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A short summary of the philosophy of Hyperianism:
You should not live a mundane life with a 9-5 job and doing the same thing day in and day out. You should work towards becoming a god. You live in a mathematical reality which has an avatar (the body) which you (a mind) connects to. Your goal is to reach infinity, which is a state where the mind does not need a body anymore. Create art and express yourself sexually without being ashamed.
The leader Morgue have even admitted that it's a cult, calling it "the cult of reason". And uses typical cult manipulation by telling his followers that it's those who are opposed to the movement who are insane and that they are the ones who are delusional, not the cult. The goal of the Hyperian movement is to take over the world and change it. Where "the rich 1 percent" have no power. A world where people can "become themselves" and move foreward.
I joined the church of Hyperianism... Don’t make the same mistake
I started seeing his videos on Facebook. They’d just pop up on my timeline.
He looked odd. Long, white hair that was straight and extended down past his stomach. His eyebrows were shaved off, or maybe they were never there to begin with, it was impossible to tell. He wore strange make-up to accent his inhuman features and project an alternative style.
His voice was both confident and articulate, but it was the things he said that drew me in. He spoke about the wonders of the universe, how it all worked and how every little thing we saw was nothing more than a complex system of mathematics put together to form what we perceived as reality.
Intrigued and desperate for something to believe in greater than myself, I couldn’t help but watch hours upon hours of the man. He was known only as Morgue, and he preached a religion in which he seemed to be the founder of or, at the very least, a strong influencer of the belief.
I’ll admit, looking back on Hyperianism, I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known that following something like this would only result in pain, but I was naive and, as I said before, desperate. My faith had been a bit wobbly before I found Morgue. My heart was empty and hopeless.
Then, as if by divine intervention, he was there.
His video, which was nothing more than a square jawed, androgynous man staring into a camera and speaking, drew me in. I think it was the eloquent intensity he spoke with. The way he explained how the world and all the scenarios that play out around us are just complex systems of math equations ebbing and flowing through space and time, something he’d dubbed Hyperianism.
It was genuinely titillating.
And even better - at the end of one of his more recent videos, aptly titled “The reason your life is empty,” he spoke of a meet and greet happening exactly one week from the time I’d watched it. An opportunity to speak with Morgue himself, along with his two closest colleagues, regarding Hyperianism and how to become a member of the “church.”
Sure, at first I had the thought that they would try to sell me something. I figured it was just a way for them to collect money. But then, as if he was answering my questions as they popped into my mind, he said:
“No, we will not try to sell you anything. And no, we are not looking for donations. We are looking for dedicated members of society who want to fulfill their destiny and become Hyperianists. Individuals who want nothing more than to know the truth. To EVOLVE beyond your wildest dreams.”
My mind was made up. I had my plane tickets bought only minutes after the video ended and excitement began to bubble inside of me. I was going to get to meet this man. To become a part of something greater than myself. To find something to believe in, finally!
Getting the time off work proved to be difficult. My boss refused to grant me a leave of absence, and because I didn’t have the vacation time accumulated he wouldn’t approve it that way either. So, I quit.
From what Morgue said in his video:
“You won’t need to be confined to human monotony. You won’t need a job after you’ve accepted Hyperianism. You will see the world for its true self. You will find yourself on a different plane, above all the rest.”
Over the course of the following week I took my money out of savings. I felt that, although after my religious awakening was complete I wouldn’t need these things, I would need to survive in the meantime. Food, water and shelter were still necessary.
Finally, the day arrived. The day I was to travel to Las Vegas in search of a man named Morgue who could show me divinity in its purest form. Looking back, even as I type that, I know it wasn’t my smartest move. Desperation can lead people to do things that don’t always make sense.
I boarded the airplane with only a single bag. I figured I wouldn’t need anything more. I would be awakened and, as Morgue said:
“Human constructs need not be collected post-divination. Your mind will be open to the complex system of mathematical sines and cosines around you. Material possessions will be deemed pointless, in your mind’s eye.”
