ITEM LOG 2105: A novel titled "Baran, or The knock on the door" by Ali Alfasi, Patroclus Press, 1850, 202 pages. Acquired from an Iranian merchant in 1977, just before the revolution. A simple and rather cliche ghost story. Reading the book from start to finish will cause an entity to attach itself to the reader until their death. It makes its presence known through sporadic knocking on any doors within the reader's immediate vicinity, especially when they try to sleep. 7000 euro, willing to negotiate
Excerpt:
"[...] Baran slowly opened the door, half-expecting to see something terrifying right there in front of her. Candle in hand, she ventured down the corridor, acutely aware of how loud her feet were on the old floorboards even as she tried to use her lightest steps. Creak creak creak.
She passed by one of the windows, a night sky of pure darkness beyond it. No soul was awake in the manor except for her, the courtyard below was barren, and for a moment it felt as though she was the only person alive in a desolate, lightless world. She felt the urge to cover the candle's flame, shield it from its reflection in the glass with her shivering palm. Creak creak creak.
At last, she reached Esther's door. A tomb-like silence surrounded her chamber and Baran felt her resolve weaken, for fear of being considered ridiculous. Surely there was nothing. Surely there was an explanation. Yet she could not stop her heart from pounding in her chest, shaking her whole frame. Thump thump thump.
She reached forward, slowly and hesitantly forming a fist. She watched her own hand get closer and closer, her shadow elongated by the candle's swaying flame. So quietly she could barely hear it herself, she knocked three times.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
After a moment that felt like an eternity, she heard the turn of the lock. [...]"
ITEM LOG 2136: A 119 x 84 cm oil painting, set in a dark brown wooden frame. The painter is unknown, speculated to have been made sometime in the late 18th century. Acquired at a flea market in Paris in 1930 from a rather unpleasant merchant. The painting depicts a landscape, winding hills of pale green grass dotted with squat olive trees under a pale blue sky. Every night between 00:00 and 02:30 you can crawl inside the painting. If you do not return before 02:30, you will have to wait until the next midnight to be able to exit. If you walk for approximately 5 kilometers in any direction, you will come across woodland, darker and darker the deeper you go inside. Eventually you will find what looks like an abandoned barn, with the doors and windows boarded firmly shut. Inside there is a child with the head of a bull. Trying to communicate with the little minotaur will cause your death. The exact means by which this happens is still unknown, but all retrieved explorers had extensive injuries. 10000 euro, fixed price
ITEM LOG 2147: A DIY hobby book titled "O comoară din... nimicuri" by Viorel Răducu, Editura Albatros, 1983, 190 pages. Acquired by Lucretzia from a book fair in Sighișoara in 1985. Unlike normal copies of this book, pages 106 to 128 are completely blank in this one. When held in front of a light, the pages reveal hidden construction designs. They are, however, devoid of measurements or any kind of instructions, and the devices that can be made are nonsensical when tested. Further attempts to decipher the designs are needed. 1500 euro, willing to negotiate
ITEM LOG 2152: A chapbook titled "Groans" by Maria Dănilă, Anglofil Magazine, 1970, 65 pages. Acquired by Sandu in a second-hand book shop from Bucharest in 1975. The "story" details the life and future death of Corneliu Năstase, the editor in chief of the magazine at the time, with impossible accuracy. It is unknown why he approved it to be published, and he indeed died, as predicted, two months later of unknown causes. The magazine was closed 5 months later, after 2 years of circulation. Miss Dănilă was never located. 1000 euro, willing to negotiate
Excerpt:
"[...] with one hand he held the cigarette to his lips and with the other he held his dick. The backyard was dark and silent except for the sound of his urine hitting the dry asphalt. A choking heat typical of August filled the air and mosquitos flew without direction.
Cornel scanned the horizon of houses and trees with his reddened eyes, searching for something. Anything. A lit window, a person walking by, even just a bird. He found himself almost wishing for there to be a witness. The house behind him was completely quiet since she stopped crying. [...]"
ITEM LOG 2176: A copy of "The King in Yellow", 1895, no press and no author as usual. Contained in a sealed box, as protocol. Acquired from a Serbian school principal in 1980. The book found him in his personal library. Took quite some wrestling to make him part with it. This certain volume has a dark blue hardcover, with an embossed yellow drawing of lake Hali with stars reflected in its surface. The pages are pale brown and there is an old ink stain on the top right corner, visible while closed. 15000 euro, fixed price
Excerpt:
Just kidding!
