Things to see when visiting the Strangelove and Kraft Occult Museum: The Journal of Ernest Kraft and the Obsidian Knife

Apparently, the most interesting items to be found in a museum such as this are hidden away or at least not in plain sight. This became obvious to me when Elias Smith and Clarence led me to a room on one of the upper floors. It was a spacious office, holding to large tables facing each other, each taking in one half of the room. The tables were of a dark, ornate wood and looked very old. There were bookshelves mounted to the walls behind each table and the state of the two workplaces were notably different from one another.
One was neat and tidy, with little lying around on top safe for a stack of papers. The one across from it was a complete mess. Folders, files and magazines alike appeared to have been thrown onto it with little regard for order as the shelf behind it was visibly overloaded. With the sheer amount of books stacked on top of it it looked like it could break off the wall and fall down any minute. From where I was standing, I was able to make out a framed picture standing upright amidst the chaos. It seemed to be the only object to be placed there with care.
Smith cleared his throat and pointed at the clean desk. "That's mine. The one over there ?" he turned to the messy one, "? is Strangelove's."
"Strangelove?" I repeated. "You mean his descendant's?"
"No," he replied, brow twitching. "I mean him."
Clarence hadn't said a word ever since we had entered the office. He avoided my gaze, staring vacantly at a spot on the wall across from him. I hesitantly stepped a bit closer to Strangelove's table and, glancing over to Smith for approval, picked up the framed picture when I saw him nod at me.
I turned it so I could get a look at it and even though at that point, a silent premonition had already crept its way into my mind, my stomach still sank at the sight. I knew that picture. It was a photo of Clarence and me on our wedding day. I recognized it immediately. The awkwardly voluminous skirt of my dress, the smile on my husband's face. It hadn't been too long since it had been taken.
I wordlessly placed it back down and turned back around to face the two men. There wasn't much I could think of saying. To be honest, with the way my head was spinning I was surprised I didn't faint.
"I don't understand," I muttered.
"I'm sorry," Clarence said in a very low voice.
I just shook my head and lowered myself down on the table. I didn't really feel too steady on my feet at that moment. Mr Smith walked over to the shelf behind his desk and took down one of the books. He opened it, revealing it to be hollowed out, and took out the small plastic bag. He held it out for me to see before stuffing it inside. It was a shiny diamond necklace and I remember thinking it was pretty, but I was too dazed to pay it much attention.
He then hummed, tracing along the backs of the books with his finger before stopping at a rather thick leather-bound one. He pulled it out and dropped it onto the table in front of him.
"Strangelove, did you know about the list of things Brook wanted to see?" he asked.
Clarence shook his head and Smith sighed. "Jenna told me. Well, the journal of Ernest Kraft was one of them so she would have probably ended up knocking on our office door eventually. What I'm saying is that chances are she might have found out either way?" He glanced up at him. "I'm trying to comfort you in case you didn't realize."
"Not helping too much right now," my husband muttered, eyes flitting over to me before returning to his shoes.
"I keep the journal in here so visitors don't try to read it on their own. It can be viewed on request, but I didn't want it just lying around for everyone to grope and gawk at." He opened it at a random page, then flicked through them until he reached one he seemingly recognized and picked up the book. "Wanna hear something interesting? Kraft wrote about your husband quite a lot." He cleared his throat.
"December eighteenth, 1894. Strangelove and I are currently investigating a call for help made to us by an elderly couple. The lady and gentleman insist that their house is haunted. It appears to have been a crime scene in the past and its inhabitants are now experiencing unexplainable happenings."
My fingers cramped around the table's edge. Smith began humming again as he turned the page, skipping to a few paragraphs ahead. "This is just one day later? Strangelove has identified the source of the issues to be a ring which he found hidden under a loose floorboard. We have yet to find out how it ended up in such a place, but my partner's seventh sense has once again proven to be of great value. It offsets his otherwise eccentric nature."
"Eccentric," Clarence repeated, letting out a sulky grunt. "Big talk for someone who died in an insane asylum."
"He died in a mental institution?" I muttered.
Clarence nodded, still not facing me. "He was committed after he attacked and stabbed me in the chest. We had had an argument prior. I think you know which one. You heard it through the music box." He crossed his arms and sighed. "This place hates me. I think it sensed that I've been trying to keep it from you? who I was. Am. I've done so much to keep it safe. Everything in here and everyone connected to it. I've been trying so hard?" His voice trailed off and sounded as if it was about to break.
