(NOTE: All 545 Object entries in the Holders series aren't credited to any authors so I'll just link to the official website)

The Holder of Rage

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Rage". The person will appear shy as they show you to a door, and then walk away. When you enter the door, you will be looking down a staircase that descends into darkness. As you descend the stairs, you will begin to hear screams. The screams will come from a throat of indeterminate origin.

If the screaming stops at any time, shout to the darkness "Resume your business! I do not wish to intrude!" If the screaming does not come back, there is nothing you can do, for you will be dead before you know what happens. If the screaming continues, you may move on.

Eventually, you will see light coming through the cracks in a door. Go through this door and you will be in what appears to be a medieval dungeon. Hollowed out skulls filled with candles serve as lanterns, and skeletons line the walls. There will be a wooden table in front of a fire inside a fireplace. On this table is the severed head of a 4 year old girl, staring ahead with glassy eyes.

Step up to the table and look the head in the eyes. In a clear, commanding voice ask "Who will stop them from coming together?" The head will look you in the eyes and tell you the tale of a man. She will tell you his entire story, from his violent birth to what he is doing that very moment. His deeds will be recounted in horrifying detail. He is a murderer of which the likes have never been seen, and he is just as mad.

If at the end of the story, the head tells you "He is listening to our conversation," you will be dragged out of the room and never be heard from again. You will experience all of the most horrifying things ever conceived, and you will be kept alive until you have experienced them all.

If she tells you He is elsewhere, He is now looking for you. He will not stop until you are dead or the objects come together. She will tell you to pick her up. Pick the head up by the hair and look at the table where she was. Sitting there will be a needle, covered in dried blood, semen, pus, and countless unidentifiable substances.

That needle is Object is 21 of 538. The hunt has begun and the clock is ticking.

The Holder of Chaos

In any city, in any country, go to any hospital and ask to visit the one who refers to himself as "The Holder of Chaos". The clerk will begin to shake his head and pound his fists upon the desk. Ask him thrice more and he will stand up quietly and lead you to a room with only one door, the one which you entered through. You must close your eyes, if you don't you will forever be stricken blind and the only thing you will see is a constant sight of utter chaos.

If you have closed your eyes in time, after an hour of standing in confusion, you will hear a soft voice call out, "Do you have them?" Do not answer this question. Instead, stomp your foot upon the floor and then open your eyes. If you see a long, stretching field in front of you, then you have succeeded in the first half of your endeavor. If you see a fiery plain of death and mutilation, then it is too late for you. You will be devoured by your own thoughts of your greatest fears.

Walk towards the setting sun in the grassy field for one hour until you reach a tree with no leaves on its branches. As you get closer you see that the tree is constructed out of bones and it is surrounded in a pool of blood. Submerge yourself fully in this blood, and when you surface once more, you will feel a bone hand press something into your palm. It is a small vial. Drink from the vial and you find yourself standing in the lobby of the hospital.

This vial is Object 22 of 538. The hour is nigh and the demons are calling.

The Holder of Hate

In any city, in any country, go to any hospital and ask to visit the "Holder of Hate." The attendant will give you a firm handshake, look you straight in the eyes, and say "It took you long enough." They will hand you a key to room 532 and tell you to go down the left hall.

As you walk down the hall you will hear insane cackling. Should it stop, yell "I do not fear you!" If it does not begin again, run as fast as your legs will carry you. Should it continue, keep walking. Stop when you reach room 532. The door will be covered in scratches, gashes and all manner of burns.

There will be a small, strangely unscarred glass panel in the door. Peer inside. If there is a figure standing with his back to you, retreat as quietly as you can. If the room is empty, unlock the door and enter. A red light will be shining in through the sole window in the room. Should you gaze out of this window your eyes will soon burst from your sockets and your screams will be your only utterance for all eternity. The room is small, the walls covered in blood, and a small cloaked figure sits in the middle. It will respond to only one question: "Why do they hate?" The figure's cloak will fly into the air revealing a grotesquely disfigured being. It will answer your question in horrific detail. Upon finishing the story it will collapse, as if a tremendous burden has passed from its shoulders, and crawl into the corner. You will begin to hear strange, unearthly shrieks from beyond the door. They will be getting nearer by the second. Your only hope is to wrap yourself in the cloak and hurl yourself out the red window. If you were not followed you will wake up on the lawn of the hospital the next day, wrapped snugly in the cloak.

