Acquisition #0176-1075 Transcript
The full transcript for Acquisition #0176-1075 is as follows. For more information visit the Archivist-in-Residence update post on the subject.
Acquisition #0186-1075-1
Acquisition #0186-1075-2
Acquisition #0186-1075-3
My dear Cyrus,
It is my deepest wish you receive my message well and in good health. To echo your words before my departure, “work is the foundation of friendship.” My friend, you are absolutely right. Only these two things can make me happy and useful to others. My tendency to hide away and devote all of my time and energy to my scholarship has, as you rightfully know, had devastating consequences on my relationships and acquaintances alike. While we find ourselves now separated by days travel, I hold our companionship near and dear to me and shall put forth the labor necessary through correspondence to continue our intimacy in the coming months. With any luck, it will be as if no time has passed at all when we find ourselves in the same room again.
It is with that I write to you of a strange and curious happenstance. You know I am not unfamiliar with the macabre and superstitious, no matter how much I refuse to believe in such matters, I always found the tales from our childhood warning us of the dangers of nighttime or the forest to be enjoyable but nonsense. My mother used to tell us these terrifying things to keep us from getting into trouble but as I am sure you remember that never dissuaded me from sneaking away into the dark.
What occurred to me the other evening evades my explanation. You may be surprised to hear I had a social call with some new colleagues that lasted well later than any of us intended. I assure you I had not been inebriated on my return home. Perhaps my second and final glass of wine was consumed a bit too removed from our dinner, allowing it to enter my empty stomach, but I assure you I had no reason to believe what I experienced was the result of a drunken stupor.
It was on my walk home that I encountered something I still cannot comprehend. It started with a voice. It sounded almost of singing, a bittersweet voice that defied melody but still resonated with some semblance of song. At first I thought nothing of it as I rounded the dark corner to my current abode, leaving the warmth of the gaslit streets to come to my now shrouded doorway. Perhaps it was a bird in the nearby woods, or a tone deaf woman finishing her nightly routine, or a lonely child swimming in their imagination as their voice traveled out their window.
But as I approached my door, it seemed to get louder. It was at this point I truly noticed it for what it was; something unnatural, something strange, something that should not have been. As it became louder, it simultaneously felt more distant. I do not know how else to describe it. It was as if it became an echo of itself yet it boomed around me – it was not the originator of the sound yet it became louder and louder. While startled I was not yet frightened. It was only when I turned to face the street I had once been strolling that I felt any sort of terror. The orange and yellow warmth of the gaslights were replaced with a rose-tinted glow. I felt it was the same color of pink that brushed upon the cheeks of my colleagues at dinner, whose wine glasses never seemed to empty regardless of how often I saw them drink. This rose glow emanated with a ghastly moaning, the same song without a melody I had begun to hear just moments before, but it was not coming from the gaslights. The gaslights were seemingly shut off to make way for this pinkish glow. It was moving from the street and into the alleyway I stood, illuminating with it the other door frames and windows of the narrow space. I made not a single sound while it approached my stoop, making note of the fact that I seemed to be the only creature who could even perceive of it.
In spite of the fear that gripped me, something about the glow felt comforting. It felt welcoming even. I admit I feared for the briefest of moments that this was death himself, come to take me from my mortal body and into my next life. Perhaps this welcoming atmosphere was meant to ease me upon facing my own mortality. Perhaps it was pink to remind me of my favorite carnation, something soft, maternal, and sweet. But it never reached me. As it encroached closer and closer, the glow itself never cast its light upon my skin or jacket or shoes. It approached me, then disappeared. It was not sudden, but gentle. It was as soft as a sigh. The shapeless glow faded away and took its uncanny yet beautiful moaning with it. The gaslight returned their warmth in response. I was left alone, painfully aware of how silent the world around me truly was.
Tell me – what do you make of this? It is almost certainly a result of my anxiety and stress upon this current venture and stage of my life resulting in my mind playing tricks on me. I had always been a devious child, why would my subconscious be any different? I am hoping you have not experienced anything remotely similar to what haunted me two evenings ago. While I have not encountered this strange glowing and moaning phenomenon since, I pray I do not again soon.
Your faithful servant,
Niklaus