I felt a twinge of sadness. It was weird. Even having just found out that this person I married wasn't who I had thought them to be, right then and there he looked so crestfallen that all I wanted was for him to cheer up. Still, I kept myself from going over to him as even looking at him for longer than a few seconds was enough to make me feel dizzy.
"So you did all this?" I asked quietly. "You discovered these items?"
"Well, Kraft did too. But yes, I'm the one he worked with, I'm the one who found the ring, I'm the one who put on that stupid dress." He let out a dry, mirthless chuckle. "Which I will not do again lest I get tired of breathing someday. Besides, my hands hurt just thinking about it."
"So what happened?" I asked curtly, staring back at Mr Smith with clear eyes. He raised his brows, thinking for a few seconds before responding.
"Ernest Kraft wasn't really cut out for the occultist lifestyle it seems. I think the overwhelming contact with so many cursed, possessed and otherwise paranormally influenced objects got to him. It warped his mind? he grew paranoid, spiteful? choleric. He had always been headstrong and a bit emotional, but after about a decade of investigating and collecting these items, he began to develop a tendency to sudden fits of anger.
His ideas grew more and more outlandish too. The ring him and Strangelove discovered in 1894 is the best example for that. They never gave it a name or stored it away for good as it was one of those items they weren't sure about being dangerous. They did show it off though and a visitor, some guy with a lot of money but little brains, became interested. He wanted to buy it, you know.
The ring itself was a risk object because it had been handed down over generations in a certain family, but whoever possessed it ended up being somehow involved in some sort of crime or accident. One lady who wore the ring got killed during a bank robbery, the person who owned it after that shot her husband and the one after that got died when a fire broke out in her home. And so on. Back then, Strangelove was pretty sure the ring had something to do with it, but he had no proof.
After all, the whole thing could have been a family curse just as well and the ring could have been involved in it coincidentally. Still, he was? is? Very cautious and he never stopped being wary of it. Until of course he gave it over to a certain person he trusted with it. However when that visitor said he wanted to buy the ring, he instantly turned him down, but Kraft was of another opinion. He just wanted the money. He was already very wealthy, but his greed apparently knew no end. That was what their final argument was about. Kraft had one of his outbursts and ended up ?"
The shrill sound of a phone ringing interrupted him, and he awkwardly reached into his pocket. "Sorry, I gotta take this. But?" He paused and gave my husband a small grin. "...I'm sure you can explain it to her just as well. I mean, you were there."
Clarence growled and made way for him as he walked out the door. He then turned around to me again and, looking anywhere but my face, held out my wedding ring to me. "All that talk of rings reminded me," he muttered. "I kept it on me after you passed out."
I felt a twinge of guilt as I carefully took it from his hand. In my nervous state, I hadn't noticed it amiss. "Go on," I told him.
"So Ernest and I were arguing. Prior to our fight we had messed around with the obsidian knife and broke off a large piece of it. When I refused to let him give away the ring, he had one of his fits of rage. He grabbed the broken knife's handle which was lying around closeby and tried to stab me with what was left of the blade, but I got a hold of his wrist and managed to take it away from him.
But then there was, like, this short moment when I was distracted and he used that. He came charging at me and he was holding the other part of the blade? I hadn't seen it? he slammed it into me and the next thing I remember is lying on the floor, screaming and writhing. Ernest was still on top of me and he yelled at me and hit me over and over again. When that wasn't enough, he pushed the blade in deeper."
Clarence paused, a deep frown on his face. "Then suddenly, one of his assistants barged in, grabbed him from behind and dragged him off me. The fight had been in Kraft's study so he'd probably heard the commotion from outside. He subdued Kraft, even though it took him some effort. When another one of our assistants came to help, he got me to a doctor.
I shouldn't have lived. The broken blade was lodged deep in my chest. It shouldn't have been possible. The doctor said he'd never seen anything like it before. He spent hours trying to get it out but it was stuck. It was torture. I could hardly breathe at all at first, I was gasping and panting like a fish out of water. Then in the span of only two days, the skin started to grow over it. It was like the piece became part of my body? or something. The scar never healed though. You've seen it."
He reached up, nervously fiddling with a strand of his hair before continuing. "The obsidian knife emits energy. It's something some people will feel while holding it. We tried to break it because some will still experience negative effects throughout. Unease, headaches, nausea. Sometimes it's the other way round. We've had people get all hyper and restless in its proximity. Apparently, it was more of the latter with me.
