by; DB Boyd
I awoke with a violent start as the clamor at my front door began. The handle sporadically clicked while the knocker slammed and the doorbell rang continuously. ‘Who in the Hell?’ I asked myself. Rolling out of bed, I slowly began putting on my robe and slippers while silently cursing the unknown visitor whose rapping was steadily gaining volume. My head began to swim from the sudden awakening. I knew a headache would soon follow if the chorus of dinging and clinking didn’t cease.
I got up and groggily made my way down the hall, bumping into the large, oak hutch along the way. A harsh but familiar voice began to call my name from beyond the door’s threshold, and I wondered who might be in such an uproar to see me. Especially since it was so late in the evening. Was something wrong? Was someone hurt? It must have been something bad to rouse me at this hour. I reached the shuddering door and attempted to shout over the noise.
“For Christ’s sake, I can’t open the door while your doing that!” I yelled while fumbling with the shaking lock. “Hold on!”
The handle became still and I heard a throat clearing itself as I unlocked and opened the large mahogany door.
From the stygian night a thrilled and frantic Mike Hudgins entered my home. His hair was awry, his hands shook and he had a look of utter revelation in his deep emerald eyes. He rushed to me, grabbing me by the shirt, and began to speak in a forceful, yet imperative, tone.
“John…come…you have to see!”
“See what?” I asked while yawning.
“The fountain! Get dressed, you have to see!”
“The fountain? What about it?”
“Damn it man! Don’t ask questions, just hurry up and come on! I’ll be in the car.”
And with that he ran back into the darkness and got inside his 87’ cougar. I noticed his fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel as I turned to go back to my room. ‘What did he want?’ I wondered. What about the DAMN fountain? What about it is so important that I should be disturbed at three in the morning?
I threw on my pants and shoes and picked up a flannel shirt as I exited my room. Cursing him again, I rushed down the hall, grabbed my keys and locked the house. I proceeded to the blathering man in the black car and almost hesitated getting in. He was rather discomposed and I wondered how safe his driving might be. Surely someone so excited would be rather unreliable on the road. I got in and quickly put on my seatbelt as Mike immediately started the car and put it in gear.
Pulling out of my driveway I asked him what was going on, but he just smiled cheerfully and said, “You’ll see! Oh you’ll see!”
‘What the hell was so important? I asked myself. I sat there quietly, during the trip to his estate, and thought of the pleasant dreams I had been having before his interruption. Then I thought of Mike’s house, and of his fountain.
The fountain was a vast, deep, rectangular pool with marble sculpted cherubim set on each corner of the low walls. It was irregularly deep; seven foot to be exact. In the center of the elegantly floored pool was a great statue of the angel Michael. His right hand reaching upward with a great flaming sword and his wings spread open for ethereal flight. The smooth floor of the fountain is of a pale, white stone, which contrasts well with the gray marble walls and white marble statues. Ever since it’s been finished I’ve always thought it had a sort of eerie aura to it. The angels and all…seemed a bit ominous.
Actually, the fountain was just finished being built only two months ago. What on earth could have gone wrong already? What on earth could have happened that I should be involved in this? Yes I had overseen some of its construction, but couldn’t this thing “I have to see” wait till morning? I guess not. For there I was in Mikes car, pulling up the long driveway of his multi-million dollar estate.
It was a large, notably grand, Victorian home that sat atop a wooded hill, overlooking the small Virginia town of Riner. At the corners of the building were immense, tower-like peaks. Over its entire surface were vast oval and circular windows: all of which set in clustered intervals on each of it’s three massive levels. Its over all view always reminded me of an old Boris Karloff or Vincent Price movie: dark, menacing and foreboding. I sometimes expected a small hunched man to come out inquiring, “yes master?” When we pulled up the horseshoe driveway and came to a stop at the entrance, Mike began to calm down. He rubbed his hands in anticipation as we exited the car and began to walk the path toward the front of the house. He must have something really important to disclose to me.
“What’s going…” I began.
“You’ll see…just wait!” Mike said cutting me off.
“Mike…it’s three-thirty in the morning! For Christ’s sake…”
“Shut up John,” he snapped back. “You will see!”
We entered the house and proceeded to the kitchen where we exited through large glass doors into the garden. Mike picked up pace as he went toward the brightly lit area fifty yards away. He had set up countless amounts of lamp and lighting systems everywhere! Most of them were on the rim of the fountain, some where in it standing on large tripod posts. Mike urged me to come quickly. I rushed to him and curiously looked over the rim. A cherub smiled cheerfully beside me as I gazed into the deep, empty fountain. Empty?
