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Suspension of disbelief is a defining characteristic of many works of art. In fact, the maintenance of an illusion by a performer and their audience is present across much of human activity. This state can be loosely compared to a mild hypnosis, in which audiences may be compelled to shout and laugh against their will, in response to events which everyone "knows" are not really occuring at all.
For most of us, it is often pleasurable to become "lost in the moment" and give ourselves over entirely to sense-perception, a state in which we are unable to distinguish between what is true and what merely seems to be true. It is in this condition that our most primal emotions and instincts may rush forward, no longer constrained as they were by the stifling labels set forth by rational thought.
The Friends of Moloch were strong believers in the revelatory and even transformative powers of such a mental state. Considered by some to be a deviant religious cult, and by others to be artistic troublemakers with an excess of free time, the Friends left no record whatsoever of their activities. Indeed, the sole accounts of their existence come from the testimonies of those who claim to have witnessed their dozen or so performances in late 1987.
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Although the witness testimonies frequently contradict each other and themselves, they are typically extremely graphic and have in common with each other a number of minute details attesting to their veracity. Curiously, the number of witnesses to these performances is far lower than the number of people attested to have attended these performances by the witnesses themselves. Although audiences numbered in the hundreds according to some accounts, less than thirty individuals actually claim to have attended any of the performances. Of these, only a handful were willing to testify as to their experiences. It is the object of this work to piece together these disparate testimonies into something resembling a cohesive narrative of what actually occurred in the Massachusetts wilderness in the late months of 1987.
Should I continue?
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>>18518140
I don't see why not.
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interesting point, please continue
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The first invitations issued by the Friends seem purposefully innocuous, paradoxically intended to attract as little notice as possible. In late October, local radio and TV stations across Massachusetts advertised a festival that was to take place in a few weeks in the small farming town of New Canaan. Dating back to colonial times, New Canaan had been left mostly undeveloped as a result of the impenetrable wetlands by which it was surrounded. Few outsiders ever passed through and even fewer could claim familiarity with any of the residents. Nevertheless, the comforting allure of an outdoor gathering supplied with music, food, and beer proved to be enough to draw a crowd to the address given by the advertisements. After driving for miles down winding country roads to the given address, attendees were met by a crudely-painted sign instructing them to park their car and journey on foot down the dirt path which led to the festival.
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>>18518244
M'kay. still with you. Continue.
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>>18518244
would be easier if you typed all this before posting.
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The path was festooned with a variety of what appeared to be handmade holiday ornaments and decorations. Brightly colored ribbons and bulbs hung on the trees, many of which were painted to depict animals, landscapes, or human faces contorted in exaggerated expressions of laughter, anger, or sadness. Walking further down the path, attendees to the festival encountered wood-carved human figurines hanging in clusters from the trees. With limbs unnaturally splayed and expressions of jubilation painted on their faces, gusts of wind made these figures appear to dance with each other. Reports of hollow, high-pitched laughter in time with the wind may be attributed to specially-placed holes and channels within the wood figures, although we can only speculate in this regard. The wetland forest on either side of the path retained a seemingly impossible stillness, the tangled underbrush impenetrable to sight and sound. There was no familiar squawking of birds or buzzing of insects to greet the travellers, and many report being disoriented by the uniformity of the surroundings in all directions.
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so?
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continue
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i remember that book
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