FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Yeah, I once met her and I wish I did not. Then, my eyes would be blind to these things I never thought to be real. Now that I’ve gotten rid of the last books I had inherited from my aunt, I hope to find peace, again.

To begin with, I didn’t know there was an aunt of mine living in Providence until I got that letter. She apparently was one of these relatives you basically never get in touch with until you hear about their death.

I planned to spend an entire week in Providence, Rhode Island, to get the things out I wanted to keep.

The house was going to be sold – there was absolutely nothing that tied me to this city. I don’t even live in the states and a week was all I got before I had to head back to Germany.

A smell of stale air and cold smoke wafted into my nose when I left aunt Ada’s living room that was largely dominated by vintage furniture. My little treasure hunt hadn’t been all too successful and I assumed my aunt must have lived a rather calm and uneventful life. But there was still the basement left.

I expected to see a dingy room with a lot of cobwebs and dust in every corner. However, as I switched on the lights three large shelves appeared from the darkness of the narrow chamber where they stood. All filled with books. Old books, I realized. To my own surprise the basement was well kept, not even smelling musty in the slightest. It was apparent Ada must have cared about these tomes as a former librarian of the university. I approached the rack to get an overview, indeed the books were all bound in leather and I must admit I’m not an expert on historical books.

My gaze wandered over titles I had never heard about before. Ars Magna et Ultima by Raymond Lully, I read on one while not having any clue about its content. So, I went on with the rows of books until my eyes spotted a large tome bound in dark leather. No title or author was written on its back so I pulled it out carefully. A cold shiver ran over my body as I held the tome in both hands. Out of curiosity, I opened it hoping its pages would yield a title. Instead, I was met with a stinging pain behind my eyes as soon as the title had come briefly into my view. With a hasty motion, I closed the tome and waited for the pain to dissipate.

This should have been my cue to get rid of these dust catchers but no, I thought I could sell these books for some extra cash. In the end, I put them into boxes and moved on with finishing up the affairs of my aunt’s estate.

A few weeks passed until I remembered the boxes with the books. I had some free time at my hands to see if they were actually worth selling or just fancy dumpster fodder. I switched on the computer in the cramped space I call my office. That room was clearly more orderly when I had to work from home during the lockdown.

Anyways, I unpacked the books and began my research on them. Apparently, my aunt had a penchant for occult literature like other people who have a deep fascination with true crime.

At that time, I simply shrugged off her weird collection as an unusual hobby.

My internet research dragged on into the late hours, leading me to even more obscure websites. But I realized how rare these books were and it didn’t take long for me to discover a forum where people sought to expand their own collections.

A click on the marketplace subforum revealed a true chart show of bizarre literature with one being the all time favorite: the Necronomicon.

The name burned in my mind, reminding me I had already seen it before and my eyes fell onto the pile of books to my left. I had the rarest book in the world in my possession but unease crept into me, not pride.

How did my aunt even manage to get her hands on such a book? Then it dawned on me: she must have taken it from the university’s library and just never returned.

But I couldn’t remember that any of these books had a sticker on them that showed they belonged to the library. My throat had become dry from my rampant thoughts and I reached for the cup of coffee, but it was devoid of any comforting warmth forgotten as it was. Nonetheless, I forced the cold coffee down my throat that rushed into my stomach like a dark oily stream.

Once more, my eyes rested on that dark book, the Necronomicon, to my left while it silently filled the room with its ominous presence. I needed to know if it belonged to the university or not, so my hand felt the cold leather’s touch. I feverishly looked for a sticker, a stamp, a barcode or anything indicative of an owner other than my deceased aunt.

Nothing.

I put the mysterious tome back on the pile, glad to be freed from its touch. Its direct presence felt revolting to me. Luckily, I hadn’t closed the website yet. It must have been around 2 am when I typed my post, listing all the books laying around me in piles.

Not long after my post, I got a message.

