I often found myself wandering the streets of Providence during the daytime hours. Often, my mind was too preoccupied with geological analyses I've done back in the days or historical artifacts I remembered studying while I worked back at the university. I was so obsessed that I barely remembered the moment of waking up, putting on my clothes and leaving the apartment. Hours would pass before I realize that I am out, among people, fantasizing about things far older than these new men of gray skyscrapers and tall buildings. In my mind, I was still at the campus.
And then, reality would hammer me and I would find myself standing on the street, gazing at those passing chariots and pedestrians like a mad man.
One day, I found myself standing by a huge wall of bricks, long covered in papers and advertisements offering various jobs. Barber, day laborer, stonemason, plumber... These weren't jobs that I could get accustomed to. It's not like I needed money. It's just.. I did not want to spend time locked between four walls. I can't believe I've said it. Yes. I was always a man of solitude, drowned in his work, away from other people. But, these days, I felt scared. Terrified.
That's why I strolled the streets during daylight. Because the nights were full of terror. Some might say I'm losing my mind. And to be frank, I'm not sure myself, either. But, those voices that whispered in the gloom, the unseen eyes that tracked my every step were a plague for my heart.
I was even more afraid to go to sleep. Because every single time I closed my eyes, the very same imagery would emerge in my dreams. Drowning, helpless, torn by immeasurable fear. Then, the dream world would twist and warp, forming shapes far alien for my human mind to understand. And the whispers... the terrible, dark hisses of invisible choirs would chant "Cthulhu fhtagn...".
It was almost dusk when I headed back to my apartment. As I moved through the crowd, I passed by a group of students, too indulged in their laughter that they did not recognize me. Good. I wished not to speak with anyone during these hours. The world was burning orange in the veil of the falling sun; long, dark shades covering Westminster street. I wanted to get back home in my bed before the early hours of the night. It was not much better in my apartment than outside, but at least I was home. Alone. With the voices in my ears and the stalkers in my head.
I unlocked the wooden door and entered.
My eyes narrowed and I frowned in confusion, staring at a pale, yellowish envelope lying on the floor. It was addressed to me. I rarely received any mail. You could imagine the surprise on my face when I saw it. At first, I thought it was sent by the University... probably asking me to come back and continue the work where I left off. At least until I opened it and my eyes widened in shock as I went through the black, chaotic handwriting.
Mr. Wallace
My name's Charles Pierson, an excavator of the Miskatonic University and a close friend and colleague to your brother, Mr. Martin Wallace.
I'm writing this letter in the last arduous days of our coming here at Pohnpei. I regret to inform you that your brother has been missing for over a week now. Most of my team have vanished and I feel that.. I will disappear very soon.
The... scourge of the sea is already upon us. Darkness clouds my judgement. I can hear them, in the night, coming nearer. A faint, strange light outside my window. A color... a color I have never seen. I tried to shut them out. But, I can barely feel my body anymore. As if... as if something else steals it, possessing my limbs. And my thoughts are growing dark... my thoughts, they are not my own anymore.
Do not come here at any cost, Mr. Wallace! I felt it was right to inform you about your brother. And to warn you as soon as humanly possible. Human.. I do not know if I could call myself that, anymore. I could see it in my mind. The city of million corpses, tainted by nightmarish lands. It calls to me. It won't leave me alone. Sometimes, HE emerges in my dreams. Although I'm too frightened to see his face, we know the stories of the old folk in these lands. They whisper in uttermost terror, as if afraid that pronouncing its name will doom us all. A twisted, unfathomably alien... thing of cosmic horror, wreathed in such form that a mere glance would succumb us into madness. The Great Dreamer. Him who lies dreaming... To the Sleeping God we're the same as the ants beneath our boot. I.. I.. fthagn, Cthulhu fthagn..
The letter ended with a scribble, as if the person writing it had suddenly gone insane, scribbling across the paper, clutching it hard, crumpling the paper beyond recognition.
My legs froze the moment I read those last words; the voices, the demons in my head, the wraiths of my dreams. Feeling my hands shake and a mild dizziness overwhelming my mind, I headed for the kitchen; the first door on the right.
