When the recently deceased Burgess first saw the Wax Museum (located by the Thames) He did not like it. He was there to merely look around. He was not interested, but was bored and had nothing to do. Later, He was admitted to a Mental Institution, where he underwent psychological analysis. He was admitted because he firmly believed that he had seen a supernatural creature living in the bowels of the museum. In the cell in which he was kept, he would scratch markings on the walls, and talk for hours about demons and devils. This document was pieced together by Dr. John Milton, who found various notes written on toilet paper under his bed. It was translated into a narrative form by Angela Grant.


Burgess walked into the huge street opposite the Museum. He inspected the museum: grimy, as always, and giving of an aura of decay. He pushed and shoved through the crowd and walked up the steep, yellowing steps. He had heard there was a new exhibit entitled ‘Hitler and His Army of the Underworld’. Burgess did not particularly care about the exhibit, but he did write a daily column about society in the ‘Chronicle’, and his boss had asked him to go.
As he entered the door, he saw the hall: colossus and domed, with intricate carving along the side, depicting scenes of Hades and Zeus in battle. He did notice another scene, though. He walked up to the wall it was placed on and looked at it. There was a large creature, with muscles bulging out of his arms, long and low. His legs were short in comparison and had little muscle, but they still looked menacingly powerful. His face was made up of two black circular disks, resembling eyes, and also tentacles hanging loosely from the chin. The back of his head was long and ended at a point. He was in the middle of a large crater, and was trying to climb out of it.
‘That’s Molok, the one demon that escaped hell. He had committed a terrible crime, which is not known of, and this crime was so terrible that Satan himself spat him out. Neither God nor Satan wanted him, and so he was deposited on earth. It’s just a bedtime story, to keep the kids asleep. A sort of bogeyman, or the like. This carving depicts the scene when he has landed on earth. Fearsome, isn’t he?’ Burgess did not know this man whom was speaking, but he liked his appearance: He had shining, black leather shoes, a well tailored suit and some glasses. His hair was pulled back and was dangling as a pony tail on the back of his head.
‘And you are?’ He asked.
‘I am John Kay, the new owner of this museum.’
‘What happened to the previous owner? Mr… oh, I can’t remember his name!’
‘He was admitted to a Mental Institution… the one in Surrey, I believe. His name was James Kent. He said that he saw a creature of some kind!!! A supernatural one, he believed. Hah!!! Anyway, I just wanted to say that have a pleasant evening, and, um, well, remember- remember this:’ here he put his hand to Burgess’s ear and whispered into it, ‘Get out before it closes in on you. There must be a light to fight the dark!!’ He ran off. Perhaps he was insane as well, but Burgess dismissed that thought.


Burgess wandered round the exhibit, wondering what Kay could have meant. A light to fight the dark? Kay was insane, that he was sure of. Burgess stopped in front of the wax reproduction of Hitler: fearsome as ever, with his moustache making itself very prominent. Burgess could just about imagine that the wax worker could have made Hitler a little more devilish- I mean, after all, this is England! Burgess noted that the wax models were not exaggerated- only the advertisements. Not that they would attract much people. The presence of the waxen models gave the aura of high society. Burgess himself felt uneasy. He walked around the exhibit many, many times, before coming to the entrance, when his eyes fell upon a nearby window. It was dark outside and there was nobody around. Perhaps he was locked in? He hurriedly walked past the Nazi soldiers and tried the door. He rattled it against its frame and the door would not open!
Burgess was frightened. This had happened to him in the Natural History Museum in London when he was only a child. It still left a mark on him. He remembered:

He laughed and giggled at the big bony dinosaurs, and was having fun. He jumped up and down in ghoulish delight, screaming ‘mummy, mummy! There’s a pteranodon!’ He ran from model to model, loving it all. Hours passed. It was closing time. One final visit to the gift shop was in order, and whilst his parents were no doubt buying him a book, he went around the museum one final time. When he came back, his parents were gone. He sat down and started crying like a baby. He looked up at the towering dinosaur, staring into his soul, eating and devouring his spirit. He looked across the room. There was every type of dinosaur staring at him and even a few mummies. They were swarming around him, drowning him in fear and leaving a bitter wake. He was only there for five minutes. His parents then realised they had left without him and come back.