I didn’t even notice at first…but once at its rim…God! How could I not have noticed? The statue of Michael was GONE! In its place yawned a large, jagged hole at least fifteen feet in diameter that dropped into black unknown abysses.
Mike pointed at the opening and said, “See! See! Look at that!
“Holy Shit”, was all I could say. “Is the statue...?”
“Down there”, he pointed to the hole with an odd grin formed on his face. “Yes it is!”
‘My God’ I thought. ‘Down there? How could it fit?’
“I heard the crash about three hours ago,” he said, making his way to the miscellaneous tools lying in a large pile at the east-end of the garden. I followed inquisitively behind. “I was drinking brandy in my study,” he began, “listening to the quiet chirp of the crickets outside and staring into the jumbled pages of my manuscripts. When out of nowhere…like a titans fist punching the ground…there was a crack…and an awful rumble from the garden.” He picked up a few flashlights and ropes from the pile and continued. “I rushed out onto my balcony and could see and hear, like a great whirlpool, the water draining from the bottom of the fountain. Draining into that black chasm where Michael use to be.”
“How deep is…” I started to ask, but Mike cut me off again.
“About forty-feet.” He threw me a rope and a duffel bag that clinked when I caught it. “I heard something down there after it happened. Sounded like metal crashing around. Also, there was a great, gurgling hiss coming from the hole, and a dry, red mist came up staining the walls and surrounding area.” He pointed to the crimson dust on the garden floor and to the wet streaks of blood colored fluid adorning the gray walls and white floor of the pool. “Mineral deposits from the cavity below I imagine. But we’re going to find out.”
“Find out?” I paused. “We?”
He gave me that curious smile again and patted me on the back. “We are going in,” he said with great enthusiasm. “I want to see what’s in there.”
“Don’t you think we should let…”
“No,” he snapped. “I want to know what’s down there. I spent way too much time and money to have my own damn fountain cave in upon itself. The construction company didn’t say this was a bad site: they checked it many, many times. And besides…just think of what might be down there. We may have found some kind of uncharted cave or something. Maybe an Indian burial… ”
“Cant this wait?” I cut in.
“Please John…” he looked at me imploringly. “Only me. I just want you to keep an eye on the rope and get help if the place begins to look or act…(he paused, looking for the right word)…undependable.”
“Alright…fine…but let’s be quick about it. I’m exhausted, and I don’t know what to think about all this shit. Too damn early.”
Mike agreed as I yawned once more and advanced back to the lip of the fountain where a ladder had been set up. Mike climbed over the edge and began descending.
It was nice to see the old boy so excited. Although the reasons for his excitement could have been better. It’s been years since I had seen him so ecstatic. But right now, in his spelunking endeavor, his inactivity showed. His mostly gray hair was down, sticking to his sweat beaded forehead, and his breath was quickly becoming labored. I suggested he calm down, for his age was gaining on him, but he dismissed my comment by urging me down the ladder.
I stepped onto the ladder and began to climb down. Noticing as I did so, the red, blood-like streaks on the walls. Obviously it was the dust trapped in the remaining water residue, but I’ll be damned if it didn’t look like someone had been murdered in that pool. It was everywhere. How large of a cloud had the settling dust created? How far did it spread? How much was still floating in the air, down in that black abysmal chamber? And who knows what ancient bacteria it may be carrying! Bacteria that I was more than likely breathing in right now.
I put the thought out of my head as I stepped off the last rung. Mike was setting up the multi-colored ropes and began strapping a harness around his waist. I walked up behind Mike and he stood up with a smile. He instructed me on what to do and where I should go if something should go wrong. I simply hastened him along, wanting to get this over with, and watched him slip the rope through a few metal loops on his harness.
“Ready?” I asked impatiently.
“ Yes, of course. Do be a lad and keep a sharp watch though. If this thing should start to crumble again…”
“Don’t worry…you’ll be fine. I know what to do if anything happens. Just hurry and come back up.”
“Ok”
And with that he turned to the hole and gracefully began sliding down the wavering rope. As he did, a thunderous, sporadic gurgling came from deep within the pit. Mike looked up at me, the smile on his face gone.
“Maybe you should wait till tomorrow to do this.” I said firmly.