The flight landed. The sky was dark seeing as my flight arrived shortly after 9pm, but the bright lights from the nearby, infamous Vegas Strip illuminated the atmosphere in surreal intensity.
Seeing the line-up of hotels and casinos, the characters travelling up and down the main drag with odd clothes and exotic animals and the people bustling about this late at night, drunkenly stumbling around the wide sidewalk caused me to smile ear to ear with exhilarated giddiness.
I approached my hotel, nerves causing my legs to wobble beneath me. I could feel my hands vibrating with a tremor, something I hadn’t been victim to before.
This was going to change my life. I could feel it.
The meeting wasn’t going to start until midnight because, as Morgue said in his video:
“Time is merely a construct meant to keep the human population at bay and without freedom. We will not be confined by imaginary constraints. We will remain nocturnal and break the chains of society’s overwatch on us. We will do as we please with whom we please. We will not be bound.”
I checked into my hotel room, having to place a large sum of money down as a deposit since I was paying in cash. The room was nice. Not quite as nice as I expected for how much I paid, but I didn’t think much of it. My mind just replayed Morgue’s words and I felt at ease.
I relaxed in my hotel room for a few hours, taking a few of the overly priced shots from the mini bar. By about 11pm, I’d started to feel a bit of a buzz and an overt amount of boredom. I figured I’d kill the hour downstairs in the casino playing some nickel and dime slots.
As you probably guessed, I didn’t win much. I just blew through about two-hundred dollars worth of change, and downed another two or three drinks in the short span of an hour, without so much as a second thought.
Then, the time came. I received a text from an unknown number giving me simple instructions:
“Go to room 1274.”
Easy enough.
When I got up to the twelfth floor, I saw a baker’s dozen people heading in the same direction as me. They moved slow, zombie-like and had vacant expressions on their faces clouded by a deep seated anxiety deep inside their eyes.
Their lack of physical emotion sent chills down my spine. A feeling that was hard to shake off as I joined the herd and headed toward room 1274. My mind was fuzzy on account of the drinks, but that didn’t stop me from wandering through the depths of my mind and playing scenario after horrifying scenario.
The image of robed figures splaying me out on a pedestal, spilling my innards over some sort of satanic symbols followed thoughts that perhaps I was walking into some sort of trap.
I tried to force the negativity to leave my mind by using some techniques I’d picked up in a few of Morgue’s videos, but they didn’t seem to be working. That should have been the first sign that something about this wasn’t quite what it was hyped up to be.
I went forward, swallowing my fear and fighting my legs to continue moving down the hall and into the door to room 1274.
When I arrived, following the half dozen or so people who hadn’t changed their minds halfway down the hall, I couldn’t help but notice the room was impossibly dark. Uninviting scents of sweat and incense wafted into my nose as I sat down on a small folding chair.
Everyone around me was silent, waiting patiently for any sign that we were in the right place. After an excruciatingly long five minutes of anxious waiting, something started to happen.
A sound of deep bass bellowed throughout the room. Black lights lined the ceiling, illuminating a geometric symbol painted on the wall and causing it to glow bright blue.
A man, deathly skinny with long hair that also seemed to glow under the neon purple lighting, stepped up in front of the chairs and began speaking.
“Good evening.” He said in a familiar, articulate tone. “Tonight you have chosen to be awakened. You have seen that there is something more and you wish to be pushed into a state of divination.”
A stage light shined from behind me, causing his pale skin to glow bright white. The familiar man who’s videos I’d obsessively watched over the past few days looked a bit different. He was older. Much older.
“I am here to guide you into a state of consciousness that you have only dreamt about. I am here to give you the push required to open your mind.”
He made a gentle pushing gesture with his hands. It was theatrical, just like his videos. He smiled a terrible, crooked tooth, squinty-eyed smile. It shouted malice, but my mind argued with my instincts. It told me that I was being irrational; that my fear of the unknown was forcing me to see things that weren’t true.