Burgess sat down on a nearby bench. What shall he do? He could try the wax-worker’s office and sneak out if there is a possible exit. He scratched his head a few times and rubbed his eyes. He would not be scared. He cannot be scared. Burgess rose from the bench and started in the direction of the worker’s office.
What should he say if the worker is there? Burgess would explain the problem to the Worker and he would understand. He had to. Burgess could not stand another night alone in a museum.
Then, he came across the door. Burgess checked it was the worker’s office with a quick glance to the plaque above it, and so he knocked. Presently, there came a shuffling sound, a large clang, as if metal was being dropped and a curse, but then the door opened.
A strange, hunchbacked man was at the door. He was almost completely bald, wore large, unfashionable glasses and some trousers which were too short. His skin was hanging off his face, and every little movement he made the throat skin wobbled, ever so slightly.
‘And you are, young man?’ he asked inquisitively.
‘I am Burgess, sir. I have accidentally been locked in, and would like your help in finding an available exit. I do apologize for disturbing your evening.’
‘Oh, poppycock. I need a rest. I am making a model of Chernabog, the Slavic god of the night, and I am having trouble with his skeleton. Do come in.’
Burgess shuffled himself inside the small, messy room. The shelves towered over him and surrounded him completely, leaving him feeling a bit weak. There was scrap metal everywhere and many smashed pots containing wax. The rooms gave an aura of dirtiness, as if this strange man was not entirely bothered to clean up the room.
‘I did not catch your name.’ Burgess stated.
‘I did not give it. My name is Parks. Jonathon Parks. I am the wax-worker in the museum’ he answered. ‘Oh do sit down, for heavens sake. I’ll get some tea.’
Burgess waited for a while. He stared up at the started Chernabog model, and his skin crawled. The background had been finished (a colossus mountain with jagged rocks protruding from the cliff side) and many lianas hanging dully from them. He could imagine Chernabog sitting at the very top, peering over everything, his shadow claiming the mountain. He remembered the dinosaur skeleton, peering at him from above…
‘So how did you get locked in? I do believe that the guards walk round the museum once or twice before closing it. Were you in the Hitler exhibit?’ Parks asked as he dropped onto a nearby seat.
‘Yes, I was.’
‘Ah, that would explain it!’
‘How?’
‘The guards never walk around the new exhibits because they are afraid.’
‘Why?’
Parks rubbed his eyes. He handed Burgess his tea and sighed deeply, as if getting ready to tell a great story.
‘Are you familiar with Molok?’ Parks hesitatingly asked.
‘Well yes, I am. Kay told me the story. I do believe him insane, you know.’
‘The guards believe that… that in the bowels of this museum, Molok is waiting. When there is a new exhibit, there is always a death. The head is decapitated, and the heart devoured. And it always happens in the exhibit. It started when Kent was sent to the Institution. There were numerous deaths before, which people believed were the cruel sacrifices to Molok.’ Parks shook his head.
‘And the guards have become superstitious as a result. That is a very funny joke. And in this joke, what is Molok waiting for, exactly?’ Burgess inquired.
‘After 13 sacrifices, Molok is powerful enough to end everything. Molok is the end. He is the embodiment of death. There is no resurrection after Molok has had these sacrifices. I have counted the sacrifices- there have been 12.’
‘You are very capable of being an entertainer. I sugg-’
‘I am not joking, you imbecile! Molok exists! And he is my lord! You shall not leave this museum alive!’ Parks screamed.
He rose from the seat, grabbed a knife, and threw it in Burgess’s direction. Burgess barely dodged the knife, which speeded for his head. He managed to fall to the floor in time, and when the knife landed in the chair, Burgess ran from the room.


Burgess was a scared man. Why had Parks just tried to kill him? Was it because of the nature of his joke? Did he see it as an insult to Molok? Surely he must be able to see that demons and monsters do not exist! But then again, Burgess should be able to outrun, or if that failed, defeat the madman.
He rounded another corner. There was a guard on duty, but he was gently sleeping. His body was splayed across one of the benches. Burgess was about to wake the guard up when he heard a sound.
There was a soft pattering noise. It echoed through the museum and chilled Burgess to the bone. There was silence once again, and then some pattering, as if someone, or something was in the museum. Burgess stopped where he stood. There was a torch hanging low over the guards head, and if he reached it, he would be safe.
He advanced towards the torch, but as he did, there was a sharp wailing noise. Somebody was crying out in pain. It continued, and the wailing grew louder, until it was so defining that Burgess could not stand it. He ran to the torch, as if he had placed his last glimpse of hope in it.
Burgess grabbed the handle and ripped it from the wall. The wailing stopped as soon as he touched it. He held it out in front of him, observing the scenario. There was nothing there. Burgess blew the torch out with a single blow. Light was dangerous, especially with a madman on the loose.


Burgess had remained in the same spot for a long time. He did not know how long he had been there, but he did know it was early in the morning. Presently, he heard one loud sound. It was a church, issuing the information.
Burgess took a deep breath. He could not move, for if he did Parks would know where he was. He kept fumbling his fingers, hoping that it would keep him occupied, but it did not.
He thought about what he should do. He would walk to the large engraving of Molok, and see if he could find any information about Parks supposed master. Burgess stood up and he started walking. His eyes were used to the dark now and he could see well. He made his way past the Hitler exhibit and walked into the main hall. He hurried to the engraving and stopped by it. He dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket and found some matches. He lit one and viewed the carving. It was done on a single piece of wood that was nailed to the wall. He felt around the borders with one hand and with the other held the match. He found a hole which was shaped oddly- it felt like a small cone. He heaved and the panel came off. Behind it he found a book.
It was placed in a small cave, just big enough to be able to sit on. He took the book and examined it. The pages had gone brown with age and all of them had been filled with ink. They were held together with a piece of string and a piece of leather had been rolled around the manuscript to protect it. The string fell apart as soon as he touched it and he took away the brown cover. There was a single symbol: one large circle, with a dot in the middle. There was a title beneath it which read ‘Molok’. He opened the book and started reading the first page.

