The Simcronomicon is a powerful spell book. Any hapless soul that lay their eyes on its tattered face and its arcane pages are cursed by its ritual. But a curse is a blessing in disguise. The Simcronomicon, though its origins is unknown, grants any wish to its victim.

As its pages are bound by an evil and arcane essence, failure to complete any ritual would guarantee damnation.

Be tempted. Pick a challenge and enjoy.*

*requires Sims 4 and a sadistic curiosity towards virtual people.

November 24, 2014

Chapter Five: A Taste

She woke up gasping for air. She turned her head left and right and was relieved at the sight of her blanket, her dresser and her bookcase. Her bookcase. She was safe inside her bedroom, but the smell of morning disturbed her—it was midnight.

Sisi had a dream, but for Isis, it was a nightmare. After the third voice had corrupted their mind, Isis tried her hardest to evict the foreign being, fought to dissuade Sisi from listening to it. It was the darkness, the essence of eternity that opened the gap inside their psyche. It whispered glory and greatness and godhood. Isis saw it differently. She saw suffering.

There was no name attributed to the third voice. They just called it The Third.

Sisi argued with herself again, debated on the pros and cons of immortality. The big pro was not dying. But at what price? Sisi had never considered the price, and she had doubts after the birth of Isabel, a sacrificial child. It was a terrible word that Sisi wanted to erase from her vocabulary—sacrifice. Isis repeated it again and again just to convince Sisi to stop the ritual.

And it worked. Isis took control. The plan was this: take all the books of life and then burn it. Isis didn't consider the possibility of harming the souls bound to it, but it was okay. Isabel was safe since the child was not bound to any book. Isis got up from the bed, but before she could reach the bookcase, her legs stopped.

Images flashed in her mind. She saw herself. Her skin wrinkling and crusting and drying and turning into dust. Her eyes bore the expression of fear, and it burst into dust. As her skin and guts blew against the wind, her bones remained. Then it shattered like glass.

Sisi sank to the floor and screamed. Isis begged her to push on.

“A taste.”

The thrumming sound returned. She turned her head towards the door that led to the living room. The thrumming grew louder. It wanted her out of this room. It wanted her to forget the books. Sisi struggled to stand up as if her body weighed twice its size. When she balanced herself, she exited the room.

The lights were off outside. Only moonlight and the headlights from passing cars illuminated the inside of her home. She unknowingly stepped inside the kitchen and spotted a faint glow by the sink. Plumes of light emanated from the glow.

As Sisi neared it, she learned it was a steel cup containing a bright liquid. The liquid blinded her as she stared directly at it.

“A taste.”

She grabbed the cup. It was cool inside her palm, and it weighed as if it was made of air. The liquid sloshed around as she drew near it to her lips. Before she could take a sip, there were screaming and screaming, but the thrumming noise drowned it out.

A taste. Only a taste.

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