Recursive's life as a teenage Sandbox

It's literally garbage?!

March 13th, 1784: Today begins my investigation and exploration of the town of Ravenrock, in the land currently known as Southern Prussia. Should I be overtaken by an illness, or if God bids me stay in this land for longer than I anticipate, let this journal be the records of my findings, which I dedicate to my dearest wife and son, who shall remain in my heart and mind during these long months away.

I arrived in the town of Ravenrock at sunrise this morning, and am now residing in a local inn. The innkeeper was quite pleasantly surprised to see me, as Ravenrock is a small town, out of the way of most trade routes, and a far ways away from any other town. He did warn me, however, of what has come to be known as 'The Gargoyles of Ravenrock'. He seemed quite shocked to learn that this was, in fact, what drew me to the town to begin with. Following this, he crossed himself, and pleaded with me not to pursue this matter. The townspeople seem to hold their legends in an almost religious regard, fearful of these creatures that surely could not exist. Likely a holdover from the time that godless pagans still walked this land. I will surely cure them of these delusions through simple science. My investigation begins tomorrow. For now, I leave to learn the paths and people of this town.

March 14th, 1784: I paid a visit to the - long abandoned - church, which the people of this town have since foregone for a simpler one, made out of wood, as opposed to the grand stone and metals that support the old. There, I caught my first glimpse of the object that has plagued these people. I do not see why they fear it so; it is an ugly statue, that much is certain. It squats above the doorway, peering down at passerby. As I approached, the more I scoffed at their terror. To think a creature of stone would hold such sway with these people! I was half a mind to take my hammer, and break off it's head, but the wife of the innkeeper ran to me, and begged me not desecrate the idol. Against my better judgement, I acquiesced. I must ensure that I am not followed in the future, these townspeople may become violent if they see me blaspheme against their false things. However, I cannot help but admit there was something odd about the statue. Of all the structures in the vicinity, only this statue was not afflicted with moss. And though my innkeeper tells me it had not rained in nearly a week, it was cool and damp to the touch. This requires further research. I have faith that I will uncover whatever illness has befallen this town.

March 16th, 1784: I was awoken in the night by an uncanny cry, like that of a horse or great beast. I ran to my innkeeper, but he had locked himself and his family in their room, and advised I do the same, and close the window. I took his advice, and did not sleep that night, even after the noises ceased.

With a fear creeping in my mind, I observed the church from a safe distance. The statue was gone, and there was a mess of rubble and stone at the entrance of the church. It seemed almost threatening, as if it were a warning directed specifically at myself. I attempted to steel myself and enter the church, but I could not bring myself to. Have I, who came here to dispel fear, succumbed to it myself? Surely not. Surely not. I merely require a day or two of prayer and contemplation, to formulate a plan. My dearest Lucy, keep me in your prayers, and help Randolph grow to be a strong man who does not fright as easy as his father.

March 23rd, 1784: I have put this off for long enough. Before the courage left me, I entered the church. When I saw what was inside, I chided myself for being afraid before. What I saw was nothing more than a collection of statues, all similar to the one I saw before, some larger or smaller, but still only creatures of stone. All of them were positioned in different poses, as if they were suddenly petrified without warning. On a whim, I attempted to push over one that was balanced precariously on a table of some sort. Though it did not seem to be attached by any means, it would not budge, despite its relatively small size. Why someone would take the time to do this, or craft the beasts to begin with, is quite simply beyond me. The cry I heard nights ago has since faded in my mind. In reflection, I am almost certain it was merely a wolf, or perhaps some other natural beast of the forest. I go now to tell the townspeople of my findings, and hopefully bring them with me to dispel their illusions once and for all.

March 24th, 1784: The people of Ravenrock are still wary of the old church, and will not approach. I suppose cannot blame them, considering I myself was terrified of the place but days ago. I visited the old church once again to gather my thoughts, or perhaps take a piece of one of the gargoyles back with me, but much to my surprise, they were not in the same place that I had last seen them. Some were now perched on the backs of pews, or gathered around the altar. One or two were even peering out the windows, as if standing guard. I find it likely some trickster, some young Puck, is moving these statues at night merely to frighten these people. I have decided to stake out this place, in hopes of discovering this individual, and bringing them to the attention of the town leaders. I intend to bring my journal with me, to document my experiences.

I believe it is midnight now, and I have caught no sight of the offender. Perhaps I should have risen early, as opposed to staying the night. I have heard nothing, aside from creatures of the night and the occasional creak. I

I have seen things thatt make me quesion weather or not I am stil sane. Foul black majick in this town runs runs rampant in this town i willl stay the night but no more. NO MORE.