Molok is a creature of magick. He hunts down magical beings in the universe to feed him. Once gorged on their blood, the creature will them quickly cover his tracks by devouring the heart. He will then leave, filled. It was on one of his returning that Satan caught him. Molok was forced to endlessly labour in Hell for thousands of years. He managed to escape though, and has been rumoured to reside on planet earth. The person that confronts him must have a pure heart, and if he does, can banish him to hell with these words:

“EGO expello vos Molok. EGO expello vos Molok. EGO expello vos Molok.”

After this, Satan cannot return him, as he can only do this once.

Burgess closed the book and returned it to the cave. Parks must be a raving lunatic to believe in this. It was crazy. But now, Burgess knew that Parks was not trying to scare him. He did actually believe in Molok. Who else would have hidden the book?
It was then that Burgess heard some footsteps. He spun around, peering into the darkness, waiting for Parks to appear. He blew out the match and instantly the footsteps quickened. Something wet and damp hit him in the face, and he slumped to the floor.


When Burgess woke up, he was tied tightly to a wooden chair. As his vision came back to him, he saw he was in a large pit. The rocky walls rose all around him, and rise nearly 15 feet high. He shouted again and again: ‘Help!!! Help!’ but nobody came. He sat there for what seemed to be an infinite amount of time, dozing off at moments, but sharply awake at others. Finally, Parks came and stood at the top of the pit.
‘Do you believe me now, Burgess? Molok does exist, and you felt his fist!’ he screamed insanely. ‘You are the last sacrifice! After this, my master will rule for eternity!!’
‘I did not see Molok, you stupid man! Molok cannot exist! There is no such thing as monsters!!’ he shouted, deliriously.
‘I’m sorry our friendship began with your death, but you left me no choice! You insulted my master! Now you will witness him feed!’
At this moment Parks disappeared from sight. Burgess rustled in his chair, trying to loosen the ropes that bound him. He was beginning to get scared- Parks was truly insane.
Presently there came a large thundering sound. As Burgess looked up, he saw a large cloud forming over the ceiling. Rain started falling, lashing at Burgess’s skin, hurting him. He was inside. It was raining.
‘From the darkness we call you! Into the darkness we call you! Come, Molok! Wake! WAKE!’ screamed the madman.
At this moment, there came a large scream. A huge, dangling tentacle came from the ceiling, which was followed by two powerful arms and legs. Finally, Molok’s fearsome face appeared. The rain was lashing harder and harder.
‘You have served me well, Jonathon Parks. You shall be rewarded. I shall kill you, quickly and painlessly!’ roared Molok. His fist smashed down on Parks, killing him instantly. Burgess began to cry. He jumped in his chair, trying to loosen the ropes. Nothing was happening!
‘I see Parks has left me a small welcoming gift! He was an imbecile to trust me! You shall follow him!’ Molok shouted.
‘My God! Molok is real!’ Burgess screamed.
‘Yes, I am! And now, I shall have you’re head!’
A large, thick, limy tentacle zipped down at Burgess. It came at astonishing speed, and if it would hit him, he would be gone. Burgess struggled, and managed to fall over onto his side in the chair.
‘Ooh, this is new! Nobody has attempted such a shameful move before. But you shall die!’ shouted Molok.
‘No! I shall not! EGO expello vos Molok! EGO expello vos Molok! EGO expello vos Molok!’
Molok stood, shocked. But then, a large flaming hand came down from the cloud, blazing so intensely that Burgess could feel it. It grabbed Molok, and grabbed him kicking and screaming into the cloud. He was gone. It stopped raining.


Burgess was still in the pit. He had waited for hours and hours, but nobody came. In that time he screamed ‘Help! Help!’ but there truly was nobody in the museum. What if he should just waste away in the pit? After he was dead, he was sure the rats would come.
Eventually, Kay wandered into the room. He stared down at Burgess.
‘Good god, my man! What the hell are you doing down there!’ He shouted
‘Can you untie me?’ Burgess asked, looking intensely into Kay’s eyes.
‘Yes!’ He raised his hand in the air, and with a finger drew a small, fiery symbol. The ropes burst into flame, and were quickly devoured.
Burgess looked up at Kay, scared.
‘How did you know about Molok?! And how did you do that?!’ He asked.
‘This will sound strange, but I am Satan. I came here to find Molok when these deaths started. I did not think he would be so stupid to end everything.’ Kay whispered. Now, Burgess was truly afraid.
Kay smiled, going to his very ears, and disappeared. But that was the final straw on the camels back. Burgess snapped. He smiled, and never stopped.