Epithimia Gia Athanasia

It has been nearly three months since I obtained the book from the old man's estate.

For nearly three months I've spent deciphering its contents, its purpose.

I knew it was of considerate power, to say the least.

It seems that I had blatantly underestimated it.

My dreams are now envenomed with its whisperings.

It reveals to me wonderful things - horrid and sweet. Sordid yet blissful.

Treasures never hidden.

Secrets never sought after.

Answers without questions.

I leave my house more and more scarcely as time passes.

I hear ominous thumping noises from within the walls.

Wailing and sobbing from the basement, and somewhat unsettling laughter from the attic.

I should probably be worried, but I have no time for such foolish sentimentality.

What used to be my bedroom is now a pathway to a forest.

At first when I opened the door after the continuing rustling sounds I sthought I was simply hallucinating. Delirious from the exhaustion.

But there was the brisk smell of woods after rain.

The tranquil unscathed from a pack of wolves, I dared not to venture there any further.

I hear distant footsteps from my wardrobe.

Echoing like in an ancient hallway.