23:14, near the bay side of Firth and Forth, Edinburgh. A marvelous landscape for the naked eye, but such a dreadful sight for a troubled mind. Scott took rock by rock and threw them into the shallow waters of the enigmatic and luscious river. It was his habit, after all, to go there and clear his mind of any lingering thoughts that wouldn’t let him rest. However, this time was different.

It looked like the once peaceful darkness, in which he always found comfort, turned on him. It felt like the last beacon of hope had left him and slowly, but surely, a malevolent drive was building up in him, just as if it was ready to burst any time then. He made desperate efforts to shift his focus, to stop thinking about it, but it was too late for that. Looking at his phone, he saw several messages and missed calls from his girlfriend, Abby. ‘I knew I couldn’t fool her, she is too smart, as much as I don’t want to acknowledge it’, he thought to himself. Of course she knew something wasn’t in place, at no time before then had he neglected her in such a manner.

Scott never thought it would really happen, no, not to a man like himself, so unsure of his own abilities. He often wondered, in a foolish and childish way, why others were blessed with the gift that seemed to dodge him on every occasion. Yet, on that day, providence had finally proven him otherwise. At first, he felt like all his dreams had been fulfilled. He obtained pure knowledge, but at what cost?

The hour was now exactly ten minutes to midnight and he decided he could not bear it anymore. An unworldly venom filled his veins right now, wickedly rejecting any form of sane opposition. As such, it was settled.

Abby lived close to the river-side, in an average, but sufficing house. She was the kind of person who put minimum thought on the materialistic aspect of life, striving every day to enrich herself, rather than her surroundings. She had only a few trustworthy persons in her life, besides Scott. Nevertheless, she liked things to stay that way. The passion for him was the single everlasting pillar of her world, keeping her heart warm after the death of her adoptive parents. Bringing joy to his first and last, a stray soul who experienced maybe too much for one lifetime, came so naturally to him, as though it was written in the stars.

As the clock lastly struck midnight, she heard a firm knock coming from the door downstairs. Frightened a little, she immediately got out of bed, as her insightful intuition told her that it was Scott. Truthfully speaking, she couldn’t have been more right.

The animal just charged in, pushing her directly onto the floor. Just by slightly glaring at him, she concluded that he finally transformed into the sick ideal he used to tell her about occasionally. Still dazed from the impact, she began realizing how mistaken she had been at correlating those episodes of him with sheer wildness, when there was so much more to it than she could ever possibly hope to understand. ‘Stay down and don’t speak a word’, he yelled, in the utmost brutal way one could imagine. He took a knife from the nearby counter and, seemingly unbiased, as though it was expected of him, Scott began carving his chest in a very distinct and symmetrical way, slowly moving towards his heart. As he gracefully went on with his madness, he started speaking to her, taking a reciting, almost ritualistic position. 

‘Under no circumstance should you ever delve into the uncanny, the occult. Pleasure yourself from this moment on, leave my woes behind and you shall ascend to a higher state of existence. As strange as it may seem, you are a better person than I ever hoped to be. This storm will pass and better moments will unfold before you, but only if you carefully listen to me. Only in death, will you learn the truth that lead to this very juncture. Hatred and anger are going to govern you for a time. Obscure in nature, this is my farewell to you and only you.’

As this last phrase came out of his mouth, the last drop of sanity he may have had left, deserted him. He began to slit his throat, right in front of her. Acceptance was written all over his expression, while she cried hopelessly at the horrific sight of him, her beloved. Blood was dripping everywhere, covering the cold floor almost instantly. Her whole body was trembling and, in the shock of the moment, her first instinct was to pick up the same knife that Scott used and end it all right there, alongside him. It all felt as if nothing made sense anymore, without him to grip her tight into his arms one last time and tell her it was all going to be alright. She took the knife and positioned herself right next to his lifeless body. Holding the knife, she screamed in agony, readying for the final step. But, as she merely came to terms with her own mortality, one last epitaph required her attention. Through the tears, she saw a note, converging from the left pocket of his dirty, stained coat. It was completely untouched by Scott’s tainted blood, having been written in such calligraphy and artistry that even death could not stop Abby from reading it.

Her hair was blonde and it took some time,

To realize what she meant in all this climb.

My Abby was light,

Keen hearted on not losing the fight.

Many say, that as nightmares fade away,

Perfect beings start to contemplate.

Even black dogs ran at the sight of her,

Leaving most of us in a box, shaped of gold.

That being said, I guide my steps on more; And that completes my pitch-black show.