Two people who made themselves known as Morgue’s colleagues began to make their way around to each of the six people that sat scattered throughout the room.
One was a lady, tall and thin like Morgue. She was covered from head to toe in tattoos of oddly configured shapes, all symmetrical from what I could see. She had a thick gauged septum ring that connected at each end of the horseshoe style jewelry to thin chains that strung up to her eyebrows and attached to circular rings there. It gave the faint appearance of a veil draped over her face.
The other was a large man. Round, as if he didn’t get the memo that food was no longer a necessity. He sported a tall, stiff mohawk. He opened his mouth as he approached me, revealing tarnished silver teeth. His eyes were inhuman, cat-like marbles set deep inside his perspiring head.
“Freedom awaits,” he said, handing me a small paper stick.
I wasn’t sure what to make of the small object, but it looked and felt similar to a pixie stick. Long and cylindrical with a sand like material that moved around as I kneaded it.
Morgue continued in the fashion of a true showman:
“We are here to help all who will welcome us. We want each and every one of you to take control of your destiny. To unlock your true potential and transcend this monotonous reality into a true state of nirvana and open-ended bliss. You will be in control of everything around you, changing that which does not please you, and highlighting that which does.”
He presented a cylinder identical to the one we all now held in our hands. The two punk-rock sidekicks joined him on stage, standing just outside of the spotlight.
The trio reminded me more of a circus sideshow, or some sort of freak show, rather than a group of religious leaders. That familiar anxiety began to grow inside me once again, fizzling deep within my stomach and tying my gut into a thick knot.
“Now,” Morgue said, raising his cylinder. “Raise your prophetic dust and ingest it with me. Become one with Hyperianism and leave behind this pathetic and putrid existence.”
He turned the cylinder up, into his mouth, tilting his head back. His Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, inhumanly large like some sort of clementine stuck halfway down his esophagus.
His words sent my mind on a rampage of negative thoughts and terrifying realities. Was I right? Was this some sort of Jim Jones or Dave Koresh scenario that I’d gotten myself caught up in? How would I escape?
My breathing became rapid and erratic. A thick layer of sweat began to form all across my body and the room started to close in around me. My heart pounded deep inside my chest as I reached up and tugged at my collar, vainly attempting to cool my body.
I looked around and saw only two others doing as he commanded. The rest seemed to make the same connection as I did and simply looked around. Then, all four of our eyes fell on the two followers, as well as Morgue himself.
They’d ingested this substance that was likely poison. Any second now, they should begin to show signs. Foaming at the mouth, writhing on the floor, something…
But there was nothing. No sign that they had just willingly killed themselves.
Morgue also looked fine. If anything, he actually looked ten years younger, as if he’d stepped into the fountain of youth before our eyes. I wasn’t sure what the rest of the crowd was thinking, but this was only partially comforting. It was clear, at least in my mind, that Morgue had simply taken a placebo. The real poison was held by those of us seated in front of him.
But still, the two who were brave enough to try it didn’t fall out or start convulsing uncontrollably, which sparked my curiosity. If it wasn’t poison, then what was it? Still, I wasn’t curious enough to find out for myself, regardless of how compelling Morgue’s videos had been. Sure, he’d made a decent argument for his cause online, but undeniable proof would’ve been more convincing.
Unfortunately for the other devotees, they saw things differently. They looked to one another before upturning the small cylinders, dumping the contents into their mouths. Each of them shuddered in disgust as the fine powder hit their tongues and began to work its way down their throats.
A man two seats to my right looked at me. The pained expression of utter disgust quickly washing away from his face, replaced by a euphoric absence as his eyes glazed over. Now, he looked more like a slave to the substance than a man free of human constraint.
My eyes quickly darted to the front of the room. Morgue and his two sidekicks appeared to be eyeing me. Waiting for me to make the same choice as the others around me. He looked at the woman to his left, then turned his head dramatically to the heavy-set man to his right. I noticed his skin appeared to glow brighter under the spot light, nearly blinding me.