“No…it’s fine.” He tried to cover his slight fright. “It’s just the water settling into the nooks and crevices.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes…just keep your eyes and ears open.”
He began descending the rope again and I sat down near the large hole, cautiously peaking over the rough, jagged rim. He made his way slowly, periodically glancing up at me. It took him almost five minutes to get to the bottom. Once down, he acknowledged his safety and began cautiously inspecting the area. He was a good forty or fifty feet down. I couldn’t see much, but I could see Mike and the industrial flashlight unsteadily creeping about. I could see the partly lit floor that formed a deplorable, hellish mouth of shadows and light. Mike stood in the center. He finally moved forward, out of the jagged spotlight and began his investigation. I moved away from the hole and leaned back. ‘God!’ I thought. ‘Four-twenty in the morning…I’m to be up by nine!’ I rolled over and called to Mike, urging him to end his mischief and hurry up, but he would hear nothing of it. He was to see everything there was and only when he was finished, would he come up.
I leaned back and gazed up into the many, bright, flooding lights, and winced at their intensity. I began to notice a strange smell coming from the hole as I leaned my head forward. A floral smell that seemed contaminated with a vile, blunt stench. I sniffed the air again, thoughtfully examining the odors and immediately knew the flowery smell was due to the garden. But the other was literally…unholy. It reeked of an ancient pungency that was allowed to ulcerate, for God knows how long. And the instant I received the first flowing tendril of its terrible odor, I thought of the carmine dust that decorated the garden walkways and the walls of the fountain like a murderous scene, and how I may be breathing in its old and loathsome disease.
I lifted up my shirt and covered my mouth with the rim of it, once again silently cursing my sleep’s interruption.
“John!” Mikes voice echoed.
“What?”
“Its kind of weird down here, its huge, you should come down.”
“No way! I’m not going down there!”
“I can’t explain it.” His enthusiastic voice seemed to be withholding laughter. “You have to see!”
“I don’t have to see shit! Just hurry up! Christ!”
“No…you really need to see this! The walls are covered with strange things. Insane pictures and…the floor, a large portion of it seems…well…rubbery!”
“What! Hurry up and get out of there! I don’t have time for this. This is ridiculous.”
My demeanor was declining quickly. I stood up and reached into my pocket for a cigarette. I lit one and paced along the walls of the pool, passing time, waiting. For about five minutes I heard nothing. Just the occasional “wow” or “holy shit” echoing from below. And when I finished my cigarette, maybe a little out of spite, I flicked the burning butt down the craggy opening in the fountain.
I guess I thought it would scare Mike. Or maybe peck him in the back of the head or something. But when the seething choke of liquid filled crevices sounded and the ground began to jitter, I jumped upon the ladder and scuttled over the rim of the fountain. I peaked over the edge and waited for the cracked white floor of to cave in and crush Mike. But the stone held, and the rumbling ceased, but not before I heard him scream in inconceivable horror!
I hesitated running to him and held shakily at the low wall. I screamed for him repeatedly, but he never did answer. I sat there in the blinding lights under a stygian sky, dumbfounded and in awe of what had just happened. But, what did just happen? I sat there confused for a moment and could not pull my thoughts together. ‘Is Mike ok? What to do? What do I do?’
I did the only thing I could do. I ran to the pile of tools at the end of the fountain and picked up another harness. I clumsily strapped it on and prayed that I had done it correctly. I grabbed a flashlight and helmet equipped with a lamp. Running back to the edge, without thinking, I hurtled the wall and landed no more than four feet from the gaping chasm. I stepped back and took hold of the rope, looping it through the metal rings and clasping it within my hands. I put on the helmet and put the flashlight in my belt, then warily descended into the dark.
The trip down was short, partly due to my inexperience at rope climbing. I held too loose of a grip and came crashing down injuring my right ankle. I stumbled up and reeled at the pain in my ankle: just a sprain though. The awful stench was strong down here and I gagged slightly from its overwhelming pungency. Wiping the moist red dust from my face I began glancing around while once again covering my mouth and nose.
