The story you are about to read follows a man's last thoughts. They were the ramblings found inside of journals of the author J. D Gigas, as well as one video found in a murder scene in Memphis, Tennessee. We do not know the exact order they are supposed to take place in, but we placed them in what seems to make the most sense chronologically.
Since my childhood, I can remember being infatuated with death. Not really in the sense of having homicidal intentions or wanting to kill myself, but something about death and decay had always intrigued me. Maybe my fascination lay more in the Grim Reaper himself. Death, the Grim, Angel of Death, he has borne many names throughout history. In most stories and mythology, he is either a worker of the gods or an angel sent out to deliver those to the afterlife when their time has come.
One particular story I had come across interested me more than most. It was a tale rumored to be ancient lore, and it portrayed him as both a god and an instrument of death. An omnipotent being who had been around since before the beginnings of man. In this story, they hinted at him interacting with mortals and instigating many of the wars that we know today. I delved further into the story, trying to find more articles on the internet. There were none there, so to speak, though it did bring me to a list of names.
Scrolling down the page, I finally located it, "Singultus: Omnipotent being in mythology who holds no tangible form, known for interacting in mortal affairs. Manifestation of Death." Deciding I was going to wacko if I heard one more story about an evil demon, I put my research on hold for a day or two, to go see some friends and get out on the town. Oh yeah, you're probably wondering why I was researching such an occult subject in the first place. Well, with my particular interest in demons, death, reapers and the lot of it, I found myself writing horror stories and sci-fi novels. I didn't make much of a living off of it, but I made ends meet. Most people considered me to be rather bland, but this book, I knew there was something about it. My readers would be dying to read it.
Going out that night, I discussed the novel I was writing and the creature I had decided to base it off of. They seemed very interested. An offer was even made by Chris, my best friend, to draw up some art. He was known around the Memphis underground for making a few horror comics back in the day, and he was able to draw up some sick creatures. I had definitely become stoked now that he decided to provide the art I would need for this novel. This would be more or less a written documentary based off of the creature known as Singultus, giving every last detail we could about him. Occult fans from all over would be drawn to it.
Later that week, at around Friday, I awoke to a knock on my door. Reluctantly opening up my eyes, I slowly got to my feet and trudged along my hallway until I arrived at my door. Rushing in, he showed me the sketches he had made of the demon throughout the week. A smile came to my face, it seemed he had already gotten to work. Rest assured, with the both of us working on this, it'd be a best seller.
"Alright...I've got here a few sketches I made of Singultus, from the information I found on him I made a few different depictions. Also, there was this sigil I found, it looks sick!" The symbol had seemed familiar. Like I had seen it somewhere, but I knew that I'd never heard of this demon before. A week prior to this was when I read my first miniscule detail on the subject. For the first month, everything went smoothly, but after that, everything seemed to go downhill. Especially now...
At first, it was Chris, he seemed to be obsessed with the project. He hadn't slept in days the last time I saw him, he was paranoid, body trembling. While rambling about the sketches, he'd mumble words under his breath I couldn't hear. Even while perfecting the sketches, you could hear him constantly rambling aloud to himself. When I'd try to get a response from him, he wouldn't even look towards me. Instead, he'd just keep going about his business until about ten o'clock every night. Then he'd leave and the cycle would repeat. I worried for him, but I didn't want to call the police yet because it didn't look that bad. Then he disappeared.
A full three months had passed before I saw him again, by this time I had already finished writing the book. Now all I was waiting for was another artist to finish the submissions. Figuring Chris had disappeared or was dead, I never expected to see him again. Especially not at this point in time, I hoped he wouldn't question about the share of the money that he was going to make. A friend wouldn't lie to a friend, so I came clean, explaining that I never received or used his work. He definitely seemed like he was healthy again, and I fooled myself into thinking that there was nothing wrong with him. Without a word, he turned and exited, telling me that we would "catch up later" as he put it.
Video Entry #1:
"It's now been a month prior to my book's release, I've just now got the first official copy in the mail. It's a hard back too! If only you knew how stoked I am to see my book in front of me. Hold on, I'll finish this entry after I open it...
So, it's definitely not what I expected as far as what I thought it was going to look like. These are nothing like the sketches that the new artist had showed me, in fact, they're really similar to Chris's works. Let me check out the sigil, that will definitely...well, that's odd. This one looks exactly like the sigil that he drew."
I shut the camera off shortly after that, it certainly disturbed me, but there were no complaints. I certainly favored my friends artwork, but I wondered how they got ahold of it. It wasn't until the next day that everything started falling apart for me. I remember the night before, dreaming all during the night of people asking for autograph at its release. It was entitled Demon History Vol. 1 Signultus, and I didn't plan on it to be the last of my series.
Sadly enough, now in my final hours, it seems much different. It started, as I said, in my dreams. I awoke to an excruciating pain in my chest. It was as if I was having a stroke or heart attack, my chest was tight and my I couldn't breathe. I strained for about two minutes before whatever was wrong seemed to loosen its hold on me.
It wasn't until the following night that I first came into contact with the demon. It approached me in my dreams. Some would call it a nightmare, yet I was in awe of his presence. Yes, I was still scared, but at the same time I couldn't help but admire it. It was a solid white figure with glowing orange orbs sitting in its hollow sockets. It seemed to shift and twist shape, belying its untrue form.
So you wish to know of me, mortal? I can't tell you, but I can certainly show you, for a price. I assure you fame through your last works." I can't lie, my brain was screaming no, but an otherworldly force forced my lips to utter out a mere yes in agreement. It was at that moment I awoke. The sun was blinding me through my curtains once again. This time though I felt rather sick, immediately running to the bathroom despite a dizzy, throbbing skull. Hours seemed to take place as I hurled, bent over in the toilet. Not too long after, I passed out on my bed, colder than imaginable and still smelling of vomit.
I awoke again, screaming as I opened my eyes to a gruesome scene. It was Chris, once again standing in my room, though not at all how any of us would've wanted to see him. His body was bare and he lay dead in my chair, his mouth hanging in a perverted mockery of a smile. His pigmentation had already become pale and his eyes devoid of any color. Behind him, his sketches plastered the wall, glued by what looked like blood. I felt sick again, but my eyes were locked to the grisly tableau before me. I eventually wrenched my eyes from the scene, immediately hurling all over the carpet, not paying any mind. My best friend was dead.
I hope someone is reading this now so my story has been heard. I'm writing what seems like is going to be my last entry. Maybe I stumbled upon some information that I wasn't supposed to? Chris's carcass is now lying on the ground next to me, it's been creeping closer for a few hours now but I never see it move.
It's gotten cold and my body temperature has dropped significantly. I can hear laughter, but everything around me seems grey. A skull is taking shape in my peripherals, still grinning. I'm paying no mind because I don't want this to be real. Please let me wake up. Please? His hands are covering my own and an icy cold feeling is settling in. I can't feel th--
Nothing was legible past that point, though this was an article found at the author's house. This was the last entry of a infamous occult writer known as J.D. Gigas, and it's often been believed as true. Though his true name was never revealed and no copies have been found of his book, this document was written and released in a book of short stories. To this day, his story attracts the attention of occult enthusiasts and critics alike.
We have no real knowing of his intentions behind writing this small excerpt, perhaps it was meant to be a warning. Maybe he wished of people to know not to delve into the unknown, for somethings are better left unspoken. Perhaps it was just a fluke story and a way to attract build-up for a book that was never released. There are many rumors in circulation, but we'll never really know what happened.
Written by Shibyokoku2