By C. Michael Forsyth
LONDON — The Old Ones, demonic god-like beings that ruled Earth eons before the dawn of man, have at last been freed from their subterranean prison — and, one by one, have begun to return to our world.
That’s the triumphant claim of ecstatic high priests of ancient, forbidden cults that worship the entities. And, horrifyingly, top occult investigators confirm it’s true!
Cult watchers say that a hideous ritual was conducted simultaneously last December 31 by fanatical followers around the globe: defrocked cardinals in the haunted Parisian catacombs; jabbering witch doctors over vats of flesh in the Congo; bloodthirsty Thuggees in a secret necropolis beneath the Great Hole of Calcutta; hooded necromancers within a circle of Celtic monoliths in Wales and thousands of other degenerates.
That act of insanity on a day the stars align precisely only once in 90 years unsealed a “gate” protecting our universe from the fiendish beings’ hellish dimension — allowing the first three of the seven Old Ones to emerge, investigators warn.
“When all seven come through, it will mean the end of man’s dominion over Earth and a new dark age that will never end,” warns Dr. Herbert A. Thackens of Cambridge, Mass., a professor of archaeology and a highly respected authority on the occult.
“Cultists have yearned for this day for centuries. Their priests will reign like Oriental despots over the handful of humans who survive — for a time — as sacrificial lambs, food for these accursed gods. The Old Ones are more ancient than Chaos, more evil than any demon in the deepest circle of Hell — and will be omnipotent once all seven sit on their thrones.”
Yet some cult leaders admit they are beginning to regret their rash act.
“The Old Ones will usher in an epoch of horror and madness, full of unthinkable abominations,” says Roger Whittenbow, high priest of the Order of Thursis, a London-based branch of Satanism banned by mainstream Satanists for being too evil. “That part is splendid. What’s a bit off putting is how cranky the Old Ones are. They constantly complain about how much Earth has changed for the worse since they last walked it.
“One of the Old Ones, named P’thantu Rami, commanded us to bring Him 700 virgins for a grotesque rite of human sacrifice. I humbly told the great lord that it might take time to round up that many because virgins aren’t so plentiful in Britain now. He spent the next half hour railing about how much more chaste women were in ancient times. He and His brethren don’t care much for cars or the Internet either.”
The Old Ones are proving alarmingly forgetful, he added.
“The second lord, Cthoko Ba’al, summoned me. As I knelt before Him, He ordered that I arrange a bacchanalian orgy so vile in its description it made the most obscene atrocity a depraved syphilitic whore might envision in a fever dream sound like a toddler’s lisping bedroom prayer by comparison,” revealed Whittenbow.
“As I began phoning around to find a suitable venue, the Old One called me back in and gave the exact same order again. He’d forgotten what He’d said 10 minutes earlier! Another time, Cthoko Ba’al commanded us to look for His unholy crown, forged from the bones of warlords who’d sold their souls in a forgotten age. But He was already wearing it!”
Worst of all are the old jokes, repeated ad nauseum.
“The third Old One to come through is known as the Lord of Mirth,” explained Whittenbow. “In ancient times, when He manifested Himself in Persia, He induced fits of laughter in which the entire population of cities cackled joylessly until tears of blood dripped from their eyes and, unable to even eat, they starved to death.
“But to put it frankly, no one appreciates His brand of humor anymore. His routine went over like a lead balloon. No one got His references and when He tried to be topical — with ‘How about that Vladimir Putin?’ stuff — it was even more excruciating. We all clapped politely at first. But after hearing the same stale jokes for the 20th time, you feel like sacrificing yourself on a stone altar.”
Tales of the Old Ones have been around since before recorded history, often hinted at obliquely in obscure or banned texts. Early 20th century horror writer H.P. Lovecraft warned of their existence and the notorious occultist Aleister Crowley — known as “the Wickedest Man in the World” — gleefully predicted their imminent return.
