Chernabog
They Look Like Monsters to You?
- Local time
- Today 6:21 PM
- Messages
- 822
- Pronouns
- they/he
"Perfect gift for occultists or Lovecraft fans, Eldritch Abomination in a jar!"
Clicking on the listing on Ebay, the picture was still too small to make out. There was certainly a jar and... some sort of strange, metallic, even iridescent substance within. Sort of like as if this person had skimmed and collected the oilslick layer from a puddle. Within the depths of the liquid were the tell-tale signs of suction cups from within, some type of preserved cephalopod seemed to be sitting within the liquid.
"Funny." I mumbled, smirking. I glanced over to what I considered my little 'cabinet of curiosities' a few feet away from my computer. I already had a significant collection of wet specimens; a shark fetus, a preserved snake, even a sheep's brain; all floating in their own little glass. They were next to my shelf of esoteric and occult-based books, which just so happened to be the shelf below my favorite horror fixes. My eyes settled on the many books that bore the name 'H.P. Lovecraft' on the spine.
While I didn't at all believe that I was going to be purchasing some sort of cosmic horror, at least it was fun, and would definitely match my home's
aestheticTrying to peer closer to the enlarged image suddenly my screen flickered. As it did, the tentacles in the jar seemed to... re-adjust.
Did... that image move?
I right clicked the image to check the source... it wasn't anything but a jpeg. Just my imagination paired with a strange technology hiccup.
Shrugging, I purchased it. It would be a fun conversational piece.
Almost immediately, a message came from the owner of the shop. "No returns, but trust me... you won't regret it!"
Sure, whatever.
After the purchase, I hadn't heard anything. In fact, strangely I had forgotten about it completely - as if erased from my mind.
6 Days, 6 Hours, and 6 Minutes after my purchase, an eerily quiet knock came to my door.
I looked up from my work computer, brow furrowed. Walking to my door, I looked out the peephole. For a split second... I couldn't see out of it at all. Did I have some sort of pamphlet stuck to my door again? Fuckin' solicitors blocking my peephole again.
Glancing down to unlock my door, suddenly a light came from the glass. I looked through it again... and I could see again. Weird.
Opening it, no one was around, but a simple, mostly unmarked box waited on the stoop. No shipping label, no confirmation of who it was, just my name in a script that was flowing and legible but... bizarre all the same. It seemed to be in a language that I somehow could comprehend - yet only from the darkest depths of the part of the brain that humans long ago stopped being able to use.
I stared at the package, and a deep sense of foreboding and dread I had never quite felt before filled my form. My vision pulsed. My heart beat in a manner that was not my own. I continued to stare at the box, the ominousness of it seeming to pull me into its grips.
"Howdy doodly, neighbor-ino!" Came the familiar voice of my next door neighbor in my apartment building as walked from his storage closet, having grabbed a broom. He waved happily. "Boy, sometimes I really get a kick about all your friends that come to visit and drop stuff off. It's like Halloween year round at your place!" He laughed, before going into his own apartment again.
Brow furrowing, I looked back to the box. Was this from one of my friends? We all liked to prank each other from time to time. Shrugging, I knelt to grab the box and bring it inside.
The box waited on a table for hours as I reached out to my friends to find out who stopped by. No one seemed to know what I was talking about.
Then I received the email: 'Your package has been delivered!'
I looked back at the box, and suddenly it seemed completely normal. There was a shipping label on it, and a large red "FRAGILE" sticker slapped on the side. Exhaling from relief, I shook my head.
I really need to cut back on consuming so much horror media.
Cutting open the box, it was not packed with packing peanuts or even bubble wrap, but a luxurious silk in a color that almost matched the oilslick-like color on the images. "Bougie." I muttered, carefully shifting it around to get to the contents it protected.
There it was, the jar. It was a bit larger than I expected or that was shown in the picture. And sure enough, my fingers slid over what appeared to be upraised glass on the jar, as no paper labels remained on it.
Dunwich Dills. So apparently I've adopted a pickle monster. Cute.
Pulling the large jar out and holding it up, I realized then that the liquid seen in the picture couldn't do it justice. It was... beautiful. It looked like darkness made into a fluid, darker than the blackest ink, but had such a breathtaking, almost pearlescent quality to it that it looked like I was staring into the cosmos. I had never seen anything like it. In fact... it almost caused a headache to look at it. I couldn't wrap my head around what I was looking at. How did they make such a concoction?