Hello BenedictH

My name is Cassilda, I saw the list of books you wish to sell. I have interest in your Necronomicon specimen and I’m willing to pay a more than rewarding sum for it.

Because of how rare it is, an in person examination is necessary. Photos, however, are welcome to gain a first impression. I specialize in curating and selling rare books. Together with another bibliophile I run a small shop which can serve as a place for a later meeting.

Her message ended with the address of her bookstore and a polite goodbye.

Aware of how often people get scammed on the internet, I checked out Cassilda’s profile and her activity in the forum. She apparently was a highly respected member in this community who was mainly appreciated for her knowledge. The last thing I looked up was the address of the second-hand bookstore which actually existed and put my concerns markedly to rest.

Since it had gotten far too late, I replied with a short message wherein I promised to take some photos the next day.

Being in the presence of the book made me feel uncomfortable on a subconscious level, so my photoshoot session was a rather brief one. The sooner I got these books off my plate the better it was. Cassilda’s reaction to my photos was as expected positive and she offered to buy two other specimens of my weird assortment. We agreed on meeting at her bookstore in about a week. I don’t know why my sleep was so troubled during that time but my dreams were the most vivid and the most disturbing ones.

---

With the box wrapped tightly under my arm, I hurried down the street. The rain-heavy clouds looming over the city waited to unleash another rainfall, so I had a reason to make it to the given address as soon as possible. I passed by graffiti riddled houses, the area overall was a bit rundown and neglected due the city’s tight finances, and I doubted to find an actual bookstore there. On the opposite side of the street, empty windows of a former bakery cowered in the shadows of a once flourishing place.

I followed along a bend and a sparsely decorated shop window entered my view, rendering me unable to look further into the dark interior of the store. But I gleaned enough that this store specialized in buying and selling antique books.

As expected, it began to rain and I rang the bell. For a couple of minutes nobody reacted to the bell’s shrill sound and I feared I was too early. But wasn’t the shop supposed to expect deliveries today?

While I was shifting my weight from one foot to another, the door swung open and the face of a gaunt man with watery blue eyes appeared, beckoning me to come in.

“Hello, I assume you are the seller that was announced for today?”

“Oh, yes, yes. I am. Benedict Hallstedt is my name. Also, I have brought all the books with me Miss… uh… Cassilda wanted to see."

“Fine, please, come in!”

He performed a waving motion with his hand and I followed his beckon. The peculiar smell of old books that had gone through countless hands in their past wafted into my nose.

“Cassilda will be soon with you, she’s been busy in the storage. But you may unpack your books on this table over there.”

I nodded in agreement, already focusing my attention on the massive table in the shop’s corner, so I didn’t notice how the gaunt man closed the door and silently left the shop’s showroom. The carpet dampened my steps pleasantly and I went on with unpacking the books, setting them down on the table’s fabric cover. One by one, I placed De Vermis Mysteriis, Necronomicon and something that was nothing more than a fragment on the table.

Muffled steps directed my attention away from the somber tomes and I turned my head to a door that led into the back part of the shop. Then, I met her: Cassilda.

The gentle sound of her approaching steps wasn’t indicative of anything I should see just moments later. A tall hooded figure clad in a fanciful habit filled the door frame, easily reaching two meters and beyond in height. Strange red symbols contrasted with the dark fabric. But things got even more grotesque when I catched a glimpse of Cassilda’s face. The visage under the hood possessed a snout, covered entirely in rusty red scales.

What the hell was she?

I must have stared at her in shock while my mind was trying to figure out if this was real or a clever prank.

“Please, take a seat. Don’t feel bothered by my appearance, I hail from a species older than mankind.”

Her voice was full yet deep, tinted with the nature of her saurian origin which made her words drone in my ears.

I had trouble snapping out of my paralyzed state but eventually I sank onto the nearby chair. Despite its supple cushion my body didn’t relax. Cassilda, too, sat down opposite of me but even in a seated position her non-human aura persisted.

