New Story From The Archives

We recently released 2 short stories based on The Silent Still Society Archives with our free EP and digital-painting/printable-poster. If you haven’t already, download that now and enjoy it, our Holiday gift to you! For your further enjoyment, here is a story from another, less documented side of the Society, the journals and stories of agents gone rogue. From what we can gather, Doctor Josef Shumann worked with the Nazis, experimenting with Shadow creatures in attempts to create super soldiers. Enjoy the story, comment, and share. And have a great Holiday with your friends and family!
*Image: Scotch Mist 

Subject 6
The Silent Still Society Archives
Based on the Journal of Doctor Josef Schumann
by Draven Grey

All information contained herein has been neither confirmed or denied by The Silent Still Society, and is being shared in accordance with the Society’s codes and regulations under statute 13(d). Sensitive information has been redacted  or changed appropriately.

I fear we have created a demon in our quest to harness the angels. Only two nights ago we were sitting round the fire, speaking of what glorious things would befall us once we finally held in our hands the power of these amazing creatures we call Shadows. Many of our fellows had succumb to the wiles of insanity after an encounter with such a beast. We marvel at their power over us, and we are determined in our plight to understand and make use of such a power.

Today, we lay witness to the horrid consequence of our ignorance, the foul harvest of what we have sewn. To capture one of these frightening beings was an undertaking not to be taken lightly. But to hold one in chains, to study it, to poke it with needles, prod it with hot irons, only makes me question how much we have truly evolved from our primal ancestors. And worse, to meld its mind with one of our own, having the brashness to think we could control such a power…Our quest to advance the human race, our tenacity to make haste the work of Lebensborn by experimenting on our own soldiers, our thirst for dominance will be our downfall.

Subject 6 has been our only survivor to date with this new creature. We have taken centuries old work and made ourselves fools to think our advances in technology and science would give us a better result. I fear in our quest to create Nietzche’s Übermensch, where we would be without rival in this war, we have instead created the Juden Eliyahu’s Golem, who has scarred our face in opposition.

I cannot begin to describe the horrors that filled our halls this morning. At the sound of the alarms and the rushing of soldiers, I thought the creature had escaped. I threw on my coat and hurried past the guard to safety. Once safe in the observation room, I saw the whole thing unfold in front of me. The alarms had not been set off by the creature, but instead by Subject 6. He had forced his way into the creature’s lab. And to my dismay and curiosity he stood still naked from his slumber, inches from the creature, staring directly into its eyes. It was no longer the magnificent creature we had so carefully captured. We hung it from chains and gears, its back to the wall, its clothes stripped, and its mind tortured and weakened by months upon months of our invasive probing.

How could we be so foolish? How could we work so hard at merging the mind of Human and Shadow, not even considering what such a connection could do? Subject 6 stared at the creature with compassion. As I peaked out into the room from my window, I could not help but be moved to softheartedness. And then I saw the most unexpected and shocking savagery. Without effort, Subject 6 ripped the creature’s head from its body. Whether an act of compassion and mercy or of war, I do not know. I cowered in fear and can only speculate as to what happened next.

I heard gun fire, I heard the gigantic lab door tear from its hinges. I heard a thundering crash, horrible screams, and soon only the sound of alarms rang out. I gathered just enough courage to look over the controls and into the lab once again. Subject 6 had not moved from his place other than to face the door. How was that possible?

He glanced up, his eyes meeting with mine. I could feel my heart cringing, like a child who just came to realize the monsters under his bed are very real. But I could not look away. With conviction, Subject 6 set his eyes again to the door, and walked out of sight.

A few more guns firing, more screaming, and the terror that follow their sudden ending as I sit petrified on the floor. I dared not leave the observation room. Nightmares filled my head with the unsightly things that could lay beyond my door.

It has been several hours now. Silence fills the building. I turned off the alarms long ago. I write this trying to make sense of what I have seen today. My only company my journal. My only glimmer of hope for my life, the sound of the ringing phone box filling the room — that small red box on the wall meant only for extreme emergencies. And I will let it continue to ring.


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