Elizabeth's Journal

March 15, 2011

I was staring outside my car window into the snow whenever I received a message from my police chief pertaining to a peculiar case in Lost Eden, AR. I was a curious detective then, so naturally I accepted the job. We were briefed about a large burst of energy near the hamlet, and occasional pulses of energy that were presumed to have originated from the same source. County locals had assumed that an earthquake had occurred, but it was too short and powerful to make sense in an area not close to any fault lines. I also thought it was an earthquake; I thought it was easily the strongest earthquake I had ever felt. The magnitude of its force was immeasurable. There was no seismic reason to explain this event. It seemed as if the burst of energy was radial, for different witnesses reported the event at different times with different intensities. 

This is how Lost Eden came to our attention. The eye of the storm was triangulated to a small area near the hamlet. Lost Eden is known for having extremely religious residents, despite not having a church. Its name would suggest that it upholds religious themes, but that implication alone severely underestimates their devotion to the Christian faith. It is a hamlet full of zealots. Upon attempting contact with the hamlet, we received only a cryptic message: “I am the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” 

I drove out to the hamlet with my newly assigned partner, Maurice Smith. We both worked at the Criminal Investigation Department in a town near Lost Eden named Oakwood. It is a small town with little crime, so we typically are assigned to jobs from all over the state. The roads were slick and icy from the snow, so we had some time to observe our surroundings. As we approached the settlement, feelings of dismay and panic grew quickly inside of me. I do not know if Maurice felt the same way, but he too looked worried. The weather grew more tempestuous as we came closer, which eventually led to our windshield being constantly blocked with snow. 

We did not want to turn back so easily and leave empty handed, so we decided to push forward for a little longer before going on foot, for we were almost at the destination. The dirt roads became slick and smooth instead of rough and rocky. The trees were pure white with dark cracks littering the surface of the bark. Suddenly, a massive rock crashed through the windshield of the car.

We spun out of control, crashing into a grand tree that felt as hard as rock. The debris that had caused this incident was no ordinary object. It was made of pure white marble, inscribed with runes and unknown markings. It took the shape of a large pebble. These inscriptions glew a light gold when deprived of snow. My leg was injured, but it was not a mortal wound; it did not even prevent me from walking. However, my leg was still damaged enough to make me limp. Maurice hit his head hard on the wheel, but miraculously left the car unscatched. The car was wrecked; it had a large cavity in the roof, a shattered windshield, and was overall crushed and compressed. 

After unsuccessfully attempting to contact help, we continued on foot. We noticed that the dirt roads were no longer made of dirt, but instead they were made of pure white marble. Actually, everything was made of this marble. The trees, rocks, dirt, and even the grass were ensnared by the marble. It was clear that we had arrived at some anomalous site. 

We came across a marble stone after walking for roughly ten minutes; the hamlet was beyond the stone. When cleared of the snow, it was revealed to be a sign welcoming us to Lost Eden; it too had runes and other markings etched into its surface. My sense of dread did not stop growing upon leaving the crash. I was genuinely terrified, but I would not swallow my pride and tell Maurice that I was fearful; I would not abase myself and turn back. I could not see much in the snowstorm, but I could feel the energy; I could feel where our lead was at. 

None of the buildings could be entered. They were all boarded shut, and reinforced by the marble curse stricken upon the land. No residents were to be seen. Still, the energy called us. It called us to the same place it has always been. Perhaps that was where all the residents were, I thought.

Following these sensations on a beat down path, we came across a frozen lake beyond the marble houses. I could feel pressure under my skin pushing outwards; I felt like my skin would explode. My right pupil dilated, while my left pupil contracted. My eyes became weaker, more frail, and then back to normal, as if my lenses were being stretched. My tongue sensed a wide variety of flavors: bitter, sour, sweet, salty, and umami. I smelled a fire, yet nothing was aflame. I heard directional whispers, but the distance they assumed did not signify their true location. They spoke in tongues, but I had a feeling of what message they were trying to convey.

These strange perceptions repeated as we beheld its sight. It was a captivating landmark, for whatever reason. It was a generic lake whose entirety I could not see, for the snow and impairments blocking my sight, but I still found it to be the most beautiful lake that had ever existed. I am still here, now, admiring its quixotic image. It may be interfering with my head. I do not know, nor do I care.

Maurice died. I am unsure as to how he died, but it does not matter. It is such a trivial matter to be occupied with whenever I can admire the lake. Maurice did not understand my appreciation for the lake. He was sullen, apathetic, and adamant. The lake was no longer an enigma to me, and I tried to share this esoteric gift of knowledge with him, but he refused; he would not give penance. An ingratiate soul he was. This was my fate, my destiny. This lake is didactic; it was not the center of any crime scene. Maurice was punished for his impertinence. 

I was not embittered by Maurice’s death. I want to reach the center of a lake. Nothing can prevent me from doing this; it is inexorable. The lake will give me its eternal edification; it will give me its enlightenment. I will be emancipated from this world, and my epiphany will be grand. I have waited to step onto the ice until I finished this journal entry, so now I am standing on it as I write this. Farewell. 

- Elizabeth Whitehorse