It was dim in there, but fantastic nonetheless. But Mike hadn’t even come close to showing appropriate enthusiasm earlier. The dark room was…incredible! It was all of a three hundred feet wide! A large gnarled dome roof with a jagged hole in the center beamed light upon the area in which I stood. Columns of strange and bizarre shapes sat at semi-symmetrical points on the edges of the open room. The recessed, but convex, oval floor I stood upon was made of a peculiar, pliable material: rubbery for lack of a better word. I looked around for a moment, searching for signs of collapse and for signs of Mike. Seeing and hearing none, I went toward a large opening in the south wall. I was amazed to see that there was almost no water down there. A few puddles here and there, but where did the rest of it go? Surely there must be deep hidden cracks and fissures that had drained the hundreds of gallons, but none were in sight. I passed the figure of the angel and noticed that the crimson-tainted water residue was everywhere! The collapsed statue was covered with it. Its broken head lay on the malleable floor staring into the endless black: looking as if it were severed. I shivered viciously: the sight was rather gruesome. I stepped off of the odd oval floor, over a large tube-like roll of the elastic material at the edge, and onto a gray, polished, rock walkway that encompassed the entire room. My boots echoed with deep clicks as I began to pass between two fantastically etched pillars.
I stopped at these for just a moment and, piercing the darkness with my lights, observed many exotic and obscure figures mixed with blasphemously vivid representations of grotesque and depraved beings: images that only a nightmare could conjure. A few appeared squid-like…but they were also mammal in general attributes, while others had an all too human feature. But the humans were…wrong! Their arms were long, sinuous multi-members that spread like dangling oversized man-of-war tendrils. Strange flying things fluttered in obscene manners and… I didn’t look for long: began to get a headache: too weird. Besides, I had to find Mike.
I proceeded through the large arching passage into a room only a fourth the size of the previous, but still quite sizeable. I couldn’t believe that all this was hiding under Mike’s garden! The magnificent walls were honeycombed with hundreds upon hundreds of irregular holes: reminding me of old esoteric catacombs. On the far wall was an obscure disk suspended from two extremely large metal beams. Upon its surface was the queer, seemingly three-dimensional, form of a branching crescent that stretched its liquid tips across the outer ring of hieroglyphs. It was an amazing site. It was as if this place was a primeval sanctuary or mausoleum. I walked into the room, holding my breath in awe of the chamber’s immensity. The room was apparently undamaged by the tidal rush of water. Some of the dust in here was still dry and drifting in the air. I covered my nose and moved forward.
“Mike!” I called. “Mike!”
No answer.
I turned to the left and followed the wall while calling his name again. But still there was no reply. I stopped at one of the looming burrows in the wall and tried to glance inside. But due to the heavy cobwebs and churning carmine powder, I could see nothing: just a deep, vacant cavity. As I peered inside, a draft blew through and brought a fresh wave of the acrid pungency to my nose. ‘A draft…?’ I thought. ‘Where might these hive-like passages lead? To what unknown region may their worming canals emerge?’
I had no time to wonder. I turned from the room and emerged once again into the enormous chamber where my rope dangled from the bright opening high above. From the corner of my eye, I saw an obscured figure shambling into another entrance at the far end of the cavern. I screamed Mike’s name and began to quickly limp toward the unnatural movement. When my feet hit the bizarre material of the convex floor I steadied myself as it began to tremor. I stood dead still waiting for something to happen, waiting for the thunderous gurgle and guaranteed collapse of the cave to commence, but all was silent and the floor settled. Cautiously making my way across, I finally reached the other side.
“Mike!” I bawled imploringly. “Mike…can you hear me?” My words echoed hollowly, but still there was no answer.
I pointed my light around the perimeter, glancing briefly at the unusual characters adorning the triangular entrance, and carefully stepped into the long, disproportionate hallway. I picked up a piece of the old disintegrating stone and tossed it down the shaft. There was a ‘clink, clink’ and then a hushed ‘ba’dump’ as it tumbled throughout its length. ‘Where did it lead? Was my friend injured and stumbling through it blindly?’
“Mike!” I shouted again. “Mike!” But only silence responded.
I wanted to rush down the corridor, but could not. Cursing myself for not bringing extra lighting, I was forced to creep, ever so slowly, along its intricately decorated walls. The long, cold stone confines loomed about me and I couldn’t help but occasionally glance at the pictures carved here and there. The drawings depicted macabre images of immense battles and star filled voids that teamed with ambiguous and unwholesome life. One set of hieroglyphs vividly illustrated the rising of a great amorphous being. An abominable thing that came to power over the unusual denizens shown. The half-human figures that gave homage and prayed to the creature in despicable and tainted manners offered strange and unholy immolation unto the monstrosity.
