Writing this I’m in the worst state, my mind is all but shattered and splintered into sharp fragments that poke and prod every inch of the inside of my head. I’m writing this in hopes to warn others from seeing what I’ve seen. He who traverses the woodland of white, spiny trees have no hope to ever be sane again.986Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3t9ENZ77Lv

My name is Luther P. O’ Drer and I’m unsure exactly of the events that led me down this road but I must start at where it begun. I’m an inhabitant of The Emerald Isles, the grand Ireland. With its sprawling hills of green, it’s meadows of yellow and pink flowering buds. It’s touch of blue ocean and vast beaches and cliff sides. I’ve a deep love for my home country. I live in a humble cabin atop a hill, it’s architecture of less importance. It could be a shack and still hold as tight a place in my heart. To the east sits a forest and the west, none other than Dublin herself. Both a ways off from my doorstep. North and South is hilly countryside as far as I can peer.

It was the year 1890 of our lord, the month of May. The day escapes me, for the last few weeks have been hazy and so full of terror and bewilderment that much of it blends together. I do remember the day before it all happened. It was rather balmy and unpleasant, so awaking to a slight breeze and gentle warmness the next day filled me with joy. Sitting up in bed I pronounced I would go for a short stroll, to the break of the forest at least. A very regrettable decision at present time but at that time I didn’t give it a second thought, I’ve walked these paths hundreds of times over.

I dressed and began to wander and roam to my hearts content, going generally eastward. I fancied to walk the edge, maybe take a few steps into the forest, to see a crimson cardinal or striking blue jay. I’ve always a love of birds despite not being well read on them. I promised myself to take less time at work and put it towards taking up bird watching. I never got that chance. 

I found myself at the edge of the forest that day with its stretches of green and dots of dashing colors from budding bushes or the occasional mushroom. It was a sight to see and just as I was taking it in I spotted a small feathery warbler, who’s species was and is unknown to me but it’s distinct stripes of yellow called upon my deepest recessive need of aesthetic pleasure. I couldn’t control myself but to walk into the forest to get a better look as it gracefully hopped and winged itself onto branches and the forest floor. Mingling with the berries and buds and leaves. 

This was where I was stricken by the event most terrible and even now writing this, reliving it, my hands tremble. I couldn’t make sense of it then and I still can’t now, but maybe in my words of sorrow someone more cleaver than I will. I was casually walking through this forest, my hands guiding me around tree trucks, my feet narrowly stepping over unearthed roots and at some point I blinked and when I opened my eyes the world was nothing but hues of grey. Some of the trees appeared white and covered in long thorns that had more in common with needles. 

Startling to say the least. I pondered at first that I was stricken with an acute case of color blindness, the governing force unknown. I’ve no explanation for the trees but it was the least of my worries. I became shaken and immediately turned around, exiting the forest. 

Breaking through to the clearing and the new greyed hilly country side that’s where I saw what was never meant to be seen by man. In a darker shade of grey stood a shape, almost nearly human except it stood perhaps hundreds of feet tall. Most definitely taller than any tree or man made structure I’ve ever seen. It was bipedal and like I mentioned, close to human-like in its figure, with two arms and two legs but their appendages were wildly disproportionate. One arm short while the other dragged across the ground. It’s legs were a similar story but most odd and most terrorizing was this thing didn’t have a head or neck. The rest of it’s body was smooth, devoid of any features. I gazed long and hard at this gigantic creature, fighting back a desire to vomit or pass out, I’m unsure which. Just then I saw another appear over a neighboring hill. It was also headless but it’s arms were both very short and it’s legs were exceptionally long, it’s torso seemed shrunken, too. My eyes began to water something fierce and sad and I blinked and when I did the world came back into color and the monsters vanished. I then sprinted to the supposed safety of my home.

I sat breathless and shaking at my desk, working my primitive mind into strings of theory and rationality. I thought at first I had just become tetched from the sun, or maybe I had inadvertently inhaled spores from passing mushrooms, or I had accidentally walked through some sinister portal. My mind wandered more than my legs did as to how to best explain what had just happened. Needless to say I did not sleep a wink that night. 

The very next morning at the brink of dawn I ventured out to a color filled world and I thought all was normal, and it was for a spell. I enjoyed an hour or so of peace before I blinked and my vision turned grey once more and the creatures filled the landscape again. I ran to the nearest and tallest hill and standing at it’s small peak I saw not one, not two but dozens, maybe even more, of these human-ish demons. I couldn’t fight the urge to pass out that time. I awoke to refreshed colors. 

That was a week or two ago and ever since then I have moments of normality but more and more frequent are the intervals of colorless horror. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is the real world we live in and the one with its vibrant pigments and picturesque scenery is a fraud. Wether be a divine illusion to save us from witnessing the monstrous being that walk among us, or our evolved brains have learned to keep us suspended in delusion to preserve our frail psyche. Neither the less I’ve come to loathe the waking world and the hideous sights that lay hidden underneath. I’ve even brought a blade up to my eye, determined to gouge them both out in an attempt to relieve the heaviness of my chest and hollowness of my heart from the horror that has invaded my senses, but I hadn’t the strength.

I’m sitting on a bench in a park in the heart of Dublin, shades of grey litter everything and these grotesque things walk around unpurposeful in this dreary landscape. I’m unsure how much control they have over our reality but I’ve witnessed them carrying wind, I think. They’ve walked by flags and frilly dresses and leave them fluttering in their wake. They never seem to make contact with any buildings or signs or trees or people, I’ve noticed both dogs and cats avoid them like the plague, though. Same with birds. I’m not a scientist, nor would anyone believe any of my findings so far but these things have conquered my thoughts and I can’t go on. Across the street from this park is a tall establishment, what they do there I care not but after I write this warning for anyone who dares read it I’m going to climb atop that building and plunge off. Fair well my color seeing friend, who’s luck knows no bounds if your view of the skyline isn’t blanketed by grey giants.