"Cosmically Horrific" by Jonathan Reddoch

What does it mean to encounter the cosmically horrific? 

I cannot describe it in mere words, for any mortal to look upon it would melt to dust. It is that thing humanity cannot fathom, for it would twist our souls into knots. It would bend our minuscule minds into putty. We would lose ourselves in warped logic and imperceptive chaos, descending into the madness of insurmountable grief. 

That thing immeasurable, incalculable, inconceivable lies in wait. It resides here and there and everywhere. It is behind you, uncaring, merciless, unceasing. Its whims move mountains and destroy galaxies. 

It is life, death, chaos, order, and the majesty of the indifferent universe. It is cold, undulating, indescribably indiscernible. Where does it start and infinity end? It exists behind time, above all, below the depths. 

What is it to be observed by the crescent of totality, reflected upon the glossy globule of the all-seeing oculus? The abysmal abyss stares back unblinking. It knows us and soon will swat our reality as a dragon bats a gnat.

The truth eternal has plucked the last wet tear from my dry eye. It has struck its fatal blow upon my frail personage. I wither before the dark light of soul-splitting reality revealed.
The fear engulfed my mind in totality and trepidation consumed my physical vitality from the inside out. After this grave confrontation, I endure but briefly, long enough to warn the world, condemned by my hubris.

I burned my research. I destroyed my cosmometer, the sole apparatus constructed for observing existence beyond the dark veil. And yet the image of its dizzying sovereignty is seared into my retinas; even after the optical display was splintered into ten thousand tiny shards, it cannot escape my maddening mind’s eye.

This astrological knowledge has cost me my sanity, my virtue, my last living hope. I can no longer contain myself within this feeble mortal form. My shivering bones are splinters and dough.

Even now, as I scribble this cautionary address with trembling fingers, my eyes are bleeding out of their sockets, and I can feel my brain dissolving into gray sludge. In a matter of minutes, I will be reduced to a puddle of former matter.
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Do not seek out the master of masters. All is vanity under its eye. I employ you, seek not the forbidden sight!

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​Jonathan Reddoch is co-owner of Collective Tales Publishing. He is a father, writer, editor, and publisher. He writes sci-fi, fantasy, romance, and especially horror. He’s a prolific flash fiction author, but also writes poetry and short stories. He has been working on his enormous sci-fi novel for over a decade and would like to finish it in this lifetime if possible. He’s from southern California, but lives in Salt Lake City. Notable works included in Deluxe Darkness, Darkness 101: Lessons Were Learned, and This Isn’t the Place.
 
Find him on Instagram @JonathanReddochAuthor or CTPfiction.com

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