Then... the jar rumbled. "What the fuck?" I asked, almost dropping it. But in those moments, suddenly suction cups hit against the side of the glass, adhering to it violently and attempting to move around. There was also the glimpse of eyes. So, so many eyes. Teeth. Spines.
"Holy shit there's an animal in there!"
What kind of sick joke was this? Who the hell would send a live animal stuck in a jar filled with who knows what?! Nothing about the listing said anything about this shit.
Moving the jar into the crook of my arm to hold it secure, my other hand grabbed the lid of the jar, struggling to pop it open. I had to try and help whatever poor, tortured animal was. I was even prepared to call up a friend with a saltwater tank to get their help.
The more I struggled, the more the creature inside seemed to also fight for its freedom.
Then came the familiar 'pop' of the lid of the jar.
There it was, the jar. It was a bit larger than I expected or that was shown in the picture. And sure enough, my fingers slid over what appeared to be upraised glass on the jar, as no paper labels remained on it.
Dunwich Dills. So apparently I've adopted a pickle monster. Cute.
Pulling the large jar out and holding it up, I realized then that the liquid seen in the picture couldn't do it justice. It was... beautiful. It looked like darkness made into a fluid, darker than the blackest ink, but had such a breathtaking, almost pearlescent quality to it that it looked like I was staring into the cosmos. I had never seen anything like it. In fact... it almost caused a headache to look at it. I couldn't wrap my head around what I was looking at. How did they make such a concoction?
Then... the jar rumbled. "What the fuck?" I asked, almost dropping it. But in those moments, suddenly suction cups hit against the side of the glass, adhering to it violently and attempting to move around. There was also the glimpse of eyes. So, so many eyes. Teeth. Spines.
"Holy shit there's an animal in there!"
