Behind the Bleeding Veil

"This book here is the second book in a trilogy written Herbert Randolph West," Fluttershy said holding up the book she had been reading. It had a greyish tan, cloth cover with a grey green leather spine and corner covers. There was no writing on the cover or spine. "Mr. West was a teacher with a zeal for language. The history, evolution, symbolism of it. He was convinced that by studying all the known languages today, tracing them back, studying ancient and dead languages, he could and reconstruct the very first language ever spoken. That became the basis for his first book - Mother Tongue. I've read it. It's alright, a bit dry, boring and overly written; but what do you expect from a book written in 1822?" Fluttershy ended with the hands up shrug and a quirky little smile.

"It didn't sell well, but well enough for his publisher to allow him to do a follow up. This book here Mother Culture. With this he tried to find what the first human society was like; it's beliefs and practices. Now that he felt he had their language down, he could then tease out all the secrets he believed they held. Back then, heck, like a lot of people now, most believed that the ancients possessed great and powerful knowledge that was lost or perverted through time. This is a much more interesting read. Still overly written, but this time, you can almost feel like there's a mania creeping into his writing, like something was pushing him to write faster than he was able to. It still tries to be a straight history; but it defiantly dips more than one toe into the realm of the occult.

"This sold even less well than the first. While the first one had a scholarly appeal to and was added to some college and university libraries; this smacked of pseudo science quackery. Which considering this came out in 1835 is saying something. He was going to be dropped by his publisher but convinced him that his next book would do far better. That he felt he was on to something big, Earth shattering. Well, maybe not in quite those terms. I was able to find a copy of his publisher's journal entry for that day. It's the typical, over the top, early to mid nineteenth century verbiage; but you get the drift.

"Mother Tongue is fairly easy to find for a somewhat obscure book on language. This one, Mother Culture is much harder to find, but if you do enough digging in the right places, you can still find a half decent copy. The third and final book in the series is impossible to find. Only one copy was ever made, and that is the original manuscript. Seems Mr. West went a bit nutty during the writing. Originally he decided to write with only quill feathers on parchment even though the fountain pen had been around for almost twelve years by the time he started writing. That was only at first though. Eventually he moved on from writing in ink to his own blood. At least I assume it was his own blood. Finally he was writing using his own excrement; if you know what that means."

Regina scrunched up her face in disgust. "Yes, I know what that word means. And I would also hope that he was using his own as well to write."

A twisted smile flashed across Fluttershy's face. It was a smile that was not of one enjoying a joke (like the one Regina had attempted), but of one enjoying the discomfort and suffering of another.

"I assumed as much as well," she said as she fought to repress her smile.

"Anyway, he brought it to his publisher, a Mr. Gunther Fitzgerald, on July second 1845. I read the journal entry for that day too. Mr. West had to be helped into Mr. Fitzgerald's office since he had gouged out his own eyes and, well, couldn't see anymore. There was a note attached to the sealed envelope with the manuscript explaining what it was about. He had to attach the note because he had also cut his own tongue out. As soon as it had been delivered, he pulled a pistol out and shot himself. His new book, which was also his last, was called Oblitus Libro Sequutur Somnia or in English, The Book of Forgotten Nightmares.

"Old Gunther, being a bit shaken after seeing Mr. West blow his brains out in front of him, gave the book to one of his editors to look at. Four would try to read it in all before Gunther would eventually look at it. Each one killed themselves in a highly grotesque manner. The worst was the last one who cut open his own stomach and started eating his own intestines. Mr. Fitzgerald read about a quarter of it, walked out, buried in some unmarked spot, deep in the woods somewhere, and then jumped to his death off of one of Maine's majestic cliffs. Apparently whatever Mr. West had written about so horrifying, so terrible, that it drove all who read it to madness. Luckily, I suppose, Mr. Fitzgerald was just sane enough to bury it so none could ever find it. Of course I'd think burning it would have been better, but, hey, the guy was out of his mind so I cut him some slack in the logic department."

Fluttershy looked at Regina with a much friendlier and congenial smile on her face than she had before. She could see that Regina had gone ashen white, giving her an almost corpse like appearance. Her eyes were wide and mouth agape in horror. She sat, still as stone, unable to move as if frozen in an invisible block of ice. It was then Fluttershy left out a giant laugh.

"It's total bull but a great ghost story," she said once she was able to calm herself down. "I actually found both his books at a local thrift shop. I was shopping for some clothes, you know, cheap, retro chic and all. I'm interested in history and anthropology, so I snagged them both for like a dollar fifty a piece. After I read the first one, I became interested in the author, looked him up and came across all this urban legend mumbo - jumbo. The guy did go blind, but from diabetes not from gouging them out. Also his third book was never published because the first tanked in sales. Gunther did fall off a cliff but he was a drunk and it was ruled an accident. The truth is tragic, the myth is spooky fun. For me it is at least. Sorry if I scared you." Fluttershy.

"No, no, it's fine. But if you excuse me, I'm going to lock myself in the bathroom now with my Bible," Regina replied with a nervous, not too sincere laugh. Something in that story struck her to her very soul. There was an almost tangible demonic presence that seemed to emanate from her very words. Truth be told, she was actually quite terrified (especially given the almost sadistic look that came over Faustine's face as she recounted the story.

Fluttershy laughed her own fake laugh. "Here, let me make it up to you. It's a beautiful day out, why don't I take you for a ride on my motorcycle. I have a spare helmet you can use."

Regina smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds great.

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Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash stood at the perimeter of the where the mansion had fell. Each stood still and silent, emotionally numb yet exploding in unimaginable torrents as well. It had been two days since they've been back, one day since the battle with Chrysalis and the cult (time travel was such a weird thing to get your mind around). After the adrenaline of battle had worn off and they had talked things over with the others about how they felt and how they could possibly move on, both Fluttershy and Rainbow realized they still hadn't had closure yet. So they had decided to come here, in hopes of seeing the mangled remains of the house Sandal and Soarin had been murdered in would help.

"Anything?" Rainbow asked stoically.

"No. Nothing I haven't already been feeling - rage, sadness, depression, emptiness. It's only really hit me now, the full impact of everything."

"Yeah," Rainbow simply said in an emotionally dead voice. "The house is destroyed, Chrysalis, the cultist, Morgorith, Lucifer, Yahweh, whatever you want to call him; all dead. We killed them. We killed them and saved the multiverse; and it doesn't help a goddamn thing." Rainbow nearly spat out that last sentence. "They're dead and we have to live with the pain."

"I guess so," Fluttershy agreed mournfully.

Rainbow waited a little while longer then said, "Fuck it, I'm out," and walked off.

Fluttershy started to leave as well but felt something strange, like a physic pull towards the wreckage. She looked around, but saw no one. Carefully she crawled under the police tape and made her way up to the rubble. With great care but not much reason she started shifting through the piles of broken wood, stone, and plaster until she came across a safe which had it's door broken open. Inside was an envelope. In the envelope was a bunch of papers. She looked at them and saw they were a list of forbidden books. The front page listed all the books with a brief rating as to how dangerous they were. At the bottom was The Necronomicon. Beside it, it simply said, "You can buy at Barnes & Noble, enough said". Above that was De Vermis Mysteriis , which was regarded with equal derision. As the names went up, the danger warnings became more severe. The second most dangerous book was The Revelations of Morgorith, which was the cult's own sacred tome. Above that, the only one above that, was Oblitus Libro Sequutur Somnia which carried only one word beside it - "DON'T". The following pages contained histories on each of the damnable tomes. Fluttershy looked around quickly in fear before running off with the papers in hand.