It was at that moment that time stopped for a few seconds, when a powerful entity made its presence felt. Abby’s vision darkened, while her body paralyzed slowly. Something didn’t want her to face the same fate as her loved one. Now, it was all so silent. Serenity took the place of desperation. Whispering voices and hollow images clouded her mind, as chaos slowly penetrated. One could think that it was just her mind, playing tricks on her. Sadly, this was not the case.

To this day, the death of Scott remains embellished in an aura of mystery. What force could have driven him to such extents, to the point of no return and why did he choose that particular night to do such an unspeakable thing? 

Abby could only recall being awakened in a hospital room. Someone that looked like a doctor told her that she had been in a coma for two weeks and that it was a miracle that she awakened. After she somewhat came to her senses, the doctor asked her if she remembered anything. ‘No..’, she answered, in a very unsure and suspect manner. ‘Well, Ms. Rutherford, your neighbours found you all covered in blood in your own home. The lab tests came back and the blood seems to belong to a certain Mr. Knightley, who went missing, surprisingly, on the same day that you were found.’ As the doctor continued questioning her, she became more and more aware of the situation that unraveled before her eyes. Who could perceive the terrors that roamed her intellect during that two weeks spent in the absolute void? If there is one thing that Scott failed to warn Abby of, it is that unconsciousness can bring you to utter insanity, not because of its ambiguity, but more of its undesirable authenticity.

Suddenly, it all started to come back to her. After seconds of silence, the befuddled look on her face took the shape of an inanimate, quite grotesque one as she inadvertently started shouting at him ‘Gazing upon all your tormented, guilty souls will be such a delight. Chance made you my witness, and witness you shall, you poor, misfortunate being. I took him, as I will take her. Fear the unknown, for it will be the doom of all humanity and my ceaseless satisfaction.’ Abby’s pulse jumped to outrageous values, as life left her in a wink. The doctor could not believe his eyes, nor his senses, having been rendered speechless.

Weeks became months, months became years, but the memoir of that day still shook the doctor from all his corners. His career lead him to believe that death is peaceful, a final step towards eternal rest. Yet, now that he had glimpsed through the curtains, nobody can blame him for thinking differently.

Evil Incarnate, I say. Though its methods should remain unexplored, the mystical eludes us still.

    From the beginning, I would like to distinguish myself as an observer. This is a personal work that presents my own view on the subject at hand in which I try to assert these two quite misunderstood concepts from different perspectives.

    As such, I start by trying to differentiate the notion of Truth from Dogma.

    Truth, I tend to believe, is the most sought upon characteristic within all that is said and heard. At its root stands the highly passed around principle that it should transcend such concepts as Gender, Race, Nationality, Age and so forth. I emphasize on the probability of this fact mainly because, as you most know, truth came to be influenced and altered by different powers throughout history, thus nullifying my previous statement. Paradoxical, isn't it? That's where the dogma intervenes, as to better embellish the nature of truth in a way that it can be adjusted, regardless of one's opinion. More often than you'd think, it comes in handy for that category of people which divides rather than bring closer the inhabitants of this world. But, let us not deviate. 

    In other words, truth should stand by itself, having the utmost value and not be taken upon ourselves. I am not saying that it should be left in some deity's hands but, nonetheless, it should be regarded as a distinctive 'voice' in our lives, rather than be used as a weapon for one's beliefs and interests. I can not help myself but quote Descartes on this matter 'The first precept was never to accept a thing as true until I knew it as such without a single doubt.'

    Now that we've got a glance at what could truth stand for after all, let's proceed to analyzing Descartes's affirmation a little bit. Quite a lot of his work is based on the logical and rational aspect of everything that surrounds us. As such, he spoke of doubts as being the primary obstacle in finding true meaning in an affirmation of any kind, for instance. 

   His premise is that, taking into account that you could tackle and overcome any possible doubt, you will be able to acquire absolute knowledge of any particular matter at hand. Well, what happens when the very nature of that doubts exceeds your capacities of understanding? Do you leave it as such or seek higher knowledge in books, certain persons or even cults?

   These two questions help me ease into the subject of Dogma. When confronted by increasingly difficult doubts, you combat them with increasingly knowledge of that particular problem. It seems only logical, right? 

    And that, my readers, is where Truth and Dogma have to unify, in order to cure our ceaseless thirst for knowledge. There are some very discussed issues that one simply cannot tackle, if only for a teaching, a creed, that can hope to clarify the essence to the individual, prior to his own opinion. Yet, the truth obtained won't be absolute. So, in conclusion, should we stay away from such subjects that question our very existence or seek to nurture our understanding by following one or a multitude of views on the conjuncture? The decision is up to you, but you'll have to come to terms with changing yourself if taking the path of the Dogma, for the illusion of higher truth can come only by sacrifice. As such, I prefer to observe, for the moment, rather than indulge myself into, for example, religion, that explains everything and nothing at the same time. 