But, opening the wooden, squeaky door was the worst thing I could ever do. My body was paralyzed by horror. My thoughts boggled like a rope as I glanced and shut it back with a scream and a loud bang. High pitched buzz filled my ears and a blast of light passed in front of my eyes for a second, followed by a most horrible stench of rotten flesh. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, my sweaty palms instinctively heading for my head.
What I saw, or at least I thought I saw, was something I could not find words to describe. Saying it was utterly unnatural would be an understatement.
A massive, bobbling mass of extruding dark tentacles, writhing goat legs and more mouths of chattering teeth than I managed to count had occupied the entire space of the room. Slime poured between its teeth, covering the floor of the kitchen as the thing pushed against the walls, the room creaking hard against the pressure of that hideous thing.
Immensely shaken, I found myself gasping for breath, leaning against the door frame, struggling to hold my posture. My hand slowly pressed the handle and carefully opened it a bit, peeking through the gap. But, the kitchen was empty.
There was no trace of the abomination. It was almost as if there was nothing really there. Or it instantly vanished the moment I reached for the handle. Trying to consider the things with a logical sense as much as possible, I came to the conclusion that I must be too tired, my mind conjuring things that weren't really there. I sipped one glass of water, then another, then a third. My throat felt dry as if I had been walking through a desert the whole day, my lips scorched by a merciless sun and burning air.
" Get a hold of yourself..." I barely uttered, squeezing the edge of the table as I tried to cast away those horrible memories whirling in my head. I took one last glass of water and placed it on...
An eyeball, a frantically scanning eyeball stood in the drain. In panic, the glass dropped to the floor with a deafening crash. I pulled back from the sink, my eyes fixed on the unnatural imposter. Leaning against the wall, feeling my whole body quaking and suddenly, I felt moist around my shoulders. Turning my gaze, there were a dozen streams of water pouring down from the ceiling. My eyes became blurry, my head as heavy as lead. My teeth chattering, my limbs overwhelmed by an utterly devastating fear. I felt like choking, my lungs refusing to suck the air as I stared helpless at strings of water emerging among the gaps of the parquet.
Next I remember was me sitting in the rising pool, frozen and shocked. It seemed like every thought was forced, every word I tried to utter came out like babbling. And the shadow. The dark creeper that devoured the burning candle near the sink was becoming larger and larger. Soon, I found myself submerged, screaming in my head, but my body seemed petrified. Voices exploded in my mind, chanting phrases of an unknown tongue so horrible that even a single word caused chills down my spine. Gloom covered my vision and I closed my eyes.
I woke up to the sound of horse hooves coming through the kitchen window. At first, it sounded faint, distant, but it became louder and louder as the chariot passed beneath my apartment. I felt my strength returning, although it was not the one I had a day ago. My skull felt as if it would crack at any moment, my eyes hurt at the sight of sun rays and my mind was clouded as if I had passed out due to over-drinking.
I noticed that I had slept on the floor, right next to the small table with three wooden chairs to the left of me. There was no sign of the flood or the utterly incomprehensible event that occurred the last night. It was almost as if nothing happened. Was I losing my mind? Of course, it wouldn't have been strange to think of such a possibility.
After all, my father had a mental breakdown while I was a little boy and was immediately taken to an asylum. Not his dad, but his grandad had the same problem. Both of them lost it, becoming aggressive, dangerous towards the family and their surroundings. It wouldn't have been strange if I inherited that same, cursed gene, the bane of my family.
I barely stood up, leaning against a chair to calm my shaking legs. My eyes scanned across the kitchen, as if making sure that there won't be any clue of last night's nightmare. There was none. Perhaps it was really happening only in my head. But then, my gaze halted on the paper left near the sink. The letter - I thought. I immediately grabbed it and hastily went down the lines until I met the last words: Cthulhu fhtagn. No. This could not have been a coincidence. Something was very wrong. What I've experienced was a horror unlike anything anyone had ever endured and it felt as real as now. And then, a thought suddenly passed through my mind.