The cloak is Object 23 of 538. It will hide you from their hate.

The Holder of Color

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself into. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit the "Holder of Color". The warden will glance up at you and give you a shy smile before holding out his hand to you. You must wait precisely eight seconds before taking it, or the colors themselves will deny you, and you may not enter.

The warden will stand and lead you to a cell, opening the door for you and motioning for you to enter. Inside the cell you will find two little boys, both garbed in shades of grey, and their skin and hair will appear as if all the color was drained out of them. One has long hair and wears a white dress, while the other wears a black suit and has hair cut short. Only look into the white one's eyes, for they are normal, and the eyes of the black-clothed boy will lead you into madness. Each will wear one glove and hold out both their hands to you. Take only the gloved hand of each, for should you touch the black-clothed boy's flesh, you will be plagued with the worst agony in all the universe but you will not die and he will not let go. Should you touch the white-clothed boy's flesh, you will feel more pleasure than you have ever experienced, but he will soon pull his hand away, and you will never feel that pleasure again, no matter how you yearn for it; your lust will kill you.

The boys will look at each other and nod once; should they shake their heads, close your eyes and quickly say, "I am not what you seek, but I can change the tides." Once you say this, they will both giggle and pull on your hands, opening a trap door in their cell and descending into darkness. The boys will speak in unison, endlessly bragging about their riches, all the things they have. They will ask you many times if you are jealous; each time you must simply answer "Yes." Your fate now lies in the hands of these boys.

The stairs you descend are long, and grow ever narrower, until finally one boy will go in front and one in back. Should the boy in black go in front, consider yourself lucky; life now is at your back. But should he go in back, your death will be agonizing and he will throw you from the stairs to the abyss below.

After what seems like an eternity, you will reach the end of the stairs, and both boys will push you to a large glass door. They will stare after you, tears streaming down their faces, and tell you they can go no further, but point to the door. You must enter.

The room is pitch black, save for a single beam of light at its direct center. Standing in the light is a woman, much like the boys, completely stripped of color. Her hair and gown both reach the earth, each as white as her flesh. Her eyes are only whites, staring blankly at you. If she should smile at you, you have amused her, and she will light up the entire room with her light and you will become one of the writhing bodies that makes up the collection beneath her glass floor. Should she frown at you, she will turn her back and light up the part of the room behind her, awakening seven other beings: a cackling man who wears just black, a weeping man garbed in white, a snarling man with piercing red eyes, a grimacing woman who wears only pink petals, an emotionless girl enveloped in green, a sickly man with silver hair, and a smirking gentleman covered in riches. They are to be your judges. You must the pick the one that you feel will do you justice and walk towards them, asking along your way, "When will they strip you of this earth?" Should you choose the wrong color, the one you have chosen will stand very still and smile at you eerily, and you will soon feel yourself slipping away into nothingness. Should you have chosen the correct color, they will respond with a hideous screech, pointing fearfully at the woman in the center of the room. The others will scream curses at you in many different languages and you will feel piercing pain rip through your body. Soon, the one you have chosen will step forward to embrace you, and whisper in your ear their sickening tales, the stories of your demise, of the demise of the world when every breath will fade away. Do not move.

The curses will stop and the room will be lit, the seven all staring at you. Where the woman was there will now be a small feather, like that of a dove, changing its color continuously.

This feather is object 24 of 538. With it you can take away what was theirs to give.

The Holder of Creation

In any city, in any country, go to any hospital and ask to visit the one who refers to himself as "The Holder of Creation". The clerk will look into your eyes, horrified, before standing up. She (and only a she) will lead you to the maternity ward and push you into a locked door, which you will glide through.

