"The Equations of Dread – Prince of Darkness (1987)"

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"It sleeps in the liquid"

Before we unravel what’s been happening to me, let’s talk about a film that feels like it’s happening to me: John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness (1987)—an underappreciated descent into scientific horror, quantum dread, and something older than either.


🕯️ Monologue – The Nightly Storyteller

I keep losing time again.

Last night, I went to sleep at midnight…

…and woke up at 3:03 a.m., standing in the hallway.

Staring at the bathroom mirror—foggy from a shower I never took.

On the glass, someone—me?—had drawn what looked like equations.

Backwards.

I can’t read them.

I don’t even recognize the language anymore.

In my dreams, I see myself muttering syllables that ache behind my eyes.

My reflection sometimes moves a beat slower… or too fast.

Sometimes… it’s not me.

I’m beginning to wonder:

What if I’m not forgetting—
because something else is remembering for me?

📼 The Storyteller’s Chronicle

Val stopped by after work—nothing official today, just a team meeting and bad coffee.

She said she wanted to borrow a movie for her daughter.

Something spooky, but fun. No gore. No trauma. Just a safe kind of scary.

The kind I used to believe in.

The house looked normal. At least on the surface.

I made sure of that.

We were in the living room, laughing about school awards and summer plans when she noticed a door on the entertainment center slightly ajar.

She knelt and peeked inside, expecting a dusty stack of DVDs.

Instead, she pulled out a small glass jar.



It was filled with black liquid.

Thick, but restless.

Like something inside it wanted to be seen.

The room felt colder for a moment. Not chilly—empty.
Like the air itself was holding its breath.

> “What is this?” she asked.

I had no answer. Because I didn’t know.

> “When did you get this?”

I didn’t know that either.

> “Why don’t you trust me?” she asked quietly.

I didn’t respond.

She didn’t ask again. Just stared at me—

like someone watching a storm build behind the eyes of someone they thought they understood.

And the thing in the jar… pulsed once.


📽️ Horror Reflections – Prince of Darkness (1987)

That jar.

That pulse.

That thing I don’t remember finding...

It reminded me of a film I used to think was fiction.

John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness is a masterclass in atmospheric horror—an ambient, creeping whisper of a film that asks:

What if evil wasn’t just metaphorical… but measurable?
What if it’s ancient, buried, and scientifically explainable?

A group of researchers gathers in a forgotten Los Angeles church to study a swirling, radioactive green liquid—believed to be Satan in physical form.

But what they uncover is stranger.

Time distorts.
Dreams echo across consciousness.
Possession ripples through reality.
And something old is trying to reach through.

This isn’t horror that jumps out.

It spreads in you.

The dread is intellectual—existential.

Evil is in the math. In the particles.
In tachyon transmissions sent backward through time.

The film’s recurring dream—a distorted broadcast from the future, always the same, always horrifying—has haunted viewers for decades.

And lately, I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen it too.

If you've ever paused mid-dream because it felt too real—too intentional—this film will crawl under your skin.

It doesn’t shout.
It whispers.
It doesn't answer.
It asks the question you didn’t know to fear.

It resonates with me deeply.

Just like that jar.
Just like the mirror.

Some things aren’t meant to be deciphered—only survived… if you’re lucky.

📖 Shelf of Secrets Update

Hidden behind the entertainment center, among tangled wires and forgotten DVDs, I found something else.

A small, black journal.

The leather cover felt… warm.

Wrong.

Its pages were filled with entries written in mirror script and lined with obscure chemical symbols.

And one phrase repeated over and over, in different languages:

“It sleeps in the liquid. It remembers the original lie.”



The journal now rests beside the humming medical key I found last month.

What secrets do these objects guard?

And when they awaken…

who will I be left to become?


🕷️ Stick around. Subscribe. Share.

And if you dare…
drop a comment and tell me:

What film, dream, or unexplained occurrence
has left you feeling like reality is slipping through your fingers?

We’re just getting started—
and things are about to get dark.

thenightlystoryteller.blogspot.com

✍️ About the Author

Oscar J Quezada is a horror-obsessed creative with a meat-cutter’s precision, a storyteller’s soul, and an unhealthy love for midnight monster marathons and cursed artifacts.

Through the evolving voice of The Nightly Storyteller, Oscar crafts immersive horror blogs layered with surreal encounters, unsettling humor, and the eerie blur between fact and fiction.

When he’s not chronicling the descent into darkness, Oscar lifts heavy things, collects haunted-looking memorabilia, and listens to too much ’90s alt rock while trying not to disappear into the fog.

 If you hear static at 3:03 a.m…
Don’t answer.
Just read.





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