The knife's energy? I don't know. It seemed to keep me going. My body swallowed it, more or less, and ever since then, it's like it's been supplying me. I should have died when Ernest stabbed me. At the very least some five or six decades later of old age. Either way, I should have been dead a long time ago."
"But you lived," I muttered.
"But I lived," he confirmed.
"But I've seen you? age," I argued. "When we first met, you said you were twenty-six and? we've been together for over five years now. You don't look the way you did back then."
"That's something I'm not sure about either, but I think it's because the knife loses power. It's been active constantly ever since Kraft stabbed me with it. Elias and I've been speculating about that a lot lately. Give it another fifty years and I'll be dead for good, probably. To be honest, I'm happy about that. Was getting nervous already."
"What happened to the ring?" I asked quietly.
Clarence nodded at my wedding band which I was still clutching tightly. I froze. "You're kidding," I breathed.
"No. I? it's hard to explain. I've always been able to sense things like this. When something ? or someone ? has a closer connection to what's beyond. When we met? I just knew somehow. I knew you'd take care of it. There was something about you that told me it would be safe in your hands. And that everyone else would be safe from it."
"Is that why you married me?" I asked. "To give me the ring? So it'd be my responsibility?"
Clarence's eyes widened. "What? No!" He shook his head. "I married you because I fell in love with you. Back in the day? I've never been married before either. Back when I was alive, like, actually alive, all I ever cared for was the collection. I was always looking for excitement, anything to get me out of my tame routine. That's why I started to dabble in the occult. It's how I met Kraft and how I discovered my own connection to it.
This time? it's so different. I've seen it all develop, unravel. The things I have nowadays, the things I can do now? I compare my life today quite a lot to how it was back then. I like it the way it is now. I like it so much better. Back when I was working with Kraft, I didn't really have a private life of my own.
He was always the one with the money and even though he would have never gotten as far as he did without me, it was more like I was working for him. All my time and energy was used up for our research. I didn't have anything of my own for that matter. And you? back then, I would have never had the time to? or at all?" His voice trailed off as he began to fumble for words. He looked flustered and uncertain.
"Skip it," I said in a low voice.
He took in a deep, hissing breath and buried his face in his palms. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice shaky and desperate.
I looked down at the ring in my hand. It was beautiful and delicate, made of rose gold with a single small diamond. He had proposed to me with it and I had never wanted another wedding band. In all this time that I had worn it, I had never questioned it, never noticed anything off about it. I couldn't believe this shiny little thing was what had driven Strangelove and Kraft apart, much less that it had been involved in any obscure happenings whatsoever.
"I think I need some time to think," I said, sliding down from where I was sitting on the table.
"And you're gonna have plenty of it," Elias Smith's voice came from the doorway. Clarence and I spun around. He had a stern look on his face. "Strangelove, we got a call from that principal again. He wants us to come over." Turning to me, he added, "We haven't had anything like this in years. Someone requesting our assessment that is. Don't know when we'll be back but it might take a day or two."
"Elias, this really isn't a good time for ?" Clarence began, but his voice died in his throat upon seeing the look on my face. "Give me an hour and I'll be ready," he muttered.
I wordlessly made my way out of the office and down the stairs. I still hadn't put the ring back on. I went into the break room where I plopped down on the sofa. It was still dark outside, but the lights were back on. I absentmindedly took notice of some museum personnel lounging in their comfortable chairs and at the tables. I recognized Jenna, Damien and Jason in their midst. They waved and smiled at me, even though they looked really uncomfortable.
I sat and thought, ignoring the noise and people surrounding me. I overheard two staff members talk about the previously possessed woman being moved from the hallway. She had apparently regained consciousness not long after. I wondered what would happen to her now. After a while, I got up, slipped my ring back on and went downstairs. I found the main door unlocked.
There was a large car standing outside. Smith was standing in front of it. He had changed into some new clothes and was staring down at his smartphone, absentmindedly typing away. I heard the car door on the other side slam shut and Clarence emerged from behind it. Upon seeing me, he walked up to me.
"What now?" he asked quietly.
I looked over at the car, then back at him. "I'm coming with you."
He didn't object. When I got into the car with the him, he sat down beside me in the backseat. Smith has told me a little about where they're going. Apparently, there is an elementary in the town over where some really weird stuff has been going on. To me, that sounds pretty exciting. I don't want to have to justify myself or my curiosity. I'm a thrill seeker and chances are that some, or even a lot of those who'll read this are too. I'm sure not many would pass up the chance to see a haunted school.


Source.