The Daemon’s Revenge

Isn’t this what a horror writer fear’s most, that her creations will one day come back to haunt her? That the very exorcism of self and other she achieves in the creation of these hideous creatures is to expunge from herself the darkest parts of her own nature. One day these dark inhabitants of the outer zones, those shadows we fear and are our only salvation will return with a vengeance to slay us, gobble us up, and recreate us in their image. We will finally become the monstrous thing we knew all along was our destiny. The horror we fear is the horror we are.

Nietzsche espoused two types of nihilism: the passive which forfeits itself in guilt and continuous self-effacement; the second, an active nihilism that spawns murder, mayhem, and self-aggrandizement upon its spite of the human species. He sought to move beyond both forms and failed, went mad, and spent the last ten years in the care of his fascist sister staring into nothingness. He entered the abyss that he’d always dreaded and yet sought with the terrible vengeance of those who would know the absolute. The absolute is nothing more than the impossible writ large, our fantasia of the phantasmatic ineffable that is not and yet is. Darkness eats away at the light like a dark god who knows he will rule in eternity.