Chronicles of the Unseen

Previously

…Something real. The thought, once a whisper, was now a roar. How could I satisfy it? The question wasn’t one of revulsion or fear. It was a practical, almost clinical question, born of a growing, terrifying acceptance. Where could I find what I needed? And how? The cabin, the woods… they held secrets. And perhaps, just perhaps, they held the answers I was beginning to seek. The seeds of consumption, planted in the fertile ground of my trauma, were no longer just sprouting. They were beginning to push through the soil, reaching for the light, demanding to be fed. And I, with a chilling sense of inevitability, was beginning to understand how I might oblige them.