“There’s always one…” he said, trailing off with a sinister laugh.
The woman suddenly appeared to my right. It was impossible and caused me to jump with a start. She had literally just been ten feet in front of me and, in the blink of an eye, appeared by my side. The rotund man was on my left, also as if by some sort of magical teleportation.
They extended arms out toward me, sending me into a panicked hysteria. My mind suddenly switched focus. It was now fight or flight, and flight didn’t seem like much of an option seeing as how I was surrounded.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, sending gooseflesh rising across my body. My limbs shook uncontrollably. I managed, after a moment of pure terror, to clench a fist and hurl it at the woman. It was against my natural instincts, having been raised to never hit a woman, but she was a threat and I was left with no other choice.
My knuckles connected with her nose and I heard a loud crunch as my hand struck her face. I pulled back, but something held my hand in place against her face, resisting as I attempted to pull away. Without thinking, I jerked my hand back.
She grabbed her face and let out a yawp, collapsing to the floor and writhing in agony. I looked down at my throbbing hand and noticed thin chains encircling my fist, embedded into the skin in some areas. Small bits of flesh hung on the ends attached to circular rings.
I knew this was my only chance. I had to run. I had to go and never look back.
I jumped up, over the small folding chairs and bolted towards the door. Morgue stood there, blocking the only exit. He was motionless, his arms crossed over his shirtless torso and his large, penetrating eyes staring at me with contempt.
The foreboding sense of pure dread lingered in the air, thick enough to cut. I stared at Morgue as I came to a halt about six feet away from him. I was unsure if I should try to rush him or if I should look for another escape route.
My time was running short and I knew it. I knew if I didn’t try to make my escape now, I wouldn’t have another opportunity. I decided to rush him, remembering my brief stint in elementary school football. I sprinted toward him, ready to make the tackle. I came in low and wrapped my arms around his waist but he didn’t budge. I was stopped in my tracks as if he was made of stone, slamming my shoulder into rock hard flesh.
I stumbled back, gripping my aching shoulder. Why didn’t he move? Was this really how I was meant to die? I refused to accept it. I couldn’t allow myself to fall victim to this… thing.
“You cannot escape us.” He said, slowly stepping toward me.
I felt a hand grip my shoulder and whipped my head around to see the familiar large man covered in tattoos. The henchman who’d handed me the prospective poison. Rage billowed deep within his eyes, his mouth was turned up in a horrid scowl. The neon lighting of the room seemed to accent this rage, giving him a demonic, glowing aura.
I scanned the room in search of something… anything that I might be able to use to aid my escape, but there was nothing. The five others who had entered with me sat in their seats staring forward as if they didn’t realize the commotion happening around them.
“Hey!” I shouted, trying to get their attention as the large man tightened his grip on my shoulder and brought his other hand up to my opposite shoulder.
He had a grip on me like a vice, lifting me clear off my feet and dangling me in the air for a moment. I flailed my legs in a vain attempt to free myself from his grip. It was pointless, though. He was the size of a full grown ox, triple my weight, and he had a strong hold on me.
I stopped resisting for a moment and thought. The pressure bearing down on my chest and arms was shortening my breaths and clouding my mind. I couldn’t figure out how I would escape and had begun to accept my fate. I’d gotten in too far over my head.
Then, it hit me. The woman didn’t seem to be impervious like Morgue. I was able to land a swift punch to her face that she had yet to recover from. I looked over the large man’s shoulder, at the heap of bone and flesh on the floor. She panted, gripping at her face, but she did not stand.
I found myself in another dilemma, though. My arms were pinned to my sides, so landing a punch was out of the question.
Think… think! I told myself in my mind.
The thought came quickly, and I acted just as fast. I reared my leg back, winding up for a powerful kick before whipping it forward, as hard as I could. I felt the top part of my foot land hard in his crotch. Flesh collapsed under the force of my kick, and I saw the man’s expression quickly change. The fury left him, replaced by absolute agony.