The pictographs could only be some hideous form of forgotten mythology. Warped and distorted over unknown years by debased and nefarious minds. The creators of these relics could only be some of the most unstable and insane of the worlds populace. Stable individuals could never develop such deranged and misshapen images.
I called Mike’s name again as I moved further down the hall. Cutting through the choking darkness, I eventually emerged within a moderately small circular room. Recessed within the gray, scarlet dusted floor was the same strange sigil as in the other room: this time not etched, but formed from some type of onyx-like stone. That bizarre, crescent lay silent in the ancient tomb, and I stepped cautiously over it, looking high overhead at an even more decorative frieze upon the ceiling.
There it was, the tremendous form of that amoebic leviathan, reeling in unearthly horror, as humans (natural humans) imprisoned it within an earthly abyss. The beast went down lashing and…
There was a thud as if something heavy and fleshy had hit the ground and I frantically jerked around in the direction of the sound. It came from a large, serrated crack on the other side of the room. As soon as I saw the crevice a massive draft came from deep within. The warm sour stench of untold ages came at me and almost knocked me onto the floor from its nauseating odor. My head swam and I began to call for my friend.
“Mike…?”
No answer
I steadied myself and stepped past the ornate form on the floor and passed through the small fissure in the far wall. To my right was a staircase. A staircase that held close to a sheer rock wall leading to a small, lighted doorway. Before me and in the stygian depths below was a vast barren void that almost, due to my lack of illumination, seemed limitless and eternal. The deplorable odor filled the vast chasms air. I stood there for a moment, awestruck by the clandestine chamber’s immensity, and choked, while holding in a scream. Terror gripped my throat as a squat shadowy figure began making it’s way up the dark narrow staircase. I stumbled while getting behind the lip of the broken wall’s entrance, slamming my shoulder into the jagged rock, and hid behind the rim waiting for the shadowy figure to come into view.
I crouched there breathless for a moment, heart racing and fear pumping through my veins, then turned off the two lights I was carrying. I strained to see further down the steps but couldn’t. The dark was too pure and the stairs were too steep. I froze again as a deep, clicking gurgle began at the bottom of the staircase. It sounded like water settling into miscellaneous cracks but it was steady and continuous. Like a creek’s babble during a heavy rain. But this sound was flat and empty, without tone. The slow churning clack gained volume and I began to wonder: ‘could it be Mike coming up those stairs?’
“Mike?” I inquired cautiously.
I should have known better. I peeked back around the corner while turning on my flashlight and could see not just one, but at least a dozen of the shambling figures making their way up the stairs. Three of them had their arms outstretched in hailing manners. The others scuffled up the steps with their heads and arms slumped down in a supplicate fashion. They, I could now see, were uttering that blasphemous inhuman gurgle and the hailers in the group seemed to be leading the others in some sort of nameless procession. I turned off the light and began to run back to the main chamber as the now familiar sensation of unsteady earth came to my feet.
The ground began to shake as I began my flight down the dilapidated hallway, kicking up slight blood-like puffs along the way. The area was visibly convulsing upon reaching the middle of the tunnel. Ahead I could see that faint illumination from the hole in the fountain, gleaming down on the pliant and now trembling floor. The rope, of course, was my only way out. So I ran full force, ankle throbbing, and closed the gap between me, and the early morning outside.
Even over the quaking ground I could hear the shadowy assailants bubbling and gurgling viciously behind me. They had discovered my presence and were now pursuing me for reasons I would rather not know. I hastened down the hall and finally emerged in the dim light of the main chamber to a scene that I shall never, even in extreme senility, be able to rid from my now cursed and scarred memory.
Gathered as if in ritual, at least a hundred slumping black forms, with heads bowed down, reaching their undulating, white, tentacle-endowed arms high in the air. The snake-like appendages curled and fanned in irregular patterns as their babbling, choked voices continued with a foreign and inhuman pseudo prayer. As I hurried by one of these subterraneous denizens I could see that their heads were not bent down in homage. They were lacking skeletal support from the neck up. Their blank, unnatural faces lay in stretching, lumped masses on their upper chest. Mouths languidly choking out inexplicable hymns to some unknown…thing! I almost lost it then and there: but instead I regained my remaining sanity and fled to the dangling line from above.