"Cthulhu...". It seemed so familiar. Although, I could not recall where I heard it. Perhaps one of my old colleagues back at the university would be able to shed light into this mystery.
The Miskatonic University of Arkham had various departments, one of them being study of the occult. Although, I was never particularly interested in the occult or strange phenomenon being researched by the university, I recall speaking to one of the professors, Mr. James Lagley a few years ago. He mentioned something about an old tome, a book of ancient, forbidden knowledge. He even sturdily retorted that this book is dangerous beyond human comprehension and anyone reading it should stroll its lines with great caution. Mr. Lagley seemed so frightened when he mentioned it that it took him a few minutes to calm himself down drinking tea. From what I could remember, he called it The Necronomicon. However, like I said, I wasn't particularly interested in books about the occult or some marginalized groups in the world, but Lagley's story seemed so strong and alluring, that I found myself thinking about it long after our meeting was over.
From the tale Lagley told me, this Necronomicon was an old and valuable piece of history. It was probably written in 730 AD in Syria by a mad poet from Sanaá, Yemen. This poet roamed the ruins of Babylon and spent ten years alone in Roba el Khaliyeh, the Crimson desert of Arabia. He was known as Abdul Alhazred, the Mad Arab. According to a 13th century biographer, the Mad Arab was seized by an invisible being, devoured in broad daylight in front of a dozen witnesses.
* *
My arrival at the University that morning was met by glances of disapproval. Some old colleagues even confronted me to ask why I am back. But, I cared not. Every thought trying to interweave was focused on finding Lagley's office. I did not care what others had to say about my presence.
Doctor Lagley was a calm man; bald, sporting a thick mustache and those stern, brown eyes had the gaze of wisdom. I found him in his office, sitting behind a huge, ornate desk, analyzing some piece of old paper with a magnifying glass. As usual, he was a man of principles and respect and his posture was in a similar manner.
"Doctor Lagley, may I take a moment of your time?" I asked after knocking on the opened door. He nodded silently, but his eyes did not wander away from the paper.
Approaching his desk, I noticed some utterly strange drawings and a lot of barely readable text written in dark ink on the yellowish page. Wishing not to disturb him, I curiously casted a glimpse at the sketches.
At first glimpse, I thought it was a human figure, although badly drawn. At least until I focused my gaze and analyzed it. Then, I realized. The one drawing it was actually a great artist, having a precise and heavy hand. But, the figure, although it had a humanoid shape, it was most certainly not a human. It had a scaled, ridged back, gilled necks and webbed hands. The head seemed as if it had been mistaken for a fish; two, deeply unsettling, unblinking eyes staring back from the paper. Judging by the details, it looked like they had a scaly body too, but it was hard to tell since the professor was bending over it quite often and I was unable to analyze it clearly.
" Deep Ones, they're called" the professor uttered, still inspecting the piece of paper. "The tales of surrounding Innsmouth and its vicinity are full of them...".
" Our mythologies are full of horrid creatures, doctor Lagley. Surely the Deep Ones won't be much different. People's imagination can sometimes work in mysterious ways" my lips widened in a smile. But, I quickly frowned when he gazed at me with a grave look and said nothing.
" How may I help you?".
" Well.." I sat on the leather chair in front of his desk. A pen came between my fingers and I started playing with it. "I was wondering if you could tell me where my brother is".
" And I know that, how?" he ironically replied, refusing to look me in the eye. His tone seemed ironic, almost as if determined that he is not obliged to reveal such information to me. The pen between my fingers halted. I turned my gaze towards him. "I know you sent him to Pohnpei. I know what they've found". The man froze in shock. For a moment, he seemed like a statue, petrified for eternity, bending over the antique desk. His eyes wandered left and right, his hand standing halfway in the air.
" Did you get any letter from the expedition? Doctor?". Our eyes met for a moment, then he shook his head in denial and went on inspecting the paper. " I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Wallace. As much as I would like to have this little chit-chat with you, I have a lot of work to...".