He quickly released his grip on me and his hands found their way to his family jewels. He let out a groan and exhaled all the air from his lungs as he fell to the ground. I stumbled down, watching Morgue make a slow and methodical approach.
He walked by the heap of man on the floor, staring down at him with utter disgust.
“Pathetic…” he said through gritted teeth as he reared back and landed a kick. Morgue’s heavy boot connected with the man’s ribs and an inconceivably loud crunch echoed through the room, causing me to wince in repulsion.
It became clear to me then that Morgue had no sympathy for his “colleagues.” They were likely just people that he’d converted to his twisted religion. People who saw no other option than to do as they were told.
I looked back at the people, still seated and staring up at the wall. Their eyes were fixed on that glowing symbol on the wall behind where Morgue had made his dramatic introduction.
Then, something happened. Something I still can’t quite explain.
All at once, the people let out an exhausted breath. A glowing, misty cloud escaped each of their mouths and made its way to the front of the room, falling onto the painted symbol on the wall. It appeared to be pulling the mist into the center, as if it were some sort of vacuum. The glow pulsated, growing brighter then dimming, as it absorbed the cloud.
Then, as the last of it escaped their mouths, the people collapsed from their seats and laid in heaps on the ground. I stared in horror as their bodies quickly decayed before my eyes, turning into ash before collapsing into small mountains of grey dust that glowed under the club style lighting around me.
That… That could’ve been me… I thought, trembling in fear.
I turned my head and looked back at Morgue, who took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes and letting a sinister grin stretch across his face from ear to ear. When he let the breath out and looked at me, a warm sensation spread across my front as my bladder emptied its contents from complete and utter fear.
His eyes glowed in their sockets. Not like your typical neon glow under a blacklight. No, they were bright red, like laser beams shooting from his eyes. His emaciated frame had suddenly filled out, his muscle nearly tripling in size, veins bulging from his chest and biceps. His trapezius swelled up, eliminating the appearance of a neck.
I couldn’t move. My legs simply would not take me to safety and instead, remained planted in place as the warm urine continued to spread across my jeans. Morgue continued to transform before my eyes. His hands became increasingly large, and his black fingernails, which I had previously assumed to be painted, grew into long, sharp talons.
Finally, my legs took what my brain told them to do and acted, but not in the way I expected. Rather than bolting for the door, they decided to slowly back away from this monster. Not a terrible move, I must say, but not the smartest.
I continued backing up, kicking metal folding chairs out of my way without taking my eyes off of the snarling beast before me. It appeared his terrifying and amazing transformation was complete and he had now locked eyes with me. My heart felt like it was going to jump up my throat and out of my mouth, beating crazily in my chest as the beast approached.
I felt myself back into something solid, a cool breeze shot up my back from below. The air conditioner, and the cool wall against my back was the window.
Morgue snarled inhumanly deep, squelching gurgles as he continued taking heavy, thumping steps toward me.
He stopped for a moment, just over arms length away from me.
A split second of silence. A brief thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d make it out alive. Maybe he would just let me leave.
That thought exited my mind quickly as he leapt forward, barreling straight at me with his steroid built body. His feet fell one over another, thundering below me and vibrating the carpeted floor beneath my feet.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment.
Then I felt it.
The stinging sensation of his claws digging into my torso. The vibrating pulsation of puncturing talons inserting themselves deep into my skin, making their way below layer after layer of skin until they found muscle and seated themselves into it.
The sound of shattering glass behind me as the window I was propped up against gave way, sending myself and Morgue plummeting twelve stories down.
We flipped through the air as my insides twisted and butterflies fluttered in my torso. Morgue still had his claws deep inside of my stomach, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel anything as the adrenaline pumped hard through my veins.
I could hear screams gaining volume below me, barely audible over the roar of wind invading my ears. I closed my eyes and came to grips with the reality that this was my demise. I stopped with a thud, air forcing its way out of my lungs before blacking out.
