Words, damned words.

The consequences were not obvious to me. Certainly, had I known that the act of procuring the diary of horror writer Thomas Ligotti would bring such wretchedness, I would have resisted. It’s nondescript black cover beckoned in its very mundanity. Being an intruder to his unoccupied residence, I was left with the choice of a multitude of costly treasures from which to choose. The scourge of my choice will haunt me for eternity. My eyes scanned the desk and shelves of his study. An expensive computer, printer and accompanying devices, spread ripe for the plucking before me. But, my hand was drawn to the leather bound tome and I placed it alone into my bag and left. There can be no explanation for this petty act other than the wicked Fates guidance of my hand and mind. A conspiracy between the cosmos and the author himself to pass the burden to another. Thus, rendering him free to write respectable prose and leaving me to compose nightmares and chimeric visions of which I have no control.

As I left his home under veil of blackness, I immediately gained a pursuer. I twisted through tenuous city streets to finally lose the follower and once inside my dark apartment, felt my way to the kitchen drawer. I resisted the inclination to turn on a light, for fear that I would be discovered by the Watchers who surely dwelt outside. I fished out a flashlight, crouched in the corner of my bedroom and opened the journal. Oh the folly! Pages filled with swirling maelstrom, writhed and reached out for me. Serpentine hands in grotesque movements stretched to caress my face. I trembled but could not close the book. Instead I stared deeper and fell into the vortex, spiraling to blackness. I awoke in my ransacked apartment and staggered to my feet. In a day or so I felt able to leave my premises but not before I destroyed the damned diary. In the subsequent days my attempts to read other books, magazines-even the newspaper were thwarted by the dizzying effect of the Ligottian whirlpool. Whatever I set my eyes to brought me back to the Eldritch netherworld within the book.

I have not read a book in years. Nor, can I even venture a glance at a product label lest the haunting begin a new. Doomed to a wordless existence, I watch only the television, but look away as the credits roll.