My throat became parched all of the sudden though I tried my best to appear composed as much as I could in this absurd situation.

In the meantime, Cassilda had pulled back the hood of her robe and her yellow saurian eyes rested on me. There was an apparent pleasure in her gaze. I tried to find signs of a well made costume, maybe a seam, but none of Cassilda’s features looked like a disguise.

“I’m pleased to see your Necronomicon specimen to be in such good shape, Mr. Hallstedt. It’s different seeing these rare books in person than on photographs alone. However, I must see which variant it is.”

“There is… more than one version of it?”, I managed to stammer in my confusion.

Cassilda nodded gently. “Different translations, yes, some more complete than others. With the arrival of modern times, fakes have become a hassle.”

She reached for the book with her clawed hands that had nothing in common with mankind but bore some terrible semblance with extinct species. Unlike me, she wasn’t afraid of touching the cold leather, her hands even slid gingerly over the surface. Without any haste, she opened the book and beheld its indescribable content.

The thoughts in my mind twisted and contorted while I was pressing myself into the chair’s cushions. I hoped this absurd scene was just one of these bewildering dreams but it was all too real.

I noticed a brief flicker in the light while shying away from taking a too close look at the Necronomicon, though I couldn’t fully ignore the pages riddled with odd symbols, diagrams and a text I was unable to read.

A low, yet satisfied growl preceded Cassilda’s words: “I almost doubted to see it again. It was a good idea you came to me, Mr. Hallstedt. You’ve done a great favor to Yog-Sothoth and his followers…”

Her words made no sense and at the same time I noticed a motion near the fringes of my vision. Otherworldly dark and undulating.

With wide eyes I witnessed how dozens of small black tendrils grew from Cassilda’s scale covered hands. The worm-like things swelled and engulfed more and more of her arm by every second. Cassilda’s left arm became a disgusting, writhing mass streaked by red pulsating veins. The clawed fingers lengthened to coalesce into an obnoxious thing ending in a hooked claw.

I immediately jumped off my chair with a feeling of having my air sucked from my lungs. The sickly light flickered again while I believed seeing the dark writhing mass stretching its oily tentacles into my direction.

In sheer panic, I stumbled towards the door, ignoring the chair and anything else in my way. With frantic motions, I found the door handle and tore open the door. And then I ran.

---

The next thing I remember is that I woke up in a hospital. Bruises, abrasions and a broken wrist were the result of an accident. The driver immediately hit the brakes but the contact with her car was enough to throw me off balance. In the ambulance they had to sedate me - I was babbling confusing stuff about a red dinosaur woman and black tendrils.

The police came and noted what I had to say. I suppose they thought I had a bad LSD trip or simply a mental breakdown.

For a few weeks, I was trying to recover from this event. I noticed I still had these photos of that goddamn book on my phone. Yeah, and for whatever reason I decided to go back to that book store. I found it to be empty, deserted to be honest. A glance in the empty shop window just revealed an empty room.

“There you won’t find any books”, a voice to my right commented. I turned around and the friendly face of an older man came into view. Supposedly a pensioner, who had been living in this area for decades.

I greeted him and asked nonchalantly: “Oh, was this a former bookstore?”

“Yes, twenty years ago, we had a small bookstore here. Had a small assortment of children’s books, also the latest novels of the famous authors. But then things went down the drain with the neighborhood. It’s a pity.”

“So, the store has been empty since that time, right? Sorry, if I ask… but… a friend of mine who collects rare books thought a second-hand book shop had moved in here.”

I flashed a meager smile while I played the role of the clueless guy.

The pensioner chuckled warmly as he replied: “I don’t know who told your friend that but since the old owner closed the shop, nobody else has shown interest in opening a store. I get that the area isn’t very profitable.”

With a nod and a few pleasantries exchanged, he parted ways with me whereas I remained with more questions than answers to my experience.