The ground shook viscously now, so I ran to the rope in the center of the unstable rubbery floor and began climbing. I climbed for dear and holy life itself. There came another great rumble from the chamber as the soft pliable ground below began to recede into unknown depths of dust-filled voids. The strange groaning chant grew louder as the convex floor went ever downward. Crimson tendrils of gritty roseate smoke began to rise from the stygian chasm in long, thick sentient columns. If anyone could have seen my frantic scrambling, they would surely assume me to be a madman. But that was not a concern, for the many now forming members of a colossal, vaporous being were soon reaching and groping through the air for my dangling human form. From the rim of the oval void, the red tendrils lashed and whipped in a chaotic frenzy as I crawled up the wavering rope and emerged in the blinding light to familiar scenery.
I got on my feet and began running to the ladder at the end of the fountain. Before I reached it, residua on the smooth rock floor caught my feet causing me to tumble face first into the side of the pool. My jaw gave way with a nauseating crunch as I hit the gray marble surface of the wall. An unbearable pain shot through my skull as I lifted myself from the bloodstained surface. I dizzily stood up and drunkenly ascended the ladders blurry rungs. Another strong jolt of earth thundered malignantly as I tumbled over the wall of the fountain and onto the dust covered garden walkway.
The rumbling ceased, but the monotonous gurgle of impure beings continued. Once again picking myself up, I began to run from the garden and toward the house. I ran at full speed but ignorantly glanced behind as I neared the large glass doors. A large red ‘dust devil’ was rising from the center of the angelic fountain. It began undulating with vivid consciousness as I screamed in a high inaudible pitch. I turned to run again but it was too late. An enormous sanguine tendril of filth quickly advanced and struck me with unbelievable ferocity, knocking me all of thirty feet toward the western end of the garden.
I don’t recall colliding with anything that would render me unconscious, but I must have, for both of my legs are surely broken. My entire left side feels as if had been beaten with a Louisville slugger and my left arm is incapable of anything more than a feeble squirm. My voice has attained a gurgling quality, not like the dilapidated pseudo-human voice, but one of blood and fluid filled lungs. My multiple injuries are surely mortal. And I can’t even begin to move my body in order to escape.
I’m not sure where I am, beneath the fountain I imagine, but I know that it’s dark: as dark as the endless interstellar voids that lay between cosmic gulfs of unknown antiquity. But, I might as well be blind. Lying in this cold stone corner, it would probably be best if I were. I don’t think I would want to know what my surroundings might look like. I fear there would be more alien relics decorating these freezing uneven walls. Or maybe a being even far more horrendous than what I have already encountered, silently watching over me!
At least I can hear just fine…but I hear…THEM! Their seething voices continue to echo through exotic tunnels of inhuman subterranean crypts. The clicking plop of their throats has grown familiar to me and I still shudder with each and every grotesque utterance. And shortly ago I heard something new, the sound of a gong or something large and metal being hit four times every few minutes. I can only wonder…
I also wonder: what ever happened to Mike? What became of him? I should have gone to the police! I should have got help…I…
No more than three minutes ago, the area shook with great force. Surely the strange pliant floor is, even now, receding into unknown abysses. The voices should start surging again soon. Start that insane stream-like babble that summons tendrils of carmine dust higher and higher into the acrid smelling air. I’ve heard that blasphemous, bubbling chant so much now that I can almost pronounce it.
KASAAT YSTL’CLINPH GLIKTH INEGLUEA FR’ETRE NULTHKLIL!
HILKARTHRIF INEGLUEA YIB’ISTL!
Over and over, Kasaat Ystl’clinph…Kasaat Ystl’clinph…! Hilkarthrif inegluea…! Over and over…maddening! Kasaat…!
But wait:
A deep sinuous click has begun echoing from a tunnel to my left. Seems distant…but its getting closer. I imagine something will be arriving before long. Bringing with it, my own unique and appalling fate. I wonder though, what type of something will be coming? I remember the pillars in the main chamber with the blasphemously vivid representations of grotesque and depraved beings: images that only a nightmare could invoke. The not quite mantis, not quite wasp, grub-like things that gestate and breed within earthly voids. The squid-mammals and pseudo-humans that pray and offer strange sacrifices to an unformed and amoebic entity. The others…who’s wicked forms defy description…!
I pray that the darkness remains pure and complete: that black and only black dominates my vision. I have seen the shambling humanoid figures calling upon their unwholesome God! I have seen the sentient being of carmine dust! And as the steady clicking draws near…please God…I care to see no more.
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