Once inside the door, you will notice two more: one to the left and one to the right. You must chose the one in the direction to which you are more accustomed, hoping all the while that fate has correctly guided your hand. Touch the door handle. If light peeks from under the doorway, you must enter. If it doesn't, you must run into the other room, as fast as you can. Sleep where you drop and do not trust anyone. Do not enter the sunlight; seek shadows and pray to whatever god you wish that you pass unnoticed.

If the light is emitted from beneath the door, or if by some miracle you evade capture after your error and return to choose once more, enter cautiously. The room seems to stretch into eternity; make no attempt to comprehend its size or shape, as many men greater than you have been driven mad at the thought. Strewn across the entirety of this room are the bodies of the stillborn and the fetuses of the unborn. Those capable of sound will be seem to pierce the very fabric of your consciousness with cries, which appear to be both audible and a figment of your imagination.

On the horizon will be a mother, little more than a child herself, clutching a baby wrapped in a tattered blanket to her teat. Closer examination of the suckling infant will leave you pondering its true age. Its expression seems weathered and careworn, an eternal, knowing glance assuring you that its eyes have forgotten more than most will ever see.

Approach the mother, calmly. Should you startle her and interrupt the feeding, your only hope is to whisper, "I wish not to disturb you, nor your beautiful son." If you have appeased her, position yourself so as to gaze directly into the child's eyes. Once there, you must not break eye contact for fear of upsetting the infant and bringing about your own doom. You may ask him one question and one question only: "For what have we been created?"

The baby will move and wrap his tattered cloth around you, binding you and rending you limb from limb, yet you must not react to the pain or risk never returning to your original form. If you can overcome the agony, he will stare into your eyes, and you will see the beginning of the cosmos. All things that have been since the creation of existence will unfold before your eyes. The truth of the origin of the Seekers will be brought to life, and if you're not driven insane by this truth, you will feel the warmth of this knowledge glowing inside you. This heat will grow until the pain of the burn outweighs that of your torn flesh a thousand fold. You will feel your body melt away, burning into nothing save ash.

At the peak of your anguish, if you have managed to remain stoic, you will blink the eyelids which you no longer have, opening them to find you have returned outside, exactly one day before the incident. In your hands you will find a tattered manuscript, the text of which seems to predate existence.

This Object is 25 out of 538. This book yearns to return the other objects to it, and within it is the cryptic knowledge of how to do so.

The Holder of Perspective

James stepped into the mental institution, instructions in hand. He didn't expect this ridiculous ritual to work at all, but after all, the only thing he had at risk was about an hour's wasted time and maybe a little embarrassment. He approached the woman working at the reception desk and asked in a quiet whisper if he could visit the one who called himself "The Holder of Perspective."

What happened next surprised him a little: the receptionist nodded her head solemnly, just as the instructions said she would. "Okay," he thought. "Apparently I'm not the first one to pull something like this. Chances are she's read these things and is just playing along. Maybe she'll lead me back to their break room or whatever just so she can show off to her co-workers the latest idiot who walked in asking for something stupid. Let 'em all have a good laugh. God, why did I think this had the slightest chance of working?"

His rambling, self-deriding thoughts were silenced, however, once she unlocked the chained double doors and he saw the long, narrow stairs leading up far higher than the building should have physically allowed.

"Holy shit, these things are actually real."

James ascended the stairs with caution. As expected, once he reached a certain height, he began to see images projected onto the walls. They were the largest and deadliest disasters of humankind; the destruction of Pompeii, the ravages of the Black Plague, the Holocaust, 9/11. The images showed these tragedies through the eyes of each and every victim. It was all James could do to prevent being consumed by sorrow and grief, but he knew well the price for letting himself succumb to despair. Besides, beyond his wildest expectations he'd already made it this far; he couldn't let himself fail now.

After a long and tiring climb, he finally made it to the top of the stairs where an ornate marble wall with several tiny, eye-shaped glass windows awaited. He remembered his instructions and put his left eye into the window with a perfect vertical crack down the middle. In an instant his viewpoint shifted from his own body to that of an ancient man in a oval stone chamber. The man was using his slender, bony fingers to trace patterns over a large glass eye. James felt his grasp on his own mind weakening, so before he lost his mind completely, he thought as hard as he could, "How will They see the End?"