“They have been known by many names in many cultures,” says Dr. Thackens. “From the chaos monster-gods such as Angra Mainyu and the monstrous bird-god Anzu of Mesopotamia in the third millenium B.C., and Asag, a Babylonian ‘gallu’ of hideous strength, to Buer, described as ‘The Great President of Hell’ in the 16th century grimoire Pseudomonarchia Daemonum.”
The Celtic deity Ogmios, who seduced humans with words and led them into the underworld with chains through their ears, is also believed to have been one of the Old Ones. And many Bible scholars believe the Nephilim of the Holy Scriptures refer to the terrifying entities.
The incredibly well-coordinated December 31 ritual reportedly took place in 57 places associated with mysticism, devil-worship or the paranormal, including Easter Island where naked cultists sacrificed 13 “volunteers” and pranced in front of the mysterious giant heads called moai. Other locales, according to cult-watchers, include the town of Triora in the ancient hills of Liguria, where witches were burned alive in the 1500s for their horrific rites. Also, temples in a massive cave in the Valley of Valchuisella, in the foothills of the Alps, constructed by an Italian who had seen them in a vision at age 10.
The first Old One made his comeback near Merlin’s Cave in Cornwall, England, a site of mystical rites dating back 8,000 years, long before the Druids. About 500 followers gathered around Witch’s Hill, chanting an ancient spell (whose utterance carries the death penalty in Turkey, Romania and Iraq) in unison with fellow fanatics around the globe. Cult members have been strictly forbidden to speak of what they saw, but several weeks later on January 21, an anonymous eyewitness posted this bone-chilling account on his blog, Demon Talk:
“The scull-shaped hillock, of sinister repute since before the Roman conquest, erupted, like a putrid boil pregnant with corruption suddenly bursting. The explosion created a sinkhole far deeper than the Mariana Trench or any other abyss into which a submariner might venture even in a nightmare. The pit was blindingly radiant in its absolute blackness, a place at once in the center of our Earth and outside our world.
“My nostrils were assaulted by a stench more vile than 10,000 open graves, an almost physical force that could split a human psyche as a cleaver slices meat. Then tendrils loathsome as rat tails but fantastically immense emerged. And something colossal began to haul itself out of the pit.
“No words could begin to describe that blasphemous monstrosity. I say only that it had a malignant aura more malignant than malignancy itself. Many went insane as they beheld it, their minds unable to comprehend this gargantuan being that violated every law of physics and warped the space around it. Those of us who’d spent a lifetime steeling our minds for this ‘Medusa effect’ fell prostrate to worship, many weeping or writhing in ecstasy.
“P’thantu Rami opened His mouth — if one could rightly call that maw that made a mockery of all that is natural a mouth. But He did not speak, He sang. The sound was rife with the shrieks of 10 million souls consumed in sacrifices over countless centuries, so chaotic Dionysus himself would cover his ears in horror. Yet interlaced with that cacophony was a sweet and seductive melody that instantly commanded the love of all who were present. It actually reminded me of the tunes of Bacharach.”
Within days, two more Old Ones emerged, greeted by fawning worshippers and a marching band. There were celebratory orgies, exuberant desecration of cemeteries, hearty exchanges of high-fives and toasts at Satanist bars in every city. But within a month, the “bloom was off the rose,” as one disappointed British cultist put it. With their non-stop carping and unreasonable demands — complaining that their quarters are too hot, then too cold, then too hot again — the Old Ones have already outworn their welcome.
Although Whitttenbow strenuously denies it, there are rumors that some cultists are meeting in secret dens, seeking a way to send the old ones back through the hellhole from whence they came.
“This is like having an elderly aunt staying in your house,” explained a cult member who asked for anonymity out of fear of destruction. “At first, you’re pleased as punch to see her and learn about the good old days. But when you keep hearing the same old stories again and again, she starts rearranging furniture, criticizing your wife’s cooking and lambasting your teenage daughter for dressing like a ‘tramp,’ well, you can’t wait to give her the heave-ho.”
Copyright C. Michael Forsyth