Her hair was blonde and it took some time,

To realize what she meant in all this climb.

My Abby was light,

Keen hearted on not losing the fight.

Many say, that as nightmares fade away,

Perfect beings start to contemplate.

Even black dogs ran at the sight of her,

Leaving most of us in a box, shaped of gold.

That being said, I guide my steps on more 

And that completes my pitch-black show.

There once was a man; 

known by the name of Nikerio.

And Nikerio was no ordinary man,

for the oracles warned of his coming;

But none have listened to the call.

At first, he roamed The Kingdom of Telurya as a ghost,

embellished in such mystery that one couldn't hope to boast.

Thus, he guided his steps on more

and, in a matter of years, rose to the great power;

Of which the elders incessantly spoke of.

He was feared by the people,

although his name still remained clear;

Unlike the tip of his sword,

that conspired to tell another story.

One which would bring horror

even to the purest of souls.

Many tried to bring Nikerio down to his knees,

to burn and torture him.

For the doom he brought to Telurya

was a deed kept only for The Creators to forgive.

He struck at a time of night, of pleasure and fornication.

But of course, it was The Festival of the Fallen;

Where the men praised those who had died

during a most unpleasant time,

that only history was deemed brave enough to speak about.

And that is The Maligna Wars,

an unholy massacre some say

that the great gods came to devise,

in order to establish peace within the people

and serve death to some unworldly creatures,

that walked Telurya from a time known nor to animal or to man.

Nikerio was aware of the legends and their meaning,

so that was the moment of the much awaited blow;

Which brought my whole kingdom to absolute agony and sublime awe.

Yet, there was no time for mourning,

as his diabolical eyes did not spare or call upon

such divine things as mercy and strange phenomenons.

Against all odds, one ascended from the crowd,

to confront Nikerio and his kind.

Even though he did not succeed in doing so,

his example reached even the most remote corners of the land.

Others emerged from the darkness, eager to confront this new evil;

But for now, we are still not sure,

whether they will prevail or fall.

At last, the story of Telurya is to be told.

My sanity, if I can invoke it still, hangs on a thread. Corpses surround me, oh , the agony. What rule did I break, what mistake could I have done to live in such a time, of evil and disdain. You wouldn't believe me, dear diary, if I told you about the horrors that I saw. And still, you call to me. The last place in which I can be myself, no masks, no guilt. Ironic, wouldn't you say? To talk about myself in a time like this, it seems I remained as selfish as before, nothing has changed regarding that. 

But tell me, how can one be selfish when surrounded by such atrocities that nobody should ever encounter? I can barely find food to sustain myself, let alone others. I can only hope that my dear sister, Anne, is still somewhere out there. You see, I've lost her this morning. The touched ones surrounded every corner of our little town. She is so fragile, so little. We were told to barricade ourselves where we could, they told us help is coming. 

Is it so wrong of me to think that we did this to ourselves? That it can't be the wrath of God or anything else written and rotten in some old book.

I'm only 19, how could I presume to know anything about such forgotten things? I strive to keep myself focused..but it feels like I'm being stuck in an endless nightmare. It started slowly, one year ago. Several cases of strange infections were starting to emerge from their safely guarded facilities. Of course they wouldn't let the media know until now. Because of worldwide panic, most will say. But I don't agree. Why must an entire race suffer for a handful of greedy, old men who couldn't let go of the mystery of our surroundings, of humanity itself?

Nothing is going to make a difference right now. The deeds are done, and we've certainly signed our death pacts when we let that girl die. It is said she was the closest thing to a messiah that lived to walk this tainted earth. She spoke of great terrors to come, of powers that men could not perceive. The people knew, deep in their hearts, they knew something wicked this way comes. Nevertheless, the doctors labeled her immediately as being insane. I say they feared her insight. They feared that the information was going to break out and we were all going to stop their plan. 

Enough for today, dear diary. 

If I'll not survive tomorrow, maybe you will. Maybe you will survive a great deal of time. And maybe, just maybe, if I won't be around anymore, my dear Anne will find this piece of paper. And she will know that my love for her transcends every obstacle this chaos puts in front of us. Certainly, I will never know for sure. Maybe only in death, can one hope to understand this whole puzzle. Yet, for now, my thoughts are with you, my beloved. And if death got its hands stuck in you, then we will surely meet on the other side. I can only hope to see you one more time before it all ends.