The Man before the Curse

The dream began without warning, as it always did—sudden and unrelenting. Emily's eyes fluttered open to a world both familiar and foreign, vivid in its unsettling clarity. She found herself standing at the threshold of a dimly lit basement, the air thick with the scent of mildew and ancient wood. Dust motes drifted lazily through the stagnant air, the smell of old books and something darker—something dangerous—lingering.

A figure stood near the centre of the room, his back to her, bent over a wooden desk cluttered with papers. Emily couldn't see his face, but she knew who he was— the man whose story she had read, whose curse she was about to witness firsthand. He was younger now before the madness had fully claimed him before his descent into the terrifying void had begun. But there was something in his posture, a quiet tension in the way he moved, that suggested he was on the brink of unraveling. He turned a page with trembling fingers, his gaze flicking between the words as if they held some forbidden truth.

Every movement was deliberate, slow, like he feared what he might find. Emily could feel the magnetic pull of his obsession drawing her closer, but she stayed rooted in place, unable to tear her eyes away.

Suddenly, the man straightened, his chair scraping sharply against the floor. The sound seemed to reverberate through the stillness of the room. His breath was quick, shallow, as if he'd made an impossible discovery. "It's here," he whispered, the excitement in his voice laced with something darker. "I've found it."

Without looking up, he crossed the room to a tall, creaking cabinet. His hands shook as he pulled out a small, leather-bound book, its cover worn with age, its pages yellowed and fragile. He held it with an almost reverent care, as though it were something holy, something ancient. The man's fingers traced over the symbols etched into the surface, and then he opened it, the brittle pages cracking in protest.

Emily watched him, her chest tightening, as he read aloud under his breath. The words were unintelligible, a mix of strange symbols and obscure fragments. But there was an energy in his voice, a hunger that resonated in the air itself. She felt a ripple of unease pass through her. The air around him had thickened, the very space in the room seeming to warp in response to the power within the book.

"I was right," the man said, more to himself than anyone else, his voice rising in both awe and fear. "This… this is the key. The knowledge it holds is… boundless."

There was something in the tone of his voice that made the hairs on Emily's neck stand on end. He spoke of knowledge as if it were a drug, something all-consuming, something that had already begun to swallow him whole.

The man's eyes gleamed with an almost manic intensity, a sharpness that made Emily instinctively take a step back. He turned toward the far corner of the basement where a small group of people had gathered, their eyes fixed on him. There was tension in the air as if these people were waiting for something—waiting for him to reveal a truth that would change everything.

He gestured for them to come forward, his voice rising with fervour. "Come. Come, and see what I've discovered. The truth is here, waiting for us all. We are on the verge of something unimaginable. We must embrace it."

The group hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances before stepping forward. Emily could see their faces, drawn and pale, eyes wide with anticipation. They were captivated by him, entranced by his words, as though they hung on every syllable. They wanted to believe, just as he did. They, too, were addicted to the idea of something more—something beyond what the world had ever shown them.

The man held out the book to the first person, a woman who had been standing at the front. She reached for it hesitantly, her fingers trembling as she opened the pages. The room seemed to quiet as she began to read, her eyes scanning the strange text. But Emily could see the shift in her posture—the way her breath caught, her shoulders tensing, as if the very words on the page were alive, alive in a way she couldn't control.

"This…" the woman whispered, her voice thick with disbelief. "This can't be real. It's too much…"

Before she could finish, her face twisted into a grimace of fear, and she staggered backwards, dropping the book to the floor with a soft thud. She clutched her head, her body shaking violently as if something unseen was crawling beneath her skin. The other members of the group reacted in kind, collapsing onto the cold stone floor, clutching their heads, writhing in agony.

The man stood over them, his face alight with something dark, something greedy. "It's the curse," he said, his voice rising to a fever pitch. "You must understand it. You must embrace it!"

The woman on the floor cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. "I don't… I don't want this! It's too much!"

But the man was unyielding. His face was a twisted mask of excitement and obsession, and his words became a chant, urging the others to push through the pain. "You must understand! You must know what I know!"

As the group writhed on the floor, their bodies trembling with the force of something far beyond their control, the man's face contorted into something that wasn't quite human anymore. He had already stepped too far into the abyss, and now, he was dragging them all down with him.

Days passed, or perhaps it was only moments—time had lost all meaning in this reality. Emily found herself wandering through the town, though she couldn't be certain how she had gotten there. The streets were deserted, the buildings abandoned, and a suffocating silence hung over everything. It was as though the town itself had been hollowed out, its soul stolen by something unseen, something that had taken root and spread like rot.

The once-quiet village had transformed into a place of disquiet, its atmosphere thick with unease. There was no sign of the people she had watched in the basement. The streets were empty, save for the occasional shadow that seemed to flicker and vanish when she wasn't looking directly at it. The silence was oppressive, and the very air seemed to hum with a kind of dark energy.

She saw the townspeople in clusters, walking in strange, methodical patterns. Their faces were vacant, their eyes glazed over, as though they were sleepwalking through their lives. The man's teachings had infected them, and twisted their minds, and now, they were as much a part of the curse as he was. Their bodies moved in jerking, disjointed motions, as though they were puppets pulled by invisible strings.

Everywhere Emily went, she could feel the weight of their obsession pressing down on her. The man's influence was everywhere, saturating the very air, and leaking into every corner of the town. It was like a living thing, breathing, pulsing, consuming everything in its path.

She came across a gathering in the town square, a large group of people gathered in a circle. At first, she couldn't tell what they were doing, but as she drew closer, the true horror of it became clear. They were dancing—twisting and jerking in wild, unnatural motions, their bodies moving as though they were possessed by something otherworldly. Their faces were contorted in expressions of rapture and terror, their eyes wild and empty.

The chanting was soft at first, but as Emily drew closer, it grew louder, more insistent. The words were incomprehensible, a mixture of ancient syllables and guttural sounds. "Learn. See. Know."

The ritual had taken on a life of its own. What had once been a man's obsession had become their religion, their guiding force. They no longer cared for the world they had left behind—they were bound by something more powerful, more dangerous. The man had shown them the way, and they were following him into the abyss.

Emily watched from the shadows, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized the full extent of what had happened. These people—these townspeople—had become his disciples, his cult. And as she looked closer, she could see the madness in their eyes, the hollow devotion that had replaced their humanity.

She felt a presence behind her—a man, his face hollow and lifeless, his eyes empty of everything except a kind of desperate longing. He approached her slowly, his steps deliberate, and as he got closer, he whispered, "You've come to join us, haven't you? You've come to see the truth."

Emily recoiled instinctively. "No. I don't want any part of this."

The man's smile was slow, twisted. "It's too late," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You're already a part of it."

The ritual continued unabated, the people dancing and chanting, lost to the madness they had embraced. Emily knew, with a cold certainty, that this was only the beginning. The curse was already taking root, and soon, it would claim her as well.

---

The dream flickered, blurring into something else, but the sense of dread remained. Emily knew that she couldn't escape it—not this time. The man's obsession had spread beyond him. It had become a force of its own, and now, there was no turning back. The town was lost, and soon,