In a crumbling village riddled with silence, rot, and whispered warnings, a nameless boy stumbles upon a black scroll that should not exist. Smooth as polished stone, darker than shadow, and empty of ink, it calls to him like something half-remembered from a dream. He opens it. That’s his first mistake.
The Messenger is a psychological horror novella set in a surreal fantasy world where reality fractures at the edge of perception. Told in recursive, dreamlike chapters that unravel like memories infected with ink, the story follows a boy caught between two oppressors, the scornful voice of his abusive mother, and the quiet seduction of a scroll that promises peace in blackness.
As the boy’s mind begins to splinter, the scroll reveals itself to be more than a relic. It is a presence. An entity. A watcher that doesn’t speak, only takes. It invades his dreams, alters his senses, and reshapes time. Days blur. Objects move. People forget. The scroll never does. Slowly, the line between thoughts and ink dissolves. Words carve into flesh. Smiles stretch too wide. Fruit rots on the vine, but rot itself becomes ritual. There is something waiting on the other side of silence, and it might be beautiful.
But this story isn’t just his.
You are the reader. That makes you the messenger. And the scroll has begun to write you into itself.
Structured to be read both forward (as a descent into madness) and backward (as a search for healing), The Messenger invites you to retrace your steps through mirrored symbols, reversed glyphs, and uncanny echoes. It warns that not all who read are ready. And not all who finish are free.
Turn the page, if you must. But don’t say you weren’t warned.