As if a volcano suddenly erupted in my chest. I felt flames going down my limbs, adrenaline pumping in my blood like a dam being devastated by an incoming wave. I pulled out the statue of the strange figure from my pocket and slammed it so hard that the man withdrew in an instant. "I want to know what's happening here, professor. It's obvious that you're hiding something! And I know that my answers lie in the Necronomicon! I want to know what this has to do with my brother and what, in the name of, does Cthulhu fhtagn mean!?.
The man twitched at the very mention. The next moment, I was staring at a man as pale as a blanket, shivering, utterly devoured by an uncontrollable fear.
" Don't.. mention.. that, ever again..." he barely uttered, taking a glass of water left on the commode behind him. It was as clear as a day that the man was shaken to the bone. He barely poured water in his mouth, struggling with his quivering hand not to spill it.
Lagley took a long sip. Then, he turned towards the windows and cast suspicious looks outside before pulling the heavy curtains. I watched him in utter confusion as he silently went past me, locked the door and turned on the desk lamp in passing.
" Sit... please, Mr. Wallace". I noticed him gently pushing the statue I had on the other side of the desk, as if being afraid that it might come to life and attack him.
He said no word for a while. Bent over the table, his hands crossed in front of him and staring at his own feet while he considered his next words. His face was pale, bloodless and I swear I could have noticed sweat on his temple.
Lagley sighed, as if some heaviness had weighed upon him.
" That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange eons even death may die..." Lagley uttered, appearing almost hypnotized. His stone eyes suddenly fixed on mine. " It is written so in the cursed Necronomicon, translated from a language older than the mountains, the seas, even the Earth itself. A tongue so ancient that barely few know it, although none is capable of speaking it. It is the tongue of... forces... so great and so horrible for our poor human minds to comprehend".
" I... I don't understand...".
" What you said earlier... It is part of a phrase which cannot be translated properly, but the closest thing would be: In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming". Lagley nervously grabbed a glass of water and drank it in a single raise. The glass came down with a loud thump that made me twitch, although it did not bother the professor. He immediately pointed at the figurine. "That's Him. The Great Dreamer. The Star Spawn. The Lord of R'lyeh". I stared at him for a while. Silent. The words were at the tip of my tongue, my mind whirling in confusion as I was about to ask: "Do you seriously expect me to believe that?". But then, the infernal eternity of last night came crashing down on me. That hideous, unfathomable, utterly unnatural being in my kitchen. Even now, I could hear the slimy slithering of its tentacles, the feeling of my heart pounding, my bloodshot eyes widened in a most terrible shock. Lagley noticed my tension. He glanced at me with a dose of suspicion, his eyes narrowing as he gently went for the bell left on his desk and rang it three times.
An elderly woman came rushing into the office, her silver hair tightly locked in a bun. She seemed stressed and yet, stood proud, her hands tightly gripping each other.
" Bring me the Pohnpei letter" Lagley uttered to her with a grave expression. For a moment, I noticed hesitation in those pale, green eyes sunken deep behind the raven nose. She stared at him for a few seconds then nodded and went out in a hurry.
" I'm sure you've heard the tales, Mr. Wallace. You've been our colleague for a very long time" he bent and sighed. " The book of the Mad Arab is a very dangerous book. Although many of you take its content with a grain of salt, skepticism and disbelief, I know that it is not made for the human mind to understand...".
" What if I do want to understand it?".
" Then, you have already set your feet upon the path of madness, Mr. Wallace... The Necronomicon... has ancient... forbidden knowledge unfathomable by primitive beings such as us. Delve too deep in it and your fate might be worse than death itself. It is a book of hideous rituals and dark magic, chants and phrases, things far beyond our comprehension".
I stared at him blankly. Even the thought of yesterday's experience birthed fear in me like none before. It was almost as if my limbs were paralyzing and my mind becoming numb the moment it crossed my thoughts. I shivered, twitching for a second, as if my own body was forcing me to clear my head and perish those memories.