Small bits of consciousness came back to me violently. Flashes of incomprehensible pieces of reality interrupted by darkness.
The feeling of drowning, air being replaced by water inside of my lungs, a pulsating pressure on my sternum followed by oxygen forcing its way down my trachea. Flashing red lights and two men lifting my body off the ground.
When I finally awoke, my surroundings were foreign. Rhythmic beeping played in the background coupled with the intermittent hissing of oxygen purging itself from over-pressurized lines.
I looked around, squinting my eyes as the fluorescent lighting above me shone down. Intravenous fluid lines invaded my right arm. My left was wrapped in a hard cast. Aches in my back and chest caused my breathing to be short and labored. My mouth was impossibly dry, lips sticking together as I opened and tried to speak.
“Hello?” I said, forcing the words out in a gritty screech.
I was alone. An off-white thermal blanket draped over me as I laid, sprawled out on a hospital bed. One of the many monitors attached to me began beeping faster before someone finally entered. A woman in scrubs bearing a familiar comic book character symbol walked in.
“Oh, excellent!” she cheered in a tone that was all too chipper. “You’re awake. Your doctor will be so happy to hear that! How are you feeling?”
I could hear genuine concern in her tone, but didn’t know how to answer.
“Wha-” I started but was cut off.
“What happened?” She asked, assuming what I was thinking. “You fell twelve stories out of your hotel room. Luckily you went right into the pool and one of the brave, albeit drunk, guys downstairs was able to fish you out in time.”
I sat there for a moment, the look on my face that of pure confusion. Then, everything came back to me in a horrific flash. I felt my pulse speeding up as the panic began to flow freely through my veins. The monotonous beeping sped up, giving away my secret to the nurse.
“Woah, woah,” she said. “It’s okay. Just calm down a moment.”
She held her hands in front of her, palms out as if to say “don’t worry.” I could do anything but. Thoughts flowed freely through my mind. Where had Morgue gone? Would he be back?
My chest began to sting and throb as my breathing became heavier. I sighed and gasped in pain. The nurse seemed to read me like a book, making sense of my guttural noises.
“You’ve got a handful of broken ribs and some pretty serious puncture wounds across your chest. You need to take it easy. I’m going to give you a mild sedative. Just something to calm your nerves.”
She held up a needle before inserting it into the IV line sticking out of my arm. As she depressed the plunger, I felt the cold liquid spread through my veins. A few seconds later, the effects of the medicine became noticeable. She placed the syringe into a sharps bin before turning back to me and removing her rubber gloves.
“Your doctor will be in shortly.”
She smiled, turned and left the room. My mouth still felt like a desert, but I felt myself slowly drifting to sleep once again. A restful daze took its hold on me as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment.
Visions of Morgue making his daring and terrible transformation invaded my mind, sending me reeling in horror as the scene played out in my head once again. A disembodied voice that I hadn’t recognized repeated my name over and over again.
“Jona-ton?” he asked. “Jona-ton, are you awake?
He spoke with a hispanic accent, saying my name with the slightest inflection at the end.
My eyes shot open and relief washed over me as I realized I was still in the safety of the hospital room. A man was seated next to my bed. Dark complexion with black hair slicked back and a thick layer of scruff covering his chin.
“Buenas dias,” he said, smiling as he looked down at his clipboard. “How are you feeling?”
I struggled to speak through my dry mouth and the utter exhaustion I felt.
“Crappy,” I said in a raspy whisper.
“As expected,” he gave a half-hearted chuckle before continuing. “You fell nearly a hundred and twenty feet. You’re quite lucky to be alive. Can you tell me your name?”
“Yeah… ah,” I winced in pain as I attempted to prop myself up a bit. “Jonathon Winslow.” I said, struggling through the words as my squeaky voice grounded away in my throat.
“Good, Jona-ton. Now,” he straightened the glasses perched on his nose. “I am going to leave you here with Officer Black. She has a couple questions for you regarding how you fell from that window.”