ITEM LOG 2178: An adjustable gold ring with a round moonstone, blue-purple iridescence. Acquired from Herr Albrecht at a dinner party in Marseilles, 1899. It gives prophetic dreams when worn during sleep and enhances the results of scrying rituals. However, due to the vague nature of the unconscious, dreams and visions of the future may blur together. Recommended for diviners with experience. 3000 euro, willing to negotiate
ITEM LOG 2179: An antique bronze hand-mirror with a goldtone floral design on the back and on the handle. Acquired by surprise from the bottom of a cardboard box full of books, from an estate sale in Oradea, 1981. The owner claims not to recognize it or know where it came from. The mirror has a large crack down the middle, that somebody tried to fix with what seems to be super glue, but it left a yellowed line on the surface. Prolonged gazing into its reflection will cause an entity to appear. Dubbed "Mimi" for the time being, it replaces any faces the mirror reflects with its own, which is pure white with small black eyes and a comically large smile. If multiple people are reflected, it will choose one person at a time. Mimi does not appear to have any effect on our reality and nothing of harm appears to happen to those whose reflections it uses. It is unclear if Mimi is trapped in the mirror against its will. Communication has been difficult as Mimi does not speak in any way, but it does seem able to read human body language, picking the reflections of people who smile and react amicably to it, or avoiding those who do not. Attempts to photograph Mimi have also been unsuccessful, as the mirror appears to reflect a bright white light regardless of the camera being used. 5000 euro, willing to negotiate
Artist's rendition:
ITEM LOG 2183: A book titled "Quieta non movere" by "Anonymous", bound by hand, allegedly 1898, 437 pages. Acquired from a Greek smuggler in 1921, who claims to have received it from a Croatian roadside peddler. The contents are written like a young woman's diary, recording her descent into madness after the deaths of her children. As the text goes on, it becomes abundantly clear it was her who killed them, and that she is convinced an unknown person is reading her diary. Reading too much of the book in one sitting will cause acute feelings of paranoia, claustrophobia and hallucinations of deceased loved ones. 6500 euro, fixed price
Excerpt:
"[...] I cannot sleep anymore. I can see them in the corner of the room when I close my eyes. They meekly wait by the walls as they did in life. The boy hides behind his sister, small fist bunching up the fabric of her sleeve. The girl looks at me, shivering and with stray hairs over her face, but still she looks at me. Her blue eyes are full of sorrow and pity. She pities me, the ghastly thing! Then I blink and they are gone. It is morning and Aleksei stares at me again. He stares with worry so fake it makes my stomach turn.
He tells me to rest, to try to sleep, but I can't and I told him a dozen times that I can't! I can see him down the hall. He is eating sausage and onion with salt, fleshy lips wrapping around the last of our food. I cannot stand feeling his eyes on me. His hands trying to caress my back make me retch. When I think I finally have some respite, here come the children only I can see. Not even in the bathroom can I be alone. I see cockroaches poking their heads through the drains. I must yell at Aleksei to get rid of them again, and again he looks at me with so much concern I want to punch him.
I want to leave. I want to get out of here. If I had the courage, I would climb aboard the first ship I saw with just the clothes on my back. But there is nowhere for me to go, is there? They will not leave me. [...]"
ITEM LOG 2186: A romance literature catalogue allegedly printed by Foole Press in 1990, 50 pages. Acquired by Sandu from a private auction in London, 2007. Along with normal titles available at the time, there are mentions of books and authors with no provable existence. Foole Press is equally elusive: the address leads to an empty patch of moorland, and the website is long-expired.
Excerpt:
[...]
- "Sweet Laughter" by Elizabeth Jovial - paperback, 217 pages, about a chambermaid and her jester lover from the 1500s, £ 4.99
- "Tell me 100 lies" by Agatha Crombe - paperback, 184 pages, about 2 spies on separate missions to seduce the other, £ 4.99
- "The Woman with Violets" by Florence McAbbeshire - paperback, 458 pages, about two female gardeners in long distance relationship, £ 9.99
- "Maze of Memories" by Elizabeth Jovial - paperback, 317 pages, about a woman with amnesia waking up in a strange world, £ 4.99
- "The Master and the Margarine" by Eugenie Paillard - paperback, 276 pages, a food-themed parody of the Bulgakov novel, £ 4.99
- "Heirloom Tomatoes in exchange for a Kiss" by Beryl Mongoose - paperback, 164 pages, about a werewolf farmer in love with a vampire dilettante, £ 4.99
- "The Grand Escape" by Elizabeth Jovial - paperback, 311 pages, about a heroine trying to escape her vicious ex, £ 4.99
- "The Right One" by Gertie Cox - paperback, 278 pages, about two politicians from opposing parties in a secret affair, £ 4.99
- "Once upon a Primavera" by Abighail Fernbuch - paperback, 336 pages, about a small town girl in love with an Italian tour guide, £ 4.99
- "I'm going to f*cking kill myself" by Elizabeth Jovial - paperback, 174 pages, about the relationship between an author and a demon, £ 0.99
- "A Texan Rendezvous" by McKaelee Turnkelsson - hardcover, 243 pages, about the forbidden love between a rancher and a dance instructor, £ 9.99
[...]