" Did you know that Abdul Alhazred, the Mad Arab, was killed in broad daylight?". Lagley whispered, cautiously moving towards me. "The scrolls speak of... an invisible power tearing him in the marketplace among hundreds of people... The things he witnessed, the places he visited, both during his travels and the ones in his dreams... seeing such things had its price".
The door opened and the elderly woman came inside carrying a white envelope. She nodded in silence and left immediately. A sudden sweat overwhelmed me, as I silently observed Lagley opening it and pulling out the parchment. I wondered what was written. What will those rows of handwriting reveal about my brother? Will I have any answer to calm my nightmares, my visitors of most disgusting existence? Lagley pulled a drawer and took his glasses, putting them on. He carefully read the text in silence, then his eyes turned on me. " What I am about to read you is of utmost secrecy, Mr. Wallace. We do not know what really happened there. But, I do not wish for the public to know about our expedition by any means. Are we understood?". I nodded. He shifted in his chair to a more comfortable position and raised the letter.
" I believe we have found its whereabouts. Although it is impossible to be absolutely certain, I have a strong belief that it's out there, at the farthest point of any land, among the vast abysmal ocean where no man has ever dared to go. That is his realm. The closest bridge between our world and the endless cosmos..".
For a moment, I felt small, almost insignificant, while listening to Lagley's dark voice. It was a feeling quite hard to describe. A sensation so strong I have never felt before. Like a chilling wind had suddenly passed through my soul and my thoughts became grim, depressing. As if I were nothing but a mere speck in a colossal hall, unable to change anything. As if there was some energy in the room, unfamiliar, terrifying, pushing me to the edges of a sane mind.
" What did they find?" my lips barely uttered and Lagley halted, his eyes piercing me with a deep, awe-stricken gaze. "The nightmarish city of a thousand corpses... the great Ri'lyeh. The Realm of the Primordial Dreamer".
" Why was my brother interested in this expedition? What will the University gain from studying this city?".
" Everything, Mr. Wallace" he hissed. "And more...".
" Then I must go to Pohnpei," I murmured, considering as I placed my hand on my jaw.
I was never fond of people, sometimes too scared to meet someone new and pursue a conversation. My brother was the only familiar person I had left. And I wouldn't have allowed to lose him.
" You cannot go" Lagrey rose, his eyes narrowed in a worried gaze. " Mr. Wallace... there are things out there, who surpass any human understanding. Bizarre, godlike beings, which defy any laws of Men and Nature, mentioned only in the book of the Mad Arab. If that trip doesn't kill you..." he leaned his hand on my shoulder. " Then it would definitely drive you beyond the known boundaries of utter madness". My eyes fixed on the eerie, mystical statue on the desk. And like an unexpected blizzard, the memories of the previous day exploded in my mind. Lagley grabbed my hand to hold me before I went for the floor, breathing as if I were running to the limits of my stamina.
" Are you alright, Mr. Wallace? Maybe it would be best if I call you a doctor or physician to check on you.."
" I'm fine..." I barely uttered, gasping, pressing my palm against my head.
" You're not fine, Mr. Wallace. I've never seen you so pale my entire life. Or terrified, for that fact. This dizziness you're experiencing could potentially be a result of exhaustion. Maybe take a few days, have some rest and..."
" I said I'M FIN...". I shrieked in horror and tumbled backwards into the armchair, making Lagley jump in confusion that very moment.
There are no words in any man's tongue to describe the uttermost disgust I felt when I spotted it. It was almost as if it were a reflection in the window glass behind Lagley. A... something so hideous, like a distorted human face of countless bone ridges and scars, swelled up cheeks and most horrible features. Its eyes seemed at completely the wrong places, its abysmal mouth covering almost the entirety of its face. And it was staring at me, silently; an unseen phantom not of this realm. As I glanced back at Lagley, forcefully turning him towards it so he may witness my sanity, the thing was gone.
" Where is it... Where" I uttered, but Lagley grabbed my shoulder. For a moment there, I could see that gleam of worry in his eyes. Or was it fear? Fear that my sanity will break down like a pile of cards turning me into a blood-thirsty savage? Or.. was this fear in me? I did not know.