Intrigued I paused to examine the thing, to cut a long story short I decided to take it home with me.
Once home, and recovered from the run, I decided to try to plug the discarded blackberry in, perhaps if it still worked,it could be returned.
I borrowed my flatmates charger and plugged it in. An hour later I went to check on it. I found it mostly unresponsive, the sounds it made were heavily distorted and rather high pitched, and the screen display was a mess of refracted colours.It barely functioned, I was only able to salvage one text file from it. A message that was never sent, stored in the drafts folder. An incredible story, completely raving of course. I have reproduced the text below..
The immaterial is fast becoming just that, although there are more things on the earth than that which one can see with five senses, eyes are closed, everyone is pre- occupied. Buying metal detectors, furled by a perfectly rational need to hold something solid, material in their hands. Fanciful thoughts of a another world beside this cut and dry day to day of banks and figures, sums and totals zeros and ones, are pushed aside. I recount this purely as an act of compulsion a need to relate and perhaps rationalise the experience.
Nobody walks here, up a short incline from the woodland walk, the remnant of a tangential footpath, going somewhere, perhaps nowhere. The main path a former railway track, long disused overgrown, nearly erased were it not for the remnants of a concrete platform along the route. So wild and unspoiled so close to the noise and mass of the city. The path itself frequented by runners, joggers and men led by the beasts they presume to control. Despite this regular traffic of human and canine nobody turns to follow the short incline to their side, as though an unconscious prehistoric instinct deters them, they pass it by entirely.
If one does take the turn finds themselves following the path through the overgrowth, ducking overhanging branches, rampant nettles and protruding tree roots, they would find themselves eventually on even ground once more, a straight path, as though the foliage had been burnt away, near by an almost stagnant lake chatters despondently.
Disused railway lines and stations have always been a fascination of mine, the resonance of things that have been and never will be again. Living nearby I would always wander the woodland walk when in need of exercise, a place to think free from the confinement of the house or of the streets with the thousands of eyes boring into me, often both.
I would often notice these remnants of paths diverging from the route, leading presumably nowhere and entertained the idea of turning off and following one.
Until one day, languishing behind my desk attempting to hash out the words to some meaningless ephemera in a misguided hope of gaining a deep understanding of the printed word, the minutiae of which escape me now, a restlessness came home to roost. I was up and out of the door and in matter of a few minutes treading the familiar woodland path once more, feeling that I had all the time in the world I shrugged and began to struggle up the slope. When I finally reached the clear path I had described earlier, the foul stream was gurgling ominously, and an almost stale light breeze blew into me as walked forward, the sky seemed darker from here. The more I walked the more apparent it became that I far from anywhere familiar. Nothing but wild wood surrounding me.
After what felt like an age I arrived outside of what must once of have been a respectably sized house, crumbling brickwork, and outside Walls thick with ivy, attractive but most definitely in decay, and entirely uninhabited. A thick wooden front door with a rusted knocker was slightly ajar. Curiosity peaked I gave it a push and stumbled in.
There were Carpeted floors thick with dust, large rooms with high ceilings and cracking walls and a rickety staircase with stair-rods.
This struck me as such an odd discovery and my mind began to race with thoughts of possible explanations for the existence of this place, why it had been left as it had. The air was almost suffocating, damp and mildew, after a few moments close to choking I became accustomed to it.
As I began to try the stairs the heavy solid door groaned shut. What followed next was a horrendous cacophony, a symphony of fingernails on chalkboard, an orchestra of burning cats howling into the sky drowning out the sun.
The windows rattled I darted up the stairs to look out, hundreds of winged creators were flying outside hurling themselves into the house black and almost formless were it not not for the red glow where eyes may be found and their barbed wings. I ran from the window, almost falling down the narrow stairs in shock I made for the darkest corner of a small windowless room between what may have been a kitchen and large open reception room.
Crouching down I breathed deeply and tried to convince myself I was imagining things, I could accept that I had wandered into an abandoned house, following an apparently forgotten path that breaks away from the woodland walk, but the rest... well the only reasonable explanation would have to be my imagination. A fevered mind full of Lovecraftian fancy had got the better of me, that was all, that had to be all.
The cacophony was dying down, and surely it was nothing but a sudden high wind. I rose up to my feet shook myself, I decided to look the place up when I got home, find out as much as could and return again to further explore the house,if I could know it's history, and how it had come to be here, this strange cut off abandoned little house.
