Somewhere, at the distant edges of vision, it moves...

Have you ever had the vague feeling that you've awakened something very bad and it is no longer within your power to prevent it?

I'll be perfectly honest with you: I'm not a big fan of horror, be it in books, television, or movies. I just don't find it particularly scary. I'm a past-master at suspending disbelief, but there's something about frightening stories that I just don't find very frightening. Perhaps it's due to my being plenty scared by my life as it is. That's a question for the therapist, I suppose.

There is one aspect of the scary story which I do find evokes fear in me. It's the moment at which the protagonist realizes that that which they've called may well have answered their call. The moment of realization that dread Cthulhu's gaze is slowly falling upon you, or that the Candyman  has heard that recognized that final syllable and smiled, or whatever. You've done your bit and there's no undoing it. Your shadow has stepped away from your feet. You've started it, but you can no longer stop it.

For some, that moment comes as a relief. They've passed the baton and whatever horror awaits is sure to be less painful than the task of summoning one's own doom. For most though, it's the recognition that their reckless disregard for the warnings scratched into the old spell book has obligated them to pay a price they weren't prepared to pay. 

Which is to say, I've had better days. I'm staring intently at the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup and they appear to be saying "We are coming. Thank you for the invitation." I'm sure it's just a trick of the light and nothing more. Nothing to be worried about at all.