March 25th, 1784: I have composed myself, but I still am haunted by what I have seen. Even considering how to put it to paper turns my stomach. As I was preparing to write my thoughts, a sudden noise caught my attention. I looked up from my hiding place, a small chair behind the door, concealed by a curtain, to see that the gargoyle (I am not certain I can call it this anymore) which had been perched on the pew directly in front of me was no longer there. I stood to my feet, afraid that I was no longer alone. Steeling myself, I peered out from behind the curtain. What I saw, I still am not sure I believe. The creatures I had thought were statues were moving as if they were of flesh and blood; little ones suckling their mothers, bigger ones peering out of the doors and windows. One even left through a hole in the roof, leaping as if it had been launched from a cannon. After what seemed like an eternity of fear for my life, an adolescent began exploring the room, as if it sensed my presence. It laid a clawed hand on the curtain.

At this, I could not contain my terror, and in a moment of weakness I yelped. As if on cue, the creatures froze in place, returned to beings of stone. I, too, was still as a statue, afraid that any motion would provoke the monsters who trespassed this sacred ground. After what seemed like an eternity, I ran out of the place, in fear for my life. I write this as I wait for my horse to flee this cursed town. Lucy, Randolph, pray for my safe return, and that I bring no curse upon the two of you as well. With any luck, I will see the two of you within the week, though I shall surely not sleep easy.

???: I know not what day it is, or how long I slumbered in the church. I believe I have regained the strength to write, so I shall tell you of my misfortune.

While I was fleeing the town, it began to rain, and my horse, dear Richard, slipped in a puddle of muddy water. I fear that I may have landed on my head, for the next thing I knew, I was back in that cursed church, surrounded once more by those creatures. This time, however, they did not turn to stone upon entering my sight. I backed away, into a corner, grabbing the closest thing to me, which was my journal. They quickly backed away, but still they watched me, as if watching a cat that they had rescued from the rain. After a long period of tense silence, I could not help but avert my gaze, and I pulled a nearby chair in front of me for protection. However, the attack I feared did not come. Instead, they only observed me as I did them, with a mix of terror and wild curiosity. One or two young crawled over to me, moving like great apes, using their knuckles, and began to sniff around my legs, before their mother stretched out her neck, and picked them up by the scruff of the neck, carrying them back to her side. I lay there, with my back to the wall, until I could take no more, and my body collapsed into slumber.

I awoke mere hours ago, to find sunlight streaming through the windows, and the gargoyles in their own positions around the building. I ran out as soon as I felt able to stand, and ran back to the innkeeper, who was at first relieved to see me. However, when he heard tell of my experience, he turned me away, shunning me as if I carried the plague. With no where else to turn, I sit now in the courtyard of the church. I have no idea where my horse has ran to, and the townspeople will not look at me.

These creatures, whatever they are, have shown me mercy. And it would be uncouth of me to run back to my world and claim they are mindless monsters to be purged from this earth. Lucy, Randolph, guide me with your prayers, I shall not be much longer, but I desire to know more.

Day 1: I stayed awake at night, once more in the same place I had been on that fateful night. At the first indication of motion, I peered out from my cover. The feeling of terror returned to me, and I wondered to myself what I was doing here. The creatures saw me, and froze in place once more as they had upon my first seeing them. Deciding at last not to flee, I cautiously took a seat in a pew, and made no sudden movements. After a long silence, one of them, the watchman at the door, finally moved from his perch, readjusting to look out of one of the windows. Following this, the younglings began to stir, and the mother was not far behind. I sat in silence, observing cautiously, lest one of them act out. For the most part, they avoided me, staying to the side of the church that put the most distance between us. One of the watchers, who perched on the roof, kept a cautious eye on me. Later, one of them, the adolescent whom had first chanced upon me, brought back an assortment of food. Fruits, vegetables which were no doubt from a local farm, and what appeared to be a mess of insects and grubs. The grubs and insects went to the younglings, while the adults were content to eat the plants. It occurred to me then, how long it had been since I had eaten.

After it seemed that the gargoyles had finished eating, I stood up slowly, and cautiously approached the remaining food. This was met by a shrill noise from the watcher on the roof, who dropped down onto the floor with a loud crash. I quickly backed away, covering my vital regions. After a tense moment of silence between us, it leaped back onto the roof, keeping a watchful eye on me. I sat in silence for the rest of the night, afraid to make another motion. After a while, I drifted off to sleep, unsure of what tomorrow would bring.

Day 2: During the day, I sought out food, though I was not sure where to find it. After an exhausting search, I chanced upon some apple and pear trees. My stomach is far from full, but I will survive. I would give my pen and paper for a good wholesome chunk of meat at the moment.

I once more stayed awake to watch the gargoyles tonight. It was quite similar to last night's experience, though I do believe they are becoming slightly more accustomed to my presence. One of the younglings walked close to me, and would have brushed against my leg had it's mother not pulled it back. I am still being watched closely, but I suppose I cannot blame a little suspicion. After all, I was more than prepared to decapitate one of them nearly two or three weeks ago.

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