I walked down a corridor to the back of the house and tried to peer through the misted ivy covered windows. Traces of the overgrowth outside could be seen, but mostly just my own face staring back at me in the glass. He leered at me and licked his lips, although it was my own reflection I felt that I didn't trust it, there was a hideous otherness to this mirror image of myself staring back at me. I looked closer as cracks began to from in the reflection and on his face, my face a bulbous growth on the cheek began to swell and burst into a third smaller eye, pale and glassy, and of a weak greyish blue, like the eye of a diseased sow.
I recoiled in horror,I am convinced any man in his right mind would have turned tail and bounded out of the door in the other direction as soon as they made the dreadful error of setting foot in this frightful place, but for me this was enough.
I bolted for the door, pushing against the solid heavy old oak with all my weight. It groaned open and I ran back out onto the path, and was met by the most hideous noise. A chorus of voices screeching out, almost human, but bloated, malignant and squealing,and heavy footfalls drawing closer. I searched for the source of the sounds, the air was foggy and thick and I could only see a short way in front of me, along the path, the rest was obscured by the overgrowth. I continued on my way, with a real sense of urgency, desperately trying to dismiss the notion that I had stumbled into an evil place, lost and in mortal danger. I tried to convince myself that it was only an old house, the rest just my imagination leading me to believe that I had meandered into the world of Hope Hodgson and his terrible house that he had built in story across the sea.
That attempt to steady myself proved to be rather short lived as I very quickly found myself facing down a fearsome figure, tall and shambling down the path towards me grunting viciously, with a pig like face.I turned away to another chorus of that hideous screeching, and saw another 10 of the brutes closing in on me, I ran at the first once adrenaline taking over, and jumping up I began to beat at it's head with the only thing I had to hand. The self preservation instinct had set in, it made swipes at me, I ducked and continues to punch and kick at it, digging my blackberry forcefully into its head, it reeled with a sickening cry of pain and fell to the floor, three more were beginning to close in on me behind their fallen comrade. I beat a hasty retreat back to the house, shutting the heavy door behind me.
I need of a hiding place I ran into a door behind the stairs, a feeling of intense heat and pressure hit me, as I fell down the steps into the darkened basement.
I must have passed out, for what may have been a few minutes or an hour, coming to my senses in the dark I listened for the sound of any of those horrendous creatures that may have been waiting for me. Registering only a silence I felt my way back to the steps, and out of the cellar door.
Once back in the light, I can't have been out cold for long - it was still apparently day time, a bright flickering light was streaming in
I gingerly climbed up to the stairs to the upper level to make sure the coast was clear, the hideous and the sky a blueish grey, with the sun darting out from behind clouds moving faster than usual, it seemed to drift across the sky, within minutes the sky was pink and the sun began to sink into the west. A darkness, and a silence came over the land. I glanced at my watch, it had frozen, very quickly the sun had risen again, and in utter shock, I watched as it drifted across the sky in a matter of a few minutes to set once more. I gazed in awe as time seemed to speed up, the days raced by the land around the house rising and decaying until it became an indistinct and meaningless blur.
The rising and setting continued to gather speed until the day and night began to blur into one, and insipid grey light loomed over head, and in the sky were two orbs darkly glowing.
I turned away for second, the house was as it had been I moved my hand across the wall, it was thick with dust, I looked down at myself, my hands were like that of an elderly person, shrivelled and worn away I quickly felt my face, matted with wild growing hair.
Outside the sky was black I could no longer see the land around the house, a belt of stars shone down, halos of supernovas and glittering sparks crashed in the distant sky. I felt weightless, I knew the world was over and wanted to go outside, I felt a small tug at my hip and found myself hanging suspended high above the house, in the raven black sky, glowing with distant lights.
I saw the house below erect upon a sea of darkness, the earth below indistinct dark and unrecognisable.
Looking down I saw the same hideous pig creatures who had tormented me moving around the house, they entered and seemed to be searching, outside an enormous monstrously proportioned member of their race, at least as tall as the high window I had watched the end of time through, he pounded on the ancient masonry,of the houseletting off piercing wails as if in intense pain, which to me sounded as though I was hearing them through water. As the house shook on it's foundations and began to crumble, I felt myself beginning to drift, no longer suspended in space, I drifted higher through a dense fog, into a void. The feeling of weightlessness slowly melting away I became aware aware of my body again. I felt my breath, and heartbeat once again I could feel that I had arms hands and legs, my feet danced a perfect waltz in the zero gravity, moving into negative space.There was neither light nor dark, nothing at all for the eyes to see.
I awoke, on the floor of the basement of the house, checking myself I found that according to my watch a few hours had passed I thought must have been knocked out, and dreaming. I felt my way up the steps and out of the door. Outside the house was quiet I looked out the window and it was dark out, I pushed at the solid mighty oak front door and prepared to step outside..........