What kind of sick joke was this? Who the hell would send a live animal stuck in a jar filled with who knows what?! Nothing about the listing said anything about this shit.
Moving the jar into the crook of my arm to hold it secure, my other hand grabbed the lid of the jar, struggling to pop it open. I had to try and help whatever poor, tortured animal was. I was even prepared to call up a friend with a saltwater tank to get their help.
The more I struggled, the more the creature inside seemed to also fight for its freedom.
Then came the familiar 'pop' of the lid of the jar.
M̷̥̙̙̰̫̾͘y̸̠̎̌̉͂̽̏̚ ̷͎́̀R̴̡͓͈̠͓̄͑͝e̷̡̡͔̥̜̋͒͠v̴̰̅̌̀ͅi̷̫̋̐̋̅ȇ̸̦̟͍̄̌w̴̩̥̏̚:̶̛̭̋̅̅̕̕͝ ̶͚̘͓̟̹̂̐͗̈
Ė̶̪̱͇̖̜ĺ̷͚̭̼̣̠̭̅̋̿d̷͎̈́̄ͅŗ̵̪̘̬͈̙͙̍ͅi̷͉͎̹̭̿t̶̠̭̦̫̤͔̉̏̌̏͌̑͘͠c̴̖͒͠h̷̗̅̓̌̈̾̌ ̵̢̧͙̫͖̹̼̼̐̌̐̋̆̌̀͝A̸̟̖̲͇̬͙͆b̷̤̩͇̤̩̫̠͚͒ǫ̶̹̗̫͇͉͐̒̓m̷̗͒̈́̐͛̔̚̚į̴̣̞̰̄ͅn̷̢̻̟̬͒̈́̇̕a̸̭̭̮̞͓̿̿̚̚t̸̛̤͚̄̏̚͝ï̷̺͓̻̝̮̫̔͛̅͂̾̒͝o̷̡̰̲͋̌̅̆̈́͒̌̈́n̵̢͚̎̄ ̶̟̓̿̆̆͠i̷͓̓̍͐̌̉͘ǹ̸̞̤͚̊̃̊͝ ̷̨͇͖̬̦̙͈̙̊̄͑͒̔̈a̸̤͔̓͋ͅͅ ̷̛̟̹͛̌̆̄̿̏̚J̷͇͖̈̏̅̀a̴͎̮̖̺͂͋̋͌͊̅͝͠r̶̨̬̻͐̔̽:̷̨̻͎̟̺̔̏͊̏̈́̌̔͊͜ ̶̨͓͕̥̪̣͇̯̊̌̋̆̈̔͘
5̷̧̘̫̂͜͠/̷̻̏̃5̶̭̯̩̓͘ͅ ̷̘̪̐̓̄̋ T̷͇̳̮̿ ̶̜̦͔̣͛̈́ P̶̺̦͋̆̐͝ē̷͈͊̔n̶̮̍̃͠ţ̷̛͇̺͗͌a̶̗̭̹͎͠c̸̺̽l̶͉̞̳̎́ȩ̴͔͔͇͊͊s̸̞̳̐ 5/5 ⛧⛥⛧⛥⛧
İ̸̫̙͍͚̦̼͇̝̂̌͘ ̴̜̍̏͠D̷̰̰͉̰̠̻̞̺͙͉͌ö̵̧̦̮̞́̌͜ ̸̡̣̦͔͔͔͍̗̭͐̀̆N̷͚̳͚͖̘̈́͗̒͋͌̏o̸̢͔͖̼̞̦͔̻̾̉͋̅̃̃̂̂̾͂t̵̘̟̫̟̠̟̀̾́̈̕ ̶̡̼̰͙̼͉̖͗̇R̸̨̨̞̗̱̺̖͙̠̳̀e̶̝̳͚̥̲̪̝͇͆̍̿͌͗̇͘͝͝ĝ̴̲̪̞͈̐̂̀̒̌̂r̵̛̛̯̺̪̻̂̅̄͂̽̔̾͛e̴̦̻͕̘̺͆̽t̷̨̥̯͖͚͓̙͍̼͎͑̈́̑̆̓̂̎͝
Ė̶̪̱͇̖̜ĺ̷͚̭̼̣̠̭̅̋̿d̷͎̈́̄ͅŗ̵̪̘̬͈̙͙̍ͅi̷͉͎̹̭̿t̶̠̭̦̫̤͔̉̏̌̏͌̑͘͠c̴̖͒͠h̷̗̅̓̌̈̾̌ ̵̢̧͙̫͖̹̼̼̐̌̐̋̆̌̀͝A̸̟̖̲͇̬͙͆b̷̤̩͇̤̩̫̠͚͒ǫ̶̹̗̫͇͉͐̒̓m̷̗͒̈́̐͛̔̚̚į̴̣̞̰̄ͅn̷̢̻̟̬͒̈́̇̕a̸̭̭̮̞͓̿̿̚̚t̸̛̤͚̄̏̚͝ï̷̺͓̻̝̮̫̔͛̅͂̾̒͝o̷̡̰̲͋̌̅̆̈́͒̌̈́n̵̢͚̎̄ ̶̟̓̿̆̆͠i̷͓̓̍͐̌̉͘ǹ̸̞̤͚̊̃̊͝ ̷̨͇͖̬̦̙͈̙̊̄͑͒̔̈a̸̤͔̓͋ͅͅ ̷̛̟̹͛̌̆̄̿̏̚J̷͇͖̈̏̅̀a̴͎̮̖̺͂͋̋͌͊̅͝͠r̶̨̬̻͐̔̽:̷̨̻͎̟̺̔̏͊̏̈́̌̔͊͜ ̶̨͓͕̥̪̣͇̯̊̌̋̆̈̔͘
5̷̧̘̫̂͜͠/̷̻̏̃5̶̭̯̩̓͘ͅ ̷̘̪̐̓̄̋ T̷͇̳̮̿ ̶̜̦͔̣͛̈́ P̶̺̦͋̆̐͝ē̷͈͊̔n̶̮̍̃͠ţ̷̛͇̺͗͌a̶̗̭̹͎͠c̸̺̽l̶͉̞̳̎́ȩ̴͔͔͇͊͊s̸̞̳̐ 5/5 ⛧⛥⛧⛥⛧
İ̸̫̙͍͚̦̼͇̝̂̌͘ ̴̜̍̏͠D̷̰̰͉̰̠̻̞̺͙͉͌ö̵̧̦̮̞́̌͜ ̸̡̣̦͔͔͔͍̗̭͐̀̆N̷͚̳͚͖̘̈́͗̒͋͌̏o̸̢͔͖̼̞̦͔̻̾̉͋̅̃̃̂̂̾͂t̵̘̟̫̟̠̟̀̾́̈̕ ̶̡̼̰͙̼͉̖͗̇R̸̨̨̞̗̱̺̖͙̠̳̀e̶̝̳͚̥̲̪̝͇͆̍̿͌͗̇͘͝͝ĝ̴̲̪̞͈̐̂̀̒̌̂r̵̛̛̯̺̪̻̂̅̄͂̽̔̾͛e̴̦̻͕̘̺͆̽t̷̨̥̯͖͚͓̙͍̼͎͑̈́̑̆̓̂̎͝
Author note: This is probably [maybe?] only going to be funny for a small subset of people - but I hope said subset of people truly enjoy.