God didn’t answer my prayers but something else did
Rachael and I were high school sweethearts. We met through mutual friends and hit it off like a house on fire. Our weekends were spent hanging out enjoying each other’s company. Our first big stumbling block came after graduation.We were accepted into different colleges four hours away. Most relationships would faze out at this point but we persevered. Meeting up as often as possible. The summer of our final year we were already making plans about the next steps in our journey together through life. Where we’d like to live, how many children, we’d even named the dog we would have. After we graduated I asked her to marry me. We were young in love and life was going just as planned. Rachel’s bachelorette party was planned for two weeks before the wedding. The venue was set, the menu had been tasted and guests had flights booked from various parts of the globe. On her way home from the party, she was taken from me. Some sick bastard put an end to the life we had dreamed of. The things he did to her were unspeakable. I was the first on the scene, the flashing blue lights sent waves of terror through my body. I already knew the inevitable was awaiting my arrival. That still didn’t prepare me to see the woman I loved, disfigured in such a vile manner. The tears engulfed my vision. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her but the police needed me to confirm her identity. Between the tears and vomiting, I managed to tell them enough to bring her body to the morgue. I dropped to my knees, losing myself in the madness. The autopsy was extensive but found no match for DNA. Cameras in the area didn’t show any clear pictures of her assailant. The funeral was a blur. People who should have been celebrating our marriage were now lining up to shake my hand and utter the dreaded words, “I’m sorry for your loss.” I spent the next three years just existing. A ghost of a man, going through the motions expected of me. I spent my days at work, participating in the office conversations but never actually taking in any information. The discussions about the new show on tv or the latest scandal online. These meant nothing to me. Existence was meaningless. The fear of facing this life alone was crippling. I spent most nights in the foetal position hoping for a release. The next few years I spent trying to track down Rachael’s killer. I was adamant the police never tried to find him. My beliefs were fuelled by hours scrolling through the internet, plaguing my mind with stories of conspiracies. Forums of people who believed the world was run by lizards and our lives were not what we were led to believe. I got involved with some dangerous people, those who spread chaos through propaganda and influencing those whose minds were malleable. Through these groups I made connections, people who had access to power but should never be in those positions in the first place. I cornered my first target in an underground parking lot. I pressed a knife to his throat and demanded a confession. I had confirmed he was released from prison a week before Rachael’s murder. He was in for charges of sexual assault and battery. I wore a black balaclava and covered my face with my hood. I saw him leave his car and make his way towards the stairs to his apartment block. The lights were dim as a crept along the shadows, out of sight behind the side of a large SUV. As he neared my position I launched myself towards him, pinning him to the wall. His eyes full of fear as the blade drew a trickle of blood. After questioning him relentlessly to no avail. I struck him hard in the jaw with the handle of the dagger. Leaving him in a heap on the floor, his pants damp with urine from the fear for his life. I continued this routine on several more occasions, each time more intense than the next. I finally came to my senses after my encounter with my sixth victim of my deranged mind. A ragged young man, mid twenties, with the start of a September shadow visible on sections of his chin. I had progressed to breaking some fingers when my questioning wasn’t getting the responses I had envisioned. This time I had gone too far. I left this man in a pool of his own blood, broken and bruised. I spent the next few nights praying for forgiveness. Life may feel like a pointless task but I still was hoping for salvation at the end of the road. Prayers for forgiveness turned to prayers for strength, prayers to bring back some joy to my life. I prayed for a miracle, to bring back my love to the land of the living. To heal the wounds my soul had suffered. I continued in this vein for weeks. Asking for some divine intervention to give me another chance at life with Rachael. My prayers were unanswered. The feeling of loss started to consume me once more. Not feeling any remorse or kindness for the almighty powers of the universe I fell into a dark place. My connections I made online directed me towards more occult methods. I dove into the art form of witchcraft and satanic rituals in the hope of a trade, my soul for a second chance. I studied rituals and summoning, in hopes of gaining access to one of the knights of hell. I spilt the blood of livestock, and said the words of power but still no response. I scoured the forums for any information on a different method. I got in touch with many so-called scholars of the cosmos. Each with a nugget of information that would help me summon Arzgodan. A cosmic entity who may grant wishes to those who can complete his trial. I contacted a gentleman by the name of Martin Wallace. A published researcher into the entities beyond the cosmos, to give me some