-sucking demon, as it would most likely produce the appropriate conditions to enable peace in society while reinforcing the aptitude of everyone.
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