Extracted From The Portal. Possibly A (Time) Travel Journal.

Black boots hit the floor. I wasn’t sure how I felt. The truth: I didn’t.

Plop plop plop. Ink gushed from every lace hole and missing stitch.

If Jesus were to come back, he’d be born into an upper middle class family: not enough money to seem falsely godlike and just enough that every accomplishment would be doubted. It is always the nature of the masses to doubt the truth and the nature of doubt to poison the blessing.

As the black poured, I allowed. I had spent at least 7 years in the complete darkness. The small light that burns within nearly suffocated in every moment. Leeches hung from the body, and they sucked the light, the oxygen and the energy. They looted my temple. Pick axes plunged into the walls, tearing and searching for every last bit hidden inside the reservoirs within. Treasures from every life time taken. The wind smashing against my face. Never was I certain: was I falling or rising? I still do not know.

Everything I had now given. What to do with this shell? Had I purged or had I been robbed. Was this complete victory or ultimate defeat. How do we know. Full of energy and exhausted, I would wait.

It is gorgeous, how a soul can look like Black Paint Drippin. Clinging in the air. Mercury in time. Marvelous.

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A Document Extracted From The Portal.

It was All Hallows’ Eve in the desert. The full moon would be visible by night.

When I saw the lizard filling the gas cans, I knew we were close. He filled the final can and placed it into the open trunk. There were 3 total. SLAM. I waited until he disappeared into the opening in the wall of dust, the mouth of the desert.

I proceeded on a slightly different course, of course. The portal was discovered at noon. Better yet, the key, which hung next to a stone angel, was obtained at noon exactly. The key was the portal, but the note, which contained only a name and a number, told me the treasure waited on the island. I collected the key and drove east.

A 3 or 5 day journey: the path was simple, though the journey was treacherous. Things would grab and pull at me the entire way. It was somewhere near the arch where my battle would occur. Kicking and screaming, I was drained. Beyond my survival, that story contains no further significance.

I knew I had reached the island when I came to the bridge. It hung over a marsh, the likes of which I had never seen, and a beetle, about the size of my hand, fingers included, hung above the bridge. The beetle, unusually large, was enshrined in pure gold. Frozen in stillness, his buzz still hung in the air.

Proceed to the cabin and unlock the door. Use the key. The key is the portal.

The key made a sliding noise as the locking mechanism was rolled to the left before, “CLOCK,” the bolt removed itself from the equation. ENTER.

I entered the cabin. One room. Wooden floor. White walls. Sun lit. And a treasure chest.

It sat in the center of the room. I collected the chest. Holding it in my hands, thick black ink leaked from the cracks between the wooden pieces that assembled the container. Soon my hands were covered. The ink dropped from my hands onto the previously pristine floor. A puddle formed around my feet.

Excessive amounts of black ink pooling around me. I began to sink. I opened the chest. I stared inside. It’s contents clean, no signs of the black ink.

When I looked up, the shine was bright, and it was hot. Sand now replaced the ink puddle where I stood. Furthermore, it extended further than I could see in every direction.

The key is the portal; I was now uncertain what side of the portal I existed in. I would hang the key next to the portal and I would return with the chest.

NOTE: The document, “Black Paint Drippin,” another document extracted from the portal, contains similar mentions of a black ink/paint like substance.

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