ITEM LOG #2199: A letter, dated 1925, that never reached its addressee. The poor gentleman died in a shipwreck before the postman could reach him. May he rest in peace. Personal collection.
Excerpt:
"[...] How do you feel about immortality?
Many people either daydream of it, or have a healthy fear of it. Just think of how many stories there are out there whose conclusion is that living forever would probably be a miserable fate. Indeed, perhaps the only thing worse than death is being unable to die.
You must think of me very annoying to answer your questions with philosophical musing, but I think it's a necessary prelude. You need to work on your patience anyway, dear.
If you think about it, we will all become eternal one day, either in the afterlife prepared for us by whichever God is real, or in the quiet void of non-existence. I know it's of little comfort, most people are still afraid of death. It's the reason given, directly or not, as to why one would wish to live forever. It's a terrible thought, isn't it? You, all you know, all you have been, all you could have been, ending forever while everything else goes on without you.
I am afraid of death too, even after all those years. Of course I am afraid. Despite what you may think, I am only human.
However, the fear of death was not the reason I chose to become like this. It was a deeply personal and selfish indulgence. Not "I don't want to die" as much as "I want to live". I want to see, to hear, to smell, to taste, to feel, everything that there is. I love our world and I just can't let it go.
I remember being a child, maybe 4 or 5 years old, in a small little village in Romania back when it was occupied by the Austro-Hungarian empire. Actually, I think it was not long after I got my eye messed up! The priest showed us children a map he had acquired. It showed Europe, the north of Africa and some of the West of Asia. So many lines, so many cities and kingdoms, so many names. The closest city to our village was but a minuscule needle-point dot. That map was just a fraction! The world was so huge! There were so many places, so many people! This revelation left my child mind completely awestruck, filled with an addicting sense of curiosity.
It was through my misadventures over the years and the relations I've built with individuals in high places that I first learned about "true immortality". Not vampirism, or reanimation, or ghost possession - you would still be yourself. I was immediately intrigued, so by doing a couple favours I won myself an audience with none other than the Count of Saint Germain.
It will not surprise you if I say the Count is a strange fellow. Because indeed he is. He is The weird guy. But the fun kind of weird! The kind that is entertaining at parties.
We met in a French tavern more befitting of my criminal ilk than his, the sumptuous coat he wore simply daring somebody to rob him. He had very fine features, yet ambiguous to his true country of origin. Dark hair and dark brows, a long strong nose and a dangerous smile. He loved to talk, and I do mean loved. He seemingly had no need to pause for air, and he smothered me with fantastical anecdotes unrelated to the main point of our meeting. As tiring as he may have been on the ears, he was undeniably charming, a king of sweet-talking and swindling like I had never before seen after a lifetime surrounded by swindlers.
But the immortality was real. It was the only time he was sincere, for it was the only time life came back into his eyes. Most people confuse it for another farce, another attempt to impress, but I saw through it and he knew that I did.
The Count took me to his chateau and we made love [...] The next day he told me very frankly everything I needed to do. He laid it all out like a professor for a dissertation paper, all the requirements and all the risks. The first time was the most dangerous: I would either die and it would all end there, or I would succeed. And luck had it that I succeeded.
Now I must specify that, technically speaking, I am not a "true" immortal. While decay has been halted, I can still die and I came dangerously close to it hundreds of times. The human body, as resilient as it is, falls apart just as easily. Even if you are perfectly healthy, a cog or a screw can still be impacted by outside forces, bringing everything down with it. A wrong step on a ladder, a slippery floor, a sharp edge you didn't notice was there, allergies you didn't know you had. Frequent check-ups and periodical "replacements" are necessary. You may say I am a human version of the ship of Theseus.
I always kept my bad eye, though. You know how sentimental I am. I want a part of me, a tiny one, to remain "original". I thought it would be somewhat poetic to preserve this infirmity, this accident that happened when I was a mischievous and curious child. Keep that little guy alive forever. The Count found it endearing, at least.
All he asked in return was that I didn't forget him. I used some of his names for myself over the years as tribute. He is still out there, you know? The last time we met was in 1901, in Monaco. It was a short reunion, we just ate dinner in the Old Town and shared a bed again, then we continued on our separate travels. He is always moving, always seeking novelty. Oh, God knows which names he uses today. After his 18th century popularity streak, he chose to lay low and be less flashy. People don't mess around with immortal beings anymore. I do my best to hide it too. I have no desire to become any government's lab rat.
When I die, I hope it's funny! Like slipping on a banana peel at the top of a flight of stairs.
Well then, if you've read thus far and you still wish to proceed with becoming an immortal, if you are truly certain this is what you want, then I shall help you. I will explain it to you as it has been explained to me by the Count, which was very comprehensive.
I can also show you other things the Count had shown me that fateful night, if you'd like. [...]"