He motioned towards the door where a small, petite woman entered the room. She wore a blue uniform adorned with a patch on her left shoulder that read “Las Vegas Police Department.” Her small nose, narrow eyes and darker complexion told me she was likely of Asian descent.
“Hello, mister Winslow.” She said, bringing a lime green clipboard up to her chest and jotting something down. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Her eyes jumped from the piece of green plastic she held and met my gaze. I knew she wouldn’t believe my story, but what else could I say? The nervousness was definitely showing on my face. If I didn’t choose my words carefully, I could be committed to some sort of psych ward or mental institution under the Baker Act, and I certainly didn’t belong there.
I pondered what could possibly go wrong if I just admitted why I’d gone there in the first place, and simply left out the part where Morgue turned into some sort of demonic monster. It wasn’t so far fetched to think I’d gone there searching for something to believe in and when I showed up, I was met with a group of psychopaths who ultimately tried to kill me before tossing me out the window.
I opted for that excuse which Officer Black seemed to have no trouble believing. I guess the stories about Vegas are true - anything goes in this city.
She took down a description of all three people, but I knew nothing would be done. There was nothing they could do. They didn’t have a real name, and from the clock on the wall I knew it was at least 9am, meaning they’d had 9 hours to make their escape.
She nodded, thanking me for the information, turned and exited.
The doctor entered once again and informed me that I would need a few tests. Being conscious would allow them to find brain damage easier, if there was any.
Aside from a somewhat minor concussion, several broken ribs, a broken arm, and multiple lacerations and puncture wounds, I was ultimately given a clean bill of health. But what would I do? I was stuck in Vegas with no money, no car and no job waiting for me back home.
I left the hospital and found that it was surprisingly easy to secure a payday loan. It struck me as odd at first, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that a guy being stranded in Vegas with no car or money might be a pretty common scenario.
After securing a flight and making my way home, I finally felt safe. I could settle back into reality, knowing that the existence Morgue had preached about was non-existent. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of paranoia, though. The thought that everytime I looked over my shoulder or around a dark corner, Morgue would be there. His hulking figure and large talons ready to finish the job they’d started sent chills down my spine and anxiety gripping my chest.
Getting my job back was tough. Not because my boss didn’t want me back, but because I had to put my pride to the wayside and formulate a somewhat embarrassing lie. The look on his face changed in an instant.
At first he’d had a contemptuous look, eyebrows parallel and a frown smeared across his jaw, ready for me to get down on my knees and beg. But as soon as I told him that I’d quit because I was in a bad place mentally, and that I needed to get help, his expression shifted. His eyebrows raised in a state of concern, the frown, although still present, no longer conveyed contempt but worry.
“Oh, Jonathon. I’m sorry, man…” He’d told me, eyes darting around his head like a madman. “You’re welcome back here as soon as you can. Take a few days to yourself and then we’ll see you back here on… say, Monday?”
I smiled, unsure of what to say other than:
“Sounds good, thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”
I turned and walked out after a quick handshake, the feeling of accomplishment forming a victorious smirk on my face. Things were back to normal. My weekend was insane, but now I could settle back into the norm.
A few weeks passed. Things were going as good as they could, but that empty feeling had begun to return. I could feel myself falling back into a slump.
Browsing through facebook seemed to be my time waster of choice. Scrolling through and liking photos, laughing internally at memes, watching short videos of people doing dumb stuff that ultimately resulted in them being hurt. Typical internet stuff.
Then, I saw it. That androgynous man, no eye brows. Long, white-blonde hair draped over his face in matted, wet strands. He stared into the camera, speaking familiar teachings. Things about how to control the universe - how to make it work in your favor.
I wouldn’t be tempted this time, though. I knew his secret. I knew what his endgame was.
I tapped my thumb on the profile picture associated with Morgue, taking me to an archive of all his videos. Some familiar, some new. I didn’t watch them, though. I simply clicked the “more options” tab, scrolled to the bottom of the menu and clicked “Block User.”
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