guidance into the task I planned to undertake. “Not much is known about the cosmic creatures, Arzgodan even less.” Mark stroked his beard in thought. His hair had greyed years ago but his beard still had a resemblance of black. “I must stress the fact that one does not try to make contact with them lightly. Bringing them into our world may be detrimental to you. There are worse things in life than death.” “I would suffer an eternity of pain for a single moment more with her.” I said stone faced “I don’t doubt your resolve Connor or your motives but I don’t think you can comprehend what you are trying to accomplish here. For those of us who look deeper into these entities, we must accept the fact that they are omniversal. That there are other realities like ours in which they reside, a sliver of their presence in each and every one of them. That we have different versions of ourselves in other timelines living in tangent to us. Their torment of you may last a millennia, breaking you to the very essence of your being, across endless dimensions.” He stared into my eyes, willing me to understand his reasoning “ I have already begun on this course.” I said, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.” I’m just looking for some advice on how to ensure I have a chance at gaining his favour. My own god has abandoned me and the devil is too cruel to help.” “What you wish to seek will make any deal with the devil look like child’s play.” The ritual of summoning was long and arduous. The things I have done have excluded me from any redemption. I have defiled all that is humane. I will not be disclosing the steps as to do so would endanger each of you that reads this. Once you know the steps, you feel compelled to complete them. As the last task was complete, I called out to Arzgodan, asking him to grant me my one wish, accepting what he may ask of me. I stood there, on the edge of a cliff at the end of the world, staring out into the endless sea. I waited for some time with no sign of any otherworldly presence. As I turned to leave, defeated and full of shame. I noticed I could see a disturbance in the skyline above the horizon. The sea began to change colour, first red then green followed by purple. My eyes spun furiously. As they came into focus once more I noticed I was looking at myself from ground level. My eyes had dislodged from their sockets, the sight was sickening as each iris’s view point shifted independently. My body began to dismantle and rebuild inhuman form. I could feel a presence overtake me. The words do not exist to describe the feeling of horror as every fibre in my body rearranged itself. The physical agony was only outweighed by the psychological torment I endured as my mind collapsed under the weight of incomprehension. Arzgodan had made his presence known. My mind shattered as Arzgodan tried to communicate with me. I experience every painstaking death known to man for an eternity and an instance all at once. He rebuilt my consciousness in a way in which I could perceive his words in thought. Images and feelings were how we communicated. I can only describe it as forcing me to understand his meaning. He addressed me as the “summoner of Arzgodan”. His title was Arzgodan the disruptor of existence, and I was his tether to this plane. I begged him to return my lost love to me, I put as much will behind my thoughts as possible. I flooded him with pictures of the two of us and the lives we envisioned. He was not able to comprehend the emotions of man but could understand my wish to return a soul from the dead. He described how his influence over my strings of life were limited by my alternate forms across other realities. If those strings were to be reduced into one he would then be able to grant my wish. To do so, I would need to endure the trials. I accepted his proposition without any further explanation, whatever he required I would do. He formed an image in my mind of countless versions of myself fighting one another. Severing a string each time one falls. I was now the requester of the trial and it was made known to my counterparts. We would meet at random occasions, within the next rotation of the star of my planet. A one on one contest of will and determination, until only one remains. These meetings would happen across all timelines. Each version of myself fighting to remain. He showed me an image of one contest already taking place. An older version of myself, missing an eye from a wound received years ago, fighting a version of myself no older than 10. They were aware that I was the cause of their torment and they hated me for it. The contest could only be decided by weapons formed in the shape of points. I took this to mean blades. The concept is not familiar to Arzgodan. His presence retracted into the outer reaches of the universe and my mind began to return to normality. I was aware that I needed to prepare for the oncoming challenges. I write this entry in hope you may never seek a meeting with this eldritch horror. I currently sit at my laptop, covered in the blood from my first challenger. A version of me who had lived a long life. He knew who I was the moment he appeared in my room. His eyes burned with hatred unknown to most. Unfortunately for him he was so far in years he barely had the strength to raise his arm in defence as I slashed his throat with my blade. I am resisting the urge to sleep as I fear that when I close my eyes, the next challenger will have his chance to take my prize as his own. They are fighting for their lives but I am fighting for hers. Credit: ShaunMGleeson Reddit Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.