In an instant, thousands of images started flashing before his eyes. They were images of the same scenes he'd viewed in the hall, only this time they were from the eyes of outside observers. Feelings of apathy, grief, and joy flooded him all at once. The last image he saw was of an endless inferno; at this, there was no emotion other than sheer unbridled horror. Already physically and mentally drained from the journey up to this point, James could no longer handle the strain and collapsed where he stood.

Ah, another poor Seeker who couldn't handle my visions. Very few have the mental strength for it, you see, and for good reason; no ordinary person was ever meant to witness the vision of the End, and certainly not an amateur like that one. I'll dispose of his body and place his soul inside my glass eye, where he will join the thousands of others who have failed.

My glass eye is object 26 of 538. It awaits someone capable of viewing the world through Their perspective.

The Holder of Sleep

In any city, in any country, go to a hospital at night and ask the head nurse to see "The Holder of Sleep." She will ignore you and say she has work to do. Ask twice more without stammering and she will sigh as if weary. She will ask you if you are sure, if you answer no you will wake up the next day fully rested and free of any chains. If you answer yes she will guide you to an empty room and tell you to sleep.

When you awaken you will be on a stone table at the beginning of a hallway. As you walk down the hall you will begin to feel drowsy, you must resist sleep here for you will slumber eternally. If you make it to the end of this hallway you will find a door. Open this to find The Holder of Sleep.

You will see a wizened old man sleeping peacefully. Tread lightly for he does not like to be disturbed. Do not look under his bed, for there lies death and it will pull you under to be tormented forever. Walk quietly up to his bed and whisper in his ear "Why do they never rest?" until he wakes up and tells you the story of how they chained their slumber onto him, then he will invite you to sit with him. Do so, else he will chain their slumber unto you and you will never truly be awake again.

After sitting with him he will pull a small crystal with inner light from his nightgown. He will then push it deep into your chest. If you can ignore the pain he will fall back into his slumber. If you cry out you shall replace him in his tortured slumber. Return to the stone table and sleep again. You will find yourself outside of the hospital after waking up.

The crystal is object 27 of 538. You no longer need sleep, pray your nightmares do not follow you out.

The Holder of Clarity

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself The Holder of Clarity. The worker will begin to chatter on about their life, making inside jokes and references which only they understand. All the while, they will walk in a weaving motion to the recreational area of the building. They will slide open a hatch beneath a table and suddenly fall silent with a grim look upon their face. You will look down into the hole, and you will see a vast number of lights flashing on and off, and you will feel berated and confused, but you must go in.

This hall seems to have no start and no end, the lights flashing sporadically, and you will find that tiny flying objects flit in front of you, in your eyes and nose and mouth. The air will fill with a horrible, all-consuming buzzing noise that does not allow you to hear even your own screams. You must only walk on, and if for any reason the objects stop moving or the lights hold their glow, you must yell out, "They shall not know I'm here, as I have covered my tracks"! If the calm stays, you are too late, as it has already begun.

If the horrible bewilderment returns, you must forge on. In your wanderings, you will meet a door. You can feel its handle and allow yourself in. The room will be eternal, only the floor holding your mind intact.

There will be a man whose entire form is run through with long nails and stakes, every inch of his body secured. His mouth is held open, pins forcing his lips up to his face, a stake buried in the back of his gaping mouth. His tongue will writhe and flop at your arrival, his eyes searching over you in a panicked state.

He will respond to only one question: "Why do they take form"? His eyes will affix on you and his tongue will hold still. In a gargling, horrible speech, he will recite to you the creation of every Object, and the purpose of each. The description will force you to vomit upon every sentence, and the tale leaves most mad.

You will find a rusty and worn fillet knife in your hand. You must remove his writhing tongue with his pathetic and gurgling screams echoing through your soul. He will seem pathetic and you will want to help him, but do not, or you will replace him.

His tongue is Object 28 of 538. They will meet; only you shall know why.

