None Of This Is Real

It was midnight again. He had begged mum not to leave him alone tonight, but no amount of pleading and tears had managed to make her stay. He was a big boy now and he must sleep alone. There is nothing in the closet, nothing under the bed. None of it is real. It’s all in your imagination! And with that and a kiss on the forehead, she left the room and switched off the lights. He knew she might be right. Many things he had always thought to be real had turned out to be a product of his overly excited mind. Remember that time you were afraid of the monster under the sink, only to find out that it was a dirty piece of cloth folded in and odd shape? Or when you ran out to the neighbour’s to find mum because the lights had gone off and you though the shadows were out to catch you? Well, the woman in the shed is a bit harder to explain, even dad was a bit freaked out, but you saw there was no one there. Besides, you are wearing your cloak of protection, blessed by the Heaven Queen herself! He looked down at the puffy clouds on his pyjama and then up at the shelf, were the Tireless Guard kept watch over the kingdom with unblinking eyes. Even if the thing was real, there was no place safer than his room. With a sigh of relief, he gave a last glance at his vorpal sword, enchanted with a powerful charm by no other than the Court wizard, and got ready to sleep.

The Dark was looking at him. It had big, round eyes made of sick light that never blinked. The prophecy had told of its returning to the Kingdom, but so soon? He thought of calling his mum. Whenever she was close, all bad things banished somewhere she couldn’t see them and he was safe again. But he was now a big boy. He could do it alone. None of this is real, it’s all in my imagination. He reached for the floor with his small feet. It was very cold and hard, but as long as he was wearing the Queen’s cloak his heart would remain brave and warm. If the Dark was truly back, it was his responsibility to protect the Kingdom! As he clutched his enchanted sword with trembling hands, he looked the Dark in the eye. It was a cold, lifeless stare that shone with borrowed light. None of this is real, it’s all in your imagination. He started walking, towards it, armed with the knowledge that the Tireless Guard was there to watch over him, ready to slay the beast. The Dark blinked. First one eye, and then the other. His blood froze mid step as his breath stopped short of leaving his throat. None of this is real, it’s all in your imagination. There must be an explanation. There always is. The shadows are just shadows and monsters are just piles of clothes. Besides, powerful spells protected the Kingdom from the Dark, it must have found a way somehow! He faced the Dark once more and followed its gaze until the two pale spots of shimmering light brought him to the window. That was it! The moon had sneaked it in! You should have known better. How could you leave the Heaven Gate open? He raced towards the window, afraid that the Dark would grab him by his feet and pulled the curtains as fast as he could. And with that, it was gone. The Kingdom had never been in danger. None of it is real, it’s all in your imagination.

            He was ready to sleep again when something caught his eye. Two spots of immobile whiteness crowning a crescent smile of sharpened pearls stared at him from the wall. None of this is real, it’s all in your imagination. The wooden sword fell from his shaking hands. None of this is real. It’s in your imagination. As he crawled back to bed, he risked a glance at the toys on the shelf, which where as still as they had always been. None of this is real. All of a sudden, he felt small and weak in his silly pyjama. It’s all in my imagination. He covered himself with the bedsheets and closed his eyes, trying to stay as still as he could. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination.  It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination.

            “Yes, I am.”



/Transciption Starts/


Woman’s voice: A preliminary external examination reveals no obvious signs of aggression except for the hard to miss opening in the chest cavity. There are no defensive wounds on arms or hands or other indicatives of resistance. The clothes remain for the most part intact, with the exception of a perfectly vertical cut where the chest has been opened. Judging by the looks of it, the seamlessness of the incision suggests that an extremely sharp tool was used to make the cut, but until the laboratory has analysed the samples, I can only guess.


What have they done to you?


Whoever did this, they knew what they were doing. The chest has been open with surgical precision, causing the minimum amount of trauma to the body. It is almost as if they didn’t want the poor thing to suffer… I will now proceed to-


Mark, is that you? I hope I won’t find you hiding behind the desk again when I’m done, or you will be the next body on my table.


Why would anyone do something like this? The amount of blood found in the chest cavity suggests that the poor creature was still alive when whoever did this tore his heart free from his chest. The vessels have been-


Mark for fuck’s sake, stop it! It’s not fucking funny!


Oh my fucking– I can’t, I don’t– Who did this to you? In all my years I have never seen, I have never– Oh God, I– I must be imagining things, this cannot be, this cannot be, this cannot–




None of this is real. It’s all in my imagination. None of this is real, none of this is real, none of this is–


It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination.  It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination.  It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination.It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination.  It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination.  It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my imagination. It’s all in my–

/Transciption Ends/


Encyclopaedia of Lost Terms: Random Search Query

Unfortunately, the terms “how to prevent world anhilation by giant squidforms- fuck! I told you to bar the fucking door, you moron! Use your fucking brain! They are squids, it can’t be so hard to—-” did not produce any conclusive results. We hope that these randomly retrieved entries may be of assistance.

Wind Heart

1. wiz. A gyrating amalgamation of kinetic energy that resides at the core of every major wind. Under normal circumstances, a wind heart is all but invisible and mostly intangible, but sudden state changes such as fits of anger or dramatic changes in mood may reveal its approximate position. It is said that the wind will obey every wish and command of the one who posses their heart, although this piece of information is more likely to be the result of fairy tales and philosophic lectios.

Similar entries:

To have a wind’s heart. Refers to an individual who has the tendency of hiding their own feelings and emotions. ‘He has a wind’s heart, but he would do anything for his friends.’

To be wind-hearted. Of fickle disposition, prone to mood swings. ‘She is so wind-hearted, I can never tell what mood I’ll find her in.’

Strange Voltage

1. wiz. comp. Residual cosmos that sometimes remains after a failed compelling attempt, known to leak into nearby unattended objects and animate them to life. Several attempts have been made by various arcane practitioners to establish communication with said objects, mostly to no avail. The only recorded instance of anything resembling success in this matter can be traced back to Arch-Animist Phibianos, who had a brief exchange with his teak chair after a compelling attempt gone wrong. The transcript of the event goes as follows: ‘muffled’ “Get your stinky ass off of my face!” Whether this was an actual case of strange voltage or the delayed awakening of the teak tree the chair was made of is still a source of debate.

2. sit. An awkward or uncanny situation. A strange voltage fell on the room after the wizard left.

See also:

Stranger Voltages: A Look into Acosmological Compelling

‘Rise and walk!’ said the Drunk Druid: On Crossreferential Life Patterns and Late Awakenings

Drama Key

1. theat. antiq. Scene or event around which a whole narrative or play revolves and from which all character interaction and development ultimately stems. Said event can be located in the narrative past, present or future, but all actions must be traceable back to it in one way or another. Ancient playwright and part-time worm tamer Fronteima commited himself to this technique to such an extent that he is believed to have learned timeshifting in order to arrange his life according to the principles of the Drama Key. The chronopatterns that resulted from this exercise of temporal elasticity would go on to become the first case of true, albeit momentary, ubiquitiousness known to have manifested itself through a human being.

2. retho. antiq. Moment, concept, event, notion, feeling or emotion that triggers a response in a person or group of people. The concept of the Drama Key was abandoned at the end of the Existential Wars, when the appearance of the Paranoid Profusion rendered the notion effectively useless for manipulation purposes.