The Holder of Frost

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls herself "The Holder of the Frost". If the worker shivers unnaturally, you will be lead to a hallway that shouldn't exist where it does. The worker will wave you down the hall, and, once your back is turned, will shake his head and mutter, "The poor fool." The hallway will get colder as you proceed, but do not make any attempt to warm yourself. If you do, heaven help what will become of you.

If, at any time, the cold ceases and the hallway becomes warm, you must cease walking quickly and shout, "Stop! This is not the answer!" If the warmth persists, run. Run as fast as you can for the exit. If you do not make it, then the fires of Hell shall consume you. If you do make it, do not stop running. Flee the asylum, the city, the country, for the hellhounds have your scent, and they do not rest.

If the cold returns, proceed down the hallway until you come to a door made of solid ice, and knock three times. If a soft, womanly voice beckons you to enter, open the door. If a gruff, male voice tells you to leave, pray for a quick demise.

Inside of the door, you will find a room made of ice, with frozen stalagmites and stalactites giving it the appearance of a massive maw. In the center of the room will be a veiled, ivory-skinned woman. Do not look at the woman directly, and say only one thing: "What caused their hibernation?"

She will tell you her story, a story of destruction and devastation, war and famine, life and death, and of a deep slumber. The story will chill you to the base of your existence, but do not ever look directly at the woman. If you do, your soul will be frozen for all eternity.

When she is done, she will remove her veil, but you must not gaze upon her. Her beauty would shatter your mind. If you keep your eyes away from her, she will cup her hands over yours and whisper into your ear: "The ice age is over. What will you do?" The world will explode in white, and when it subsides you will be outside of the institution. In your hands will be a large, crystal snowflake.

That snowflake is Object 29 of 538. The ice age is over; they are starting to thaw.

The Holder of the Flame

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the Flame." The worker will stare impassively at you for many minutes before pointing, silently, to a door behind you. The door was not there, and anyone else around you will not notice it. Approach the door and close your eyes before grasping the knocker. You need knock only once. If the metal suddenly cools in your hand, run. Run far away, and keep running. Only hope that you have escaped, for the alternative is a horror only the souls in hell can comprehend.

If the knocker grows warm, hold onto it tightly, even when it begins to sear into your hand. Eventually, the pain will stop. Once this has happened, open your eyes. You will be in a small garden, illuminated by the light of a full moon, and surrounded by ivy-covered stone walls. To your left will be a pond. Do not look directly into the water, lest the multitude of terrors lurking within capture and drown you again and again for the rest of eternity. To your right will be a funeral pyre, not yet lit, slickly dark with a flammable fluid.

Take exactly 5 steps towards the pyre. Do not ask why. You will find the corpse of a castrated male child, his arms folded over a vial of quicksilver. Say nothing but the question: "What caused their immolation?"

The corpse will not move, but the pyre will ignite of its own free will. As will the bushes, the grass, the trees, and the flowers all around it. The flames will shift colors, from the normal colors of fire, to the red of freshly spilt blood, to the green of infection and disease. The plants will shriek in agony as the walls surrounding the garden are consumed. The pond will dry out, the water itself burning with a blistering heat, as the souls of the damned rise upward in the steam, howling their litany of curses upon you.

As the first curse reaches your ears, you must summon your courage and begin to laugh. Loudly, spitefully, arrogantly, but not softly. If the curses become more vehement, you are safe. If they stop, then throw yourself on the pyre to escape a fate far worse.

In the midst of the tempest, the corpse will calmly sit upright, consumed entirely in flames, and will proffer the vial. You must continue to laugh, and cross your arms. You must not accept this gift now.

The corpse will open its mouth, and if you are lucky, what you will see in its depths will not leave you laughing in madness for the rest of your mortal life.

The vial will drop, shatter, and spill its contents upon the blackened remains of the grass as the flames die down. Everything will be silent. At your feet will be a new flower, its stem hard and spiny, its petals painted with the colors of hellfire and damnation. Pick it, and you will find yourself away from the garden and back in front of the door.

This flower is Object 30 of 538. It will burn itself deep into your soul, and ignite the fires of madness.